“Look, I’m not being a bitch just to twist your nipples.” She glanced at my boobs. “I’m worried that you’ll be alone, with only bikers for friends and family, and if shit goes south with Rock then you have no one because I’ll be in Vegas.”
Vegas. Finally Glory was getting on with her life. She belonged in the busy glitz of Vegas much more than the dust of Barden, Oklahoma.
“You’re going?” I clapped my hands together. “So great. I’m glad you finally decided to do something.” She always talked a big game, but action was not her strength. “When?”
“Next Tuesday, I head for Las Vegas. My new job starts Saturday—a dancer in a chorus line, not as some damn stripper.” She grinned wide.
“You are so awesome! I love it.” I was so excited she had committed. No more dead-end jobs and limbo. This was her dream.
“You’re Pollyanna reincarnated. I’m painting pictures of doom and gloom and you are giggling and grinning cause I’m going to finally live my dream.” She threw her hands up. “And you refuse to even admit, let alone plan for Armageddon once the town understands they’re losing another one to the club.”
Just because I didn’t talk to her about it, didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about what my family would do, how the town would react. I breathed deep, crammed down my impulse to smack her. “Did you ever once consider that this, Rock and my store, are my dream? My happily ever after.” I stomped my foot and glared at her.
“Yeah,” She looked away and finally back to me. “It scares the hell out of me—what will the ever after turn out to be.”
Chapter Sixteen
Rock
I hadn’t ever dated a woman. Dinner and sex was about as much as I’d done that resembled dating, but Avery deserved more, so tonight I was taking her to Ardmore for a date. We’d have some Italian, see a movie, and spend the night at my house. Over the past weeks, I’d succeeded in having us sleep together almost every night, usually at my place. But with the shop and her business, we hadn’t made time to go out. That was changing tonight.
I drove over to her place in my truck, and had parked and made it to the porch when the door flew open. Avery ran to me and hugged me tight, I was frozen, mesmerized by her...beauty was such a mundane word. She was beautiful in that free, crazy kind of way—stunning. Especially in the tight jeans and cropped shirt that hugged her body tight. She smelled of cinnamon and reminded me of the fall—crisp, colorful and unpredictable.
“Let’s go, almita, we’re having Italian and then you can pick the movie.”
She went in for her purse and then we headed for the truck. “No bike tonight?”
“You like being on the back of my bike?” I loved her on the back of my bike.
“Yeah, it’s freedom, and I get to cuddle up to my hunk, who smells so good.”
“You can still cuddle in the truck,” I offered. “As close as you can get.”
Her light laugh sent a punch to my gut, and that fast I was hard for her, but then I always was.
When we got in she moved to the middle of my bench seat straddling my gear shift. “this will have to do.” She stuck out that lower lip and I wanted to suck on it.
We drove toward Ardmore in a comfortable silence.
“So I pick the movie?” She rubbed her hands together. “Are you sure? My friends hate my taste in movies.”
“Positive, bring it, I can hang. But then you know how I’m hung.” I’m not a guy who passes up a dick joke, ever.
She laughed and I warmed inside. Making her laugh was one of my favorites.
“The Will Ferrell movie. He’s my hero.”
“No way—that’s what you like to watch?” I gave her a smacking kiss.
“The stupider the comedy the better.”
“Three Stooges kind of funny?”
“I love the Stooges and Monty Python. Now if only we could have the Three Stooges in The Holy Grail and it would be...the holy grail of comedy.” She snorted out another laugh. “Get it?”
“I get you.” I squeezed her around the shoulders. We were meant to be together, I couldn’t name another woman who’d even watch five minutes of the Stooges.
I pulled into my favorite Italian place. We both ordered the lasagna special and I ordered whiskey on the rocks.
“Do you ever drink?” I know I’d never seen her drink anything but pop.
“I’m not opposed, just lack any tolerance. One, I’m good, two, I’m woozy, three, I’m out.”
