Page 20 of Pink Poison (The Butchers MC #1)

Chapter thirteen

Mack

“Thanks, Max.” Graves sighs.

Whatever is on his mind, it’s been eating at him for some time. It wasn't so noticeable before, but with the new stress in the last few days, I can’t say that I blame him for hitting his limit tonight with Kash.

Shuffling to the table, I snatch Stone’s phone and the pink thong before going to the back of the clubhouse.

“Funny you say she’s yours when she screamed my name when she came on my dick, taunted me into taking a picture of my cum leaking from her cunt, and let me take her panties to jerk my dick in later.”

Asshole.

I shuck his words from my mind, refusing to let them linger longer than they have.

Besides, I doubt he was serious. Sure, he’d fuck her—he wouldn’t be the only one who has.

But, he wouldn’t take pictures or keep her panties.

Stone doesn't keep trophies, never has as long as I've known him.

Knowing him, he probably just grabbed these when we got here to mess with me.

Probably.

Curiosity wins as I step into my room. Slamming the door behind me, I swipe through his phone, sifting through the apps until I find his photo gallery. My finger hovers over the icon briefly before I commit to the invasion of my friend's— one of my best friend’s —privacy.

This is so fucked up.

Saliva pools under my tongue as the gallery loads, revealing his most recent photo.

Jesus Christ. There's no mistaking what it's of—a swollen, pink, cum-filled pussy spread open for the camera.

My cock swells against my jeans as the details in the photo become apparent.

A hint of a pink dress and a few wisps of pin-straight, blonde hair.

Stephanie.

I groan hoarsely as precum leaks over my tip. This is wrong. I shouldn’t be getting off to my stepsister… again.

I loathe her and everything she stands for—everything she reminds me of.

Her mother is the reason that my family was torn apart.

She seduced a married man into her bed and that man, like a fool, saw an opportunity to turn a whore into a housewife.

His only mistake was thinking that I would play along and be the perfect, welcoming son and soon to be stepbrother.

I couldn't do anything to Marissa , but I could take my frustration out on her perfect, do-gooder daughter.

And I did. All of the hate and disgust I carried went to my little nightmare. She tried so hard to get me to like her, but it only made me hate her more. I became obsessed with her tears, like a twisted game where I was the only winner.

Well, I was the only winner until tonight, when I felt her wrapped around my fingers and witnessed her reaction to my hate- fueled degradation. I thought I could fool myself into thinking I still was the winner until now, seeing her spread open…

Fuck.

I wasn't supposed to like touching her or listening to how wet her pussy was for me. I shouldn't be aching for it, wanting to do it again. The line between hate and lust is so thin that it's blurring. Maybe it always was. All I know is that she’s embedded under my skin and I need to get her out.

Tossing the phone and the g-string on my bed, I pop the button of my jeans and lower the zipper. My heavy cock springs out, the cool air doing nothing to deter my blood from pumping. Breathing out a low sigh, I close my eyes and wrap my hand around my heated shaft.

Visions of my little nightmare from tonight take over—her strutting in that sexy, tight, pink dress, her soft, voluptuous mounds spilling out with each step she took. “ Fuck ,” I hiss, hating how hard I throb while thinking about her like this.

Flashes of her filter through my mind as I punishingly grip my shaft.

Slowly, I slide my hand down, envisioning the first time I saw her heavy breasts while she crawled across Mo’s stage.

My head lulls back, remembering her innocent, tear-filled, blue eyes that night, contrasting the evidence of her arousal that's stained on my jeans after calling her a whore.

I fist my cock harder, working myself over until the slickness of my precum mixes with my heavy panting.

The bite of pain spurs my hips to thrust in time, with each memory burned into my head.

Pleasure tingles down my spine as I open my eyes to look at Stone’s phone again.

Shit. Leaning over the device, I pump my hips until my balls tighten.

“Oh fuck,” I groan. “Stephanie. Stephanie. Stephanie.” Her name falls from my lips on repeat as I jerk spurts of white over the screen, covering the image of her stupidly perfect pussy like some sort of fucked up cum tribute.

Fuck. Me .

The familiar swirl of disdain returns, churning what I just did and everything I thought while doing it, into disgust.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Mack,” Stone gruffs while pounding on my door. “Have you seen my phone?”

I pack away my fucked up feelings, choosing to use this moment as a teaching lesson. With a smirk, I tuck my softening cock back in my pants. “Yeah, it’s on my bed.”

The door creaks open, filling my room with a dim light that spills from Stone’s across the hall. His shuffled steps have me biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

He’s going to kill me.

“Thanks, man.” He claps my shoulder before bending down to grab the device. “What the—”

“Consider us even now,” I snort, taking in the look of disgust on his face.

“That’s fucking nasty,” he gags. “Who the hell jizzes on another man’s phone?” I shrug, not bothering to say anything else. I made my point, or at least I think I did. Stifling another gag, he asks, “We good now, brother?”

Not in the slightest, but it's a start.

“You gonna stay away from her?” I counter.

An awkward silence fills the answer to my question.

He won’t stay away just as much as Kash won’t.

Honestly, It’s only a matter of time before Jameson becomes her white knight again and whisks her away from both of them.

I'm not so much of an idiot that I don’t know about his feelings for Stephanie.

The stupid fuck has all but worn them plain as day since the moment he found her at Mo's.

Granted, he didn't know it was her until it was too late, but his heart was already invested. It didn't matter that she was who she was, or the fact he knew how I felt about her .

“Was that a question or an order?” Stone asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I raise my brow, surprised that he even bothered to ask. “Does it really matter?”

“My loyalty is to the club and you're my VP. If it's an order, then you already know my answer,” he declares.

"And if it's not?"

His jaw clenches, unamused by questioning. "She won't be a problem."

She already is a problem.

Nodding, I bite my tongue to give him the illusion that I accept his answers.

I know that I should . Stone is loyal to a fucking fault.

He has spilled and shed more blood for this club than any of us combined.

Yet, for some fucked up reason, I don't trust a damn thing he says where Stephanie is concerned.

“Good." He nods, swiping the pink thong from my bed before eyeing his phone with disgust again. "Clean my phone off, you sick fuck.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” I snort. “Take your shit and get outta my room.”