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  Megan - Day 25

  I ran on my new treadmill, cooked for Aaron, and made sure my pussy was shaved clean the way he told me he liked it. God, why was I encouraging him and not stopping this shit from going any deeper than it already was?

  To be honest, I was enjoying these days I had with Aaron so much. I was starting to regret that my days left to be here were dwindling down. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that my craziest idea ever would’ve turned into one of my most exciting.

  Later that evening after we’d worn ourselves out, I learned that Aaron’s full name was August Aaron Knox V, but he preferred using his middle name, Aaron. A rare shyness had landed on his face when he told me that he’d never told anyone else this bit of news. He wasn’t even sure if all of his MC members knew his full name.

  When he told me about his younger brother, Ryan, it tore my heart apart. He tried, but he couldn’t hide the fact that he’d loved his little brother deeply. The sorrow seeped from his gaze and leaked between the syllables of his words.

  When Aaron said about as much as he was going to say about Ryan, he changed the subject to his grandfather. Aaron’s grandfather had started the club after he’d returned from WWII back in 1946. His grandfather had claimed that he’d seen too much action in the war to return to the quiet life of a butcher, so he’d started the August Knights Motorcycle Club. Most of the Knox men joined some form of military branch, either for the training or to pay homage to their MC’s founder.

  It was starting to bother me how much of Aaron’s life he had started to share with me. There was no way I was going to share any of my personal information with Aaron other than what he already knew about me. I didn’t need or want him tracking me down when the time came for me to leave.

  If he somehow found me after my thirty days of working for his MC was completed, there was no guarantee that I wouldn’t follow him anywhere he wanted me to go. So, I was going to let caution be my guide and avoid the personal stuff.

  Aaron - Day 26

  I surprised Megan and drove home for my lunch break. I sneaked into my garage and caught her running her little heart out on that treadmill. The way she worked out made me wonder if she was doing it to stay fit or to stay strong and in shape for some other reason.

  Sometimes it seemed she was training for a secret mission that only she knew about. I’d caught her practicing punches and kicks, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and all sorts of strengthening and muscle-building exercises.

  Either way, her efforts were paying off because her body was pure perfection. I licked my lips at the sight of sweat glistening on her brown skin.

  Unable to help my fucking self, I ended up dragging Megan off the treadmill, mid-stride. With her music plugged in, I fucked her against my garage wall. It was the best and only sweaty-exercise sex I’d ever participated in. I also refused to allow her to take out her music, which made the episode so much more intense.

  Aaron - Day 27

  Megan got her period today; a modified version of it at least. Since she had that birth control device implanted in her arm, she assured me that her period never lingered for more than a day or two. She called it spotting or something. I didn’t understand it and had no intention of asking for the details.

  Megan didn’t let whatever was happening to her body stop her from giving me the best head of my life, though. I’d been getting so much pussy lately that I’d forgotten the other ways you could enjoy sex. Long story short, today I’d found out that Megan’s mouth was as big an addiction as her sweet pussy.

  Chapter 15

  Megan - Day 28

  I padded to the door wearing only one of Aaron’s T-shirts and a pair of purple panties. There was no need for my sweats anymore. Aaron was only going to rip them off as soon as he entered his house.

  A suffocating gasp hissed from my throat after I swung the door open and my gaze swept over three, big-ass men who looked like life had given them hell, standing on the porch. They didn’t utter a word, but their slow-scanning gapes raked over my body and left me feeling like I needed to wash myself in a pool of bleach.

  Beards, dirty jeans, black boots, and leather vests covered blue turtleneck T-shirts and made the three look like twins. The one with the longest beard had nerve enough to lick his lips at me suggestively. It was funny how these people claimed to hate blacks, but the moment they saw an African-American woman that piqued their interest, they’d lose their fucking minds.

  The one with the shortest beard had a cold sore on his lip that appeared about ready to pop. His beard was also patchy like he’d caught the mange or something. My gaze traveled back to the cold sore, no matter how much their dangerous presence alarmed me.

