by Jessica Joy
I have no idea how long he has me riding the edge like that, but I do know if he doesn’t let me come soon I am legitimately going to die. My entire body is shaking, I can feel beads of sweat tracing down my spine, and I’m pretty sure I am no longer saying actual words as I beg and plead with him to let me come. I make the mistake of looking down at him and I know I’m an absolute goner when the fucker winks at me.
Before my brain can process what that wink might mean, Gage sinks his finger more firmly into the swells of my hips with bruising force and clamps his lips around my clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it so rapidly with his tongue, my mind short circuits. My orgasm crashes through me so quickly and so intensely I’m pretty sure I actually black out.
The next thing I know, I’m lying against the pillows trying desperately to catch my breath, my pussy still pulsing with the aftershocks of that earth shattering climax. Gage’s comforting weight settles over me, his hips slotting perfectly into the space between my legs and I automatically wrap them around his waist.
I’m distantly aware I should protest for the sake of his leg and his shoulder, that I should be on top, but as if he could sense the argument brewing within me, Gage leans down and claims my lips in a devastating kiss as he sinks into me. Gage sears himself to the hilt inside me and stays there. Our kiss melts into something deeper, less urgent and more profound as our bodies entwine fully. For the first time in months, maybe ever, I feel a soul deep peace wash over me with Gage wrapped up in me so completely like this. We fit. This is how it should be, how it always should be.
“I love ye Mo phráta beag” he says against my lips, his voice reverent. I’ve never heard those words from him until now, I’ve known he felt it, know he means it, but he’s never actually said it until now. Tears immediately spring to my eyes and I arch below him. It’s too much, it’s all too much, and yet not enough. Wrapping myself tighter around him I rock my hips against him, urging him to move.
“I love you Gage. So, fucking much.”
The smile that breaks across his handsome face melts me completely and tells me everything I need to know. This man, this ridiculous, stubborn, endearing, man is my forever. And there is nowhere else I’d rather be than giving my whole heart, my whole life to him.
* * *
It’s near sunrise when we finally come up for air. After more orgasms than I could count, and more sweet loving words than I’ve heard in my life, I’m finally spent and enjoying laying wrapped up in Gage’s arms.
At some point I decide to head nature's call and scurry off to the adjoining bathroom to quickly take care of business and clean up a little bit. When I come back into the room, Gage is still splayed out on the bed, gloriously naked, and reading on his kindle with one arm tucked behind his head on the pillow. It’s the most at ease I have seen him in months, maybe ever.
I’m making my way back to the bed when my eyes snag on a small red pouch on a shelf above his desk. Walking over I pick it up and hear the telltale rustle and clank of coins shifting inside. Resting the pouch in my palm I turn back to him, and ask, “Are these it?”
His gaze flicks to me and his whole body tenses when he sees what I’m holding. Taking a deep breath he sets his kindle aside and pushes to sit up against the headboard before answering. “Aye. That’s them.” His voice is tight and controlled, clearly uncomfortable with discussing this.
I hold his stare for a long moment, studying him. I can see all the things I know he can’t see in himself that I will gladly spend the rest of our lives trying to get him to see. After a long moment, I cross to the small garbage can in the far corner of the room and drop the pouch inside. “You don’t need them. You are a better man than that. You will never be that man again.”
He stares at me in shock for a moment, then looks at the garbage can, staring at it like the coins might pop out and bite him. Closing the distance between us, I grasp his face in my hands and turn it up to look at me and say with a bright smile. “You won’t. Because I won’t let you.”
Gage’s face breaks into one of his signature grins and he tugs me down onto his lap. “Aye, that’s right. My little potato always keepin’ me in line,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose.
“Umm excuse me, your what?!” I ask incredulously as I attempt to scramble from his hold. What the hell did he just call me?!
“Mo phráta beag. My little potato. Ye’re all I need.”
