Kink's Way

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Jenika Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-988-2

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Thank you everyone for your support.

  KINK’S WAY

  The Brothers of Menace MC, 2

  Jenika Snow

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Trash. Slut. Whore.

  Those names had been thrown around so many times in Cookie’s life that they blended together. She absorbed them, had believed in them for a very long time, but anymore she was just living from day to day. She could remember bits and pieces of her life as a little girl, not much, but enough that she remembered her mother sleeping with men right on the couch. Cookie would be watching blurry cartoons on a television that was on its last leg, hearing the gruesome sounds, but trying to act like she didn’t know what was happening. Her father had been a bad man, done things she hadn’t liked, and when he had left she had felt this relief. And then her mother had died when she was fifteen and she was left in the care of an aunt who didn’t want her and an uncle who had been just as vile as her father. Her mother hadn’t been anything special, and her death had just been another death that meant nothing to Cookie. To say Cookie’s life had been a nightmare was an understatement, but she had prevailed, and fought every day to live. But of course when life started to look up the other shoe dropped, and her horrible life had gotten far worse.

  She closed her eyes as the memories of her past, of a time when she was nothing more than a plaything, washed through her. When she opened her eyes again she was no longer in her past. Standing in front of the small sink and mirror at the bathroom in The Brothers of Menace clubhouse, Cookie forced herself to look at her reflection. She had her reddish hair pulled in a loose ponytail, but maybe having her hair away from her face wasn’t the best idea. She could only see her flaws, the ones she tried to hide in her mind. Dark circles were under her light blue eyes, and a light smattering of freckles was across the bridge of her nose. She trailed her gaze lower until she was looking at her body, which was too thick for her comfort. Despite the feelings she had about her appearance, and the voices in her head from her mother telling her she was ugly and worthless, Cookie accepted who and what she was.

  Bailey Marie Smith.

  She hadn’t called herself that name in a very long time, and honestly it didn’t even feel like it was hers anymore. The name “Cookie” was something she had created as a little girl, because cookies were sweet and everyone wanted one. But the kind of attention Cookie had gotten was far from what she wanted.

  Bracing her hands on the sink, she took a deep breath. She needed to get back out to the bar and serve the guys. There were a few regular girls that stayed with the club, and had been with them before The Brothers had taken Cookie and the rest of the girls from Denver in. There seemed to be so much going on around her that at times she felt as though she was pushing against water. The women Cookie had been with in Denver, the prostitutes who had been beaten by a pimp that was crazed and high, were trying to rebuild their lives. Instead of staying in a cabin that the club had set up for them, thinking about everything that had happened, and what could still happen, Cookie had decided to go back out into the world. She worked for the club, trying to keep herself busy, keep her mind occupied, and also thank the club in any small way she could for saving her life. Working at their club in River Run was what she could do now, and she hoped that they saw she was trying to move on. She wanted to keep her mind off of everything that had happened, and the best way to do that was to immerse herself in work.

  She looked at the closed bathroom door, and could hear the music and male laughter on the other side. She had only been with The Brothers for the last couple of weeks, mainly helping behind the bar and occasionally cooking meals for them. But she usually just made sure they stayed drunk, and let Tatum, the clubhouse den mother of sorts, cook all the meals. She stared at herself in the mirror again, breathed out, and then washed her hands. No use in staying in the bathroom thinking about her crummy past.

  But what would they think if they knew what really happened to her? The club members weren’t saints in any sense, but then again being sold by her uncle to a pimp, and then becoming that man’s whore, was probably not something they really cared much to know. She had been disgusted with herself for a very long time, but when a person had nothing to start with, and then suddenly was lavished with beautiful things and affection until they were drowning in it, it was hard for them not to latch onto that. And that was exactly what she had done with Morris. Even thinking his name made her stomach clench in disgust.

  First she had been sold for nothing more than some eight balls of coke and a couple hundred dollars at the tender age of seventeen, and then she had been sold again by Morris when she turned twenty-one.

  It was like some kind of sick joke played on her. She had lived the life of wealth with Morris, that disgusting sadist who had only been concerned about himself. And when he told her he wanted a younger, prettier version of her, he’d sold her to some rundown pimp that had beaten her and the handful of girls The Brothers of Menace had rescued. As bad as all of that had been, she knew it could have gotten worse. She hadn’t been with the pimp who had abused them longer enough to be tricked out, so she was at least thankful for that part. But as sad as it all sounded, Cookie was glad that everything had happened the way it had. Because if she hadn’t lived this life she wouldn’t be free right now and actually planning on something more in her future than lying on her back with her legs spread and praying for death.

  She opened the bathroom door, shut off the light, and put on her façade that showed that she was okay, and that she was this tough as nails bitch. She supposed in some ways that was accurate, but maybe that was because she had lived with that falseness her entire life, and it was like she was living the lie.

