Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

by Snow, Nicole

  I'd die before I made the same damned mistakes my old man did. I wasn't gonna say it to her face, but Sally already had my cock pulsing in her hand. I couldn't think about letting that greedy motherfucker have his way with anybody but her, her, her.

  She must've done some black magic when I wasn't looking. Nothing else made sense.

  Shit, women used to come easy, and I had no problem getting hard for a stranger with a rocking body. Now, it was like every other pussy on the planet turned to ash, bronze prizes my balls wouldn't ever accept. I had to go for the gold, and fuck her so hard her hot, tight, golden cunt remembered the shape of my dick 'til we were dead.

  Fuck.

  I got up and started to dress. Yesterday, I hit the Jennings' place, mostly to check in with the crew and see if they were any closer to moving her asshole cousin to safety before the cartel hacked him to bloody bits.

  He was a stubborn bastard. Honorable, but rigid as a goddamned mule.

  Brass was there, looking pissed as all hell. He told me Stryker and Asphalt chased a suspicious truck outta the fields after midnight. They would've caught up to the fuckers too, if only Beam hadn't taken a wrong turn, and crashed his damned bike through a ratty old farm fence.

  I didn't like that sonofabitch, and not just because he'd tried to muscle in on my girl. He wasn't battle hardened. His whole attitude sucked, and I couldn't tell if him or Stryker were more wet behind the ears, too damned new at this for their own good.

  Too bad I had to get used to it. I had to deal with their fuckups, their disrespect, their rookie errors while they shared the patch. I thought of it as practice. Long as Blackjack needed manpower, the club was gonna have a lot more greenhorns patched in who really needed more time to learn the ropes.

  Their voting rights bothered me more. The club's charter gave the vote to every full patch member. That might be a problem when these kids had to take the grenade between their teeth, and make a damned decision that would affect the whole club.

  I sighed, brushed a hand over my sleeping son's forehead, and headed for the bathroom.

  I showered quick, fighting like hell to ignore the raging wood between my legs. My dick was gonna fuck a hole through the wall and take me with it some night if I didn't get between her legs soon.

  I walked out shirtless, toweling off. Sally stood on the landing, quirking an eyebrow when I stopped and stared at her.

  “You know, this really isn't fair,” she said, frustration in her voice.

  “What the hell you talking about?”

  “Yesterday. You told me not to tease you unless we're going all the way...well, I want the same thing. You could put on your clothes before walking through the house.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “No fucking way, babe. There's a difference between teasing and giving up the chase. Long as I've got a pair of balls between my legs, I'll never stop showing off the goods, making you fucking want this.”

  She threw her hands out and shook her head, trying not to crack a smile. “Whatever, Travis. Just bring Caleb down for breakfast.”

  Before she could turn and get a step away, I ripped off the towel, showing her the mean, throbbing dick that hadn't gone away all morning. “That's what you get for using my real name, babe. Take a good look. I don't wanna hear that shit unless you're moaning it in bed. Preferably later tonight. I'm Roman every second I'm not in you.”

  She watched me, shock glimmering in her eyes. I wrapped one fist around my dick and gave it a quick pump, smiling as her jaw dropped.

  Yeah. You'd better fucking want this, I thought. I'm turning into a maniac every second I'm not blowing my load inside you, woman.

  Let those worries go. Let's fuck tonight.

  Fuck me like my old lady. Ride my dick like you missed it for two goddamned years. Fuck me and don't look back.

  I'll bite your little lip 'til you come on my cock. We'll fuck it all out 'til you can't remember how to breathe.

  Her hand trembled a little as she hit the staircase and started down, desperate to get away.

  “I'll have the kid downstairs as soon as I'm dressed!” I growled after her, reluctantly throwing the towel back around my waist. Fuck, this sexual tension shit was killing me, minute by minute.

  Probably for the best she beat a retreat. I would've come like a young buck getting his first taste of a woman's touch if her hand wrapped around my cock just then – let alone anything else.

  I had to eat and get the day started. Blackjack wanted me at the clubhouse to debrief with some Prairie Devils dudes coming down from Montana. They were covering our northern flank, making sure the cartel assholes didn't slip past and start fucking up supplies.

