Page 2 of Property of Thrasher (Kings of Anarchy MC: South Carolina #1)

Three fingers deep inside her heat, working her like I had been fucking her for years, that’s when I felt it.

A bump.

Soft.

Delicate almost.

Barely there, but enough to be conscious of.

I broke away from Maria with a growl spinning toward the contact pulling my fingers from her slick cunt.

What met me on the flip side of my stare was a damn doe in the headlights.

The outlier.

Again.

Her eyes widened, lips parted in horror, and her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.

“I, I didn’t mean,” she stammered like she wanted to be swallowed whole into the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I barked wanting to know who she was tied to.

She jumped at my verbal assault. Yeah, this bitch didn’t belong here.

“I was, um.”

I narrowed my eyes silencing her. “You were just leaving. This ain’t your place.”

She paused, her eyes not leaving mine. “I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered, turning quickly and disappearing into the crowd.

I watched her go. Maria touched my chest, “Thrasher, let’s go to your room.” Maria leaned in and licked my neck from my shoulder blade to my earlobe.

I pushed away from her. “No,” I muttered peeling her hand off me, “go play with someone else.”

She frowned, but knew better than to question me. Slinking away, disappointed, she rejoined the crowd. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, intrigued by the innocent woman who was among us.

The woman with too nice of clothes, jumpy eyes, and an allure that was dangerous. She was trouble. Not the kind that came in packing heat, or looking to turn someone.

No, she was the worst kind of woman for any man.

She was the kind that made a man think, really think about what he said and did. There wasn’t a motherfucker in this building that had time for that kind of woman.

Somehow even as I turned my attention back to the party, even as Pinky raised a bottle to the room, I couldn’t shut off the echo of her voice inside my head. “ I shouldn’t have come.”

No, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.

Pinky didn’t just party. No, the motherfucker roared back into life like someone with fire under his boots.

The more drinks he had, the crazier he got.

He didn’t waste a second finding me with two beer bottles in hand.

Biting the caps off with the fucking teeth, the ones he had left, that was, before handing me a bottle.

With a cheers, he tossed his back like we were celebrating a Gladiator win from ancient Rome or a Viking conquest.

“To freedom,” he yelled out guzzling his brew down hard and fast.

“To not dying inside,” I replied taking a long pull from the beer he had just given me.

He laughed, deep in his throat, loud before chucking his bottle over his shoulder. It shattered somewhere on the floor behind him, and no one batted an eye. The prospects would clean it up.

“Damn, I missed this place,” he grinned a toothless smile. “You still got the stripper pole in the back?”

I nodded, “upgraded and got two now with a full stage set up. Steady and firm for all the ladies.”

“Like your balls,” Pinky stammered before stumbling toward the back with two bunnies trailing him like puppies.

I watched him go shaking my head with a proud smirk.

“Think he’s gonna remember any of this tomorrow?” This came from DK, my VP, and longtime closest friend as he slid up beside me, a joint rolled tightly tucked behind one ear.

“Pinky’s memory never worked right,” I muttered. “Don’t think five years in lock up changed that.

“Heard he punched an officer in the nuts just outside the gate.” DK told me what I already knew. “Don’t know how the fucker didn’t end up back in bracelets and behind bars.”

I nodded with a grin. “Paid our inside man to let that happen. Pinky promised the fucker every day for five fuckin’ years he would make him remember him.

” The correction officer in question had it coming.

Pinky did his time, tried to play by the rules as much as any outlaw biker can.

This fucker wanted to test a King. He needed a message.

Pinky sent that message and was breathing easy.

“He wanted a piece of the warden, but accepted this opportunity for the gift it was and didn’t push. ”

We both chuckled. Mine faded quicker as I once again scanned the room, always watching.

A couple of the prospects were bunched together in the corner, trying not to look like they were waiting for the next command. One of them, Frootloop, barely twenty-two was standing too close to a brother’s old lady with his eyes locked to her ass like he was glued in place.

“Frootloop,” I yelled. He flinched and turned. “Quit starin’ like you forgot your fuckin’ name.”

“Yes sir,” he stammered out.

“You need a job to do. Go check the head, I’m sure at least one toilet needs scrubbin’ or uncloggin’.”

He took off like he should and thankfully Sweeper’s old lady was none the wiser. She was old school and been around forever. She knew how things were. Still, though, she was claimed and that meant off limits.

My focus drifted again. Back to the woman in the nun outfit. She wasn’t in the main room and I couldn’t help but wonder where she went. Maybe she took the hint and left. That would be best for everyone.

Something about the way she looked though, it stuck with me.

She had this look in her eye like she walked through the wrong door in the wrong town, but figured it out too late.

Yet, she still stood here refusing to show fear.

This place ate people alive if they didn’t know how to stand their ground. Especially for women.

Even with the doors closed, the party spilled out to all areas of the compound. Women danced, some with clothing that covered their bodies, others with barely there attire, men relaxed and tossed back drinks with their brothers, and not one person thought about the outside world.

I made my way back to the bar. Jonesy, Widower’s more steady piece immediately came over to me. “Hey Thrasher, you want the good stuff or the cheaper good stuff?”

Jonesy was nice like that. And given Widower was hands down another woman’s pants, I guessed Jonesy and him were on the outs again.

She had curves of the plump variety, but Widower liked it like that.

He grabbed that ass, pinched her sides, and cupped her tits any chance the fucker got.

And well, Jonesy, she just smiled and kept on about her business.

