The Biker's Nanny

“And if you hadn’t done that?”

“You’d be fair game.”

“I’m Bethany’s nanny.”

“To all of the guys here, you’re fair game.”

She didn’t want to deal with this right now. Too much was going on.

“I’m upset,” she said.

“I’ve got a present for you. I was going to give it to you in the morning, but I don’t see the reason to wait anymore.” He held something wrapped.

Lifting up in the bed until she sat up, she missed his touch on her hip but didn’t protest as he handed her the wrapped gift.

It looked like a book.

Turning it over, she saw a small slit that didn’t have tape on, and slid her fingers beneath the wrapping. Opening it up with one hand, she was careful as she moved the other. She still had a lot of pain.

With the wrapping off, she turned it over and saw it was a book for a food mixer. Turning it over, she couldn’t help but smile. “You bought me a food mixer?”

“It’s set up downstairs. We don’t know how long this lockdown’s going to take. Whatever you need, just let me know and you can start baking and cooking up a storm. I saw you admiring it the other day while we were out shopping,” he said.

“This is to stop me being pissed at you for holding me down?”

“It’s for a lot of things, but if it’ll make you not hate me, I’m all for it.”

She stared at the book before looking at him. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Jasmine had a feeling that he didn’t allow himself to be open with a woman like this. Not for the first time she wondered about Bethany’s mother. There were no pictures of her or any reminders of who she was.

Tucking some hair behind her ear, her stomach chose that moment to start to growl.

“Come on, there’s some leftover takeout waiting for us.”

“There is?” she asked. Her mouth watered.

Glancing down at her semi-nude state, she gave a wince. The pajamas she’d been wearing had a lot of blood all over them.

“Here, put these on.” He handed her a pair of shorts and a shirt.

“Whose room am I in?”

“Mine. You don’t think I’d just put you anywhere, did you?” he asked.

Biting her lip, she glanced back at the bed. There were bloodstains on his sheet. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get one of the whores to clean that up.”

He took hold of her hand, and she had no choice but to go ahead and follow him.

“Do you really have to call them that?” she asked.

“That’s what they are. Club whores. They service the club. Any member for whatever their need is.”

“Yeah, but does it have to be so crude?” She wrinkled her nose, not liking the way he was talking about women.

He chuckled. “You’ve got a lot to learn about club life.”

They passed the busy main room. Several of the men were being serviced by who she could imagine were the club whores. The women didn’t seem to mind though. They looked totally happy to do their duty to their club.

One of the women was spread open with a cock in her mouth and another in her pussy. The scene before her was so shocking, and Jasmine was surprised by how aroused she became from just that glimpse of it.

Quickly averting her gaze and hating her confusion, she focused on the man in front of her who’d entered the kitchen.

He released her hand and then put his hands on the pink food mixer he’d purchased for it.

It looked so feminine within the dark, masculine kitchen.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She walked up to the mixer and smiled. “I can’t believe you bought it for me.” She put a hand on the body and felt the cool metal. She loved it. As she stood there admiring it, she couldn’t help but think of all the yummy cakes and cookies she intended to make. “It’s awesome.”

“So I’m forgiven?”

She pushed some more hair off her face. She was trying not to use her other hand as it had started to ache. “There’s nothing to forgive. You did what you had to do, and besides, this is a pretty awesome gift.”

“Good. Now, take a seat. I’ll serve you.”

She sat down at the table and couldn’t help but admire his ass as he grabbed whatever he wanted out of the fridge.

In his domain, he was like a king, and in a way that was totally what he was, a king.

“What do they call you here? You’re their leader.”

“I’m their President. You’ll hear them calling me ‘Prez’ or something like that.”

“And that’s a sign of respect?” she asked.

“Are you curious about the MC life, Jasmine?”

“No, not really. Maybe a little. I don’t know. I just don’t understand it. I would hate to be called a whore or to have to do that kind of thing.”