My thighs clench at his meaning. I fucking love when he wants to punish me. It usually entails tying me up somewhere and spanking me until I come so hard my eyes cross or else having me wear the ball gag while he drives into me from behind.
He smacks my ass and I take the hint. “I’ll see you guys later. This bossy VP of yours wants cake baked. I guess he thinks it’s his birthday or something.”
The three of them chuckle in response, knowing I’m only giving him shit and that I really don’t mind. It’s the opposite, in fact; I enjoy taking care of Odin however he’ll allow it.
Heading straight for the kitchen, I can’t stop thinking about what may happen if Mercy does show up here. The worst part of it all is that I can’t say anything about it. Not to Odin or the guys or even take it upon myself to tell her to get lost. When it all boils down to it, I’m nothing but a club whore and who I want here at the clubhouse doesn’t really matter. To be heard in this club when you’re a female, you must be an ol’ lady and we all know whores don’t ever become ol’ ladies.
Brushing the thoughts aside, I open the first cabinet to check for baking supplies. One thing I can do is bake a kick ass cake. Too bad cake never got anyone a diamond.
Honey traipses into the kitchen as I finish smoothing the last of the whipped chocolate frosting. “God, it smells amazing in here,” she groans, inhaling dramatically.
“It’s Princess’s recipe, my favorite.”
“She shared it with you?” Her haughty question is disbelieving.
I nod, placing the cover over the fluffy, three-layer Dutch chocolate cake. “Yeah, she always lets me use her recipes,” I say with a shrug.
Honey snorts. “Since when did Princess start being nice to you? I thought she was bitchy to the both of us. Everyone is beneath the ice queen.”
Keeping quiet, I busy myself, not wanting to admit that the woman’s never really been mean or bitchy to me. I’ve stayed away from her ol’ man and treated her with respect. Maybe if Honey had done the same and also didn’t try to screw with Nightmare then Princess would’ve been the same way with her too. Instead, Honey kept trying to cause problems when Nightmare has a kid with Princess’s best friend, Bethany. It’s Honey’s own fault, not that I have room to talk about staying away from the members.
I guess it makes me a bit of a hypocrite, too, since I did start hooking up with Odin when he was still technically with Mercy. It’s not that I had much of a choice back then though. If a club member tells you to jump, you freaking get off your ass and jump as high as you can to please them. Odin is the MC club’s President’s little brother; I wasn’t about to piss him off by denying him, not that I wanted to tell him no anyhow.
“I just stay out of their way,” I eventually mutter, not liking when she gets bitchy toward the ol’ ladies.
“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve seen you helping a lot when the club’s having a barbecue or whatever. I could see why she’d be nicer to you. I refuse to kiss her ass though, so there goes my chance, I guess. Darn.” Honey snorts and my eyes roll. That right there is exactly why she’s treated differently; she’s the one with the bad attitude all the time toward anyone with a vagina.
“Speaking of helping, I need to go tidy up Odin’s room.”
She pulls a bag of chips from the cabinet, saying, “Why do you bother? He’s just going to fuck some random snatch in that clean bed you’d be making. Let whatever skank that crawls in there do his laundry.” She digs a handful of chips out and shoves a few in her mouth, chomping away.
“You may have other options in life, Honey, but this is what I have. I’m just trying to make the best of it.” I leave right after, not wanting to hear whatever hateful comment she has for me next. Nor do I want to share with her that while she’s jumping between brothers, I’m usually that ‘skank’ warming Odin’s sheets. I wash his bedding each week because I want to sleep on clean sheets, but that’s none of her damn business.
Viking wasn’t at his and Princess’s house they share near the clubhouse so the only place we thought to find him may be at the other club. If he’s there then he’s got Ares for support which could be exactly what he needs. The Butcher is the closest to a brother that Princess has, besides her own flesh and blood, Snake, and he will no doubt have her back whether Viking and he are good friends or not. The old Prez treated the Butcher like a son, keeping his biological kids as far away from club life as possible. Not that it did any good; both his son and daughter eventually got ties to the Oath Keepers.
We pause at the gate to the original Oath Keepers MC compound. The waiting prospect jumps up, ready to let us in. With a quick wave from us, the shaggy-haired, young Indian-looking dude shoves the tall chain-link gate to the side. He nods as we pull our bikes through, closing it behind us. Both clubs, theirs and ours, were attacked a few years back. It was ugly and since then, both compounds have upgraded all their security features hoping to put it off if it ever happens again. Now, as a safety precaution, whoever’s outside working the gate can’t open it himself. Located inside the clubhouse is an alert when someone approaches and it’s up to whoever’s monitoring the security feed to unlock the gate and permit entry.
Torch turns to me as we pull to a stop, parking our bikes. With a flick of my wrist, the engine quiets. I kick the stand down, getting to my feet, waiting for whatever he has to say.
“You sure you want to go in?” He gestures to the building in front of us. Torch knows how I feel about being around Spin when it’s not essential. I really can’t blame Spin though. I was always breaking his younger sister’s heart when she was a teenager, so I can’t necessarily expect to be his favorite person even if time has passed since then.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” I admit. I don’t want to see Mercy or Spin, but what else can I do? “If Viking’s not here, then we need to find out if he’s stopped by or anything.”
“Agreed. You make any progress with Princess?” he asks as we head for the door markedFUCK OFF NON-MEMBERS. It’s big and bold, letting visitors know to use the public entry. They have a little greeting area or some shit for random people showing up.
“P’s willing to speak to my brother without a weapon in her hands, so it’s a start. More than what I was expecting, to be honest.”
He snorts, shaking his head as we stride inside. The Butcher, his ol’ lady, and ol’ man are sitting in a weathered booth tucked into the corner of their bar. Various other members laugh and carry on loudly about who knows what, dipping their heads in greeting as they see us. The compound over here’s not too bad; it’s not as large as ours is though. I’m just hoping it’s big enough as to not run into Spin this trip. I don’t look forward to getting punched, unless I’m out craving a fight and today’s not one of those times.
With my next step, a short female appears in front of me blocking my path, her hands land on my pecs. My cold gaze hits hers. It’s stormy which is normal when it comes to her and me being in the same room, things are usually tense. Her head cocks to the side. “You lost, VP? You’re the last person I was expecting to come walking through that door today.”
Every nerve ending in my body tells me to take a step back, but that’s not my MO. If anything, my chest puffs further at her touch. “It wasn’t planned. What are you doing here, anyhow?” I play dumb. She’s supposed to be here for her wedding. I know that already, but I want her to have to admit it to my face. Why do I want that? Who the hell knows? I should just leave well enough alone, but I can’t seem to make myself do the right thing. I enjoy being an asshole far too much and with the shit this chick has pulled in the past, well, she deserves a little bit of torment.
She smiles and it’s predatory. “You don’t know? Is that so?”
“I don’t keep up with you, Mercy May. You know that.” With a grumble, I flick my stare over her frame. She’s still the same size, short, skinny, reminding me more of an emo chick on the verge of committing suicide than the talented graphic artist she is on the inside. The teal in her hair’s gone though, jet black in its place. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her with one hair color before. None of it matters though; I’ve long moved on from worrying about her well-being.
She takes a step forward, invading my space. She’s close enough that with each breath I heave her breasts brush against my cut. My finger moves before I realize what I’m doing, the digit trailing down the serious cleavage she’s showing. She may have cleaned up like Spin had implied but she’s still Mercy—skintight jeans, halter top with enough cleavage on display that she may as well wear a damn bikini. And she wonders why I always dipped back around to fuck her occasionally. Hard not to when your tits are always hanging out and you’re giving it up easily.