The door to her room closes behind me, and I feel like I take in my first real breath, since before I entered.

You were smooth in there, dip shit. Could you have been more of a nervous Nelly? Grow a pair.

She looked so fucking beautiful sprawled out on that couch, and my dick was screaming at me to go say hi. But it was the moment, that her soft hand grazed mine in my sad as shit attempt to be professional, that I knew this was something different. A fucking hand shake and I was gone. I was crazy. Absolutely off my rocker crazy, but it was happening. Maybe those fucking romance shows the club girls watch weren’t that far off on the love at first sight shit. Well, in this case, there wasn’t a big rock and a cash prize waiting at the end. There was something much more than that. The only problem is that she doesn’t realize the way she reacted to me is because she knows me. The other me, who was really the real me, without the club bullshit, but that’s beside the point.

Fuck, I’m confusing myself.

I caught the shared reaction between us from that touch, as hard as she tried to hide it. She was a shit liar, if I could ever call someone that.

Every second that I was in that room, I was in absolute terror of spilling my secret to her. She was so close, yet so far away from me.

Fuck. My. Life. Guarding her wasn’t going to be as enjoyable as I thought. Not if I was going to be like this. I’m a raving lunatic, when she’s around.

As soon as she sauntered over to me with those rounded hips, I knew I had to get out of there. The mention of a shower and the thought of her sleeping naked in that room was my breaking point. It was even worse, when the dark thought crossed my mind of having access to watch her through the cameras I had just rigged up. I heard red alert warnings going off in my head from below the belt. I was running the risk of my other brain taking over, and it wouldn’t do me any good right now.

Not happening, buddy boy. That’s a prison sentence. You have to wait, until the time is right.

My dick rebutted at my moral high road, but that wasn’t a line I was about to cross just yet. Prison colors didn’t look good on me, and neither did a dead man’s suit. That was the only two possible outcomes of such a stupid fucking idea had I gone through with it in that moment. I just had to play my cards right.

I bolt from the hallway, where Presley likely stands naked, dripping wet from her shower, and charge for my office. Thankfully, I have a nice new selection of porn that I can use to satisfy this itch and pacify it. Just a man and his dick. Masturbating in misery together. Fucking pathetic.

My head is so tightly wrapped around Presley’s proposed nudity that I didn’t even see him standing there just outside our office area. I hit him head on, and bounce back from the contact.

“Where’s the fire, V? Damn, that hurt a bit.” Raze questions with a curious look.

“Shit, Prez. You’ve been practicing those ninja skills. Didn’t see you there.”

Raze’s look remains the same, as he assesses the situation.

“V, I live in a house with five kids. Stealth is my middle name,” he chuckles. “Did you get her room wired up?”

“Sure did. About to go get started on Ginny’s room next.”

“Don’t bother,” he states. “Ratchet took her home with him. Against my wishes, I might add.”

“Need me to check the cameras on his house or get Slider over there?”

“I’m already ahead of you. Slider’s parked outside right now.”

Lockdowns aren’t exactly the time to defy our club president’s orders, but this is a bit of a different situation. Ratchet loves his sister, that was plain enough to see, and it only makes sense that he wants her in his house the first night back. Was it a smart move? No, but the first night would be their safest here, as long as they weren’t followed. The lack of our doors being broken down around us was proof enough for the time being that they weren’t.

“She’ll be back tomorrow, so you’ll have time to do your thing, before she’s back.”

“Sounds good, Prez. You need anything else, before I get back to work? I want to get the outer cameras ready to go, before I install them after dark. If they are watching, I’d rather that they didn’t see where I put the cameras.”

Raze smiles at my forward thinking, and slaps his large hand roughly against my shoulder.

“If we make it through this alive, I owe you a raise,” he remarks.

“Aw, shucks. I’m just doing my job,” I mock back. “You know how I love to play with wires and cameras. I’m like a kid at digital Legoland.”

Raze just laughs, as he walks away and leaves me to my previous plan. I slide into my office, closing the door behind me and flipping the lock. I think about throwing a sock on the door, but the club girls might get the wrong impression. And so would Presley.

As much as I love pussy, I had to play my cards right with Presley here. No more club girls, and no more one night stands, until I know where we stand. It was just me and my favorite girl from here on out. Rosy palm and her five sisters.

Tossing the empty box on the table, I stalk over to my personal computer console on my desk that houses my spank bank collection. Business and pleasure don’t mix, and that goes for my computers as well. It would be embarrassing as fuck, if I accidently exposed my pump peep show to an actual website or worse to my brothers. This is one of those things that stays private.

I flick through my collection, and finally decide to try out the parody of the last Star Wars movie, Star Sluts. It’s low quality, but this wasn’t going to take long with Presley so fresh on my mind.

I undo the top button of my jeans, as the movie begins to load. My dick is raging against the zipper, and it hurts just from the sensation of the button popping open. I almost want to apologize for putting him through so much temptation. Her beautiful face flashes into my head. Maybe I don’t need the porn after all. My fingers start for my zipper just as my Star Wars text tone goes off for the first time in days. I now know the season for the silent treatment between us. She was running for her life, and unknowingly, right to me.