  Medium beard was the first to speak. “Who the fuck are you and where the fuck is Aaron?”

  My stunned gape and excessive staring prevented me from answering the question right away. Smudges of dirt and grime clung to their faces and necks. Where the hell had these men come from, the inside of someone’s chimney? There was so much dirt under one’s nails that it appeared he’d painted the tips black.

  The stench of body odor sailed up my nostrils, and I was forced to choke down a gag that had climbed up my throat. The funk and that cold sore made it difficult for me to concentrate. I attempted to formulate an escape plan in my head, but nothing that made sense would come together. I decided to shoot from the hip until my brain decided to piece itself back together and come up with something that might save me from the vile shit that was apparently about to go down.

  “I’m the maid, and Aaron’s personal property,” I expressed, with the straightest face I could muster. “He’ll be home from work in a little bit.”

  With a hand gesture, I ushered them in because I didn’t know what else to do. There was no use telling them they couldn’t come in. Their stern, aggressive vibe told me that they were there to start some shit, no matter what I said or did.

  Aaron’s house was way off the beaten path; so far off, that you probably wouldn’t find it even if you were lost. I remember Aaron mentioning that his house was not even under his name, so if anyone came looking for him that wasn’t from his MC, they were likely looking for trouble or bringing it.

  A breeze that I hadn’t felt during my entire stay in Copper County blew against my bare legs. It reminded me that I was only in Aaron’s T-shirt and panties with no bra. The T-shirt reached midways down my thighs, which thankfully, covered me a bit. Nevertheless, I did my best to swallow my nervousness.

  I glanced at Aaron’s wall clock when I turned to follow the dirty men into the house. There were fifteen minutes to kill until Aaron arrived. He hadn’t been late coming home because he knew I’d be there ready and waiting with my pussy on a platter for him.

  Fifteen minutes. So much could happen in that short amount of time. My rape, murder, and the mutilation of my corpse were all possibilities. It took everything in me to convince my twisted brain to muster the strength to entertain this hungry-looking pack of wolves. If there was one thing I was sure about, they were hungrier for me than they were for food. If their lingering eyes were any indication, I may as well have been standing there naked and bent over the couch.

  “Have a seat. I made beef stroganoff if you gentlemen are hungry.” Gentlemen. Ha! They were more like a bunch of rabid hell hounds.

  “Lady, are you serious? You’re the maid and Aaron’s personal property? Did Aaron pull you out of one of those nuthouses?”

  This was the third or maybe even fourth time someone had accused me of being crazy. The talker bolted in my direction when I took a step towards the kitchen. He gripped my arm hard enough that it would likely leave a bruise. He slung me onto the couch next to the shortest beard, mangy, and cold-sore-faced one.

  The shortest beard glanced over at me, his cold sore still pulling my attention. A wheel turned in his head as he side-eyed me. “So, this is how the August Knights get away with fucking black women? Hide them away in their secret homes in the woods?”


  What was I supposed to say to that question? I kept my gaze on the carpet as I rubbed my sore arm from where the woman-slinger had gripped it.

  “Shit, I am kind of hungry. And that food does smell mighty good. And we’ve been staking out these damn woods for days trying to figure out where that bastard lived,” Cold Sore informed, as he absently brushed his hand over his dusty jeans. “Let her up, Clint. I think I’ll have me a bite to eat while we wait for Aaron.”

  Clint, the woman-slinger, leveled a pointed gaze at Mr. Cold Sore.

  “I’ll go in the kitchen with her and watch her to make sure she doesn’t try to get away or poison us. We may as well enjoy everything before we take care of our business.” The one I now knew as Clint volunteered this information. He said it all while staring at me.

  The sinister glint on dirty-long-beard’s face as he watched silently across the room confirmed my assumptions. He’d been the quietest of the three, but his gaze revealed more than their words ever could. They were here to kill Aaron and me too for being in the way.

