Sold to the MC Men

Junior’s face went red. “You don’t.”

“You can still have it. I just don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either,” Junior said.

This man was not as dumb as he was making out. Dig watched the besotted look on Junior’s face. He made it seem like he’d never even talked to a woman.

From the times they’d fucked a woman, he guessed Junior never had. There were always more important things to be doing than actually talking.

Dig put some of the greasy cheese fries on her plate, and she offered him that smile.

Dig had gone and gotten her, and was going to help feed her.

She picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite.

The men were all watching her as she ate. She picked up a fry, popping it into her mouth, before taking another bite of pizza.

She licked the excess grease off her lips with her tongue, and Dig was determined to be the one to taste those lips if it was the last thing he did.

Chapter Three

The five men were surprisingly clean.

Leah wrapped her hair up on top of her head, and she had no choice but to wear her denim shorts and a tank top because the heat was a nightmare. Even with all the windows open, there didn’t appear to be any kind of breeze. She had a spare towel for wiping the excess sweat off her forehead.

Dig, Edge, Junior, and Trick had all gone to the store for the groceries she asked for. She’d checked their pantry, fridge, and freezer, and she couldn’t believe the men were still walking around. The food was moldy or going sour. The milk she had tried to use in everyone’s coffee had been sour and lumpy.

The fridge had looked like it had seen better days. She’d gotten straight to work, making a list of everything she’d need to make this place perfect again.

It hadn’t taken her long to do. The kitchen was now pristine.

Tank was outside working, and she kept on checking to make sure he was okay.

The sun was way too intense, and she quickly poured them both some cold water. There was a little ice in the freezer, so she put some in Tank’s glass. She didn’t know how long the men were going to be, and well, water was water, warm or cold.

Carrying the glasses out, she stood by Tank’s bike.

It was a fierce machine. It looked … sturdy.

She didn’t know what else to say about the bike. The men had gone to the grocery store on their bikes. She hoped they could carry back the food she’d need.

“Hey,” she said. “I thought you might like a drink.”

She held out a glass to him.

Tank got to his feet.

He was wearing a white tank shirt as well. His had grease on it and looked like it had seen many better days.

His muscles though, and the ink that covered them … this man was easily twice, if not three times, her size.

He was so big that it made her feel small.

Tank stared at the glass and then at her.

“You think I’ve poisoned it?” she asked.

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t trust anyone but my brothers.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Fine. Look.” She drank from each glass. “See, nothing wrong with them. I promise. I have no reason to kill you.”

“You don’t want to get away?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve told you. I’ve got nowhere else to go. I’m all alone here. Is that so hard to imagine?”

“We took you as payment. Now you’re cleaning and cooking for us,” he said. “You think I should believe you’re happy about that?”

“I guess looking at it like that, no. I wouldn’t trust me either.” Tank turned away without taking the drink. “At least come inside and have a drink. It’s way too hot out here, and you could hurt yourself. I promise you, nothing is wrong with the water. I just wanted you to be okay. I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, and I get it, I do. You don’t know me. You don’t know what it’s like to grow up in the system.”

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to be passed around?” he asked.

“You grew up in the system?”

“I never had a parent to my name. I never went looking for the woman that dumped me in that place either. You don’t get to learn how to cook and clean. You learn how to survive. I don’t know what bullshit story you’re pulling—”

“All of my stuff remained in a black bag. I never was allowed to unpack, no matter where I went. Some of the mothers or foster homes were all right. The one that was the best, the woman was old, too old to care for us any longer. That was where I learned how to cook. It was the best experience of my childhood, learning how to cook with her. She was the only one who told me being a foster kid or in the system didn’t define who I was. I was special. The others that wanted me to be ‘special’ wanted to pay nighttime visits. I caused a lot of problems for them. I wasn’t going to be any man or woman’s plaything.” She took a deep breath. “If you don’t want to take the water from me, fine. Don’t for a second begin to presume that because I’ve gained skills that I’m lying. I know what it’s like to be abandoned and sold on.”