I began to laugh.
My brother chuckled along with me while Boot set to work, scribbling on the exposed stretch of skin across Sketch’s ass cheeks. When he was finished, he capped the marker and patted Sketch’s trembling flesh.
I almost choked when I saw what he’d written.
Property of the Kings.
“What ya doin’? Why you leavin’ a calling card?” Fabio demanded. “We’ll have the pigs on our backs.”
“Rapey Richard won’t say shit,” Boot assured him. “We’ve got the footage of him tryin’ to rape Aislynn earlier today. I’ll email it to every CEO in his contact list before I send it to his wife, his teenage daughters, and every member of his family, including his mother. By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll be fucked, and I don’t just mean up the ass. Our man here’s gonna take his punishment on the chin—or should I say, up the cheeks, like a smart boy and revel in the knowledge that once tonight’s over, and he follows the boss’s orders, it’ll be over for him, and he can live his life. Ain’t that right,Dick?”
Sketch closed his eyes helplessly and nodded.
He knew boot meant every word; the same way he knew his reign of sexual harassment was done. Karma was knocking, and it had come in the shape of three bikers and one big ol’ uncomfortable night.
Fabio picked up the weighted desk stapler from Sketch’s desk and waved it in the air. “Ever been fucked by a stapler, Richard?”
Richard’s eyes widened.
“Those sharp edges will tear up his rectum,” Boot declared. “Though, what’s a bit of ass blood between friends?”
Sketch’s high-pitched whimpers began to echo again.
I rolled my eyes to the right, and they fell on an old-fashioned white mouse, attached to his computer by a wire.
A crazy idea filled my head, and I leaned down again until my eyes were level with Sketch’s, grinning like a fucking lunatic.
“It’s okay, Richard,” I crowed. “I know exactly what we’re gonna do to you, and the good news is, it won’t tear your asshole up.
His shoulders slumped in relief, and his whimpers calmed.
I leaned across the desk, grabbing the mouse wire and giving it a hard tug until it ripped away from the computer. Then I held it up for the asshole to see, my teeth flashing with my big-assed smile as I declared,
“But unfortunately for you,Dick.The butt plug of consequence seldom comes lubed.”
—————
The Arizona chapter’s SAA,Tempest’s head reared back slightly. “So you’re tellin’ me that you shoved a computer mouse up his ass, then left him tied face down to a table naked with a stab wound through his hand and ‘Property of the Kings’ written across his ass cheeks in Sharpie pen?”
Bootneck’s eyes danced with humor as he sat back, his stare glued to the stripper who was on stage, shaking her tits to “Cherry Pie” by Warrant. “He’s a pervert. Deserved everythin’ he got.”
Bullseye, the president, took a swig of beer, shaking his head incredulously. “Well, damn. The office cleaners are gonna get a shock tomorrow mornin’.”
I almost choked on my beer as a wave of laughter rose around the table.
Fabio ran a hand through his blond locks, chuckling. “We did him a favor and left the mouse wire hangin’ out. The paramedics just need to give it a quick tug, and it’ll pop out of his assholewithout much effort. It’s not like they’ll need to surgically remove it or anythin’.”
Freak, the chapter’s enforcer, leaned forward. “You should’ve got a recordin’ and sent it to Big Daddy. He could roll it out to all the other chapters like one of those corporate trainin’ videos. We could use it as a KOA callin’ card for perverts all over the country.”
“Believe me, brother, it wasn’t all that.” Bootneck grimaced. “I had to hold the motherfucker’s asshole open wide with my bare hands while Fabio shoved the mouse up there. It was unhygienic as all fuck, and that mouse was a bulky little fucker, so it took some effort to squeeze it in. Prez was bustin’ a gut so hard, it took him three attempts to mount his ride.”
The boys started laughing, and I knew our story would be hitting every KOA chapter within hours. Bikers were worse than bitches when it came to gossip and getting in each other’s business, the curtain-twitching motherfuckers.
Bullseye gave Tempest a nudge and jerked his chin toward the bar. “Get lost, brother. I wanna have a private chat with Pagan.”
“Go help,” I told Bootneck and Fabio.
The men stood and walked away, laughing and joking as they weaved through the thick crowd of men watching the stage.