I stare blankly back at him for a long moment as my brain struggles to process his comment. He’s been calling me a fucking potato this whole time!? But then it clicks. He started calling me that after our first time in Chicago, after we watched The Martian.
“I’m your favorite,” I say quietly, a soft smile tugging at my lips.
“Aye Al, that ye are. My favorite little potato and everything I’ll ever need to live.” He says sweetly, nuzzling my neck. God he really is too cute sometimes.
“You know I’m still not calling you Captain Blondebeard right?” I tease, needing to break the moment before I dissolve into emotional tears.
“Ach, dammit lass! Just once?!” He pleads in mock desperation.
“Not a chance. Now kiss me ye ridiculous leprechaun.”
“As ye wish, me wee little potato.”
Chapter 30
Gage
Pulling away from Lexi this morning was without a doubt the hardest thing my poor irish soul has ever had to do. Just when I thought I couldn’t love that woman any more than I already do, she goes and knocks me on my ass yet again. The little stunt she pulled with the coins, the twenty pieces of silver I had sold my soul for, rocked me back and knocked me down and put me back together all in one. In that one move, that gesture of throwing them out and wiping them away, the lass gave me back something I never thought I’d see again. She gave me back my soul, my heart, and then took it from me again the span of a heartbeat because it’s hers. She owns me, heart and soul. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Still riding high on the mind blowing night with my woman, but in desperate need of coffee before Church, I stumble quietly from the room without waking Lexi and head for the kitchen. By the time I hobble my way into Church, massive pink flowery mug courtesy of Kiki in hand, everyone else is already here and seated. The empty spot at the head of the table looming over us, the absence of King deeply apparent and heavy. I settle in my seat and take in the rest of empty seats around the table. In addition to the six expected after the culling last night, there’s three additional empty spots. Whether the fuckers ran, or were put to ground already, I don’t know. They at least had the good sense not to show their faces around here after turning their backs on their Brothers.
Looking at the officer end of the table, hoping to connect with the rest of the leadership, I’m rocked back yet again. The empty seats at the table are hard enough to take, but now that I look at it, I realize Bowie and I are the only true officers left. Fuck me this shake up cost us more than I realized.
Catching at Bowie’s attention, I throw him a questioning look, hoping he has some idea of how to proceed through these unknown waters we now find ourselves in. All he does though is give me a nod and sit back with his arms crossed, like he assumes I’m totally in control. Okay then, guess I’m kicking this one off. Taking one last swig of coffee, I push to my feet and clear my throat, calling for quiet, calling the meeting to order. Unsure of exactly how to start, the room goes quiet as everyone is looking at me to speak when the double doors at the far end of the room are yanked open with a crash.
Roxy is standing in the doorway, looking like a dark avenging angel standing there wearing her Property Patch and holding King’s Cut. She stares me down, daring me to protest her appearance in Church. Technically I shouldn’t allow it, but with the matter at hand this morning, I hold my tongue but stand my ground. She can speak her peace, but I can’t in good conscience let the Brothers see me kowtow to her. Roxy gives me a nod, acknowledging the chance I’m giving her.
She steps into the room and ma
kes her way to the head of the table, eyes fixed on King’s former seat. Without a word she drapes his Cut over the chair reverently. Resting her hand against the soft leather for a moment, she closes her eyes and I see a single tear slide down her cheek. When she finally looks back up, her eyes settle on Sawyer at the other end of the table. Silently, Roxy crosses to him and sets a hand on his shoulder. Sawyer looks up at her in confusion, and takes something from her hand when she offers it. She squeezes his shoulder before striding from the room once again, closing the doors behind her with a dull thud. Regardless of who wears the President title, Roxy will forever be the Queen.
I’m still staring at the closed doors, trying to piece together what just happened when a murmur of surprise ripples through the room. Looking down the table I see Sawyer holding a large silver coin up, examining it and displaying it to the room. Fuck me. King’s President Chit.
Well, this just made my job easier.