“Really?” I couldn’t believe it. “Three is when I start finding my groove.”
“I like your groove.” She kissed my cheek. “Tell me about you. What’s your favorite music?”
“Hard to say. I’m not big into it, but Everlast, Linkin Park, old school rap, that’s good for me. How about you?” She was going to totally say My Chemical Romance, if she didn’t, then, I’d give up booze.
“Silvertide, Offspring, My Chemical Romance...like that. Offbeat and intense.”
“Describes you.” I turned her chin to me for a taste of her plump lips, she tasted delicious, I couldn’t stop kissing her, I never wanted to have to stop.
The server cleared his throat and set down two steaming plates of food. Avery pulled away from a damn good kiss.
After dinner, we drove the three miles to the Cineplex on the other side of town. The pimpled teen did a double take when we walked up—it could be my cut, my tats, or Avery’s hair. We were not a normal couple, thank God.
We raided concessions and entered the theater. The movie came on, and all I could watch was the green-headed girl beside me. She slurped from her straw and licked buttery fingers before sticking them back in the popcorn, but I didn’t give a single damn, she was a live wire of excitement, and every joke played across her face.
She turned to me, brows crunched together in her confused look. “Don’t you like the—”
I put my finger to her mouth and the minx sucked it in. A jolt hit me hard right in the dick. I rescued my finger, put my arm around her chair, resting my hand on her shoulder before I turned my attention to the movie.
It was after ten before we made it home Sunday night and I was glad neither of us had to work tomorrow. I wanted her all to myself in my bed for hours. We stripped, her gaze raking over me like I was dessert.
“Almita, you look good enough to eat. Come here and let me taste you.”
Instead, she climbed into bed and lay spread out for me. “Does this help?”
I groaned. “You’re gonna need the help.” I lifted her legs to my shoulders and licked up her seam. Honeysuckle and Avery—that’s how she tasted. Her back bowed as she moaned my name.
I dipped down and nuzzled her triangle of hair on her mound, rubbing her scent into my nose before I returned to her sex. Playing with her, I licked and flicked her outer lips, but stayed away from her pleasure button. Still her hips thrust up to me. I grasped each side of her and stilled her movements. Heat built low in me and I wanted to sink into her, but not until I made her scream my name.
* * *
I woke up at seven like I normally did, unless I lost my ass in Jameson. My nymph curled into me with her small ass pushing into my groin. Tempted, I almost woke her, but she needed her sleep. Just because my brain woke me early every damn day was no reason for her to suffer. I changed into workout clothes and went downstairs to the gym, maybe I could get in my full hour workout before she woke up.
I padded down the hallway and through my kitchen to the basement door. I left it open behind me in case Avery woke up—the clink of the weights would let her know where I was. I loaded the bar for my first set and began to warm up.
“It should be illegal for you to look so damn good,” Avery purred behind me.
I hadn’t even heard her on the steps.
“Sweet Je
sus your ass is so damn sexy, and your back, and your everything, especially when you’re all sweaty.” She’d closed the distance to me.
She licked my bicep and I stepped back.
“Really?” I chuckled. “What’s that about?”
“I wanted to see how you tasted. And my taste buds say ‘totally edible.’” She gave me a sassy smile. “In fact, I think your dick could use a workout.” She grabbed my shorts and pulled down, my cock sprung free, bouncing. “Sit your ass down.”
I sat on my workout bench.
“So I need you to fuck me,” She spoke to my cock before dropping to her knees to lick me from balls to tip and back down. “How should we accomplish that? I’m already commando.” She flashed her heart-shaped ass at me. When she turned toward me I picked her up and her legs wound around my middle. I plunged deep and we started a different kind of work out.
* * *
I’m not a lucky guy, in fact, the opposite is true. Usually life kicks my ass and then serves up another shit sandwich to top the ass kicking.