  The way Clint and Cold Sore kept glancing at my tits and bare legs proved that their intentions weren’t just on the business they wanted to take care of with Aaron. Every crime they could possibly commit was certainly in play—robbery, rape, arson, murder.

  Aaron had warned me that my life was in jeopardy every moment I spent around his MC. The second day had been positive proof. I’d shot someone to prove myself to the MC and stood by as they took the rest of their rivals out back.

  Also, I didn’t miss that the bearded group with me now all wore guns shoved down the back of their pants. They’d likely left them visible in case I tried something. My mind whirred, and I kept my horror-filled screams locked inside my head.

  Clint shoved me repeatedly toward the kitchen. What was up with bikers and shoving women? Clint watched, more like hovered, as I fixed three plates and retrieved a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator.

  My mind fell on the various guns I’d seen throughout the house when I cleaned it. There was one on top of the kitchen cabinet across the room from me, but I’d need to climb up on the countertop to be able to reach it. There was also one under Aaron’s mattress. One of our sex scenes had been so active we’d worked it out from its hiding place under the mattress, and it had fallen to the floor. There was also a gun in the couch that Cold Sore sat on. Three damn guns and I couldn’t get to any of them.

  I handed Clint his plate, but all I wanted to do was to smash the glass pitcher of lemonade against the counter and use the jagged edges to slit his throat.

  Clint was so busy eye-balling my legs hanging from under Aaron’s shirt that it took him a moment to reach for his plate of food. I stacked the other two plates and the glasses of lemonade on a serving tray and walked out as Clint followed. What I would do for a box of rat poison right now.

  There was no need for me to glance back to know that Clint’s creepy eyes were glued to my ass.

  Once everyone had a plate, I sat in Aaron’s chocolate-brown recliner as instructed and proceeded to fold myself into a tight ball, pulling Aaron’s shirt until it stretched over my thighs and hid my overexposed legs.

  Clint and Cold Sore sat on the beige leather couch, and longest-beard sat on the light brown leather loveseat that was adjacent to my chair.

  Forks scraping plates and loud lip-smacks were the only sounds that filled the living room. If I had leverage over these dirty-dick-buzzards, this would be the last meal they’d ever eat. Cold Sore chewed using his front teeth as his mouth worked aggressively. His back teeth had likely been knocked out or had rotted out.

  It was now 5:35 p.m. Aaron should have been pulling up by now, but I didn’t hear his truck. Out of all the days he could have been late, he’d picked today.

  I didn’t wait to be told. I stood and collected the empty dishes, and this time, Cold Sore followed me into the kitchen. He glared at me with lust-heavy eyes as I placed the dishes into the sink.

  When he walked up to me and thrust his dirty pelvis against my ass, I cringed and ground my top teeth into the bottom ones. This was nothing like when Aaron had done this to me. All I wanted to do now was stick a long-handle fork in this asshole’s eye and bath in a tub of lye to get his asshole-smelling stench off me.

  The answer as to why I hadn’t heard Aaron’s truck came in the form of his approaching black boots that crept across the kitchen floor as silent as night. Cold Sore was too busy fantasying about what he was going to do to me to notice what had captured my attention and put a sinister smile on my lips.

  When I’d greeted the men on the porch, I’d spotted a dark-colored vehicle that they’d attempted to hide in the woods, but they hadn’t hidden it well enough, and Aaron must have spotted the vehicle on the outskirts of his property and sneaked in through the back way.

  The metallic click of Aaron’s gun against the temple of Cold Sore froze him as his breath hitched. His stiff dick, however, continued to press into my right ass cheek.

  Aaron’s voice was low, but the deadly intent that spewed from it was loud and alarmingly clear.

  “Back away from her before I blow your brains all over this fucking kitchen.”

  Cold Sore’s hands went up as he eased back. “Aa…”

  Before he could get a word out, Aaron struck him in the head with the butt of the gun. The angry crack of the gun upside his head was so loud it sounded like it had broken through bone. Blood sprayed against my back, and some small splatters reached as far as the white blinds before me.

