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Glancing down at her, Kristy’s lips curved. “Let him fuck me?”
Mak nodded.
Shrugging, Kristy said, “He’s got big muscles and an even bigger dick. Plus, you’d never know it, but the asshole is loaded. Walked away with some serious cash the next morning.”
Well, that answer certainly didn’t clear up anything. Just as she was about to ask Kristy if she slept with many of the club members for money, the main room of the CDMC clubhouse came into view.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
Holy crap.
The place was packed wall to wall with bodies moving to the music. Based on the music alone, she could tell the vibe was completely different from that of the Hell’s Handlers. Scream, heavy metal blared thought the speakers. Men leered at women, grabbing and groping all around them. A completely naked woman danced on a table ten feet away. Was that what Kristy was about to do?
Holy crap
Kristy laughed, and Mak looked at her. “What?”
“You look like a frightened deer. Tits up, girl. You need to wipe that expression off your face because, like BD said back there, the flies will swarm if they think you’re fresh, tender meat.”
Five hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars.
Mak trailed after Kristy, ignoring everyone who spoke to her neighbor as they made their way to the bar. What she couldn’t ignore was everything happening on the perimeter of the room. The very first thing she saw as she turned her head was a man sitting on a ratty couch against the wall with his legs spread wide. A woman knelt between his thighs, clearly sucking his dick. His eyes were closed, head was thrown back in pleasure, and hand fisted in the woman’s hair, jerking her up and down on his erection.
At the end of the very same couch, another woman lay bent over the armrest with her feet on the floor, hands braced on a cushion. She had a glazed-over shine in her eyes.
Was she even aware of her surroundings?
Behind her, a man with his pants around his knees fucked into her while making out with yet another girl.
Jesus.
Mak averted her eyes, turning her head forward. She’d seen enough. Last week she couldn’t tear her gaze from Maverick and Stephanie going at it in the Handlers’ clubhouse. This scene could not have differed more and turned her stomach.
The entire place smelled like marijuana and had a smoky haze to it. She had to hustle to keep up with Kristy, who’d stopped to talk to another man in a Chrome Disciples cut.
“Where’s Blade?” Kristy asked.
The man shrugged. “Don’t fucking know.” He held a hand up toward Kristy’s face. A trail of white powder ran from his thumb to his wrist. “You want?”
Kristy’s eyes lit. “Yesss.”
The guy jerked his hand away. “You gonna give me a shot at that pussy tonight?”
With a pout, Kristy shrugged. “Up to Blade. You know the drill, Crank.”
The man with the crooked nose and messed up ear who Kristy referred to as Crank, fingered the silver zipper resting just below the center of her breasts. “You ain’t his ol’ lady,” he said, voice thick.
If the floor could have opened up and swallowed her whole, Mak would have welcomed it. Since Kristy was the only other person she knew in the entire place, she had no choice but to stand there like a moron and wait until Kristy finished doing…whatever with this guy so her friend could introduce her to who she’d be working with.
A husky laugh left Kristy. “Like that matters? I’m being fucked by your president. You want a piece, you ask him.”
A chill ran down Mak’s spine. Her friend’s statement reminded her way too much of life in the community. The parallel wasn’t one she’d picked up on when hanging around the Handlers, but was this club life? Women viewed as property? Shell, Toni, Jazz, and Holly sure didn’t act as though owned by their club. Hell, if anything, their men seemed owned by the women.
Well, maybe not, but each relationship she’d seen in the Handler’s club spoke of a true partnership.
Not ownership.
She shuddered. Never again.
“I just might do that,” Crank said, pulling the zipper down another inch.
All Kristy did was nod, as though this behavior was so familiar to her, it didn’t even register. “You know where to find me.”
It was then Crank turned his attention to Mak, and she couldn’t help but take a step back at his assessing gaze. The once-over didn’t come across as curious, but malicious. As though he was searching for some way to use her, regardless of her desires. “This our barmaid for tonight?” Crank asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yep,” Kristy said. “Makenna, this is Crank, the enforcer for the Disciples. If you think he seems like an asshole, you’re wrong. He’s much worse.”
When Crank laughed so loud heads turned their way, Mak’s eyes widened. “Changed my mind, Kristy,” he said, licking his lower lip. Then he faced Makenna. “Two hours of work, then you get a break. Ask around for me then.”