“Brothers!” I shout over the rising din of the room, bringing all eyes back to me. “I do believe our late president has made his will known to us regarding his successor,” I say, inclining my head to King’s patch still resting across his seat. “Do any of ye care to put a voice to the matter? ”
Before I can finish asking the question, Cotton already has his hand in the air. “Aye, I’ll move it.”
Tinker is quick on his heels, also raising a hand. “I second. I know most of ya think what happened last night started with myself and Bowie, but it was all Spartan. He was pulling strings and making shit happen from the moment shit went sideways in Seattle.” A few heads nod around the table, and a few others raise their hands. The band of ancients in the corner all share a look, a shrug, then as one Old Man, Iceberg, and Red raise their hands, giving Sawyer a nod.
One by one each hand in the room goes up, a few giving little affirmations as they do, but for the most part there is a heavy quiet in the room until the only votes left are myself and Bowie. Looking at him I cock an eyebrow in question, and he just chuckles. “You fuckers know I’m on board. Just wanted to see who else I needed to take out before I let y’all know.” From the way he says it, I can’t honestly tell if he is glad or upset he doesn’t have anyone else to put to ground this morning.
“Ye dirty sods know where my vote lies. Sounds like it's unanimous… Jaysus who’s keepin’ track today? I think it's the first time our asses all agreed on somethin’ first time ‘round!” I laugh. The room erupts in a chorus of ‘yay’s,’ and ‘fuck yeahs,’ and general yelling as everyone jostles to shake Sawyer’s hand and shove him toward the head of the table. To his credit his face is mostly neutral but I can see the note of shock in his eyes. The thing he doesn’t realize is, to the men in this room, he’s been our Prez in all but name since the night King died. No one else could have pulled all of us together and stomped out the coup while keeping the Club intact like he did.
Sawyer stands behind the president chair at the head of the table, his hands resting on King’s Cut while he addresses the room “Brothers! I hear you. I welcome your support.” he’s shouting to be heard over the din but the room settles enough for him to talk evenly. “I’ll wear the President patch with pride and do everything in my power to make you proud. I know there is a lot of shit to sort out after everything that’s gone down, but The Sons have made it through tough times before and fuck if we’re gonna let this take us down. We’ll be back stronger than ever.”
A round of cheers and thumps against the table ring out in agreement. “Now, let’s settle our business for the morning and get to it.” With that Sawyer bangs the piston head ‘gavel’ and taking a seat.
Epilogue
Gage
I don’t know what’s worse. The decor in this office, or the fact that I am now officially Sawyer’s bitch from here to eternity. Yeah, Church went swiftly, with the unanimous vote to place Spartan at the head of our motley crew, everything else went quickly. His first official act as Prez was to nominate me as his VP, attempting to solidify leadership. This was also met with a resounding ‘yay’ which means that I am now sitting in a chair across from Sawyer as he rifles through King’s old desk to see if Axel left anything worth finding.
“Find anything yet?” I ask, looking up from the newspaper that I’m not really reading.
“No, and it would go faster if you got off your lazy Irish ass and helped, ya fuckin’ prick,” Sawyer snaps, losing patience with the lack of anything of use in this office.
“Hey, it’s not me fault that the wee lass overworked me last night; inflaming my old injuries,” I shoot back, seeing how far I can push him until he looks at me. “I’m a delicate flower ye know.” His head snaps up and he locks eyes with me. I show him my teeth in the biggest smile I can muster.
“You fuckin’ shit head… Is this what it’s going to be like?” His glower starting to crack now that he knows I’m fuckin’ with ‘im.
“Every. Bless’ed. Day. President Spartan.” I spread my arms wide, tossing the paper to the floor. The paper slides and hits a little box under the table at the side of the room. Sawyer goes over to pick it up but he stops short and slides the box out from under the table.
“Yes! King’s stuff.” He starts unpacking it to find the laptop buried at the bottom which he promptly plugs in and boots up. “Let’s see what we can find out about where things were left.” he says as he looks at a post-it note Tink gave him and types in the password. After a bit, Sawyer looks back d at me with a look of concern.
