Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

dining room. Instead, he took her to a private one, reserved for club officers and important visitors.

Unfortunately, Phantom was among them. His lascivious gaze swept over her body, making her keenly aware of her nudity. He sat on the far side of the table. At its head was the leader of the pack, a tall, beefy, and heavily tattooed beast of a man whose cut identified him as the President. He wore his dark hair fairly short on top and shaved on the sides. A short scruff of beard covered the determined set of his jaw.

“Here she is, Khan. Enjoy!”

Dinner or her or both? she wondered, noting the undisguised hunger in the President’s ebony eyes.

Khan was a man used to being in command. Tonight, he intended to master her.

Raising his hand with the back of it facing her, he flexed his fingers, summoning her. Doing her best to ignore the rude comments and lewd studies of her anatomy, she padded over to him, her bare feet finding every piece of grit on the stained concrete floor. When she was within reach, he stopped her with a slash of his hand and looked her over like he’d inspect an animal at a livestock auction. He must have been satisfied with what he saw because he motioned to the far side of his chair.

“Sit here,” he ordered. “And keep your mouth shut unless I’m putting something in it.”

Ignoring the pinch in her stomach, Rory hurried to obey, settling on a large cushion and bracing herself for whatever was coming. The not-knowing was fraying her nerves. She could handle anything if she had time to prepare.

Dinner was served family-style, with platters and bowls passed around the table. Khan filled his plate and fed her from it, offering her morsels to eat from his hand. Grateful for sustenance, she tried not to think about hygiene or germs or where his hands had been and prayed like hell she didn’t catch anything. Spurn his offerings, piss him off, and he might just put her down like a dog.

The first time she made a mess and let something drop on the floor, he made her lick it up.

“No hands,” he snapped. “Pets eat and drink with their mouths. Toad! Bring the bitch a bowl of water!”

Her handler wasn’t happy about it, but he obeyed—the same as Rory must if she knew what was good for her. She ate from Khan’s fingers, drank from a bowl, and wondered if he planned to send her back to her cage or keep her for the night. Occasionally, he’d pick up a lock of her magenta hair and rub it between his fingers. As the meal progressed, he grew bolder, grabbing her tit and pinching her nipple. Thankfully, that was as much as he could reach unless he joined her on the floor or made her stand.

She was still guessing when he finished his sixth beer and called it a night. “I’m off,” he announced, belching unapologetically. “Come on, bitch. Time for inspection. Phantom says you’ve got a sweet mouth and a sweeter ass. Let’s see if he’s right.”

7

Earlier that day . . .

Quake entered the clubhouse a reluctant hero, admired by some, heckled by others.

Everyone wanted to know about last night.

“So . . . what does premium pussy taste like?” Chaos wondered, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark shades.

Quake shook his head and blew him off. “A gentleman never tells.”

Beast’s laughter rang out. “Bullshit! You ain’t no gentleman, Quake. An asshole, yes. A gentleman, no.”

“Come on, spill it,” Mason joined in with an eager grin. “It’s sure as shit none of us are ever going to be able to afford a girl like Magenta.”

Rolling his eyes, Quake made his way toward the stone fireplace. Their clubhouse was big enough to accommodate all the fiery personalities in their cadre. As warriors, their skills had been honed and perfected through centuries of battle. They’d lived long enough to be set in their ways, stubborn but wise enough to know when to yield, when to stand firm, and when to push on.

Right now, his brothers were being damn pushy. Sex must have addled their brains. It had only clarified his mind and strengthened his resolve. One way or another, he was determined to have the maned wolf shifter again.

He’d boasted about women before but Quake didn’t feel right telling them about Magenta. Last night might not mean shit to her, but to him, it was something to treasure. Rather than let his memories be defiled, he’d keep their stolen moments to himself—especially after her rejection just now.

Maybe she’d gotten spooked when she’d seen his brothers waiting outside. Quake considered the possibility. She’d been fun and flirty in her cutesy purple car. Her conversation hadn’t felt forced or fake. Magenta had genuinely enjoyed his company. Strippers were used to having an audience . . . , playing to the crowd, but everything had changed once they got here.

Maybe it was being in unfamiliar surroundings. She wasn’t playing a part. Wasn’t dressed to seduce. Christ, even her face had been free of makeup. He was still amazed that she’d let him see a glimpse of the real woman beneath all the show.

How many other men could say that?

“Yo! Are you listening to me?” Rock barked, making him jump. “Stone wants to see you in his office.”

Quake met the gaze of the other club Enforcer. “Okay, thanks.”

Leaving the rest of the men to discuss whores they’d banged and ones they wanted to, he made his way deeper into the clubhouse. Stone’s office was located next to their communications room in the back. His office was as much a retreat as a workspace, a place their Prez could get away from everyone else. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows offered a relaxing view of the lake. The clubhouse was far enough away from the light pollution of the city to see the stars in the night sky and the pinpoints of lights from