by Joy Blood
“Where to now?” she asks, almost skipping to my bike.
“The clubhouse. Are you up for a party?” Taking her to the patch party tonight might not be the best idea, givin’ what goes on at them. Guess tonight I find out if making her mine is even an option.
“Okay.”
“Goin’ to need more than an okay, baby. This is a patch-in party. You are going to see some shit that might make you a little uncomfortable. Or just make you want to run the fuck out of there,” I tell her honestly.
The timid little thing she is straightens her spine and nods. “I’ll go,” she insists, grabbing her helmet without any prompting. She pulls it over her head, then shifts for me to get on. I decide not to explain any further. She’ll find out what the club nightlife is all about soon enough.
The clubhouse is fully packed when we get there, having taken a bit of a ride on the way. I wanted it this way. I didn’t want her to ease into it. I was tossing her off into the deep end without a lifejacket. Hopefully, it didn’t come back to bite me in the ass. “Looks like everyone is here.” I swing my leg off my bike, then watch her closely as she pulls her helmet off and places it inside my saddlebag. Reaching down, I grab the money from the other side and hand the bags to Weezer, who is already there to grab them from me.
“Nice to see you, Pres. Ma’am.” He nods to Vera, who gives him an unsure smile, then looks to me for guidance.
“Think you’re going to be okay?” I use her word and throw it back at her, challenging her to see if she’s going to crack.
“Yes. I’ll be okay,” she tells me, but it sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself.
“Right then. Let’s go inside, yeah?” She nods and follows me through the front doors where everyone has already started the night off, and then some, celebrating Gibbons getting patched in. The bar calls my name, as well as the bottle of Absolut behind it. Shaking the craving away, I clasp onto the hand I probably shouldn’t be holding in the first place and move farther into the room, finding a spot to sit at the table Wick is occupying. He tries to hide his surprise that Vera is with me, but it’s written all over him. He has no poker face. There is only the one seat, so I take it, and without a thought, pull Vera’s tiny frame down onto my lap, earning a raised eyebrow from Wick. I scowl at him.
“Hi, Premo.” Brandy’s syrupy sweet voice drips in my ear as she places a bottle of water down in front of me. I take it without a word and crack it open to gulp down half before offering it to Vera. Her eyes flick to mine as her hand takes the proffered bottle. She places her lips against the bottle, and I make the damn mistake of watching as she drinks down the rest. My cock hardens with each flex of her throat as she swallows.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“Thanks. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was,” she whispers for only me to hear.
“And who are you?” Brandy snaps, breaking the damn spell Vera’s lips have me under.
“Brandy. Knock your shit off,” Wick scolds her. “Bring me a damn beer and maybe I’ll fill that greedy cunt of yours up tonight,” he growls, reaching out to grab her ass in his tight grip. She shoots a smile his way and saunters off, but not without a glance at me and glare at Vera. “Gonna stir up some shit, Pres.” I wave my hand, then place it on Vera’s leg, squeezing slightly. Damn if she doesn’t feel good sitting on my lap. She has started to put on much-needed weight, bringing a supple curve to her hips. Her long, dark hair has a vibrancy to it now, along with her blue eyes, which keep darting around the room, taking in all the action around us.
“She’ll get over it,” I grumble. “Need anything, V?” I ask, turning my attention back to Vera, who has gone suddenly still on my lap. I follow her gaze, and find it trained right on Hank. He has one of the girls on his lap, his hand moving underneath her short ass skirt. Probably playing with her pussy by the way she’s moving along with him. “Breathe, Vera,” I whisper in her ear. “Nothing is happening that you don’t want to tonight,” I assure her, getting her to look my way again. “Okay?”
“Okay.” She nods and flicks her gaze back toward Hank, but he’s already up and out of his spot, dragging the girl along with him out the door.
