by V. Theia
December 19th
“Keep the change, yer filthy animal.”
Preacher was an easy-going man, he liked to think. Easy to please with all aspects of his life. He liked to ride with his brothers, throw back the occasional scotch and shoot the shit with them.
And since getting married he’d become a homebody. No longer did he trawl the bars, indulge in fast-meaningless hook-ups or wake up face down drunk somewhere. He had everything he needed within these four walls.
Through all his ease he continued to love his old lady within an inch of his own madness. But what he couldn’t understand was why she continued to torture what small slithers of sanity he retained.
He sighed really…. really slowly and cocked his head to the side. “If you know this thing word for word, why the fuck are we still watching it, Rubes?”
Never play movie trivial pursuit with his woman. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. She’d handed him his own ass that night.
Sebastian was finally in bed, but the kid movie was still playing on their big-ass TV he’d upgraded size just this past summer, to watch the world cup.
Now some delinquent kid, left home on his own, was being a little asshole.
And his Ruby was lapping it up by repeating it word … for fucking word.
He slouched in his seat, bare feet stretched out in front of him, her legs in his lap while he rubbed her insteps with the pad of his thumbs.
After a good meal and a couple of beers he was feeling relaxed.
A fast ride through to WestBank Falls earlier to see to some club business and then some quiet time with his wife, shit was going well for Preacher.
He had no complaints that was for sure. And not when his baby kicked under his hand.
“Because it’s Christmas, Asher.” She stretched his name like he was slow-bus dumb. He chewed back a grin, as her forehead puckered. She loved all things movies but especially Christmas movies.
He was only teasing her.
He was easy. Long as he got to spend time with her he’d watch any old shit on the box.
“And at Christmas we watch Home Alone.” She followed up this decree by poking his ribs.
He got his own back by pressing firm with his thumb into the ball of her heel. Only his Ruby emitted a groan so soaked in smoke, his cock twitched.
And then he got hard inside his sweatpants.
What was a road captain to do? But bring his wife into his lap, split her legs across his thighs making her teeny shorts tighten against his little darling between her perfect legs and then feed his tongue into her mouth with a hungry thrust.
“Asher. I’m too big to fuck on the couch.”
“Do you want me to carry you to bed?”
She wasn’t big at all. He loved touching her belly and rubbing her rounded thighs and feeling her bigger tits press into his back when she spooned him. He loved every single change the pregnancy brought to her lush body, she had him hard every goddamn hour it seemed. But he wasn’t about to argue the semantics of where he fucked her.
If she wanted more room, he’d carry her anywhere.
“Just.” Kiss. “Give me something first then we can head upstairs.” Her lips toyed with his in a way that made his groin really fucking tight to empty into her.
Forget Disneyworld or Santa’s grotto. Being inside his Ruby was the greatest place on earth.
No sooner had he set his mouth to sucking on her curved neck, she groaned. Preacher thought it was full steam ahead and thank god, but then she pushed at his shoulder.
“Wait. My legs are cramping. I need to change position, Asher.”
Okay. No big deal.
He was soon back at it.
Turning his wife on.
Making her whimper.
Growing harder by the second.
It was mid hand-pump. Her hand on his cock, that she stopped him again.
This time her back ached.
He was so attuned to every nuance of Ruby that he could see this situation going down in flames fast and call him a horny fucker, but it’d been days since either of them could find the time to indulge in each other and he wasn’t letting this slip through his fingers.
Preacher dropped his head, licked over Ruby’s nipple through her shirt until he made it good and wet. Only then did he suck the pebble through the material.
He loved her taste.
He loved her moans more and the harder he sucked the louder she moaned. He lifted his head often to gauge her reaction, edging her closer to her orgasm with just the skill of his hungry mouth.
“Hold on tight, beautiful.” The only warning he gave before he swept her up into his arms, taking his precious and loved cargo up the stairs to their bedroom.
Preacher considered himself an expert now on fucking a pregnant woman.
Once he’d gotten past the cravings, and the crying and the vomiting.
Then came the sex.
All the sex.
It was a party for his pierced dick and he was not complaining one little bit.
So, the moment he laid Ruby on the bed, flipped on a lamp to better see his beautiful wife sprawled out for the taking, he got to work making her comfortable.
A pillow under her hips, tilting them up, giving him the sight of the pussy, he helped shave for her. Jesus, his mouth filled with water.
She dreamy sighed, playing with his hair.
A pillow under her neck tipped her face up for his kiss.
“Lie back, let your husband do all the work.”
“No teasing,” she delivered in a voice that both sounded angelic and authoritarian. Preacher dug them both as he stripped in record time and crawled onto the bed, nudging her legs open. He muttered hot, frantic words kissing the inside of her thigh right up to the gorgeous crease. “Asher….” She bucked gripping his hair and he nearly saw her Jesus.
He did some of his own bucking grinding his aching cock into the bed.
“You wanted something you said, beautiful. Giving it to you now.”
