SOLID GROUND: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK TWO) Read online

  SOLID GROUND: GODS OF CHAOS MC

  (BOOK TWO)

  Copyright © 2015 HONEY PALOMINO

  All Rights Reserved Worldwide

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission from the author. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations and incidences are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is for entertainment purposes only.

  This book contains mature content and is intended for adults only.

  NOTE:

  THIS IS BOOK TWO OF THE

  GODS OF CHAOS MC SERIES

  BY HONEY PALOMINO

  BOOK ONE, REMEMBER ME, CAN BE FOUND HERE

  EACH NOVEL MAY BE READ AS A STAND ALONE

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Some dates are more memorable than others.

  “So, you’re Lacey?” the handsome, middle-aged man across the table from me, asked.

  “I’m whoever you want me to be,” I replied, smiling sweetly at him.

  He chuckled, nodding his head, stretching out his arms and placing his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. An air of confidence exuded from his large frame. Light threads of silver wove through his black hair, his heavy hooded eyelids squinting as he laughed.

  “Monty said you were eager to please,” he said, his smile, while it might have been charming and playful to any other young woman, was sickening to me.

  I didn’t reply. Not with words. Instead, I winked at him slyly, a half-smile forming on my red-painted lips as I slipped my stiletto off under the table, and trailed my black-stockinged toe along his ankle. I slipped under the slacks of his Armani suit, slowly inching up his leg. It worked every time.

  It shut them up.

  I hated hearing them talk. And most of them loved the sound of their voice more than anything else they were paying for. They thought they were so charming. So smart. So entertaining. So fucking important.

  To me, they were none of that. They were boring on the best nights, and downright abusive on the worst.

  I played along. I played the part perfectly - the pretty girl that knew how to pretend you were fascinating during dinner and, even better - how to pretend you had the biggest prick she had ever seen at your hotel room afterwards.

  I knew how to follow the rules. Because I knew what happened when I didn’t.

  After hours of small talk over an outrageously extravagant dinner, my companion paid the check, and we walked down the street that led to his five-star hotel. When he said he wanted to stop at the corner store, I figured he was buying condoms.

  But not this guy.

  No.

  He bought a dozen eggs. And a bottle of wine. Sure, the eggs were odd, but I was trying not to overthink things.

  When we got back to his hotel, the first thing he did was open the wine and offer me a glass. I accepted, downing it quickly and asking for more. He refilled my glass as I sat on the sofa. He sat next to me, each of us silently sipping the dry, red wine. It was painfully awkward, and I tried to make small talk again to break the ice.

  “So, you live in Seattle?”

  “Yes, I do. I’m the CEO of Puget Energy. I’ve known Monty for two years now. He’s a very…efficient…politician.” He sipped his wine, and looked over at me.

  “Yes, he is,” I replied. He was also a very efficient prick, I thought to myself. Monty Patterson had been the mayor of Seattle for two years now. He just so happened to be my pimp and owner, also. And he had been for four long years before he even ran for office.

  “Does he treat you well?” the man next to me on the bed asked.

  “Of course,” I lied.

  He nodded, staring out through the glass door that led to the balcony of his room and overlooked the bright lights of the sprawling Seattle skyline.

  “Do you like eggs?” he asked. He rose to his feet, and I watched him with confusion as he began to undress.

  “Eggs? I’m not very hungry…after that dinner we just had and all…” I said. What an odd question to ask, I thought, especially as he began to take off his clothes.

  “There’s something about them, you know?” he said, as he loosened his tie. “I love their texture. So smooth. So round. So solid. And yet, so fragile. Delicate, even.”

  “Um, sure, I guess so…” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but he wasn’t paying Monty fifteen grand for me to think.

  “More wine, Lacey?” He stood in front of me in nothing but his silk trousers and black dress socks. He was in good shape, I had to give him that. Thick, curly hair covered his muscular chest and the six pack that he was obviously very proud of. The hair tapered down into a thin line that disappeared into his pants.

  “Absolutely,” I replied. Wine was one of my best friends on nights like these. Hell, it was my best friend every night. It made all the bullshit a little easier to endure. He filled my glass once more before leaving the living area and returning to the kitchen of the suite.

  I looked around at the penthouse while I waited. I had a keen eye for nice furnishings, and this hotel had not skimped on their decorating budget.

  I was used to nice things by now. Not that I had grown up this way, though. While my mother had desperately longed for a life filled with luxury, it had remained just outside of her reach. Not that she hadn’t gone to the dark depths of humanity to obtain it, that’s for sure. When you’ve sold your child to the devil, after a lifetime of using her for your own financial gain, well…you’ve reached a pretty dark place.