Thirty
The cool chill I got from seeing that man with the woman on his lap had nothing to do with what was happening between them and everything to do with the nagging feeling I got in the back of my mind. I’ve seen him before. I tried to figure out where, but when I looked back at him, he was already leaving. Shaking it off, I focus in on Premo and his movements as he talks to the man at the table called Wick. The girl, Brandy, has since come back and is sitting on Wick’s lap. She shoots me a glare every now and then, which I try not to let bother me. Only…it doesn’t work. I find my hand reaching to my covered arm and scratching at the marks that have since faded away, but are still very much there in my mind.
Premo takes my arms in his grasp, separating them, then turns me to face him with my thighs suddenly straddling his. “You doin’ good?” he whispers, running his hands up and down my arms encased in the too big sweatshirt that smells like him. I nod, but he shakes his head. “Talk to me.”
“I’m okay.”
“That fuckin’ word.” He shakes his head, and his hands stop drifting along my arms, shifting up farther to drag through my hair. It’s down, most likely ratty from the motorcycle ride we took earlier. It doesn’t seem to bother him one bit as he threads his fingers through the strands, pulling slightly at the base of my skull, then running the tips of his fingers over the stitched-up gash on the back of my head. “Healed up nice.”
“Yes,” I agree, practically purring at the way he’s touching me. Maybe it isn’t supposed to be meant as an intimate gesture, but to me, this is more intimate than having sex.
“Breathe,” he instructs again, making me realize I haven’t taken a breath since he turned me to face him. I suck in much-needed air, just to have him stall it once more with his next words. “Damn that mouth of yours…” He leans in closer, his short beard grazing across my lips just before he takes my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it gently. “So tempting.”
With that, he fists my hair and tilts my head back, gaining better access to my mouth as he takes it with his own. Soft. So soft. I want to grip his short hair to urge him on, to claim me in a way I’ve never been before.
“Open,” he demands, pulling back just enough to speak before delving in with his tongue. The velvety smooth taste of him ignites a fire inside my core, making me surge forward with my own tongue. A groan rips from his throat, vibrating on my lips. All too soon, it’s over, and he’s placing me on the floor as he stands behind me. I want to ask what’s wrong, why he stopped the kiss, but he starts walking toward the door we came in through, taking my hand in his to guide me along. He doesn’t say anything to anyone as we walk outside into the cool night, nor does he tell me where we are going as we walk down a row of small, trailer-like homes. As soon as we reach the last one, he yanks open the door and leads me inside.
“Premo what—?”
“Nate.”
“What?”
“Call me Nate.” He steps closer to me, pulling me into him, framing my face with his hands.
“Okay. Nate.”
“That voice of yours makes me so damn hard,” he growls. “Raspy and laced with honey. Fuck, you’ve been stroking my cock without even touching it.” My eyes widen at his sudden crassness, but the heat between my legs grows at a rapid pace. “You like that? Like it when I talk dirty to you?” I can only nod. No words can be formed right now, even if I wanted to. “Bet you’re wet, aren’t you? If I reached into those tight ass jeans, would I find your pussy soaked?” The sharp intake of breath is all he needs. Chuckling, he dips the tips of his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. “You need to tell me to back the fuck off. I have no goddamn control right now. I’m trying as hard as I fucking can to hold back from burying myself inside you.”
“No,” I squeak out.
“No?
”
“No. Don’t back off,” I manage to say before his lips crash down on mine with a feral growl. So much more intense than the kiss in the clubhouse. My back hits the wall at the same time my legs wrap around his waist. His thick shaft drags along my core, separated by two layers of denim.
I’m transported into a world of bliss as his tongue strokes along mine, and my body ignites with a fire I’ve never known. But it’s all doused with a thick splash of ice-cold water when someone pounds on the door.
“Pres, get out here! The cops are here. They’re arresting Nixon.”
Premo pulls back and curses. “Shit.” Just like that, I’m on my feet, and Premo is out the door, telling me to stay put. Which I don’t do. I wait for a second, then follow him outside. Red and blue lights flash from two cop cars along with four officers, their hands dangling over their guns. A man who I assume to be Nixon is strapped in handcuffs behind his back, his head down as he stumbles along to the patrol car and is placed in the back.
