Page 42 of Mischief Mayhem

I hopped in the shower, preparing to head to the clubhouse, and when I rubbed one out to that video, recording myself so I could return the favor, I told myself it was because he was so beautiful . . . not because of the complete control he had over my reaction to him.

15

HOLLYWOOD

When she didn’t immediately reply back, I thought I’d fucked up. No one liked an unsolicited dick pic, even if said dick had been called aesthetically perfect. I walked into the clubhouse with a lump in my gut, wondering what retaliation would look like once she got here.

“Hey ya, Hollywood,” Chelsea said, walking up to me so she could throw an arm around my waist.

“Hiya, Chels.” I promptly detached myself from her and moved away. “You doing okay?”

“Better now that you’re here.” She gave me a big smile and batted her pretty doe eyes, the way she did when she wanted to drag me to one of the back rooms. Hollywood of yesteryear would have already had his pants halfway down to his ankles, but I’d learned there was something better out there, something more potent and powerful than an empty connection with her. I wanted that with V.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” I smiled and walked toward the meeting room on the right. “See ya around.”

“Hollywood,” she whined, and I turned around to face her. “You’re not really going along with that bitch, are you?”

“Bitch?” I raised my eyebrows and took a step toward her. “You mean V?”

She grinned and wrapped her index fingers in my belt loops, trying to pull my hips toward her. “Yeah. Who cares what she thinks anyway, right?”

Fire erupted in my gut at the fucked-up way Chelsea spoke about the MC princess. Even if I wasn’t in this random situationship with her, she was still my best friend’s sister. I wouldn’t let anyone talk shit about her, especially not a jealous hang-around.

“I care,” I said. “And the next time you talk about her like that will be the last time I talk to you.”

Chelsea furrowed her brows, seemingly hurt. “Are you serious? What are you like . . . in love with the cunt or something?”

That’s it.

I didn’t say anything else, just rolled my eyes and headed toward the meeting room for church, taking up my spot in my normal corner. Had Chelsea always been such a self-righteous bitch? Or was this a new development based on the fact that I wasn’t interested in her anymore? Hang-arounds didn’t hold the same position in the club as the old ladies or the princesses. She was lucky I didn’t have her banned from showing up here.

My phone buzzed, so I reached into my pocket to retrieve it, biting my bottom lip when I had a video response from V. I made sure the sound was turned all the way down before I pressed play.

Holy fucking hell.

She’d returned the favor. My pulse kicked up a notch when she ran her soapy tattooed fingers over her amazing tits, blood shooting down to my cock when she rubbed in between her legs. If I focused hard enough, I could almost taste her on my tongue, and when she threw her head back in a euphoric display of her orgasm, I damn near came in my pants like a teenager.

“You and V make out all right?” KC said, coming to stand next to me.

I quickly turned my screen off and glanced up at him with wide eyes, heat rushing through my face and into my neck.

“What?” I blurted much louder than I intended.

“Yesterday,” KC said. “Wheels told me you volunteered for a shift to guard her again. Everything go okay?”

“Oh.” I cleared my throat and nodded, swallowing down the rotten images of what V and I had really made out last night. “Yeah. It was fine.”

KC furrowed his brows and lit a cigarette. “You okay?”

“Peachy keen, jelly bean.”

If he was going to reply, he got distracted when Bear walked up to us and rubbed his hands over his face. KC looked about the same as he always did—a big smile for everyone, happiness radiating out of his pores, the attitude of a man that had married the epitome of sunshine. Bear, on the other hand, had deep purple bags under his eyes and the twinge of panic at the corner of his mouth while he lit a cigarette before letting the smoke out on a deep sigh. He never smoked, so to see him this stressed out yanked on my heart.

“Hey, brother,” I said, grabbing his shoulder. “You all right?”

“Yeah, fucking great.” He shook his head and inhaled deeper. “Just watching my whole fucking life go up in flames.”

“Hey,” KC cut in. “You don’t know if your pops is going to go along with it.”