  They'd always be Prairie Pussies to me, but I guess the bastards hadn't been half bad since we buried the hatchet between the clubs to fight the Mexicans. They'd helped us take down that destructive fucking psycho, Fang, and put Blackjack in as President with me as Enforcer.

  A man couldn't argue with results.

  * * * *

  It was just four of us in the meeting room. The Prez, the Veep, me, and the Devils' own giant, a big boy almost as tall and wide as me named Tank.

  “You sure you can trust all your guys to collect the heavy arms?” Tank asked, staring at the Prez and then looking down at Brass and me.

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Blackjack stubbed out his smoke in the ash tray and flattened his hands on the table, giving our guest the evil eye.

  “Lotta rumors about rats in your club. Don't know how the hell the cartel could embed any fuckers in an MC. That's what Blaze thinks, and the Prez knows the lay of the land better than I do here.”

  “It's bullshit.” Blackjack waved a hand, dashing the concerns away. “Tell your Prez to stop second guessing. There's no clause in our little treaty about telling another MC how to do its job, and you know it. You handle the supply run, and we'll handle pickup on our end. Simple as that.”

  Blackjack looked to me and Brass. The VP quietly nodded, and I did the same – except with a lot less confidence.

  For an outsider, Tank knew an awful lot.

  “Prez is right,” Brass said coolly. “Your job's to make sure the deliveries go smoothly. We're happy to have you in this clubhouse, Tank, but you can go home and tell my brother-in-law everything's cool here. We're kicking their asses back across the border a little more every day. Soon, we'll be talking new deals with Canada and abroad. All this shit'll be behind us.”

  The Veep's voice rumbled whenever he mentioned Blaze. He'd been forced to accept his sis marrying the Devils' Prez awhile ago, but it still wasn't one big happy family. Just an understanding.

  “That's not what I hear,” the big man said, leaning back in his chair. The tough line in his jaw was an obvious challenge.

  I slammed my palms down on the table, leaning toward him. “What? More rumors? You'd better spit 'em out before we all get the wrong idea about what's going on down here, friend.”

  Tank's eyes narrowed. “We know the cartel's been sniffing around your own turf here in Redding. Boys come back from runs through Idaho and Washington, delivering our shit to Vancouver. They hear things from your boys up north. Word on the street says mother charter's about to get fucked six ways from Sunday. Everybody knows there'll be another civil war in your club if that happens.”

  “It won't,” Blackjack snapped. Just in time, before I fucking exploded. “Frankly, I'm disappointed. I'm pissed. Blaze shouldn't be putting so much stock in hearsay, and he definitely shouldn't be passing it along to his boys.”

  “Prez doesn't pass along shit,” Tank said. “We hear it firsthand and bring it home to him. You've done a good job locking things down here in NorCal, guys, but your brothers up north in Washington are waiting to pounce if this charter gets its skull split by some Mexican's machete.”

  Brass looked like he was about to flip the table over. Tank's words pissed me off too, but the bastard was telling us the truth, and that was always something Blackjack prized above
everything else.

  That was the new way. Running the club off bullshit was done and buried with Fang, even if we'd been one united club under him, ruled by fear instead of the new path the Prez forged.

  “Then they'll have to keep waiting. We're not going anywhere, goddamn it, much less dying on some cartel bastard's bullets.” The Prez stood up, clenching his jaw tight as the old leg wound peppered his brain with pain. “We'll do the usual pickup tomorrow. Same time, same place. If Blaze has a problem with that, he's welcome to call me. Roman, show him out, and make sure he's set up somewhere for the night.”

  Tank looked at the Prez and nodded, then got up to follow me. I walked him down the long corridor. The guest rooms were already filled by several guys who'd come up from SoCal, so I had to put him in my old room instead.

  “You need anything, just say it. You're welcome to join the bash tonight out back. Booze, smokes, and girls if you're interested.”

  The big man smiled and shook his head. “Girls? Fuck no. Maybe a couple drinks. My old lady would kill me if I even touched another chick. I've had one too many fucked up brushes with the reaper for that shit. Besides, we're working on our first kid soon, right after we're officially hitched. Here.”