“So… Looks like King was in the middle of dealing with the Pikesmen,” Sawyer says.
“We already knew that ye git, that’s why we went to Seattle in the first place,” I reply. I’m surprised that I’m the one with a good memory at this point.
“No, I mean really, he was in the middle of negotiating some kind of ceasefire which seemed to be in process but then it looks like Axel was supposed to make the delivery. He was gonna buy them off with blood money,” he says, his eyes skimming the screen, clearly reading some emails or notes.
“And I’m guessing that money is what was used to hire the bangers we wasted instead,” I say, connecting some of the dots Tink and DiMarco have passed along.
“Yeah, at least some of it anyway. Either way, they didn’t get paid and they’re pissed. We’ve got a problem Brother,” he says, turning to face me, worry beginning to etch his brow.
“How big of a problem?” I ask.
“They’ve declared a feud on the grounds of a broken business deal and murder. The Sons are in a blood feud Gage,” he says his tone dead serious and his face falling. “What the fuck are we…”
Tinker slams the door to the office open, “We’ve got a problem,” he says, panic clear on his face.
“About the Pikesmen? Yeah, we know.” I say, brushing him off. He can be excitable at times, it’s important to hear him out but to take measured action.
“Pikesmen? What the fuck do they have to do with anything?” he says, clearly confused. “No, I’m talking about the next shipment, we’ve got a major problem.”
“What, did we get a few too many party poppers? Confetti? Baseballs? Spill it man, you know we can move that shit even if we don't have customers lined up,” I say, having heard one of these tirades in the past when a notoriously large shipment had a customer cancel on us. It was bad, but it wasn’t world ending.
“No, no, no. The regular shipment is fine. I’m talking about the extra shipment, the one Axel ordered a few weeks ago,” Tink says. I really need to learn to just let the man speak, he’s not an idiot but it can take so long for him to spit it out.
“What extra shipment?” Sawyer asks, asserting control and pinning Tinker down with his gaze.
“Well you see, Axel came to me, asked me a bunch of questions about our suppliers. Then he asked me about the accounts a few days later. I didn’t tell him about all of the accounts but he was the Prez so I had to tell him about most of them since he had to run the club. And then…”
“T
INKER! Take a breath,” I shout to interrupt him.
“Axel ordered an extra shipment two weeks back. He spent sixty percent of our cash reserves on it to, and I quote, ‘get us into a more lucrative business.’ His words, not mine,” he states clearly and crisply, fully back in control.
“He did what now?” Sawyer asks. “What the fuck is more lucrative than fucking guns?” he looks at me and I simply shrug. We’re not the biggest game in the area but we move plenty of merch to keep everything nice and comfortable.
“I thought the same thing at the time but with all the other shit going on I didn’t bother to follow up,” says Tink. “But I remembered it when I was trying to reconcile the accounts and nail down all the new hidden ones Axel tried to make. I traced the money and found the order. I figured with him being dead and all there wasn’t any privacy to violate so I hacked into his computer. Man I cannot tell you the crazy ass shit that man was into. Did you know he…”
“Tink…” I growl.
“Right, yes, more lucrative… He ordered Russian Nesting Dolls.”
Fuck. Not good.
“Ok, I can figure out most of the stupid code words you guys use for the merch. But what the fuck are Russian Nesting Dolls?”
I decide to save Tinker the embarrassment of having to explain, “Women, Sawyer. Axel ordered women.”
Playlist
Good Evening – Quaker City Night Hawks
You Rascal You – Hanni El Khatib
Confidence – X Ambassadors (feat. K.Flay)
Outnumbered – Dermot Kennedy
Someone You Loved – Lewis Capaldi
Don’t Give Up On Me – Andy Grammar
Hold Me While You Wait – Lewis Capaldi
Rose Tattoo – Dropkick Murphys
Fuck You – Bad Religion
