Rebel: (Boneyard Brotherhood MC Romance Book 3)

by Amber Burns

“Eddie,” Cindy greeted from the stove and scowled at the olive skinned man harder than usual. “If you try sticking your fingers in my pots you will lose them.”

  Eddie only grinned at her, “Mama, I know better to wait until you’re not looking.” He sauntered in peering over her shoulder and inhaling deeply, “Oh baby, gumbo. Are you a cradle robber, Cindy? I wanna give Wilson a run for his money.”

  The older woman shorted as she took a pour of shrimp that Danny and I had painstakingly cleaned. I knew more about cooking now than when I did starting out. At least that’s one thing I could say I was taking away from this.

  “I’ve heard women talking about you,” she said, not even bother looking up. “I’ll take a pass.”

  “That’s low. Baby if you’re gonna talk like that I’m gonna have to steal your help,” he poked out his lower lip. “Are you adding crawfish to that, too?”

  Danny groaned beside me: “Please. Steal us. I don’t want to clean crawfish, too.”

  “I’m just here to see if you guys are finished cleaning the shrimp,” Eddie looked over Danny’s shoulder. “This is a special supper. Gotta make sure it's good. Are you guys done?”

  “They’re going to help with cleanup,” Cindy said stiffly, like it was a demand.

  “Nope, I gotta take your slaves from ya babe,” he patted me on the shoulder, and there was something about his expression that just had my heart start hammering in my chest. “You boys ready?”

  “Ready for what?” I asked, and Danny punched my arm.

  Eddie’s grin just grew, we were guided out of the kitchen. A string of expletives followed us, but Cindy didn’t actually chase after us. Eddie led us out into the parking lot where a mass of the club was gathered. Wilson and Ted seemed to be at the center, and I could feel my heart creeping up my throat.

  This was it.

  Eddie threw his arms around the both of us as he herded us towards the center of the group.

  “The fun starts here, boys.”

  “We’ve had two come to us seeking to be worthy to join our Brotherhood,” Wilson started. “Normally we wouldn’t turn away anyone that’s done time,” he was pacing as he spoke. “Normally we wouldn’t give them a second thought about receiving a patch. But, after being burned, it's evident we need to make sure we can trust everyone that comes in here.” He looked at me, his dark eyes piercing me as he spoke. It made it harder to breathe… like he knew what I was but still trusted me to do the right thing. “By taking these patches and moving up from a prospect to a full-fledged member you are agreeing to abide by our code. Boneyard code over even the law that governs this land. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  A man stepped out of the group, and he made a point of cracking his knuckles and eyeing me down. His gaze turned to Danny, and he received the same treatment. He was tall and all muscle, unlike the other guys that hung out here he didn’t have the long hair and beard that seemed to come with the biker look. He looked more like a fighter.

  “If you break our code,” his voice was low and menacing. “I get to break you.”

  “It’s not military code,” Ted spoke up. “It’s close. We’re not convicts, and we’re not aiming to be. We were brothers in arms once, and the Boneyard is so we can be brothers in arms again.”

  “There’s no getting,” the fighter started up once Ted stopped speaking. “This isn’t an enlistment contract you’re signing. You don’t get out after four years. You are a part of the Brotherhood until death. If you break the rules to the point you need to be removed, then you have the choice of chewing on your own barrel or mine.”

  Ted seemed to bristle at that and growled back at the other man: “Cole,” he said his name like a curse and I watched the older man bow up as if he was going to take a swing.

  “That’s how it is,” Wilson snapped. “There’s no changing it. It's what we agreed on at the start and if they want this patch bad enough,” he pointed a meaty paw at Danny and I. “Then they’ll follow the Goddamn rules. Jimmy will be taken care of later.” Wilson then turned to Cole, his face twisted in a snarl. “Do not start this here.” Whatever fight that might have started there was averted, and Wilson took a second to adjust his cut. “Patches, cuts. They’re something you wear with pride. They’re not only something that displays who you are, but they’re there to claim you as part of our group. This is your one and only chance to back out of this,” he pulled out two patches from his pocket and offered them up to both of us. “If you accept, wear it. If not, now’s the time to run like hell with your tail between your legs.”

  I glanced at Danny, his expression was pensive, and I thought for a second he might back down. He was a minority here, the vast majority being white males. But when he stepped forward and took the patch from Wilson, I saw determination set on his narrow features. Wilson reached forward in response and ripped the prospect patch off his cut, they had been velcroed on.

  “Make sure that one doesn’t come off,” he growled at the small Asian man.

  “You’ll have to pry it off me,” he retorted.

  Then, I had the full attention of the rest of the group. My breath caught in my throat, and I stepped forward to reach for the offered patch. My heart started hammering in my chest, and I knew my palms were slick, I took the patch from him, and I felt as if something were clicking. When he reached forward to rip off the prospect patch I had to struggle to keep from shifting with the force that he used to tug it off.

  “It’s mine now,” I coughed out, nearly sounding like a croak. “You won’t be getting it back.”