With her hips angled she was in the perfect position for his mouth to cover her sweet pussy and suck. He pressed one finger and then two deep inside her finding the treasure trove that made her mewl curse words at him.
He sucked her so hard for those first minutes, rolling her little bud over his tongue, that he was alarmingly calm about her ripping out his hair.
Anything that meant his Ruby’s pleasure and he’d sacrifice whatever was needed.
When she came on his tongue, her pussy on fire, he licked and nibbled and sucked her right over the edge, just slurped her up, right through aftershocks and mini come-down spasms. Pleasuring her always felt like he’d been tossed through a wind machine. He was hard, wanting and satisfied at the same time.
“That’s my girl, giving it up to your man like that.” He praised petting her mound with small kisses.
He meant his little darling.
Ruby still got shy around him talking to her pussy, but he was being a gentleman wasn’t he, by thanking the bud that gave him so much pleasure.
He kissed down there once more before crawling up her body.
Her belly nudged his jutting cock.
“Permission to come aboard?”
“OH. MY. GOD.” Ruby exclaimed in a high-pitched shriek, her big beautiful eyes widening, and Preacher smirked just like the horn-dog he was. Giving her a little downward nudge with his hips until the wet pierced tip of him pushed through the soaked slit of her.
The pleasure was out of this fucking world. It near about blew the back of his skull off.
“Asher. You quoted Aquaman for me. I adore you. I adore every sexy inch of you.”
Preacher used all her sexy triggers to his own advantage and if that meant talking like her fictional hubby as she called him, then he wasn’t above it.
Slow, lazy kisses peppered over his face, she held on tight and devoured his mouth like his Rubes was starved of his taste. All the while his clever fingers dipped between them, parted he
r lips and fed his cock into heaven.
“Oh, Asher. Please. Fuck me, please.”
“You never have to say please to me, Ruby. I got you. Always. Whatever you want. Whatever you need, it’s yours. My wife only has to say what she wants and it’s hers.”
She gave him a look so sweet and loving he felt it in his toes as he gently helped his girl to lie on her side. It was the most comfortable position for sex for her right now and Preacher was all about making things better for Ruby.
Preacher had crawled through deserts in 120-degree heat and nothing matched the molten fire of drilling his needy-cock inside his lady.
They might not be an old married couple yet with decades under their belts, but they’d worked through a lot of kinks since they said the I Do’s.
He’d loved her when they got married.
He loved her more now.
But it didn’t mean their life together was perfect.
She still had nightmares sometimes about her ordeal.
Seb was still under the management of a social worker twice yearly, though thanks god the adoption was plain sailing and the boy was all theirs. Sebastian Priest. Their boy.
Living together as a three had been an experience and thankfully those kinks were worked through now too.
He loved it.
Every chaotic, noisy moment of his life now. He fucking loved it.
Even if it meant him and Ruby had to sneak to fool around, they both got a dirty kick out of it.
Preacher and Ruby were ride or die.
To the ends of the motherfucking earth, he was determined to see a long life with her.
If it meant he sat through endless streams of Christmas movies every year, he’d suck that shit up.
Kissing the side of her neck, he got in place.
“My tiny dancer ready to take it from her big man?”
She chuffed and shuffled her butt back into his groin making him grunt. “Big ego more like.”
He lifted her leg over his thigh, he was big, and she was so tiny inside that he knew where to put her and how soaked she needed to be for her not to be hurt from his dick. He enjoyed the feel of her silky brown skin a while, heating her up, making her squirm then he got close to the crease in her groin.
And then Preacher pushed home. “Let me show you just how big my ego is, beautiful.”
Her laugh was better than any Christmas musical note.
“It’s a Miracle on Frazier Street.” – Grinder
December 20th
Taking a toke of the new batch of green, the end of Grinder’s joint lit up brighter than the shit Luxe had going on in their living room.
The smoke careened into his nervous system, down into his blood and fogged around his brain cells. Relaxation came on a slow wave and he passed the smoke to his dad.
Not weird to be sharing a joint with his old man, he’d been raised by all men. They’d taught him how to drink, break locks, piss standing up and gave Grinder his first smoke when he was fifteen. His dad reckoned better to do it in the house than on a street corner.
“We don’t tell Estalita about this,” his Pop warned, passing it back to Grinder who only grinned and muttered about being pussy whipped.
Truth be told, he loved seeing his father happy. For too long since his mom took off, his dad bounced between casual hook ups over the years, never settling down, always traveling for work.
Now, he was a homebody. He was even learning to cook and taking salsa lessons.
“Lips are sealed, Pop.”
After two more puffs between them and a whole lot of comfortable silence on Grinder’s couch with the TV playing up on the wall, his dad asked. “You still being careful?”
He didn’t think he meant pregnancy kinda careful. Not with the hints about grandkids being tossed around at every family meal.
Every few month his dad made sure to ask about his club work. Not that he delved into details, nor would Grinder tell him anything confidential, but it was his dad and uncles who taught Grinder all his tracker skills. They knew what he did for the club and how it was sometimes dangerous, depending on who he was tracking.
