HANNAH
The image of Brandon’s cock inside that blonde tramp’s mouth wouldn’t get out of my head. Nothing I did worked. I reminding myself over and over again that he wasn’t mine. We didn’t belong to each other. We had no say in each other’s lives. Hell, it's not like Carter stopped sending members my way, or stopped himself from slipping into bed in the middle of the night.
No logical reasoning could be used to explain why the heavy weight of jealousy dragged me down. Yet, there it was. I had no choice in my situation. I came to terms with the fact that I spread my legs for the MC, but with Brandon it had been different.
The last time he’d come over, he’d been so intense. Strung so tight. He didn’t just want a fuck, he needed me, and I was there for him. Of course, it cost me. I couldn’t let Carter know I didn’t ask for the money, so I dug out what little cash I had on hand and handed it over. Now I was paying to fuck Brandon–the idea made me laugh when I walked away from Carter that night. I would have paid twice the amount, it had been so intense.
Of course, I didn't delude myself into thinking Brandon and I had anything other than a physical thing going. That would be really stupid. But still. Seeing that girl on him, kneeling where I had knelt only days before–it hurt.
“Hey, baby doll,” Carly knocked on my door. Carly rarely came to the back rooms, so right away I worried for the worst. She must have seen my concern because she shook her head. “Nothing bad.”
“Good.” I smiled. Of all the people in the club Carly kept me sane. “What’s up?” I finished the braid in my hair and faced her. She sat on the edge of my bed, legs crossed and put her hands up in the air.
“I’m gonna ask you a question, and know that whatever the answer, I will not go to Carter.”
I gripped the edge of the dresser that I was leaning on and swallowed. “Okay.”
“Do you have a thing for Brandon Knox?”
“What?” I scoffed already feeling my cheeks burn. “Why would you think that?”
“Because he’s here and he’s asking for you.”
I did my best not to look surprised. After the other night, the last thing I thought he’d do is come around looking for me. “He’s probably just meeting with Carter and looking to kill some time.” I fiddled with the buckle on my skirt. “That’s what I’m here for, right?” I tried to give a smile, but I couldn’t quite make it.
“Carter’s not here.” She stood from the bed. “You’re playing with a fire that will get you killed, baby girl.” Her hands smoothed over my shoulders. “Be careful. Martin is out there talking to him.”
“Send him away.” I ignored the pain building in my chest. “Or just tell him to come back when Carter’s around.”
“Martin told me to come get you.” Her hands dropped from my shoulder, and she gave a little shake of her head.
“Okay, then.” I pushed away from the dresser. I wouldn’t show my hurt. I’d shove it deep down, bury it where it would have to stay.
“Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to when you first showed up here with Lisa. I’d kick your ass out. Never let you hang around.”
“Why?” I paused in the hallway.
She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Carter’s an asshole, always has been. If it weren’t for Martin, he probably would have me under the same shit he has you, after helping me out. But I had my brother as a sort of currency. You were so innocent. No one to save you from big bad men like Carter. But I’m telling you, stay away from Brandon. He’s only going to break you, if Carter doesn’t take care of it first.” She left me standing in the hall alone.
I heard her tell Martin I’d be right out, and for a moment I was tempted to run back to my room and lock the door. “Hannah.” Brandon’s voice got my feet moving. He hadn’t seen me yet. “Come here.” I rolled my eyes at the cockiness in his voice. Like I would just come because he snapped his fingers. And damn my legs for being so damn obedient and taking me right to where he sat with Martin.
Martin turned his cool gaze on me and gave me a soft smile. “This asshat here wants to talk with you. Carter isn’t here to give the okay, so you’ll be taking him into the pool room there.”
“Thanks, Martin.” The room that was set off from the main lounge had two pool tables. Although there was a door, the walls were all windows. He’d be able to see us the entire time. Which meant Brandon would have to keep his hands off me. A small part of me was disappointed, while the sane part felt relief.
Brandon shut the door to the room and I leaned against the pool table. “Wanna play nine ball?” I asked with a smile.
He kept his back to the door and his narrowed gaze on me. Like he was pissed at me for something. “I wanted to talk to you about the other night.”
“What for?” I picked up a ball from the table and rolled it between my hands. “I’m sorry I walked in on you. Carter sent me, probably because he wanted me to find you with her.” I shrugged a shoulder. No sense in letting him see how finding him with his cock in some other girls mouth had affected me.
“That girl, she’s just–”
“A whore.” I nodded and dropped the ball on the table, watching it roll across the green felt until it bounced back toward me. “Like me.” I gave him a smile and walked around the table. Having it between us felt more comfortable. A barrier.
“You are no whore.” His eye narrowed even more, the muscles of his arms tensed over his chest, where they were crossed. The stance he held looked more like a war pose than a guy just wanting to get laid.
I laughed. “You’re an idiot if you think that.”
“There’s something else going on. You aren't some club groupie out to fuck the guys until you get made an old lady. Fuck, the other day you made it sound like you'd rather die than be married to a member.”
I looked up at him, he dropped his arms, his hands now shoved into his jeans. He didn't’ look any less dangerous in that stance. “That’s about right.” I nodded and picked up the ball again. “Look, if you feel guilty about getting your dick sucked by someone else, stop. It’s not like I haven't had another cock in me. We aren’t a thing.”