“The fuck is this shit, Fergus?” Premo barks out, reaching one of the officers. The closer I get, I can see his uniform reads “Sheriff.”
“Got a tip. Told you I would come busting down your door.” Fergus slaps something against Premo’s chest. “Got a warrant. Not a thing you or I can do about it. Get a lawyer.”
“Fuck.” Premo looks down at the warrant, then turns to the closest thing—which happens to be a cooler—and gives it a swift kick. Ice and beer cans go flying across the parking lot, with some of the ice hitting one of the patrol cars. This causes on if the officers to start edging Premo’s way, hand ready on his weapon.
“Leave it, Briggs. His brother just got arrested. Don’t need to make this worse,” Fergus says, coming between Briggs and Premo, who just might snap if the officer gets any closer.
“Who the fuck did you get the tip from?” Wick demands, storming up to Fergus. Now that they’re standing near each other, I can see the similarities. They must be related. Almost the same height, same muscular build, and same exact beach-bum, blond hair.
“I’m sorry, brother. You know I can’t say. You know I have to do my job. DA says arrest, I can’t do shit about it.” Fergus steps closer to both Wick and Premo, saying something I can’t hear. They stay like that, huddled in a group, discussing something for a few moments before Fergus backs away and reiterates for Premo to get a lawyer. Then he gets into the car, along with the remaining officers, and they drive away.
Thirty-One
After Fergus carted a very drunk Nixon off in his police cruiser, I called on one of the prospects who wasn’t three sheets to the wind to take Vera back to the apartment while I stayed at the clubhouse and made calls to every lawyer I could think of. Wick took it upon himself to contact the DA, who only scoffed at him over the phone and told him to basically piss off. “Fucking asshole,” he grumbles, tossing his phone on the table. “Prick’s got a hard-on for the club it sounds like. Has every intention on seeking the death penalty.”
“Shit.” I scrub the back of my neck, wondering how the fuck this night ended up taking such a drastic turn. It was just a couple hours ago I had Vera wrapped around me. Vera. I know Doc is back at the apartment with her by now, but I find myself feeling guilty for handing her off to someone she didn’t know while I took care of business. That’s just the way shit is, though. The club comes first. “I got a couple references, but no one is picking up their phone. Might have to make some house calls. Nix can sit tonight. He’s too damned drunk to even know what’s happening.”
“Yeah.” Wick reaches for his phone again. “I’m going to try to call to the DA’s office again. See if I can’t get someone there willing to talk to me.”
“Let me know if you get something out of it. I heard nothing but corrupt bullshit comes from that office.”
“Don’t fucking doubt that shit one bit,” he grumbles before heading out of the room, leaving me to stare down at the empty table. The fangs of the tiger glare back at me.
“Pres.” Hank’s voice cuts into my trip down not-so-great memory lane.
“Yeah. Need somethin’?” I pocket my phone and start for the door, ready for the night to end.
“Who was the girl?” he asks, blocking my path, as if the fucker has the damn right.
“Just a girl. I’m out for the night and tomorrow too. Going to try to get Nixon a lawyer and post bail.” I push past him without another word. I’m too set on my determination to get back to the apartment, and Vera, I bypass the fact that he should have recognized Vera from the trailer house.
The ride back to my apartment goes by in a blur. Too many things on my mind to focus on just one. It’s all a scramble of shit by the time I park my bike and open the door to step inside. It’s quiet, being almost one in the morning. I catch sight of the prospect sawing logs on my damn couch. Kicking the cushion, he bounces in his sleep, then shoots up off the sofa with a start. “Where is Doc?”
“Said he had something to deal with, asked me to stay. She went to bed a few hours ago,” he explains, pissing me off. The fuck, Doc?