  Cold Sore’s body hit the floor with a loud thud, but he wasn’t out. The hit was impactful enough that his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his lids fluttered like wings as he struggled to sit back up.

  Next, Aaron’s heavy boot went upside his head. Thump!

  “Everything all right in there?” one of Cold Sore’s dirty buddies shouted from the living room.

  Aaron placed a finger to his lips, telling me to stay quiet as approaching footsteps grew closer to the kitchen door.

  When Clint stepped into the kitchen and saw Aaron, he immediately drew his gun. He and Aaron were in a standoff, aiming their weapons at each other’s heads.

  “Chuck! We’ve got company. Get in here now!”

  This wasn’t going to go well. If only I’d been able to get one of those guns. Aaron was out-numbered, even with one of them, knocked out on the floor.

  Chuck sprung the door open with his weapon drawn. Since Clint now had backup, he was bold enough to take a few steps past the center island, closer to Aaron and me. He stood next to the refrigerator with his back to the backdoor, blocking the exit. Chuck was blocking the exit to the living room. We could have jumped over Cold Sore’s body and made a run for the back stairs, but it would have likely guaranteed both of us a bullet in the back.

  “Aaron, you’re outnumbered,” Clint stated the obvious.

  “What did you do to Dutch?” Clint asked as he glanced over the edge of the table at his fallen buddy laid out at mine and Aaron’s feet.

  Clint and Aaron kept their standoff going. Their weapons never wavered from each other’s heads. I stood in silence, hidden by Aaron’s body, wondering if this was my last day on earth. My already tense body started to shiver when Chuck shuffled on the other side of the kitchen island and transferred his aim away from Aaron’s head to aim it at mine. My heart hammered against my chest cavity, adrenaline lighting my body with an inferno of fear.

  “Drop your gun, Aaron, or I’m going to blow this sexy little maid’s brains all over that counter.”

  Aaron refused to drop his gun away from Clint’s head. His voice dripped with pure venom. He didn’t sound like the man I’d been living with for nearly two weeks. This was that intensely scary part of Aaron that peeked out at me from time to time, reminding me that he was every bit as dangerous as I thought he was.

  “And you are going to watch me, for a second time, kill another one of your sons.”

  A second time? Fo
r a moment, I forgot a weapon was aimed at my head. Aaron had killed one of Chuck’s sons? So, they weren’t here for money or drugs or even guns. They wanted good old-fashioned revenge.

  I’d managed nearly a month with a group of bikers, who were known murderers, but here I was standing with a gun aimed at my head. It was the closest I’d come to dying, in the kitchen of one of the bikers I’d been fucking for nearly two weeks.

  Bullet to the head was not the way I wanted to go…not the way anyone wanted to go. I wondered which reporter would get to tell my story or if my body would ever be found.

  My heart seized in my chest when Chuck leveled his weapon and his finger tightened on the trigger. I slammed my eyes shut, unwilling to see it coming and not wanting to know the moment that signified the end of my life.

  “Drop the fucking gun, Aaron or I’m going to kill this bitch right now.”

  As scared as I was, I knew enough to know the way this world operated. My eyes popped back open. If Aaron dropped that gun, we were dead anyway. As least he had a little leverage aiming his gun at Chuck’s son’s head.

  When Aaron’s hand wavered like he was about to drop his weapon, my gaze left the barrel of death in Chuck’s hand and landed on Aaron’s back. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “Aaron, don’t drop shit. They will kill us anyway.”

  Chuck smiled at me. “You got some balls, little maid. I’ll give you that much.”

  My mind urged me to do something stupid. Since our chances of surviving this was slim to none, I went with my stupid impulse.

  Just as Chuck’s gaze left me and he started to say something else, I reached up and gripped Aaron’s strong arm with both of mine and yanked him down to the floor with me as hard as I could.