Page 62 of Mischief Mayhem

“That’s it.” He threw down the tire iron and took off after me. I, of course, already knew what was coming, so I beat-fucking-feet to the exit, throwing open the door so I could race out behind the garage, dodging and weaving through the antique cars Thor said he’d get around to restoring one of these days. “You’re a dead man, Hollywood!”

I laughed as loud as I could, showing him I knew he was joking and I wasn’t scared of his empty threats. I had longer legs than him, but I was heavier. He caught up to me in an embarrassing amount of time, tackling me to the ground so he could wrap an arm around my neck and put me in a headlock. I elbowed him in the sides, not hard enough to hurt him, just enough to make him groan and let me go.

When he did, we lay in the grass and stared up at the bright blue sky, breathing down the race out here.

“You treat her right or I’ll fucking kill you,” Bear finally said, looking at me.

I smiled and nodded. “She’ll beat you to it, brother.”

He hummed in agreement before pushing to his feet, turning, and holding a hand out for me. I took it and let him pull me upright. He patted my shoulder and nodded.

“What about you?” I asked, raising my eyebrows as we walked back inside. “What did your old man say about Julia Caputi?”

Bear sighed and ran his hands back through his hair. “We’re still discussing it.”

“Seems like there isn’t much choice.” I reached into my pockets for my cigarettes, taking one out to give to Bear before biting one between my teeth to light it. “If you don’t do this, Leo isn’t going to partner with us. We might as well kill him.”

“Yeah, I know. I just . . .” He shook his head and inhaled deep on the smoke. “I thought when I got married, it would be because I loved the person. Not because the club needed me to do it to secure an alliance.”

“That motherfucking crown weighs a ton, doesn’t it?” This time, I gave Bear the pat of support.

21

VERONA

I brought the wooden paddle down on Hollywood’s bare ass and smiled when he bucked against the restraints. A perfect “SLUT” appeared on his flesh due to the outline of the letters carved into the paddle. I had the prettiest man in the MC bent over my spanking bench with a rubber gag in his mouth and bright red imprints all over his bottom and legs.

“Don’t you mark up like a rag doll?” I teased, running my fingertips down the back of his thighs, making him suck in a harsh breath through his nose. He liked the degradation. He liked the bruises. And when he saw this, he’d thank me until the sun rose.

Of course, I had bigger plans for him tonight. He’d been begging me for the strap for weeks now, ever since I had him fill out that checklist and he realized it was an option. Hollywood had been pansexual since I’d known him, and with people who owned a penis, he liked to bottom as much as he liked to top. I understood. There was nothing like being fucked by someone who knew what they were doing, and I definitely did.

I raised the paddle in the air and brought it down again on the fleshy part of his ass, making sure to dig the corner into the softest bits so he’d feel it in the morning. He let out a cry, part joy, part agony, and yanked on the restraints again.

The power gave me a rush. I loved seeing him like this. I loved being the one he trusted to wreak havoc on his body. Never had I felt more like my domme name than when he handed over control.

Mayhem. The thought made me laugh, and I decided when the Beacon reopened, Hollywood would be my beautiful submissive, Matty Mischief. Together, we’d make a complete set.

Dragging my nails up Hollywood’s bruised back, I walked to the front of the spanking bench, where he lifted his head to look at me when I squatted. His eyes were hazed over, indicating how zoned out he’d become during the spanking, and drool dripped over his open mouth, sliding down his chin to make a big puddle on the floor.

“Aww, look at my little slut.” I smeared my fingers under his bottom lip, gathering the sloppy evidence of his rough handling so I could spread it all over his face. “Did you like that?”

He eagerly nodded, widening his eyes at the anticipation of more to come. But I had a surprise for him. I ordinarily wouldn’t do this in the middle of a scene, but I thought he’d appreciate it more that way. He was the one who wanted this arrangement, and now I had the urge to make the D/s part of it official. I didn’t do this to all my submissives, but I was exclusive with Hollywood, at least physically. I wanted him to know how much that meant to me.

I undid the straps around his wrists and unhooked the gag from the back of his head, guiding him up so he could stand. Then, we went across the hallway to my bedroom. I liked to keep scene activities to the dungeon. It separated the part of me that was the mistress from the part that was Verona, but with Hollywood, the two lines had blurred. We liked playing, but we were also something more than that, something that had slowly crept up on me while we spent so much time together.

If I believed in that corny soulmate shit like Ru, I’d say Hollywood and I were as close as any two people might get. He matched me in ways I couldn’t have predicted, and when I thought about the future, more recently I had started to envision him in it.

But that was getting ahead of myself. We had a long road to walk if that was the direction we planned to go. Right now, I focused on sitting him down on the edge of my bed, swallowing back a giggle when he winced at his sore ass.

“I got you a present,” I told him, turning to my dresser so I could retrieve the long piece of metal chain and padlock. When I came back to face him, he flashed a big grin, his eyes lighting up like an excited puppy.

“Is that what I think it is?” He sat up straighter, seeming to hold his neck out.

“It is.” I stood between his knees so I could place the chain-collar around his windpipe and stick the top of the padlock through two loops to secure it in place. It hung down to the scar above his heart, and I tenderly ran a finger along the side of it when I straightened. “I know we didn’t talk about this beforehand, but you marked yes to being collared on your checklist. I hope this is okay.”

“I love it,” he said, running his hands down my arms to gather my hands so he could bring them to his lips. He delicately kissed each knuckle before looking back up at me. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Hollywood.” In that moment, those words were about more than him acquiescing to whatever I wanted to do to him. It was about him taking a bullet for me. It was about his continued protection, even after he didn’t have to anymore. It was about his friendship and the way he made me laugh and how much he loved my family and everyone in it. Even me . . . especially me.