  “That’s what we like to hear,” Eddie crowed from behind us. He wrapped his arm around my neck then went ahead and latched onto Danny, too. “Get these boys some needles and thread. They need to sew that shit on there, now! And we need beer! Lots of beer!”

  The group cheered in response, and I looked up to see Wilson nodding. There was pride looking back at me. I’d felt this rush before, back in boot camp when I learned how good it felt to see a superior look at you with pride. I didn’t think I’d feel it again, but there it was. I didn’t want to let this man down, I didn’t want to let my brothers down.

  The moment was broken as we were led back into the clubhouse. But instead of having to hit the kitchen, we were sat down and celebrated. We weren’t work horses anymore. A pint of beer was set in front of me, and then the savory smell of Cindy’s gumbo assaulted me. We had the pleasure of being served first. I didn’t eat first, the need to have that patch sewn on was too great. As soon as a needle and thread were handed to me, I shrugged out of my cut and got to work.

  I floated on the high of finally getting what I wanted for the rest of the night. It had been a massive party, and I got the opportunity to meet members that didn’t work the shop. They welcomed me as if they already knew me. I wasn’t called Chase once, each hand that shook mine was accompanied by a ‘Welcome brother.’

  It all left me wishing I had found this sooner. It was like this was where I was meant to be. This was home.

  5

  I got an escort back to my apartment. A pack of motorcycles growling through the complex until I found the unit I lived in. It took me a little longer than it should. I had too much to drink, and it was stupid for me to agree to ride home. I hadn’t been thinking at all, but the escort ensured that at I got there in one piece.

  I waved off my brothers as I got to my door and noisily unlocked it. I didn’t remember the last time I had gotten drunk and I sure as hell didn’t remember the last time I rode this feeling. It was like a high I’d never experienced, and given that I never experimented with drugs, that was saying something. I closed the door and couldn’t keep from whooping out loud. I leaned back against it, and I just held onto that high for a minute.

  “Miller?” a voice cut through my drunken fog.

  Tara was standing in the doorway to my bedroom, her hair was mussed, and she looked rumpled. Like she had fallen asleep waiting for me. I looked around the living room trying to find
the time before I decided I didn’t care.

  “Were you asleep in my bed?”

  She covered a yawn then shrugged as if it were a big deal. “It’s late. You gave me a key I didn’t think you’d care where I fell asleep at.”

  Maybe it was the idea that she had been in my bed that spurred me. I pushed away from the door and stalked to her, I could see her in my bed. I could see her sprawled out on the sheets with her unruly curls haloing her head. I could see her spread out before me and the vision in my mind was something I was going to have.

  She watched me approach, eyes widening slightly as if she could see what I had going on in my head. She took a step back, but I got to her before she could retreat any further. I caught her up in my arms and pulled her close, catching her mouth in a hungry kiss that put the last one we shared to shame. I cupped the back of her head with my hand, and I dipped her just enough to get the right angle. Her mouth opened and there was the initial staleness that came from being asleep, but it didn’t deter me in the least.

  Her flavor was sweet, like a candy that I didn’t know the name to but I knew I wouldn’t be able to get enough of it. It made me want to devour her, and already I started to edge her back into my bedroom. I pulled away from her mouth and followed the line of jaw until I got to her ear, I sucked on the lobe and scraped my teeth against it until I heard her gasp.

  She wasn’t pulling away, she wasn’t trying to pry me off of her. When I felt the edge of my bed, I shifted my leg behind her knees and made her buckle backward onto it. I followed it leaving her ear for her neck. Tara always smelled so good, there were times where we’d be sitting in the car watching traffic, and I’d find myself distracted just by this smell. I buried my nose into her and inhaled deeply, it was almost as good as having the opportunity to taste her.

  I lingered at the collar of her shirt, at first I wasn’t sure why but it seemed like I had reason enough to hesitate. She hadn’t pushed me away, yet. I gave in and cupped one breast through the shirt she was wearing. She inhaled sharply, but I wasn’t brushed off. I had the clarity to play it safe, so I just enjoyed the freedom she gave me above her shirt. I got a little too into it, and before too long, I had my mouth closed around one clothed breast as I toyed with the other. The sharp inhalation came out in a rushed gasp. Her legs rose, and I pulled back.

  “Okay?” I grunted.

  “Don’t stop,” she murmured in response.

  I groaned and tugged her shirt up. I shifted down, my knees hitting the floor, and I followed the path of her shirt with my mouth and tongue. I licked a line up from her belly button until I was halted by the underwire of her bra. I tugged one cup up and drew a line underneath it with my tongue, not at all perturbed by the saltiness I found there. I traced its outer edge until I swirled back around to her nipple. I sucked the nub into my mouth, tonguing it to a peak until I scraped my teeth against her. She arched up in response, moaning low as she did. Still, no command to stop. How far would she let me go?

  I hadn’t considered my lust for my partner in the short time we had been together. I chose to ignore it. But here, with the muddled inhibitions of my mind, I couldn’t help it. I wanted her to the point that I couldn’t think past the vision of her wrapped around me.