Joining the club was the exception until Avery, and I kept waiting for something to go wrong in one or the other. No one had ever trusted me to run anything, let alone lead it all the damn time. With Marked Man in my hands I had ideas, great ideas. Today one of them came to life. Angie Lang, or Big Ang as she was known by her customers in Ardmore, started as our newest tattoo artist. Even though it was her first day, she had three appointments. Her clients had happily followed her from the joke of a place she’d worked in Ardmore.
I parked my bike and glanced at Black Label, already dark for the day. Avery had dinner with her parents, so I wouldn’t see her until after eight.
I walked into laughter—the perfect sound for the shop. Zero, Mark and Big Ang stood around in a semi-circle. This was my team—I doubted Weasel would make the cut. “How’s your day going?” I asked when the laughter quieted.
“Totally great, we needed a chick in the shop.” Zero winked at Big Ang.
She winked back. The woman was brash and spoke her mind, two qualities I liked.
“The two guys she inked, they stared transfixed by Ang’s special endowments.” He held his hands out in front of him, miming big tits. “They fucking drool, no exaggeration.”
“When you’re blessed, you’re blessed,” she sniggered. “Based on your name, I’m guessing you’re not, pretty boy.”
I laughed and Zero actually looked a little embarrassed, not that he turned red or anything. “Boss, she’s been saying that all day, she won’t believe it’s my strikeout average.”
“I have no idea, but maybe Ang is right, and Jericho was being kind.”
He turned so his back faced the plate glass front, expression devious. “This is how rumors start.” He unbuttoned his pants, pushed down the zipper. “So cameras at the ready, you’ll only see this big boy once.”
He whipped out his semi-hard cock before I could even protest.
“Put that snake away.” Ang laughed. “You’ve scarred me and proven your point.”
With a satisfied smile splitting his face Zero shoved his cock back in his pants and zipped up.
“So is that how you get the women, just whip it out and beat them with it until they agree to go home with you?” I shook my head at the idiot.
“Something like that.” Zero waggled his brows.
Mark laughed so hard he could barely breathe. “That’s what...” He had to start three times before he got the words out. “... I’m doing wrong, then.”
“I think some girls appreciate the subtle approach, not me, but some.” Ang eyed Zero. “You must not like me since you didn’t beat me with it.”
This time red did tinge Zero’s cheeks.
“Shit, you’re turning red, Zero.” I pointed. “Never good to expose too much.”
“Fuck off, all of you,” he grumbled. “Chicks don’t play fair.” He shot a furtive glance toward Ang then back to Mark. “Padawan, write this down. Ang is cold hearted, keep your dick tucked in your pants.”
“Got it.” He swallowed his chuckle. “But I didn’t think anything could make you blush?”
“Oh honey, I’ve made much tougher men blush.” Ang blew a kiss to Zero. “Hope your ego reinflates soon.” She sauntered to the back room. “Send Lonnie back when he gets here,” she called back to the front.
I glanced from Mark to Zero. “She seems to fit in fine.”
“Yeah,” Zero grumbled. “Reinflate my ass.” He mumbled. Mark’s phone rang on the counter. He stepped into the office as he answered but was back out in seconds. He motioned me forward. “Avery’s in trouble, her old man is after her out at the farm, Chet’s on the phone—”
I quit listening after trouble. I hurried to my bike. “I’m going. You coming, Mark?”
“Be behind you.” He still had the phone to his ear.
“I got the shop,” I heard Zero say as the door closed behind me.
I had to get to my woman.
Chapter Seventeen
Avery
Rock and I were right for each other. I was falling for him, but tonight would put my new love to the test—my parents hated the Brotherhood. No doubt it’d be the topic of tonight’s dinner. The Wednesday night dinner tradition sucked on a great day, and today wasn’t great, not even close to great. I had no idea how I’d survive the gauntlet of insults, snide comments and simmering tension that marked our sadistic tradition.