“Fine. Get out of here.” I walk past him to the kitchen where I take a bottle of water from the fridge, getting a hurried goodnight from the kid before my door shuts behind him.
“That was a little rude.” Her soft, raspy voice goes straight to my cock, and all the thoughts flowing through my mind dissipate.
“He’s a prospect. Not supposed to be nice to him.” I down the rest of the cold water, wishing it was something else. “You get any sleep?” I ask, turning to face her. Standing there in only one of my shirts, I force myself to hold in my groan. “I hope to fuck he didn’t see you wearing that.”
“Something wrong with it? It’s your shirt.” She steps closer to me, then bypasses me to grab her own bottle of water. I watch as she uncaps the lid and takes a small sip. “I’m kinda fond of wearing them.” She smirks, and her lips touch that bottle one more fucking time. She is fucking teasing me.
I’m liking this brash side of her, so I go ahead and test the level of her new backbone. “You want my cock, all you have to do is say so.” My words shock her, but she covers it up quickly. Another sip of the water and she screws the cover back on, then places the bottle on the countertop. She turns her body completely toward me, her full, round tits peeking through the white cotton of my t-shirt, showing me exactly what my mouth is watering for. Her big green eyes drink me in. Then her pouty lips open, and one fucking word escapes that has my dick almost jumping out of my jeans.
“So.”
In seconds, I crash her body against mine and lift her legs to wrap around my waist. Unlike before, there’s no barrier stopping me from getting to her. My hand gazes along the plump flesh of her backside.
“No fucking panties either. Damn it.” I give her ass a smack before trailing the tips of my fingers down the crack to her slick center. “This all for me?” I growl into her mouth, biting her lips, then sucking away the sting.
“Yes. All for you, Nate.”
“Shit.” I don’t even know how we get there, but next thing I know, I have her back bouncing on my bed and I’m tearing off my clothes and kicking my boots to the floor, not giving two shits where they land. “Take that shirt off, V. I need to see all of you.” She takes a second, her hands lingering at the hem, as if she doesn’t want me to see her. Before I can encourage her further, she starts to pull the shirt over her head, exposing her bare flesh to my hungry gaze. I want to lick and suck every inch of it, but I’m in too big of a hurry to get inside this woman who’s managed to turn me upside down and inside out. “Spread your legs, baby. Show me how much your pussy wants to squeeze my cock.” I stroke myself slowly, watching how her eyes follow the movement. I know I need to reach into the drawer to my left, but in the few seconds it takes her to open up for me, I decide I don’t want anything between us, consequences be damned.
“Please, Nate, don’t make me wait any longer.” She fists the sheets with her hands and toes. So fucking c
ute. I’m down on her, pressing myself between her legs, dragging my shaft along her slick pussy. So ready for me. Angling myself, I thrust in, and she tightens her grip around my waist with her legs and digs her nails into my back.
“That’s it. Leave your marks on me. Every fucking scratch, I want to feel on me tomorrow. I want to smell you with every breath I take. Taste you on my tongue.” I crush my mouth to hers again and don't come back up until she pushes me away to catch her breath.
“Nate, I’m going to come,” she whimpers, tightening around me, making my hips speed up. Reaching between us, I flick her sensitive bundle of nerves, and she goes off in mere seconds. I follow right after, filling her up with each thrust of my hips, until I feel like I’m never going to move again.
Thirty-Two
The sweet ache tugging at the center of my stomach brings last night thundering back to me as I roll over, tangled in the sheets. They smell so strongly of Premo, it brings vivid flashes back to me. His hot breath on my neck, between my legs, cascading across my sensitive nipples. Butterflies flutter low in my belly, but are quickly smashed to pieces when I stretch out and find I’m alone in the bed. The place where he fell asleep last night is cold. He’s been gone for some time. I push the thoughts away.
He is a busy man, I tell myself as I climb from the bed and pad toward the bathroom attached to the room. I flick on the shower, then toss a towel over the glass door and step inside.