  The main room where The Brothers of Menace hung out was this massive great room with timber detail, a beautiful loft above, and had been converted to have every amenity the guys needed to let loose. A pool table, huge bar that wrapped around one side of the wall, several pub style tables, and even a stripper pole had been added. She had seen a lot of shit growing up, most of it she would have preferred to forget, so seeing women wearing hardly anything, grinding on metal poles, and even sucking the bikers’ cocks wasn’t really a shock. Hell, she had done worse things than that—or had been made to do worse things than that in her time with Morris.

  She stepped behind the bar and looked around the room. It was a Saturday night, and judging by the easiness and drama-free atmosphere, she would take a good guess that the guys were in a good mood. It wasn’t like they didn’t do this kind of stuff on a regular basis, but when they were stressed, or there was some kind of drama happening, Cookie could feel it in the air. It was like this dark, inky substance that covered her skin.

  She saw the club members named Rock and Ruin over by the pool table, and the President of this MC, Lucien, sitting in front of the stripper pole. Lucien was watching one of the women shaking her ass in front of him, and then she bent down and grabbed her ankles, clearly giving him a shot of her crotch. Lucien reached out and
smacked her on the ass, and the smile that spread across the club pussy’s face told Cookie that she wanted Lucien to do more than that. A few of the other guys were at a table playing cards, and Cookie turned her attention away from all of it and focused on the liquor bottles lining the back of the bar. But there was one biker that she hadn’t seen when looking around the room, a man that she had felt this weird charge of electricity move through her when she had first seen him all those weeks ago … Kink. He was the Vice President of The Brothers, and he always had this hard, unforgiving demeanor. It was one that frightened her and made her think of all the horrible men that had been in her life, simply because he looked like he was detached and didn’t care about anything. But she knew that he was nothing like those bastards that had hurt her in the past. He may come off as cruel, not caring, and ready to beat someone’s ass, but she had also heard that he had a daughter, one he loved very much. If someone could feel love, then they were not bad, and she could see that under that hard exterior, Kink was a good man, even if he was covered in tattoos and could kill a man with his bare hands.

  She didn’t know Kink from the next guy, and aside from a few conversations she had been involved in with some of the bikers, Malice being the main one, she kept to herself. It was better that way because once she was on her feet she wasn’t about to stay in River Run. She didn’t want to stay anywhere in fact. Cookie wanted to travel the country, not setting roots down in one specific place, and just enjoying being alive. There was nothing worse than someone forcing a person to do something, and Cookie would never let that happen to her again.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks. Mind getting me a couple shots of Jack?”

  She glanced at the man that stepped up to the bar. She knew him from the last few weeks she had been here, and knew that he was called Pierce and was a prospect. She had overheard the other girls that worked this place talk—and the bikers, too—that he got that name because he had some interesting piercings down below. She forced a smile and nodded, and without verbally responding grabbed two shot glasses, set them down in front of him, and poured Jack Daniels in them.

  “Thanks, darlin’.” He gave her a wink and a grin that she knew probably had most women spreading wide for him, and walked over to the pool table. Tuck and Malice were in the middle of a game, as were a few other prospects they had just recruited. She didn’t mind the drinking, the wild atmosphere, or even the fact these guys liked their pot. She was just thankful that Lucien had let her work for him. Staying in that cabin day in and day out, seeing the girls who had gotten beaten the worst, and knowing that she could have been dead right now if things had gone differently, had her thankful for every little scrap she got.

  Hearing something behind her, Cookie turned around. Pepper, one of the girls who worked at the clubhouse and slept around with the members, stepped behind the bar and was clearly looking for something. Tonight Pepper wore a very small black ruffled skirt, one that barely covered the cheeks of her ass when she bent over, and a white button-up blouse that was short enough that she had it tied right below her breasts. Her flat belly was on clear display, and the ring that was through her navel dangled and showed a little Playboy Bunny icon on the end.

  “Hey, girl, have you seen that rock thing?” Pepper asked, bending over and rummaging through the bottom shelf.

  “Rock thing?”

  Pepper stood and looked at Cookie. “Yeah, that big ass piece of rock that you can stick a liquor bottle into and pour shots out of?”

  Cookie nodded. “Ugh, yeah, actually I have.” Aside from Tatum the girls didn’t talk to her unless they had to. She didn’t know if they saw her as some kind of competition, but compared to them Cookie was a damn blimp, less than attractive and was absolutely no competition in any way. She turned and grabbed the rock Pepper was referring to. It was a slab of granite with a spout coming off one end. Pierce had actually brought it in one day for a card game the guys were playing. Why they didn’t just drink out of the bottles was beyond her, but maybe they wanted to class shit up and make it feel as though there had a bartender right there beside them. She lifted the thirty pound rock, and handed it over to Pepper. The woman struggled for a second when it was in her hands, and Cookie smiled internally. That thing was probably heavy as hell for a woman of Pepper’s size. She trotted over to the card table on her heels, which could have been considered deadly weapons, and set the rock down beside Tuck. The scarred biker reached out and wrapped his thickly tattooed arm around Pepper and dragged her onto his lap. There was a lot of debauchery going on, but what was different from watching woman whore themselves out—which was still essentially what these women were doing at the clubhouse—was that the club pussy, as the guys called them, were actually doing this to settle down. She didn’t understand it, didn’t know what the thrill and temptation of being an “old lady” to these rough guys was, but to each his own and all of that bullshit.