“Always am. Nothing is doing right now. The club winds down for the holidays.”
“And there’s no scumbags to chase to ground?” Dylan joked.
Grinder smirked. He wasn’t wrong. The last bounty he traced clear up the Colorado fucking mountains in four feet of snow this past November was trying to out-run just a four hundred bucks gambling debt.
If you ask Grinder, he would have rather been warm in his bed than hiding in bushes like a rat. But that was the life of an addict who couldn’t pay his debts to the Souls.
He was enjoying the down time before the club undoubtedly blazed into some fresh trouble and blockades. Outlaws were forever fighting one asshole or another.
It was his life and he happened to love his life.
Now he was waiting for his thief to get home from a day of stealing cars.
She was always hyper and juiced if it was a good day and so far from her text messages things had gone according to plan.
And that would mean she took all her happiness out on his hard, eager body.
It was a tough life, he grinned to himself with a lungful of green as he let it out slowly into the air-conned room… but someone had to do it.
No better man for the job of calming his riled old lady than Grinder.
If only he could decide what to get her for Christmas. He had shit for her, he just didn’t have the big shit, the wow-factor to blow his woman’s mind and maybe make her mushy as fuck and soft all over.
He took that shit seriously wanting only the best for her and with just a few days left he was beginning to sweat his ass off.
Picking himself up from the couch, he strode through to the kitchen, grabbed a couple of beers and a bowl of chips, about to ask his dad for gift advice.
“I’m asking Estalita to marry me, son.” He blurted before Grinder had a chance to open his mouth.
He stood there in the middle of his living room balancing chips and cold beer bottles in his two hands, with his jaw slack.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this coming.
For months now, their relationship had gone full steam ahead, all they were missing was the ring.
A big fucking grin covered his face. “Pop, that’s fucking awesome. When you doing it?”
“I want to take her back to her hometown in Mexico right after Christmas. I thought I’d do it there.” He paused and met Grinder’s eyes. “Are you okay about it?”
Grinder laughed. “Pop, I’m not a little kid who you need to make sure is okay about having a stepmother. If anything, …” he poked his tongue in his cheek, “it’s Luxe you might need to run from, you know how protective she is over her grandmother.”
“Fuck.” Dylan grumbled with his head lowered, nursing his beer like it was a problem he’d already thought about. Grinder went easy on him and patted his dad’s shoulder. “You know she loves you, I was fucking with you.”
“You’re a little shithead,” Dylan glared and downed half of his beer to the sound of Grinder’s laughter. “I can still sell you to the circus. Won’t get much, mind. But I’ll do it.”
It was the same threat Dylan had given him over the years and as father and son sat there together downing beer and sharing a joint it felt like the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.
Family was important.
Always.
“I’ll be your best man,” Grinder offered his services. Like his dad would ask anyone else. They might be father and son, but they were more like brothers … best friends. Just no one tell Preacher, that big fucker got jealous so easily. “But you gotta help me decide on Luxe’s Christmas gifts first.”
“You haven’t got any yet?”
Grinder shook his head. “Some. But not big shit, you know? I wanna spoil her.” Guilt chewed up his digestive track. He was a shithead.
“Oh, son.” Dylan laughed. “T
hat little girl will forget all about me marrying her grandmother, if she’s busy killing you.”
Grinder grinned, the punch of love for his thief present in his chest.
Wasn’t that the truth.
December 21st
“I donated to this cause already. Why am I made to hold all this sparkly stuff?” Scowled Luxe with two fistfuls of silver bows the size of her head.
It was a big mistake to stop in at the MC to bring Ruby a slice of her favorite tres leches cake made by her abuela. A fast drop off, she thought, and then home to watch something crap on TV with her boy and wind down from the day.
She was officially on holiday break. No more jobs until after the new year.
She’d worked her backside off for the last month in order to have this time off with Nathan and she didn’t plan for her night to be waylaid by holding giant fucking bows while Zara directed a tattooed boy where to pin them on the walls.
Ruby, she noted, chose to fill her mouth with cake and not say a word as Luxe continued to grumble.
These women and their group mentality continued to try and drag her into their squad. The blondie one most especially
Sure, she liked them.
What wasn’t to like?
But really, Luxe wasn’t much for girlfriends having spent the majority of her adult life around men. Hard men. Dangerous men. Men you wouldn’t want to cross in a dark alley.
So, pinning bows to walls and talking holiday parties wasn’t her scene.
Or so she pretended.
She did like the drinking they did together while the boys were in their little meetings.
Until they all got knocked up at the same time and ruined that.
Even the psycho’s wife was happily pregnant and being fawned over by the sullen man as Luxe stood there, hands full, and glitter covering her almost new leather jacket.
“Why does she get out of holding glittery crap?” She pointed with her chin across to Gia. She was both sister to the club president and wife to the moody VP who was rubbing her feet with the girl on his lap.
“You’re the only one not carrying a watermelon in your stomach. We all need to sit down.” Cheekily grinned Zara before pointing the boy to more space on the wall.