  I watched him fish out his phone and tap a few keys. He shoved the screen toward me, showing off a pretty blonde girl in scrubs who had her hands on their clubhouse bar top, grinning at the camera.

  “She's hot,” I said. “I gotta thing for blondes too.”

  Yeah, a thing. More like a fucking stick of dynamite in my balls that's gonna blow my guts out my head if I don't fuck my girl's blonde pussy soon.

  Tank nodded thoughtfully. “I'm gonna crash for a couple hours. I'll be out for some whiskey later. Shit, I barely get fucked up anymore since she walked into my life. Can't wait to get home from this run. Just between you and me, I'll keep the shit I hear to myself unless Blaze really needs to know.”

  “Good. There's no goddamned threat. We've got this shit under control, Tank. You guys can worry about your own biz up in Missoula. We'll finish off the cartel by Christmas.”

  “Hope you're right. Watching your war's about all we do when we're not taking care of our own biz. It's been too quiet the last few months.” He frowned, and then shrugged his huge shoulders. “Can't say I miss the bullshit. Long as my old lady's happy and my brothers are safe, life's good.”

  I gave him one more nod and then stepped away, closing the door behind me. Most of my shit was cleared out now that I'd officially moved in with Sally.

  The Devils were always a softer club than the Grizzlies. But something in his tone told me he wasn't bullshitting when he talked about peace.

  I didn't know what the fuck that was since the time I was patched in. I'd fought, killed, and served time behind bars for this club. I was ready at a moment's notice to shred any asshole who fucked with us.

  Shit, my fists lived to beat, lived to shoot, lived to kill. But ever since she walked back into my life with our kid, all that was changing. The same crazy fucking tingle wasn't there anymore – not even when the whole damned world was collapsing on my head.

  Maybe peace didn't sound so fucking bland. Hell, once I started fucking her, I'd need it just to make up for all the lost time. I wouldn't be able to focus on shit once I started owning her pussy good and proper.

  And if a day finally came when the club didn't have to fight the wolves so hard, then so be it. I'd welcome it with open fucking arms.

  * * * *

  Sally looked hot. My dick almost burst through my pants and shot to the moon.

  She came waltzing down the stairs in this tight country girl top, a short skirt hugging her thighs, and cowgirl boots to complete the fuckable trio. More important, she was wearing her old lady jacket for the first time. I caught a flash of the back – PROPERTY OF ROMAN.

  Everything – and I mean fucking everything – about seeing that shit made my balls dump fire in my blood. I grabbed her as soon as she was in reach, whipped her into my chest, and smashed my lips down tight on hers.

  She moaned with surprise, savored me for a second, and then pushed me off. It didn't take much to heat her sweet cheeks. Thank fuck, because that meant my odds were damned good ending up in her bed tonight.

  “Holy shit,” she muttered, wiping at the lipstick I'd just smeared. “Calm down, big boy. We've got a long night ahead of us.”

  Fuck, did I love the sound of that. Lightning hummed in my cock.

  “Is the kiddo okay, or what?” I asked.

  “He's fine. Jackie's got him tucked in for a nap. She'll wake him up in a little bit if he's hungry.”

  I nodded. Missy dropped by a few minutes ago to drop the teenager off, on her way to the party with Brass herself. Her kid sis had suddenly become everybody's favorite babysitter, and it was getting harder to pencil her in now that school was in full swing.

  “Good. That's our cue to bounce.” Without another word, I grabbed her by the wrist, and led her out to my bike, relishing the heat in her hand.

  Christ, what the fuck was she doing to me? Just touching her fingers sent pure lightning ripping through my skin, energy invading my brain 'til I couldn't think about anything besides her soft hand wrapped around every inch of me later.

  No, dammit. Not now. I had to focus on the road.

  “Hold on tight, babe,” I told her, passing her the spare helmet. I fixed mine and waited 'til hers was on, then we took off.

  My cock pounded in my jeans the entire time her hands were on me. When we were just a few miles from the clubhouse, she pushed her hands against my abs like they were some special stones. Damn if it didn't set me off.