  Before Pepper could call her over, Cookie grabbed a bottle of whiskey and headed over to the table. Compared to all the women in this place Cookie was dressed like she was going out in a blizzard. Jeans and a t-shirt weren’t considered overly dressed by most standards, but when the female population in this place was wearing latex and spandex that barely covered a nipple, Cookie looked like a nun. She set the bottle on the table, but kept her eyes downcast and her focus elsewhere. She did her job, and that was it. But the guys were already three sheets to the wind, so they didn’t try to strike up a conversation.

  Good.

  And then right before she made it back to the bar the front doors opened, and in walked Kink. He looked pissed. He had a cut above his eye and a bruise forming on his cheek. He had gotten into a fight clearly, but if he had a few scrapes on him she could only imagine what the other guy looked like. She turned her attention away from him and quickly made her way to the bar.

  “I need something to fucking drink, and make it strong as hell,” Kink said loudly, and although she didn’t look behind her she knew he was talking to her.

  She turned and faced him, saw that he was looking at one of the girls grinding on the stripper pole, and knew before he had even started that he’d be fucking her tonight. He just had that look on his face that most of the guys in here got when they were about to screw someone. Cookie hadn’t realized she had been staring at him until he turned and looked at her. God, how long had she been watching him? It hadn’t felt like very long, but even one second was too long. For a moment she still couldn’t pull her focus away from him. He had this faux hawk thing going on with his dark brown hair, and although most guys just looked ridiculous with a hairstyle like that, it actually made Kink look more dangerous and rugged for some reason. He stared at her with his blue eyes, ones that were cold, void of emotion, and if they could speak would probably tell her to do her fucking job.

  “I’m sorry.” She turned and closed her eyes, feeling like the biggest dumbass for even saying that out loud. She quickly got him a double shot of the strongest whiskey they had, the kind that she had heard the guys curse at when they finished throwing them back, and turned to set it down in front of him. But he was still watching her with that impenetrable gaze, and all she could do was stand there and stare at him right back. It was like his gaze had frozen her in place. She swallowed hard when he grabbed the shot glass and drank it without ever taking his eyes off of her. He slammed the glass back on the table, didn’t even flinch after he swallowed, and she knew he was more than pissed. Rage ate him up.

  “Give me another one,” he said while still staring at her like this damn predator ready to attack his prey.

  She refilled his glass and set the bottle down beside him.

  He smirked, but it was just a tilt at the corner of his lips. “Smart girl,” he said and tossed that drink back as well.

  “Brother, where you been?” Ruin asked as he came up and stood beside Kink at the bar.

  “Sam Adams,” Ruin said and winked at her.

  She grabbed the beer and tried not t
o listen to their conversation. But it was hard not to be drawn into the sound of Kink’s deep, masculine voice, or the way it made this tingling sensation travel through her body. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even understand it herself, because it was a feeling she had never felt before. It frightened her, aroused her, and confused the hell out of her.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed with the two guys speaking behind her, while Cookie busied herself with wiping down the counter and liquor bottles, but then she heard Kink speaking again.

  “Hey.”

  She looked over her shoulder, not expecting him to be talking to her, but he was. He stared at her, and she lowered her gaze to his thickly corded neck. She could see tattoos peeking out from underneath the collar of his shirt, and then she looked at his arms. God, they were so big and muscular, and the tattoos that lined his golden skin made him seem even more lethal.

  “Get a good look,” he said in a monotone voice.

  She snapped her gaze up to his face, felt her cheeks heat from embarrassment because she had been blatantly checking him out, and then shook her head like an idiot. “I … I, well, I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what to say, and the stuttering made her feel even more juvenile. To be honest she had never been really sexually attracted to a man. With Morris it had been more of a security thing she felt. With Kink it was so very different. He was big and strong, and she knew he could handle his own. He could protect her with his strength, and then there was the fact he was so very attractive in a non-handsome way. It was like a roughness that called to the very feminine side of her.

  She should have turned around when he ignored her, but she didn’t. He didn’t smile, didn’t even respond when she apologized. It was like he had wanted to embarrass her, wanted to call her out so she was forced to face what she had just done. He finished off what had to be his fourth shot, turned, and then made his way toward the couch that Lucien was sitting on. Another woman came up to Kink and started grinding on him, and Cookie knew she needed to stop acting so foolish. A man like Kink was not the kind of guy she wanted to get involved with. But right before she turned her back on him she saw him look up at her as the woman was grinding her ass and pussy on his lap. He grinned, freaking grinned at her, like he found it amusing that she was humiliated watching what was happening. Maybe he smiled because he liked her watching what was being done to him, or smiled because he found it amusing that she couldn’t stop staring. Either way Cookie forced herself to turn away and finish cleaning, because at least that would help her keep her mind off what she really wanted … Kink.