Edison (The Henchmen MC 10)

"Hey mami," another one said, a tall, almost off-puttingly good-looking Puerto Rican guy with an easy smile.

No Edison.

What the hell?

Wasn't that supposed to be the whole point?

"Everyone, this is... Cash, the fuck are you doing?" Cyrus cut off as Cash - who I had seen around the gym several times, but hadn't said more than a hi to before - walked out of what seemed to be the kitchen with another man beside him. He was tall and a lean kind of strong with European features, gray eyes, and dark hair pulled up. And, well, his hands cuffed down in the front. The hands, I feel the need to add, were currently holding a sandwich.

"If you had to hear him bitching about needing to make his own food for the past hour, you'd be doing the same thing," Cash said, raking a hand up the shaved portion of his head a bit frustratedly.

"Well look at ya," the man in cuffs said, smirk a bit wicked, eyes on me. "Yer a gorgeous thing, ain't ya? And ya got that 'can burn a man's pubic hair off with one stare' look to ya too. Nice."

"Right," I said, shaking my head a little. "I really needed a compliment from a prisoner in a biker compound."

"Duchess, just think of the fun we could have with these cuffs," he suggested, smirk sly enough to make the damn devil jealous.

"Easy," Cash warned.

"What? She one of yours?"

There was a collective, shared look, everyone thinking they had the answer to that, but knowing that I had never agreed to it.

"I'm not a dog. I don't belong to anyone."

"No?" he asked, the smirk going even more sinister. "So you don't come when ya are told to?"

Sensing eyes on me, knowing I would lose all respect if I backed down from going there, I lifted my chin, sending him a smirk of my own. "I come when, where, and however many times I want to."

To that, the cuffed man let out a low chuckle, appreciating my balls. "Seriously though, which one of ya unworthy fucks gets a girl like this?"

"Think this is a good time to shove that sandwich in your trap, Adler," Cash suggested, clearly frustrated by the man who was able to complain about a sandwich for an hour. "Oh thank fuck," Cash said, seeing the liquor Cyrus was putting on the bar, making a bee-line for it, pouring almost half a cup of the whiskey.

"What can I get you, Lenny?" he asked, waving at the stocked back bar.

"Tequila," a deep, familiar voice growled from my side, sending an unwanted shiver through my insides, remembering how hot that voice sounded when he was inside of me.

I didn't want to look.

I knew that seeing him was going to make the chaos already starting to rage between my thighs only go into overdrive, but there was also no way I couldn't look either.

So I forced my head to turn, finding him standing in a doorway next to the bar that, I figured, led back into the bedrooms.

All in black, hair up, I couldn't help but wish he had nothing on again, had his hair around his shoulders, tickling my inner thighs, spread over my pillows.

Ugh.

That was not a good place for my thoughts to go.

I gave him eye contact, just enough for him to know I knew he was there, then turned back to correct him.

"Gin," I said, with a nod. "No way am I drinking tequila around a bunch of bikers."

"What's the matter?" Adler asked, having somehow hoovered his sandwich and moved over toward me at the bar, seemingly completely unfazed by the presence of the cuffs on his wrists, leading me to wonder how many times he might have had cause to be in them before. "Afraid that after a couple rounds of Jose, one of us might innocently suggest the idea of strip Poker that your tequila-soaked brain will think is a fantastic idea?" he asked, knowing the situation too well. "I mean we all know the booze just makes you vocal about the things you want. If you want to see me naked, just ask," he suggested, raising his cuffed wrists, "I am a little indisposed, but you are free to cut me free of my clothes. Then we can discuss that coming thing."

"What coming thing?" Edison's voice cracked through the air, low, lethal.

"Oh, this woman right here claims that she don't come on command," Adler supplied, clearly not reading the situation. Or, maybe more likely, reading it, but being the kind of man who liked to stir shit up.

Edison leaned back against the wall, head tipped to the side a bit, eyes on me, lips tipped up so slightly that you wouldn't notice if you didn't know exactly what he was thinking - that I did come when he demanded it. "Is that what she claimed?" he asked, eyes heated.