Page 4 of Prez's Property

She meekly nodded her head. The fight died out of her. He shoved her away from him, and she caught herself on one of the tables. Her lips trembled as a tear slid down her cheek.

I wanted to shake my head. I didn’t even feel sorry for her. I mean, yeah, it sucked she got cheated on. I felt bad for that shit, but she knew better. When you signed up to be one of these men’s old lady, you signed up to turn a blind eye to the shit they did with club women.

Our lives sucked, but yet, our men took good care of us. And I knew if a woman took care of her man well enough, in turn, his dick would only go in one body: his old lady’s.

That meant you kept your head down. You did as you were told. You sure as fuck didn’t come into your old man’s clubhouse, yelling like you owned the fucking place.

“I suggest you settle the fuck down,” Elijah growled at her. “And since you want to fucking barge in here, acting like a goddamn child, you can help the women clean up from the party last night. You know where the fucking kitchen and cleaning supplies are.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed back into the chapel, not casting me a glance. Thank God for that. He was in a bad fucking mood now, and I didn’t feel like dealing with a pissed-off biker.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Whitney picked up the clothes, sniffling as she did so. She carried them upstairs, and I assumed she was taking them to the prez’s room and to probably clean herself up before facing the other women.

“Something interesting on my face?” she sneered at me, suddenly turning to glare at me.

I held my hands up in a surrendering gesture, the cleaning cloth held in my right hand. “No ma’am,” I quickly uttered, turning away from her.

“Probably one of the skanky bitches he slept with,” she muttered as she walked up the stairs.

I glowered at her back. No wonder he fucking slept around. If I had a dick, I wouldn’t want to stick it in her sour pussy either.

Fucking cunt.

I focused back on what I was doing, but when I felt someone’s stare on me, I looked up, catching Elijah’s gaze. His eyes ran over me, and he licked his lips, an appreciative glint in his eyes.

Dear God, help me.

6

After cleaning up with us, Whitney hung out with some of the club women. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation she was feeling, especially since just about every woman here had fucked Elijah at some point.

I’d file for divorce faster than any man could tell me no.

Yawning, I walked up the stairs to my room, wanting a nap. I was exhausted. I’d barely gotten any sleep the night before, still too wound up and pissed off about Elijah. But now that I’d basically helped clean and scrub down the entire clubhouse, sleep was finally calling my name.

I fully intended to take advantage of it.

I cringed when Whitney laughed. The sound was obnoxious, and it grated on my nerves. It always had. I hated when she came around.

I squeaked when Elijah suddenly stepped out of his room, stepping into my path. I swallowed nervously, my heart rate skyrocketing. “Been waiting for you to bring your ass up here for two hours now, Olivia,” he rumbled.

I took a shaky step backward. His wife was just downstairs. This wasn’t a good idea. In fact, it was a horrible one. If she caught us, I didn’t have a fucking leg to stand on.

He reached out and grabbed my upper arms, his hands like gentle, steel bands around my slender arms. “Your wife—”

His expression darkened at the mention of her, making me swallow thickly. “Fuck my wife,” he growled. “I want you.”

Before I could do or say anything, his lips covered mine. Instantly, I was lost in him. Tingles shot through my body as I linked my arms around his neck. With a muttered curse against my lips, he gripped me beneath my thighs and lifted me up. I linked my legs around him, grinding against his hard cock as he strode further up the hall to my room near the end.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, kicking it closed behind us. I moaned when he pressed my back against the wooden door, his lips now moving over my neck, nipping and sucking lightly at the skin, darkening it with love bites.

“Elijah,” I whimpered. God, how did he feel so good?

“Easy,” he rasped. “I’m going to take care of you. Just give me time,” he mumbled.

He yanked my strapless shirt down and cupped my tits. I arched my back, thrusting my chest forward. He squeezed each tit before twisting and pulling at my nipple. I gasped and grabbed his face, dragging it back to mine so I could taste his lips again.

His tongue tangled with mine as he gently set me on my feet, his fingers making quick work of my clothes. Then, he spun me around. I bent over at my waist, not even having to be told, and wiggled my ass in his direction.

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