  All I wanted to do was pull over, throw her down in the grass, and fuck her brains out. I'd jerk those hands over my neck and slam my hips into hers, fucking and rutting and coming 'til we were both spent.

  Shit, the way this night was going, I wasn't sure if I'd survive without a straitjacket.

  The clubhouse was booming by the time we got in. A couple new prospects nodded respectfully and opened the door for us.

  I held onto Sally tight, pushing through the tight crowd of men in Grizzlies cuts, prospects, locals, whores, plus one Prairie Devil. Tank raised his glass when we passed him at the bar, and I nodded back.

  We squeezed in next to Rabid and Christa, waiting our turn as the poor bartender worked frantically to keep the booze flowing to all the rowdy brothers and their women. Rabid's hand landed on my back just as I caught the bartender's eye, pointing to the huge bottles of Jack behind him.

  “Goddamn it's good to blow off some steam, isn't it?” he said with a grin.

  I nodded, and even cracked a small smile. Being strong and silent all the damned time was the best way to keep this club in line as Enforcer, and I'd never loosen up too much, even among my own brothers.

  Still, I beamed on the inside, especially when I heard Sally laugh.

  “Jesus Christ, girl! Now we match. Yours is so nice and shiny!” Christa beamed at my old lady, the scars on her face fading in her happiness.

  She'd been tortured by our old fuck of a President, Fang, before we managed to kill the dead weight. Then she'd been through the wringer again a couple months ago, caught in the middle of our clashes with the Klamath charter up north. It was a fucking mess 'til Rabid and the rest of the crew cleaned shit up.

  I grabbed a beer and mixed it with several big splashes of Jack, passing one to Sally as she yammered away with Christa.

  “So, is this the norm when you're a taken man? Just sitting here all night drinking?”

  Rabid laughed and shook his head. “Nah, bro. You gotta get some grub too, and take your girl out back to dance after everybody else starts to pass out or fuck around here.”

  “Dance?”

  “Yeah. Christa loves it.” His smile faded a little and he leaned in close. “Only thing is, I think I've created a fucking monster. She's so into it she wants to set up dance nights once we get the new bar running in town. She wants
us to take tango lessons and shit come winter so we can be the ringleaders.”

  I laughed and took a long pull of my drink. “You're fucked.”

  “Nah, I'm man enough to deal, Roman. I'd do anything for that chick, even if she is a little fucking crazy sometimes.” His hand slapped my shoulder again. “Believe me, that's the way I like it. You'll find out soon enough.”

  “Yeah.” For once, my hyperactive brother wasn't just bullshitting and looking on the sunny side.

  I had a feeling he was right. Sally pulled on my cut 'til I turned toward her.

  Fuck, that top. It got me every time. Her cleavage peeked out perfectly – just like the damned thing had been designed to get my cock going turbo.

  “Where's the food? I'm starving.” She jokingly grabbed her belly.

  Fuck, something about the motion made me wonder how hot she looked knocked up. I'd missed that.

  Well, no fucking way would I be missing it again. My dick jerked, thinking about pumping another load inside her, giving her another kid I'd get to see from the very start this time around.

  Someday, I thought with a growl, helping her up and leading her into the small kitchen behind the bar.

  Missy was back there with Brass, busting some cook's balls over the hot wings. The Veep looked at us with a shit eating grin on his face, thoroughly amused.

  Hell, he had good reason to be. Putting on the brand does something to a woman, gives her spice and spunk. Not much different than the way a man changes as soon as he earns his bottom rocker.

  “It's all open on the carousel over there. Meat galore. Don't be shy about stuffing yourself, babe, there's plenty more where that came from. They keep grilling all night at these bashes. The crazy shit that starts up after the families drop off always leaves the boys hungry.”

  She cocked her head, and then a knowing smile spread across her face. I followed her to the buffet line, mercifully empty, and started loading up my plate.

  “So much for eating healthy today. It's a miracle some of your older guys haven't had coronaries.”

  I laughed. “You fucking with me? Red meat and hot sauce is practically rocket fuel in this club. Shit, same goes for any MC headquarters worth its salt that I've ever been in. Stop worrying about those hips. They'll still get me hard as fuck, even if they get a few inches thicker.”