My hand flies to my desk drawer, pulling out the old burner phone I had stowed, since her silence began.

The three little words scrolling across my screen makes my stomach seize. She misses him. Jealousy punches me in the gut. I’m jealous of myself, and it fucking sucks. This problem was of my own creation. The downside of it is only just now starting to reap what I sowed, except I was its beginning and end. The only person who would be hurt by it would be myself. I guess the old adage of being your own worst enemy was finally making sense.

Presley is texting Beauregard again, and from the confines of the clubhouse. This poses two distinctly different issues. One, she has a phone here and there’s no telling if The Zezza’s are tracking her with it. The second is that she was thinking about another man, when I was with her.

My sudden need to get my rocks off blinks into oblivion, only to be replaced with the need to tear apart her room and get that phone. The only problem is, if I do that she’ll know my secret, before I even get a chance to explain it to her.

The only thing I can do is play along, even though it is killing me on the inside.

I think for a few minutes before I respond, but the message instantly bounces back. Dammit. It must be dead or she’s turned it off. At least that solves one of my problems for the time being. I look down at my dick thinking about starting where we left off, but he’s a no go, even with the sounds of a fake Princess Leia sucking off a pretty shitty Chewbacca coming from the computer.

Those three little words and the subsequent emotional avalanche took everything sexy off the menu. I lean down, switching off the video, and re-button my jeans. I guess I’ll get started on my intel search, since just about everything I had planned to do tonight has gone to absolute fucking shit.

Pushing off my heels, I head over to my work computers and flick one of them on. Retrieving the pad of paper from my pocket, I notice Presley’s list. Half of the shit on it is foreign to me. I snap a picture of it, and text it over to Darcy. She will know exactly what to get. Although, that doesn’t solve the real time issue now because Presley is without apparel at the moment. A wicked idea comes to mind, and I smile as I think about it. I unlock my office door, and head to my room on the other side of the clubhouse. The main room is busier than it was earlier. My brothers are home to roost, until the coast is clear. Many of them with their kids and old ladies in tow. Darcy and Dani sit at the bar top, locked into conversation, while the twins and Roxie babble in a playpen between them. Not exactly a sight that I ever thought I would see within the confines of our club. It was a change, but a welcomed one.

With so many people around, I dip unnoticed down the hallway and walk into my room. My dresser to the left of the door was my target. The heavy wooden drawer creaks as I open it, and pull out a few of my club shirts from my prospecting days that I have kept as mementos. They don’t exactly fit me now, but they will fit Presley.

“Need anything, sugar?” Misty, one of the newer club girls, asks making sure her ample tits are on display for me. Normally, I wouldn’t second-guess her appearance for anything other than what it really was, a satisfying fuck and a happy ending for the both of us. Now, she only annoys me.

“I’m good,” I say, trying to dismiss her. Disappointment clearly shows on her face. She starts to leave, just as another idea pops in my head.

 

“Is there a storeroom for clothes for the new girls? Toiletries? Shit like that?”

“Ruby has a few things set aside. Why?”

Her prying begins to piss me off.

“I’m thinking about cross dressing,” I spit back. “Why don’t you take your ass over to that little cache of stuff and bring me back a pair of sweats and that girly shower shit you all love so much?”

She starts to question me again.

“This isn’t up for debate, Misty. Just get it and bring it back here.”

She huffs and spins on the too tall for her heels, stomping down the hall. Her ass shakes with a little more effort as she leaves. Desperate much? I’m almost positive that there are a handful of men sitting right out there in the clubhouse room that would scratch her itch in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for her, this isn’t the dick she is hooking up with anymore.

A few minutes later, she comes back and thrusts a bag into my hands without another word. She stomps back down the hall. I force myself not to yell after her to calm her tits, but that might encourage her pursuit of me further. Peeking into the bag, I find a few of the necessities on the list Presley gave me. This would surely get her through the night.

I shove my old shirts into the bag and head back towards her room. Call me a cave man, but I like the idea of her in my shirt. I knock when I reach the door, and she doesn’t answer. Do I go in and just leave it by the door? My mind argues with itself like I have someone else living in my head with me. There’s no proof that there isn’t someone else in this sexy brain of mine, which just makes me laugh at myself.

Snapping myself back to the task at hand, I press my ear to the door and listen for the sound of the running shower, which I hear.

Time to use those ninja skills, V.

Carefully opening the door, I quickly slide in and place the bag onto the floor by the doorframe. I start to praise myself for accomplishing my mission without being detected, until I hear a gasp above me. My eyes trail up from the floor and the bag, and find a towel-wrapped Presley staring down at me like a barrel of a gun. Her long hair is shoved to one of her shoulders, while beads of water slide down her very naked legs.

 

Abort mission, motherfucker. Abort mission.

“Uh, hi,” I squeak, before I scramble out of the door way and run straight back to my office. My chest heaves as I rush in, slamming the door behind me.

If I had any chance of just leaving Presley alone, it just flew out the fucking window with my man card attached to it.