She wasn’t his old lady, not sure why, but she wasn’t a bunny around fucking us all.

She was his but he wasn’t hers and I didn’t much expect him ever to belong to any woman.

“What’s the difference?” I asked raising a brow and knowing damn well, there was a method to her madness.

“About twenty bucks, but more importantly the hangover.”

“Well damn honey, you better give me the cheaper good shit.” I laughed as she pulled out a quart Mason jar from under the bar and poured me a glass of the clear liquid.

“Got this shit straight from the barrel. Good ol’ Carolina shine. Guaranteed to get you drunk but not leave the hangover behind.

I lifted the glass, took a quick sniff, then tossed back the moonshine letting it burn down to my core.

The music switched again, harder, heavier. The floor vibrated with bodies grinding and thrashing now. In the middle of it was Pinky with a woman on his shoulders flashing her tits as he spun them around and around.

Bender appeared beside me with his third or fourth bunny of the night hanging half on him. He looked high as fuck, but I wasn’t about to ask on what.

“Shit, Prez, this place feels alive again,” he explained shouting over the ruckus around us. “It’s been dead without Pinky.”

I laughed, “maybe it was peaceful, not dead.”

He gave me a full ear-to-ear grin, “fuck that, peace is for pussies. We’re fuckin’ Kings!”

I didn’t disagree. Still, something about tonight was off for me. I couldn’t explain it. I wasn’t feeling this. I liked chaos. I dreaded calm. Something, though, kept me on edge.

“You good, Prez?” Bender questioned seeming to sober up.

“Yeah,” I gave a nod. “Just thinkin’.”

He slapped me on the shoulder, “damn don’t do that. You’re gonna ruin the mood.”

“Get outta here,” I ordered. He shook his head, pulling the girl away with him as he went.

That’s when I caught a glimpse again.

Her.

Not the club bunny.

The woman in the black dress. She was closer this time, but still clearly trying to stay out of everyone’s way.

The odd thing was this time, she held a tray.

Was she attempting to blend in? My suspicions were already high, this new tactic only had me more annoyed by her presence.

She didn’t look comfortable. Her shoulders were too tight, her steps too cautious. Her eyes wandered everywhere.

She stopped near a table, gathering up a few empty shot glasses. One of the hang-a-rounds leaned over and said something to her with a smirk. Her eyes widened in shock before she composed herself into a nervous laugh before turning away.

I didn’t like it.

I didn’t like any of it.

I didn’t like her being here.

I damn sure didn’t like the way I kept noticing her.

I finished my drink, turned, scanning the crowd and locked my eyes to Maria. She read me and came over with a smirk laced in sin. “Hey Prez, ready to get lost for a bit?” She teased.

“Maybe.”

I grabbed her hand, leading her through the crowd past Thrust making out with his new chick. It’s not like him to bring someone around here, but this one she’s managed to be on his bike for a few weeks and more than enough parties to be getting comfortable.

Well, good for him if it could work out. I doubt it though. Our life wasn’t the kind for settling down.

We stopped near the side wall in the shadows before making it to my room on the backside of the clubhouse. The air was thick with sweat, weed, cigarettes, and perfume so strong my damn throat burned. Marie pressed into me, greedy and hungry.

“You’re wound too tight, Thrasher,” she whispered licking her lips.

“You got a fix for that?”

“Oh yeah,” she moaned before leaning into me.

Her lips pressed to mine as she kissed me.

Her hand slid under my shirt, her manicured nails dragging across the lines of my abs.

I kissed her back, hard, sloppy, and deep, pinning her to the wall with my hips pressed to her and my hands tangled in her hair.

She tasted like rum now and moaned not hiding her lust. Her breath hitched when I bit her bottom lip, her fingers curling into the edge of my jeans. She began pulling, tugging like she needed me to take more.

I wanted to.

I was ready for a good fuck, a release, and a reset on a new day.

I even considered fucking her right here and forgetting my bed only twenty feet more down the hall.

I might have, if not for the bump. Again, what the fuck!

A slight nudge into my side before I felt the cold liquid on the denim of my jeans. Then before I could completely break away from Maria, it was a voice.

Small, horrified, and afraid. “I’m sorry. I didn’t uh, I didn’t,” she stammered.

My head snapped around, heat surging through me. She stood there, trembling with her eyes locked on mine.

I growled. Low. Dark. An ominous sound meant to make someone back off.

Her eyes went wide, full of fear and apology. She clutched the tray to her chest like it could shield her from the heat pouring off of me.

“Why are you carryin’ a tray like you belong?” I bit out.

“I was just trying to be helpful while I waited for my cousin,” she whispered.

“Only one way to be helpful around here, darlin’. Spread your legs or leave. Unless, you plan on joining us or taking Maria’s place in my bed tonight,” I explained with my voice quiet but sharp, “watch where the fuck you’re headed.”

Her mouth parted like she was going to speak, but Maria beat her to it.

“She couldn’t handle me, Thrasher, much less your big cock.”

Something flashed in her eyes before she stepped into our space. She was different. She had this fire. And I couldn’t stop the smile building in this rapid change.

“Or maybe you just couldn’t handle me, bitch,” she remarked with a new fire dancing in her eyes.

My cock instantly hardened at her brashness. What that mouth could do to a man like me, oh I would love to tempt the devil himself for some of that.

Before I could untangle my body from Maria, the mystery woman took off into the crowd leaving me wanting more than just answers.