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Fury, the club’s president, Shorty, their sergeant at arms, who also looked like his big fucking frame would crush the chair he sat in, and Dirty all sat around glaring at Mayhem. Mayhem grinned as he collected his winnings.

“You’re a cheating bastard,” Fury said. He pulled a joint out of a pocket in his cut, lit the end, and inhaled deeply. Within a few minutes, the rest of the guys were getting high, the thick, sweet smelling smoke surrounding them.

The club was mostly quiet aside from the low hum of music and Dealer getting a lap dance from one of the club whores.

“You’re just pissed 'cause you fucking suck at poker, yet you still play and lose.”

The rest of the guys started laughing. Ash, Woods, and Stone were out doing a little club business, and a prospect had gone with them. There were another two prospects that were on bitch duty, cleaning up the bathrooms, shining up the Harleys, and earning their keep.

One of the sweet-butts, Baby Girl, came up to Shorty, leaned down, and started giggling at whatever she’d said. Shorty groaned, looked over at Baby Girl, and then faced them again.

“Got to take care of business.”

And by that, Shorty meant he needed to go fuck.

Baby Girl didn’t fuck anyone else, even if she had the title of sweet-butt. Whatever went down with Shorty and the woman was on a level Mayhem wasn’t into.

Mayhem just knew whatever the hell they did behind closed doors had been loud enough on several occasions to have him hearing her shouting out “Daddy” and a lot of other age-play related shit. To each his own and all that, but it’s not something Mayhem had ever wanted to experiment with.

TA, another club whore, walked by, and Dirty grabbed her around the waist. Tits and Ass, or TA as the club called her, had been with every patch, him included. Not the best sex he’d ever had but she was good to warm a bed for a few hours because she knew exactly what the guys liked. Dirty got up and took TA with him down the hall, and then it was just Mayhem and Fury.

“You look like shit,” Mayhem said, grabbed his beer, and downed the rest. He lifted the empty bottle, and within a few moments, a sweet-butt set two new ones in front of them.

“Thanks, motherfucker.”

Mayhem grinned. “Saying it like it is, prez.”

They both drank at the same time, and when they set the bottles on the table, the silence stretched out.

“You want to go with me to a bar close to Claire’s place?”

Even with his twin recently coming to the club and staying here for protection because of one punk ass ex, Mayhem still went to the bar that was a few miles from where her apartment was.

He could have said it was mainly because he was keeping an eye on his sister and what was going on with her, but that was a fucking lie.

He grabbed his beer and finished it off.

“Kind of a drive to get lit. You going there just because of that bastard, or is there some ass you want down there?” Fury asked, leaning back in the chair and kicking his leg out. He took on a relaxed position, but Mayhem could see the president was drunk and high.

“Both,” Mayhem said, not bothering to lie.

Fury cocked a dark eyebrow. “So, you either want more or she ain’t putting out.” Fury started laughing, and Mayhem glared.

“Fuck you.”

Fury laughed harder. “Okay, so she ain’t putting out.” He shook his head. “If she hasn’t spread for you by now, I doubt she will, man. Not every bitch is as easy to fuck as the club whores.”

“She’ll put out, because if she knew me at all, she’d realize I don’t give up on what I want.”

Fury tipped his beer bottle toward Mayhem. “Well, good luck toward that. Sounds like you’ll need it.”



Mayhem pulled his Harley into the gravel parking lot, cut the engine, and stared at the neon sign on the bar door that read “Open”.

Dismounting and removing his skullcap helmet, he looked around at the few drunken guys groping women up against the side of the building. This bar was in a shitty part of town, and the smell of alcohol and piss filled his nostrils.

It had been weeks since Claire had come to the club. They were in the works to take care of Steven, Claire’s piece of shit ex, but here Mayhem was, driving out of his way to try to score a piece of ass from one smart-mouthed, shoots-me-down-every-damn-time bartender.

He made his way up to the front doors, his cock starting to get hard at the thought Butters was in there. Yeah, he’d found out her background and anything that could be used to his advantage. Mayhem never said he was a good guy.

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