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Harley had managed to sneak herself into the clubhouse and into the back to what she assumed was Tig's room. Nobody noticed her that morning thankfully. Dropping the black duffel bag at the foot of the queen sized bed, she kicked off her shoes lazily on the floor. Her petite hands worked at the bottom and zipper of the jeans, stripping out of them, followed by her shirt. Standing in her black lace underwear, normally she would happily sleep naked -but she was in a new place, even a club house full of men. Sighing to herself of the slight inconvenience, she spotted to dresser against the wall. Opening the top drawer, there was nothing but boxers, socks and multiple packs of condoms. Even lube. Closing the drawer -she opened the next- several SAMCRO shirts. The shirt was slightly large on her, just barely covered her ass. It was better than anything. Harley slid underneath the dark sheets, the smell of men's cologne and cigarette smoke comforted her as she fell deep in a quiet slumber.

The club made it back from Jury's during that afternoon. Gemma stood outside with her arms crossed in front of the shop's office. Clay walked up to his wife with a smile and kiss on her lips, clearly missing his wife during his time away. But Gemma knew, she felt a deep pit in her stomach. As an old lady, it was expected that the members would find a sweet butt during their time away from home. It was how it always worked. Club life.

"Hi baby," Gemma greeted to her husband softly, resting her hands in his own, "Everything go okay at Jury's?"

"Jury wasn't all for the patch over at first, but talked him into it. Lost a few of his guys," Clay pulled away from the woman to light his cigar, "Had a little issue with the Mayans. Followed Jax all the way to clubhouse, Jury got caught in the crossfire. Everyone's good though."

Gemma narrowed her eyes on the man, letting out a breath. "Jesus Christ Clay."

"Hey, everything was taken care of. It's fine," Clay's charming-ish smile flashed to her.

Gemma rolled her eyes and shook her head, watching as the President walked away. Noticing the black muscle car that sat by the shop, it wasn't there before. "Who the hell own's that car?" Clay ignored her, smirking to him.

Clay walked over to his Sgt at Arms that sat on the bench outside the clubhouse. The curly dark haired man shaded his blue eyes with sunglasses, breathing in the last of his smoke. "Why don't you go find the princess? Old man and Gem haven't noticed her yet," Clay ordered quietly. Tig nodded, throwing his smoke to the ground away. Turning on his heels, he walked into the clubhouse, seeing Piney at the bar with a beer in his hand.

The man was faced with his dorm door, he tapped on the door softly. No answer. Knocking a bit harder now, still no answer. His hand turned the silver door knob slowly, pushing the door open as he moved in. There she was, in his bed. The duvet, twisted, hardly covering her body. Laying on her stomach, one leg covered, the other kept outside the blanket. Her ass was on perfect view for him as her back was towards him.

That perfect tight little ass.

Covered in black lace panties.

Perfect.

Closing the door softly behind him, he readjusted himself. It was going to become a reoccurring thing for him if she continued to be around. Looking that damn sexy all the time. Crossing the floor, he raised his leg to shake the side of the bed. Harley moaned tiredly in annoyance.

"Wake up princess," He spoke softly. Harley ignored his words, snuggling her head farther into the pillow.

'God, what a little brat'. He thought to himself. But was she an actual brat? He wondered what she was like in bed, she had to be fun. Tig was silently wishing he took up Jury's offer on his girls.