Fucking Tammy.
It always has to be her. She’s made my already miserable life fucking hell since the day she showed up with one of the guys, begging for sanctuary. First, her story was that she was running from an abusive ex, to then being on the run from some asshole she owed money to. Whatever the truth was, she stayed and never left. Granted, I’d been here longer than any of the girls on constant rotation in and out of the clubhouse. But for her, it had been a considerable amount longer than most. Between her and Alan, I’m not sure who's worse: the bitch who causes me so much trouble, or the son of a bitch who claims my body for himself every night.
Alan’s dark gaze watches me as I clean up the soapy water. One of the newer prospects shifts off his barstool near the front door to come to my aid, but Alan growls out menacingly, “Stay away from her.” The prospect raises his hands up and parks his ass back on his perch, Alan’s warning clear.
I’m his toy. No other man gets to touch me.
Alan smirks, clearly satisfied with the prospect’s response, until he sees me watching the exchange. He’s off his stool in a flash, stomping toward me in his heavy boots. Before I can attempt to get away, he’s on me, his large hand snatching one of my hot pink braids and yanking me to him.
“You’re mine,” he snarls next to my ear. To the room, he declares, “You hear me? This bitch is fucking mine!” The room responds in muffled acknowledgements.
Before I can stop myself, I spit, “I’m not yours.” The second the words leave my mouth, his free hand wraps around my throat, applying enough pressure to restrict my airway. I thrust my hands at his chest, trying to push him away with all my might, but Alan has at least a hundred pounds on me. Even in a fair fight, my buck forty frame is no match for him.
“When is my little mouse gonna learn? That pretty little cunt won’t keep saving you from that smart mouth of yours, no matter how much I like it wrapped around my cock.”
I try again to fight back, but he adjusts his grip and squeezes. Black spots pop up in my vision, as I feel my body growing slack from the pressure he’s applying.
“Say you’re mine,” he demands.
“No,” I rasp out.
“Say it, bitch.” Again, he tightens his grip. “Right here, in front of everyone.”
“Dude,” one guy calls out from behind him. “Bitch’s lips are turning fucking blue. You’re killing her.” His voice carries no sense of urgency to help, nor any concern. Just stating a fact. “You know Prez won’t like it if you kill another one of the girls.”
Another one?I knew Alan was a twisted fuck of a man, but the knowledge that I’m not the first girl he’s handled like this rocks me to my core. Was she like me? Did she fight back? Was she sold to their club too, to pay off someone’s debt?
Alan loosens his hold, snapping me back to my bleak reality, and warns, “He won’t save you, Boo. Say it, and I’ll let you go.”
The fight has completely left me, so I gasp out, my voice hoarse, “Yours.”
“Good girl.”
As soon as he releases me, I fall onto my knees, gasping for air, the headache now thrumming through my ears, beating in tandem with my heart. It takes a few minutes for my breathing to even out and for my vision to clear. Minutes that are my only reprieve from Alan’s attention. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, I go to stand up, but Alan grabs my shoulders and pushes me back down.
“Time to show them who you belong to, Boo.” Fumbling with his belt, he unzips his pants and pulls out his flaccid cock, ordering me to, “Suck it.”
My stomach churns at the demand. One he’s given me more times than I care to admit since my uncle sold me to this club. The very first time he sought me out, the night of my eighteenth birthday, and the eighth year of belonging to the Screwballs. He fucked me right on the pool table in the middle of a game, only stopping to take his turn with the cue. He left me there all night once he was finished, tied down to the table, and left for anyone who wanted a turn. They all did. After that night, Alan kept me to himself, or so he thought. If he only knew his club president and vice president had taken their own liberties with my body while he was out on errands. I seriously doubt he’d take that news well.
Steeling myself against what I’m about to do, I lean forward and open my mouth.
“That’s right. Show them who those lips belong to. Show them you’re mine.”
I wrap my lips around his soft cock and suck, all while trying to drown out the actions with the noises around the room, and counting down the seconds with Mississippi’s like I’d learned from watching the kiddie educational videos they used to plop me down in front of instead of going to school.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three…
A loud crash reverberates from the front door as Big Dick, the club president, kicks it open with force. Alan shoves me away, quickly tucking his dick back into his pants.
“Brought us a present, boys.” Beaming, Big Dick shoves a man inside and onto the floor.
I try to get a good look at him, but he’s a real mess. His long hair is caked in blood, obscuring his face completely. He rasps out unintelligible moans, which gets him a hard kick to the ribs from Big Dick.
“Take him to the cells,” he orders.
Two men grab the injured man by his arms and drag him toward the cells located in the back room. I shift my gaze as they pass me, and notice he’s wearing a vest like the Screwballs, but with a different logo and colors.He’s in an MC.Alan catches me watching as they pass, so I avert my gaze, but not before I see the words written on the back of his vest as he disappears around the corner.
Black Hoods MC.