My head whips to him so fast that some of my hair hits Scar—for way longer than I should have—I stare at him blankly. I heard what he said but it takes a few breaths for me to fully comprehend his words.
Sure, we have flirted a lot since I was old enough to hang out in the clubhouse, but I never thought it was anything more than that. I don't bother pretending that I want to fuck him, but I have been around the club long enough to know that most of the men here are only after a good lay. I also know the number of times that the three of them have left the bar with some random girl. Not to mention the times that they didn't bother leaving and just let some girls suck them off sitting at a table. I am not that girl.
“You have lost your damn minds, Banks will cut your dick off if you stick it in her, regardless of your intentions.” Tough grimaces and grabs his junk as if he is protecting it.
“Yes, but would he be willing to lose all three of us?” I sling my head toward Scar in the same manner that I had moments ago, if it were possible my jaw would hit the ground.
He can't be serious, there is no way these men are talking so casually about sharing me and defending some kind of weird polyamorous relationship with my father.
Their MC president.
Nothing about that sounds even remotely normal.
As if it couldn't be weirder, they haven't only looked at each other once. Bell and Pyro didn't look at Scar and question him about all three of them being into me. They have all talked about this before. They don't need to share any more looks or specifics because they already know what they are going to do, they have already worked it out.
“And on that note, I’m leaving. I don't want to know anything else that is said during this conversation, if for no reason other than protecting my ass,” Tough raises his beer to me, “Hear me, this is your choice. Understand?”
I blush under his gaze; I know that he is telling me that he saw the shock and the understanding about them wanting to share me. If this isn't what I want, all I need to do is say so. After I can get my thoughts in check, I nod at him and he walks away. I trust these guys and I know that if I tell them that I don't want this that they will back off and probably never bring it up again.
“You three are nuts,” I glance at them and take the lid off my Vodka bottle, I need to be a little buzzed for this conversation, at the very least maybe it will keep me from stuttering like a fucking idiot.
“That might be true, but we are serious,” I fight the urge to choke on the liquor in my mouth and after I can swallow it, I cough just a little to clear my throat. I feel like Pyro could have waited until he knew that my mouth was empty to say anything, but he didn't because I caused them to choke on theirs earlier.
“No way. Hooking up with one man old enough to be my father might be overlooked, but three? Can you imagine how that would go?”
“You have a history of not caring what people have to say about you, what makes this different?” Scar snarls at me.
“Hey! I’m not as old as your dad!” Pyro exclaims at the same time.
“You are the closest one to my age and even you are 13 years older than me.” I give Pyro a little pat on the cheek and turn back to Scar, “Typically, I wouldn't care what people would say but that would be a lot. You know how I get when people piss me off, there is no world in which I would handle that shit with grace.”
“We wouldn't expect you to! I am the VP; you can handle it any way you want! We all know that you can kick ass when you need to, hell we would stand by and watch.” Scar’s voice is dangerous as if I offended him by suggesting that it wouldn't be worth the gossip.
“You are serious?!”
“Serious enough to risk our dicks.” Bell chuckles deep in his chest, and I swear the sound vibrates right down to my pussy.
“How would that even work?” I realize after I ask the question that they might think I meant sex and for a second, I truly hope none of them choose to answer. I am not a prude by any means, but I don't need one of them to try and explain how the three of us could have sex at the same time.
“However, you want it to,” Pyro draws. His silk voice is low and shrouded with sex. I shift and cross my legs to dull the throbbing at my core, because of the way that I had leaned toward Bell they all give me knowing looks.
“Gentleman,” I groan when Haley’s voice slithers over my shoulder.
She had been on the other side of the bar when I came in and cleaned my spot. I had hoped that she would stay over there. She and I do a pretty good job of avoiding one another since the thing that happened with Monica. They had been close when she was here, and Haley blames me for Monica being banned from the compound. In a way, she is not wrong, but Monica was sent away because she was being a conniving cunt, I am just the one that caught her. I hate the idea of her being around any of the club members, let alone these three. I don't trust her. I think that she should have been kicked out when Monica was, if for no reason other than the fact that she wasn't going to stop her.
What kind of woman would let anyone trap a man with a pregnancy that he doesn't want? If she wasn't such a favorite of the brothers, then she probably would have been sent on her way.
We aren't going to talk about why she is a favorite, it's more than a little cringy.
I pull one of my knees up beside me and turn towards her, the move puts me close enough to Scar that I can feel the soft brush of his shoulder against my lower back, “Hello there, Haley.”
“Sorry Finley, I was distracted by all the attractive men, I must have missed you there,” I have the urge to punch her in the throat.
I’m not sure if it's because she is making comments about the guys that were just discussing sharing me, or because she dared to pretend that she didn't see me sitting right in front of her. Either way, my temper flares to a dangerous level, I have been known to be a little volatile and I have gotten in trouble for busting up one–or more–of the club whores before. Scar shifts on his stool and I feel the pressure of his hand on the rounding of my hip, the move doesn't do much to calm me, but it causes a flare of other emotions to run through me, ones that distract me from wanting to hurt her.
"Behave." His voice is stern, and the pressure of his hand is full of power and a reminder that he is the VP of this club. Not that I would get in a lot of trouble if I hit her, but her attitude would get worse and the whine that she talks with would be even more obnoxious. That alone is a good enough reason to keep my hands to myself–or on someone else.
If her voice got any worse, I might lose my ever-loving mind.