“What other cock?”
“Brandon. We aren’t a thing, a couple, or anything else. For fuck’s sake, Carter gave me to you the first night you were here. Did you think you were special? That you were the first and only guy he’s done that with?”
“I want to know why.” He walked over to the table, putting his fists on the felt and leaned over toward me. His lips thin, his eyes dark. “I want to know what the fuck you are doing here with Carter. You don’t like the MC; you hate Carter. Why don’t you just leave? Just run away?”
My breath caught in my chest. Run away. Like I hadn’t thought about a few dozen times. I had no money, no friends or family out there waiting to rescue me. Without the club, as much as I hated it, I had nothing. “Brandon.” His eyes didn’t waver as they centered on me. I took a breath, a long, slow breath. “It’s not that easy.”
“I want to know what Carter has over you, and I want to know now. Or, you’re gonna find out what a discipline spanking is.”
I felt the heat of embarrassment on my face. He wouldn’t do that. “Martin can see us.” I reminded him, pointing toward the windows with my head.
He stood up, resting his hands on his belt buckle. “I don’t give a fuck. I’ll have you bent over this table and a give you a good dozen lashes before he gets in here. And then, he’ll probably let me finish, so long as I let your tits hang out of that shirt.” His words were crude, more so than usual because they were probably true.
I eyed Martin, still sitting at the same table. Carly had taken Brandon’s chair. They were talking, but Martin glanced over at me now and again. Even if he did put a stop to it, Brandon probably would get as far as he threatened.
“You’d get your ass kicked.” I grinned, an empty threat. These Soldiers didn’t give a shit for me. Most of them didn't even know my name.
“Maybe.” He looked like the idea didn't bother him in the least. Probably because it would take half a dozen of them to take him down, and he knew it. “If you think these windows will keep me from putting you over the table, you’re wrong. You know it. But you also know you’d fucking love it.”
I wouldn’t argue that fact. I would love it. Damn him.
“Why are you so hung up on this?” Relentless in his pursuit of the truth, but to what purpose.
“I’m just a clubhouse whore–”
“If that were truly the case, your eyes wouldn’t show such disgust for Carter when he walked into the room. You wouldn’t have to hide your repulsion for the other members when they talk to you at the bar. You are no clubhouse whore.”
“A whore, nonetheless.” I shrugged.
He needed to let this go. “Maybe. For me at least. The best kind.” His words made my skin tingle. The way he said them, with a raspiness to his voice, the low manner in which he spoke. As though he only wanted me to hear, really hear him. “You have thirty seconds.” He began to unbuckle his belt. I watched his fingers pull the leather back, work the metal clasp. Martin had walked away, sitting at the bar with Carly. His back was to us now.
“Okay.” I put my hands out as the leather strap slowly began to be pulled from the belt loops of his jeans. “Fine. You want to know. Fine.” My temper flared. Fuck him. Fuck all of them. “Lisa, my friend, she brought me here when I needed a place to stay. Carter was nice at first, real accommodating.” I swallowed hard. His attention fully on me, his hands stilled on his belt, but didn’t let go. “I owe him. After Lisa tried leaving, he turned on me. Said I had to pay him back for the room and board.” I told him everything, every stupid detail, every humiliating moment. My surprise that Carter would suggest something so horrible, much less actually mean it, to the moment he walked in and I was handed to him.
His expression remained stoic throughout my ramblings, though his jaw clenched several times. When I had finished, I dropped the ball back on the table letting the loud clank of it sit between us. I waited for a reaction. A look of disgust, a laugh. Anything. Instead, he ran his hand through his hair and creased his brow. “How much are we talking?”
“What?” I looked at him, confused.
“How much money does he say you owe him?”
“I don’t know. I thought one number, but it seems to be some other magical amount.”
“I’ll talk to him.” He gave me a nod, as though that solved the problem. He would just take care of it.
“No. You won’t.” I tried to give him a hard glare, but the lazy smile he gave me told me he wasn’t all that intimidated.
“I’ll pay off the debt.”
“You’ll buy me?” I wanted to throw something at his face. Something to wipe off that arrogant grin.
“No, I’ll pay off the debt and you’ll go free. He gets his money and you get to get out of here.”
“You think he’ll take to that idea? He’ll just be fine with a Rider buying one of his girls? No. He won’t. He’s already pissed that I’ve even been talking to you. I’m not going to be the cause of some war between the two clubs. You guys all act like you’re getting along, but I know you hate each other. It would be just the thing for Carter to use against you. No. I won’t do that.”
“Sometime real soon you’ll need to learn that you don’t control the things I do. It’s the other way between us.” A knock on the glass drew our attention. Martin pointed toward the bar.
“He’s ready,” Martin jerked his head and Brandon held up his hand.
“On my way.” He finished sliding his belt back on and getting himself situated before he looked at me. “You don’t go anywhere. We aren’t done with this talk.” He was gone before I could manage a retort.
Most girls dreamt of a man riding in on a white horse to claim their hearts. Not one of them ever dreamt of a man driving up on a Harley offering to buy them.