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“Looks like you haven’t lived here in a while.” She’d been mainly talking to herself, but he gave a grunt, which seemed to be the caveman response he liked to give more often than not.
“I rarely come here. I normally stay at the club.” He tossed her bag on the couch, and a wall of dust puffed up. She left the door open, didn’t move from her spot, and wondered, as they looked at each other, if he would start with the whole fucking her against the wall routine.
“Where will I sleep?” Of course, it may have been dumb as shit to actually think he’d give her a room to herself, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to throw the question out there.
The corner of his mouth kicked up, and he lifted his hand to remove his sunglasses. “Sleep? Well, Butters,” he said and tucked the sunglasses into the collar of his shirt, walking toward her in the process. “There won’t be much sleeping going on, just to let you know.” That smirk rose to a full grin. “But, when we do find ourselves sexually exhausted, you’ll be right next to me in my bed.”
He was so close now that the scent of the cologne he wore, or maybe it was just his natural, potent aroma, filled her head. She felt slightly intoxicated, a little dizzy, and placed her hand on the door behind her.
The act caused the wood to slowly close until the click of it firmly being shut was the only thing she heard.
“You seem scared,” he said in a low, deep voice. “Do I frighten you, pretty girl?”
The way he said that last part, the endearment, had her feeling this weird kind of pleasure, this tightness at the base of her spine. It was a strange feeling, something she couldn’t quite describe.
Butters felt bared for him, every part of her just out in the open. Mayhem looked down at her, stared right into her eyes, as if he saw every part of her, as if he knew exactly who she was and what she was made of.
“Well?” he asked again. “Tell me.” He took another step closer, and she felt his body heat slam into her even harder.
“No,” she said and licked her lips. “You don’t frighten me.” It was a lie, an outright one at that, but she wasn’t about to let this man intimidate her.
“Bullshit, baby.” He held her gaze with his for several more seconds, but then looked at her mouth, holding there for a moment before lifting his eyes back to her face. “You can lie to yourself,” Mayhem said and placed a hand on the door by her head, caging her in, “but I want you to know I can read you like an open fucking book. Ain’t nothing getting by me, Butters.”
She panted, her mouth parted, her breathing ragged. Why was this man affecting her so much? She’d held strong those times he’d tried to get her in his bed. She considered herself a badass.
But having him so close, being essentially locked away with him at his sexual mercy, had arousal moving through her. She thought he’d kiss her given how close he was, how intently and hard he was staring at her mouth. But Mayhem pushed back and smirked again.
“The bathroom’s down the hall. You can clean up, if you want. I have some shit to do at the club and will be there pretty late.”
She wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d leave her here.
“Ready to get this party started, baby?”
Chapter
Eleven
Mayhem watched Butters behind the bar, and like a fucking creep, he stayed in the corner of the club, the shadows hiding him. Fuck, ever since seeing her that first time a few months ago at the bar she worked at, he’d wanted her.
Mayhem didn’t ever admit to any weakness, but only to himself did he admit that Butters was his fucking weakness.
His desire, possessiveness, and obsession for her had been instant.
Mayhem had fucked his fair share of women, a lot of the club whores who hung around, and, really, any woman who didn’t want a commitment or relationship.
He wasn’t into the whole old lady bullshit, didn’t want someone clinging to him, expecting to have him watch her back.
What Mayhem wanted was a good screw, the best fuck he’d ever had, and looking at Butters, hearing her sass, seeing the badass attitude she had, and knowing she was probably so sweet between the thighs, he knew she’d be fire in the bedroom.
Mayhem had grown obsessed thinking about it, thinking about her. But keeping that shit deep down was the façade he’d play, how he needed to act.
Showing he cared at all would make him look like a pussy, and being in the MC meant he had to be strong at all times.