  I decided then to just give in, take what I’ve wanted since I first saw her. I was done suppressing it. I started to tug at her jeans, unbuttoning them and tugging down. Beneath the determined cop apparently was a woman that enjoyed lace and pastel colors. A little bow greeted me when I got her jeans down her thighs. I caught her panties with my teeth and jerked them down. She twitched as my whiskers rubbed against her thighs. No complaints and she still she didn’t say stop. I didn’t bother trying to get them off of her, just shoved them down so I could duck under them and spread her thighs as far as they’d go given she was still partially dressed. It was enough for me to fit my head between her thighs and swipe my tongue along the length of her outer lips. Her breath came out in a startled whoosh, and I glanced up to see her expression to see if she was going to make me quit. Nothing.

  I parted her lips, probing her with my tongue and tracing her slit. I flatten my tongue and just took the time to savor her. It was obvious when the lapping wasn’t doing it for her, her hips began to buck upwards towards my face, and I couldn’t keep from smirking at it. I tilted my head and worked until I found her clit, I pressed a finger into her to add to it. Her thighs flexed around my head, and I felt a hand curl through my hair. I pressed another finger into her and curled them upward just as I sucked that bit of skin surrounding her clit into my mouth.

  Her hips arched and rolled against my hand and the muscles gripping my fingers seemed to start to flutter. I decided to start lashing my tongue against her until she squeezed my fingers tightly. Now I was to the point I didn’t care, I pulled my fingers from her and pushed her clothes down further so I could stand. I had my dick out and in my hand, it pulsed and I was more than eager to slide right into her.

  It didn’t occur to me until I was ball deep into her that there was no protection. Caution and good sense had gotten me this far in life, but here I was throwing it out the door. I forged ahead, too intoxicated to really realize that I hadn’t considered anything past the fact that she just felt so damn good wrapped around me. Her thighs hugged my hips, and I heard her cry out. I worried at first it was in protest, but when she started to wring my cock, I knew it wasn’t something so serious.

  I was beginning to regret drinking so much. The feel of her was too much, and the fact that I was in her raw was too sweet. My balls tightened, and I gritted my teeth before I finally decided I couldn’t hold on anymore. I pulled out and ended up squirting all over her stomach.

  I was drowning in the euphoria when I collapsed onto her. She seemed to fit me just perfectly, and I couldn’t keep from wrapping my arms around her. I didn’t consider anything beyond just how good it felt to have her against me.

  That was probably my first mistake.

  6

  I woke up with a pounding headache and the sunlight drilling into my eyelids. There was also a breeze as my exposed ass was still up in the air. But Tara wasn’t under me or against me for that matter. I was alone in my bed. That was enough for me to fight the pounding in my head to open my eyes and try to sit up. I was embarrassed to find my jeans and boxers still around my ankles. I also still had on my cut and t-shirt. What the fuck had happened? I shifted so I could pull the rest of my clothing on and then I sauntered into the bathroom to get some relief. My hair was a mess, and my eyes were bloodshot. Evidently, I had a good time last night. But where was the person I entertained?

  I opened the mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet and fished out some aspirin. I downed two dry and I peered behind me to see if I had just missed her instead. My bed and bedroom were empty. A sinking feeling started to take root in my gut, not nausea that I would expect from a hangover. I squinted as I went to inspect the rest of my apartment.

  Tara left.

  I grimaced and went on the hunt for my phone. I went over the place twice before I realized it was in my pocket with my keys. I had come home and manage to get in her pants without even bothering to get undressed. This really wasn’t the way I had envisioned my first time with Tara going. I wasn’t going to take for granted that I had finally gotten something that I wanted. Even if I was drunk while it happened. Though I hadn’t been so drunk that I didn’t remember the way she tasted or the way she felt around me.

  I pulled my phone out and found her contact. I kept the phone at a distance from my ear as it rang, but still, it managed to cut through my ear and into my brain. It rang three times before going to voicemail. I looked at my phone trying to figure out the time.

  “Call me,” I grunted before ending the call.

  I decided maybe a shower would help with the sticky feeling. I put the phone by the sink in case she called me back. I had enough time to finish my shower and see that she hadn’t made any attempt to call me back. It irritate
d me, and I found myself ignoring the headache as I got dressed. How could she walk out on something like that?

  A cup of coffee later, I settled with a text: ‘If you didn’t want me, I had the frame of mind to stop if you wanted me to stop.’

  That sinking feeling in my gut might have prompted that. It was a knot of worry that she didn’t want it. I didn’t know how long I sat around my apartment, torturing myself over it before she finally decided to shine some light on the situation for me.

  ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. It was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened, and we need to act like it didn’t.’

  Her text didn’t fix the sinking feeling in my gut before. All it did was make it twist and turned it sour. I put my phone down, and I tried to digest the rejection. Being at home wasn’t helping. I decided I would make a better effort in immersing myself into the club and that was going to start now. I slid into my cut, and the sour feeling in my gut became less pronounced. I’d see what it meant to be in a club starting now.