I locked up my store and walked to my truck that now ran smooth thanks to Rock’s work. I passed the superstore on the way out of town, passed the sporadic houses until I turned down our gravel road. I passed the two neighboring farms before turning up our lane. Tonight the drive didn’t calm me like it normally did, it passed too quickly. I wasn’t ready to face them but I couldn’t put it off anymore.
Parking in my normal spot, I stared at the white clapboard farmhouse that had been in Daddy’s family a hundred years. The paint was chipped and the porch sagged, but flowers and other touches from my mom made the house welcoming. My mom, a sweet woman, had earned sainthood after over 25 years of marriage to the jerk. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my daddy just as all good girls loved their parents, but I didn’t like him much, and I felt guilty for not liking him.
I knocked and walked in without waiting for an answer. “I’m home,” I hollered, weaving through our worn living room, untouched dining room to the kitchen—the heart of the house.
Mom hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Set the table, fried chicken is just minutes away.”
“You’re the best.” I squeezed her again for making my favorite dinner.
Her sad blue eyes glanced to me and away. Great. Dad was on a tear, although Mom wouldn’t say it aloud, her eyes said everything I needed to know. I turned to the cabinet and set out four of the good plates, not china, but a pretty pattern Mom had inherited from her Grandma. Without thinking I set the table in the way I had for twenty years. Of course, my brother Chet never set the table because this was women’s work, but I’d never mowed the lawn, because it was men’s work.
By high school, dinners had turned into dreaded ceremonies that reminded me of scenes from Leave It to Beaver, except we didn’t please our father, ever.
Mom and I set the last dish on the table when Dad burst in the back door, making a bee-line for the sink where he and Chet always washed their hands. Mom and I sat down in our traditional seats then Daddy and Chet sat. A longer than normal grace before he looked up, glancing at each of us. His brow wrinkled and eyes darkened when they landed on me.
Super.
Daddy started with Chet, quizzing him on welding school in Ardmore. He turned to Mom and asked her about the town mood and the upcoming Labor Day celebration, purposefully ignoring me.
I shoveled food in my mouth because when those cold coal eyes l
anded on me, my appetite would disappear. Almost like he read my mind, his gaze settled on me with more than his normal disapproval—his lip snarled in disgust, like he’d smelled something rotten. I tried to ignore the unsettling feeling he gave off, focusing on the sunflower plates hanging with cheery joy on our light yellow kitchen walls.
“Avery June, you just can’t quit fucking up that life of yours.”
I refused to show emotion, it only egged him on, even if the words speared me deep inside.
“Gerald, language,” Mom hissed.
“I’m just calling it as I see it.” He pinned Mom with his death glare. “What would you call it that my only daughter is off cavorting with the biker trash, again.” The again held its own load of blame.
I waited for the guilt, the turmoil that normally ate at me when he went on one of his bad rants, but my only emotion was hot anger. How dare he judge Rock when he’d never said two words to him?
“Now Gerald, you remember what the doctor said about your blood pressure.”
“Tell her.” His hand waved to me. “She’s to blame.”
I am always to blame.
“Well missy, what you got to say for yourself.”
I kept silent and swallowed another bite of peas. They almost choked me going down. My chest hurt and my stomach gurgled with all that acid his words always churned up.
“The Rangers won the three-game set against the Giants,” Chet interjected into the silence.
Thank God for Chet. We’d figured out ways to divert Daddy years ago. We each did our part when we could.
Without looking my brother’s way, he spoke. “Of course they beat them damn queers.”
Mom opened her mouth but shut it again.
Maybe he’d forget Rock until next week, but I hated waiting for his wrath to blow my way. Better to get this done now because I’d still be seeing him next week and the week after. If Daddy said his piece, we could move on toward accepting my relationship. Besides, he had no right to condemn Rock based on some generic hate for his club. I stared down at my plate, the food I shoveled in now threatened to come back up. I remembered Marr and tried to channel her bravado. “Yeah, I’m seeing Rock.”
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