Biker Baby (Kings of Mayhem MC 3)

What the fuck?

“Ah, what are you doing, sweetheart?”

She pulled her hair over one shoulder. “You don’t like what you see?”

She had a banging body. Tanned. Smooth. Hard thighs and perky tits. But it didn’t belong in my tattoo area fucking naked. She came toward me, her expression seductive, her lips slightly parted, one eyebrow raised. I raised one right back at her.

“Becky told me what a good lay you are,” she said. “Told me all about that big cock of yours.”

Becky? Who the fuck was Becky?

“I think there’s been some kind of mistake, darlin’, I don’t know a Becky,” I said.

“She came in here a few months ago. Heart tattoo. Just below her belly button.” She indicated to the area on her body, drawing my eyes to the thin strip of pubic hair between her legs. I quickly lifted my eyes back to hers. “She said you were sure something.”

I thought back to the blonde woman who I now knew was Becky. Fucking her on the tattoo bed had been a mistake. I’d never done anything like that before and I wasn’t quite sure why I did it then. Only that life back then seemed out of control. Less anchored. A special kind of hell had hit the Kings of Mayhem in the form of Elias Knight only a few months before, and in the aftermath and carnage of his vendetta I did a lot of stupid shit. I acted out. Made poor decisions. Like Becky on the tattoo bed.

I made no excuses for it. I did it. I owned it. I fucked up.

But it wasn’t happening again. Not at my place of work.

And definitely not while my baby grew in another woman’s body.

“You do remember her, don’t you?” Lulu asked, walking back over to the bed and sliding her naked ass across it.

“Of course, I do. Becky. Nice girl.”

“She is. She’s the nice one. I’m the bad one.” She raised her eyebrow and opened her legs so I got an eyeful of pussy. A piercing of some kind glittered amongst the slick folds of flesh. I wasn’t sure what it was. And I had no intention of finding out.

I walked over to her dress laying in a heap on the floor and picked it up.

“Not today, darlin’.” I handed it to her. “It’s a real sweet gesture but it ain’t happening.”

Lulu pouted. But her disappointment didn’t stop her from making another attempt at getting what she wanted. She closed her legs and sat up, reaching for me and trailing a finger seductively up the zipper of my jeans. “I promise you, you’ve not had a pussy as fine as mine.”

I stepped back. This wasn’t happening. “You need to go.”

She glared at me, her face tightening, her eyes sharpening.

Rejection can go two ways.

Clean or dirty.

One, the rejectee can get teary, hurt, apologetic. Or two, they can get angry and decide the only way to overcome the rejection is to rain down some kind of hellfire on their way out the door.

Lulu went with option two.

She shoved on her dress and then stormed out, swiping everything off the top of my ink station and calling me a pussy on her way out.

“Wow, what did you do to piss her off?” Pandora asked, appearing in the doorway five minutes later. I looked up from inspecting the scattered disaster of ink vials on the floor.

“Did she pay?” I asked.

“Hell yeah, she did. You think I’m going to let some crazy-ass bitch leave here without handing over the coin they owe?”

I smiled at her. Good old Pandora. She had a decent set of lady balls. Not a lot intimidated her.

“Good,” I said, picking up three ink vials and a tube of antiseptic cream off the floor. Crimson ink spread in a puddle across the floor like a pool of blood. “Would you mind grabbing me the mop and bucket from the closet in the hall?”

“Sure thing.”

When she disappeared, I picked up the remaining ink vials and the box of latex gloves laying on its side by the pooled ink.

“So, are you going to tell me what you did to make her so angry?” Pandora asked again, reappearing with a mop and bucket.

No. I wasn’t.

“Here, let me do that,” I said, avoiding her question as I took the mop from her. I looked at her outfit. She wore tight black jeans, grey knee-high boots, and a tighter-than-tight black t-shirt screaming Baby Doll across the front. “You look like you’re extra dressed up. I don’t want you to get ink all over your clothes. Is it date night?”

She grinned. “Roger is taking me to see a band over in Humphrey. He’s on his way over to pick me up.”

“Go. I’ll clean this mess up.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Go enjoy your night.”

“Thanks!” She started to walk out but stopped and turned around, a mischievous grin spreading across her perfectly shaped red lips. “You know, we should have a code word for the next time a client hits on you.”