  It’s not that my mother was evil. She was just stupid, heinously misguided and tragically poor. I had the misfortune of being the one child born to her, and consequently, the only chance she felt she ever had to acquire the lifestyle she had spent her life chasing.

  The high life. The good life. The life of luxury.

  As soon as I was born, she wasted no time trying to make money off of me. She signed me up with modeling agencies, took me to auditions for commercials for diapers, baby food and baby clothes. And once I could walk, the pageants started. I was barely able to find my way across the stage when she entered me in the first one.

  It was the Regal Princess pageant for children ages one to three.

  Unfortunately, I won.

  And that little taste of victory spurred her on to enter me into every pageant she could find in Oregon, Washington, Utah and California. My entire childhood consisted of being primped, made-up, dressed-up and paraded around in front of a bunch of other equally dysfunctional mothers that lived their own fucked-up fantasies out through their children in some kind of sick competition with each other.

  And of course, I went along with it. I was kid. It was all I had ever known. Some of my first memories include her being completely ecstatic about some part I had gotten. I craved approval. I was always that kind of girl. I didn’t know anything about rebellion. I didn’t know how to say no. It was all I had ever known. Hell, I didn’t even know saying ‘no’ was an option.

  If I was being honest with myself, I would say it wasn’t an option. If I ever dared complain, my costume was too tight, my shoes were giving me blisters - the quick pinch of her fingernails on the back of my arm would quickly put me right back on track, and I’d suck it up.

  Of course, that was when I was younger. As I got older, I knew something wasn’t right. While she was entirely concerned with my physical appearance, and coming across as the perfect, loving maternal figure when some one was watching - behind closed doors, it was as if I didn’t exist.

&n
bsp; Left to my own devices, I could care less if my hair was clean, let alone the dress I was wearing. I was more interested in whether or not she was going to feed me that day or stay locked in her bedroom and forget about that one important task of being a Mom.

  She was never a Mom. I don’t know what she was. I spent many years trying to figure out why she had me in the first place. She mostly resented me - that is, when she couldn’t use me to make a few bucks.

  When I got older and stopped winning the pageants, the money dried up. She took it upon herself to find another, more profitable way of using me.

  Which brings us right back to this room.

  If she hadn’t sold me to Monty when I was sixteen, I wouldn’t be sitting here on this velvet couch, staring up at a strange man holding a dozen eggs in his hand, and regaling me with their beauty.

  “…and the pure whiteness of them is just beautiful, don’t you think?” Delicately, he lifted an egg from the carton, holding it up to the light. I was still confused. It was so much easier when they just fucked me, came within twenty seconds, and left me alone in the room for the rest of the night. Apparently, this guy had something else in mind.

  “Sure, sure…” I mumbled through the rim of the wine glass. I eyed the bottle on the glass table in front of me, trying to determine if there was going to be enough left to get me to sleep. If this guy kept droning on about eggs, I might not need any help falling asleep at all.

  He put the eggs in my lap, and stood in front of me expectantly. Had I missed something? I wasn’t being a good listener. I wasn’t earning Monty’s money very well tonight.

  “I’m sorry, Drake, can you tell me what you want me to do with the eggs again?”

  He was unbuckling his thin, leather belt, and he let his silk pants fall to the floor. He stepped out of them, and very slowly and carefully, folded them, taking care not to wrinkle the pleats as he placed them on the table in front of me. He smiled as he began talking again and he removed his black boxers.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to play a little game.” Standing in front of me with nothing covering his pale white skin, except his pair of knee-high black dress socks, he looked ridiculous.

  “A game?” I suppressed a laugh as I watched him walk over and sit on the floor, his back against the wall. He spread his naked legs, his flaccid penis and balls flopping onto the floor like a slab of raw meat.

  “Um…” This was new.

  “If you could just take those eggs and sit across from me, please?”

  “Sure, I guess…” I said. Always the good girl, no matter how fucked up or weird it was. I wanted to say no, throw the eggs at him, one by one, watch the bright yellow yolk run down his perfect body and run out the door, but I knew I wouldn’t do that. Monty was very persuasive when it came to my obedience. But hey, maybe that’s where this guy was going anyway.

  “Oh, wait! Could you take off your dress first, please?”

  I groaned inwardly, but I did as he asked, pulling the tight black dress over my shoulders. I stood in front of him wearing only my bra, panties, garter belt, stockings and stilettos. Those fucking uncomfortable stilettos that Monty always insisted I wear. I hated them, it was so hard to find a comfortable pair. Give me a good pair of boots or sneakers and I was happy.

  “Good, good,” he said, as I sat across from him. “Could you move back a little further? Oh, yes, yes, that’s it…”

  I scooted back and watched him from across the room. Small beads of sweat formed on his upper lip and his penis began growing between his legs.

