Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,75
you’re shit out of luck, Eight. I’m all for my whore sucking your cock while I fuck her in the ass, but that’s only because your cock isn’t anywhere near mine. I’m not into you like that.”
He laughs, but it isn’t his real laugh. He seems more frustrated than amused.
With Eight’s switch-up in personality freaking me the fuck out, I exit his car before him when it comes to a stop at the front of Clarks. The smell of cocaine, gun powder, and chlorine is all too familiar, but me heading for the sleeping quarters at the side of the compound isn’t. My room is on the other side of Clarks, far from the dormitory-like confines we house brothers from other chapters in when they’re stateside.
“You stopped for food?” Mikhail asks when I dump a handful of bags onto the coffee table between us. When I jerk up my chin, he growls out, “Looks like you got enough to feed an army. What is that? One of each item on the menu?” His eyes aren’t on me. He’s glaring at Eight, who’s making his way into the main living area with the bags I left in his car.
“Trey was hungry,” Eight defends, shrugging. “Figured everyone else would be, too.”
My mouth freezes halfway to the burger I’ve just unwrapped when Mikhail forcefully places Eight into his seat. It wasn’t a hey-let-me-help-you-with-your-load shove. It was a, you-are-pissing-me-the-fuck-off nudge.
“What’s the go with you two? You’ve been weird since I woke.”
“It’s nothing,” Mikhail assures me after hitting Eight with a stern finger point. “We just have opposing opinions on a matter.”
“Then get un-opposing opinions,” I mutter through a chunk of beef patty. “With Nikolai’s head in a lust cloud, we need to stay focused for him. Things get complicated when women are involved.” I know that better than anyone.
When Mikhail gives Eight a look as if to say, I told you so, he holds out his hands in front of himself. “Aight. I’ll back the fuck up.” He slouches low into his chair before lifting his eyes to Mikhail. “But when this backfires in your face, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”
I spend the next two hours sitting across from my brothers who stare at me like the cap I wear to hide the scars on my head is invisible. Something has changed, I just have no fucking clue what it is. The whores still prance around in their skimpy clothes waiting with desperation for me to wave them over, white lines of coke still take up a majority of the coffee table, and excluding a handful of men I’m assuming were lost during the raid, the faces peering at me are familiar. Yet, it still feels like something is missing.
It’s probably my mojo. Excluding my years in hell, I could have been inducted to the Hall of Fame for fucking on many occasions. It’s a part of who I am. It is what I’m about. If my cock isn’t filling the cunt of a whore, it’s being rammed down the throat or ass of another.
It has been in none of those places the past three months.
Confident that’s what I’m missing, I scoot to the edge of my chair before psting at Eight to get his attention. After stabbing out his cigarette into an ashtray on the coffee table, he joins me in sitting on the edge of his chair.
“What’s the blonde’s name? It’s slipping my mind.” I nudge my head to the jacuzzi full of women staring at me like their mouths salivate just at the idea of sucking my cock.
“Which one?” Eight asks after following the direction of my gaze. “Most of them are blonde.”
“The one with the big ass and tits.” I nearly say, and big blue eyes, but I hold back. I don’t know why. “Sitting next to the African woman.”
“Oh, that’s Saige.” His eyes snap to mine so quick, they make my head dizzy. “Why?”
Smirking a smug grin, I rub my hands together. “Because I’m going to invite her for a nightcap in my room.”
“No.” Eight rockets out of his chair so fast, he knocks over his drink. “That isn’t a good idea. You two have history.”
“History she liked by the hankering in her eyes.”
Eight splays his hand across my chest, stopping me from scooting past him to make my way to the jacuzzi. When I arch a brow, wordlessly announcing he better have a good excuse for putting his hands on me, he blubbers out, “You don’t