  “Now, if you could just roll the eggs over to me, one at a time, very slowly…”

  Is this guy for real? I thought to myself.

  “Roll them?”

  “Yes, just put one on the floor…yes, just like that, that’s so good…yes, Lacey, oh yes…now just roll it towards me, right between my legs, give it a good gentle, but firm, push…”

  I did so, and tried not to look horrified at the same time. I smiled, pretending I was onstage somewhere, pretending the fucking stiletto I was wearing wasn’t digging into the back of my ankle. I could do this.

  The first egg wobbled around and stopped halfway between us.

  “Um…” I mumbled, reaching for it.

  “Oh, no! Leave it!” The growing aggressiveness in his voice startled me. “Just use a new egg.”

  “Oh.”

  I pulled another egg from the carton, and pushed it harder this time. It went further but still didn’t reach him. I was wondering what the hell he was going to do with the egg once it reached him, but I didn’t dare ask.

  “Try again, Lacey. Harder this time, put some gusto into it! But be careful not to break it.”

  “Okay, sure,” I replied. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, no, don’t be sorry! This is part of the game, don’t you see?” he asked. “You are so pretty, Lacey!” His eyes were twinkling and his cock was hard now.

  I sighed, picked up a third egg, and sat it on the ground. This time, I pushed even harder, determined to get it across the hardwood floor to him.

  It worked. I don’t know why I thought he was going to catch it with his hands, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the egg hit his cock, and as soon as it did, his eyes rolled back in his head and he shuddered in ecstasy.

  You gotta be fucking kidding me, I thought. He’s paying fifteen grand for this? Monty has some seriously fucked up friends.

  “Keep going, Lacey, don’t stop, okay?”

  I shrugged, picked up another egg, and rolled again. Now that I knew how hard to push the egg, I hit him every time.

  If this was some video game, I would have the high score by now, I thought.

  Ding! Ding! Ding ding ding!

  By the time I had rolled the last egg, he had come all over the floor and was slumped against the wall, a thin line of spittle falling down his chin.

  “I…uh…I’m all out of eggs,” I said. I had never been so thankful to be out of eggs before.

  “Start over,” he mumbled, as he stroked his softening cock back to an erection again.

  ***

  A light breeze hit my face as I emerged from the hotel. This had been one of the easier jobs, and yet also the strangest.

  Eggs! I thought, shaking my head as I walked down the street. He paid Monty fifteen thousand fucking dollars for me to roll eggs at his cock. For that much money, he could have built a machine to roll the eggs for him.

  Rich people were weird. While I enjoyed the luxuries that Monty provided, I definitely didn’t consider myself rich. Monty was rich. His ‘friends’ were rich. I didn’t disillusion myself for a minute. I was merely a servant.

  A slave, literally.

  Sure, I was fed up with it. I was twenty-two now, more than anything I wanted to have a normal life. But this was all I had known. I had never had a normal life, let alone a normal job.

  I shook my head as I continued down the street. The apartment Monty had gotten me wasn’t far and he would be in there and waiting for me, no doubt having been contacted by Drake to inform him the moment I had left. If he ever recovered from his egg-fueled bliss, that is.

  Even if I did try to leave, Monty would find me. Besides, I didn’t have the money to go far. There was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t be able to get away. And I knew that once he did find me, I wouldn’t be leaving my apartment for a very, very long time. Monty was adamant that nobody see the bruises he frequently left, so he kept me locked up until they had healed. And on the rare occasions I pissed him off, the bruises tended to linger a little longer.

  But that didn’t keep me from fantasizing about it.

  Which is just what I was doing when the black sedan rolled up next to me, the back window slowly inching down as the driver crawled to a stop next to me.

  “Hey,” the voice in the back called. I turned to look and saw a man smiling back at me. Rugged and handsome, he waved me over.

  Normally, I would have ignored him and kept walking. But there was so
mething about his dark eyes that intrigued me.

  What harm would it do to talk to him?, I thought. I had never had a real boyfriend. Never been on a real date. Not one that someone hadn’t paid for first, and that didn’t count.

  My curiosity got the best of me, and I strode over to him. I knew I looked good tonight. I had taken extra time with my long blonde hair, and the curls I had so meticulously formed cascaded down my back. My short black dress hugged my curves perfectly, and the those awfully painful, stupid shoes I was wearing perked up my ass nicely.

  I leaned down to look in the stranger’s window.

  He was even more handsome up close. His dark eyes were undeniably sexy, sensual even. He was dressed in an expensive black suit. A red, silk tie. Shiny, Italian leather shoes.