by V. Theia
Preacher would always laugh and tell his older brother that he could keep the picket fence, that he was doing a service to the women of the world by sharing his dick around. Just you wait, little brother. Shane had had a steady girl when he’d died, guilt tore at Preacher’s gut knowing he’d avoided her all these years, only ever checked in with her once and that was briefly after the funeral. The type of guy Shane had been, constant and reliable, he probably would have been married to that sweet girl now with a mini-van load of screaming kids.
Some guys were meant for that. Preacher always knew he wasn’t. Kids were fine, from a distance, besides which, he always knew he’d make a shitty dad, he had the fear he would up and leave one day, no questions no reason, and he’d be that deadbeat dad. Nah, he’d stick to fucking around without the ties. His own dad for most of his young life had been a shitty dad, never abusive. Maxwell Priest was never a drunk, druggie or wife beater, and always provided, rather than, he had a wandering eye and an even wilder dick. Whole entire weeks would go by when his dad disappeared, then he’d rock up as if nothing had happened, it took years for Preacher and Shane to work out he was fucking around on their mom, which came as a blow because his parents never argued, never had a bad word between them, to the outsider, their marriage was rock solid, happy even. You just could never know what goes down behind someone's closed door, he supposed.
Preacher always reckoned he’d inherited his dad's DNA in that respect, only he would just never do to a woman what their dad did to their mom. Some huge showdown happened right after Tyler was born, their mom packed up everything and left Maxwell for a whole year. And much, to everyone's surprise, Maxwell had turned his life around, won his wife back, built his business up, the happy family life ensued thereafter. But Preacher never forgot that time. Some lessons just stay with you. As a reminder in what not to do.
Forgive and forget wasn’t his to give, he lived with a lot of his own guilt that could never be forgiven, why should he judge against someone else’s proclivities, and his dad was a great guy now.
For the rest of the afternoon he worked on Ruby’s car, took jibes from the boys on being pussy-whipped and when it came to closing the shop for the day he waited until everyone cleared out, he didn’t need an audience doing the kissy face at him while he made a call. Shoving his overalls down his torso, he left it around his waist, listened to the ringing in his ear go on and on and on. Where was she?
“Hel’o?” The sleepiest fucking sexy voice. Preacher’s dick got hard instantly. Jesus. Imagining her asleep with her husky smoky voice first thing in a morning, even before the sun came up when she was still warm buried under the sheets, he could envision reaching out and grabbing her in, turning her over to give her the type of good morning he’d never------ fuck. Shut that noise. He shook his head, dragged fingers over the shaved part of his skull.
“Hey, tiny dancer, it’s Preacher. Did I wake you?” Every thought he was having was far more criminal than he’d ever had before. Downright wicked. It hovered on the tip of his tongue to ask what she was wearing, but she more than likely would disconnect and he wanted to go on listening to her voice. Picturing her in her girlie bed, her skin warm and supple, maybe she was wet between her thighs from naughty little dreams she’d been having. Maybe about him. Hey, a pervert could hope.
“Yeah. It’s okay. Just taking a nap. Is it about my car?”
All Preacher heard was sweet smoke in his ears and he swallowed back a groan. She had a voice made for one of those high-end chat lines, the kind that cost 4.99 a minute, better still, his own personal sex line. Talk dirty to me, baby.
Ears like a bat, he caught the shift of noise down the line, his hand gripped his iPhone so hard he could have quite easily broken it in two. Was she moving in bed? Sitting up? Pulling the sheet up to tuck around her gorgeous tits?
Jesus. Get your head from the gutter, jackass. But he couldn’t. He was deep in fantasy now.
“Yeah, I got it running again.”
“Really? Oh, god really? Thank you, Preacher! I can’t believe it. I was sure it was done for.” It was the most animated he’d ever heard her, damn if he didn’t like that he’d caused it. His mouth twitched at the corner, his butt rested on the workbench he watched a few bikes ride out of the compound, but his focus was all on the phone call, wanting to keep her talking, he added. “You’re welcome. I can drop it over, I’m done working for the day.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I can catch a ride to your estate.”
“Babe. I’ll bring it.” It had a little something to do with wanting to see where Ruby lived. And that bed she was currently in.
“Thank you, Preacher. It was good of you to see to my car so quickly, I know you guys get busy there, Jim is always talking about it at the bar, just about being busy, nothing else, he’s not like giving away secrets or anything.” She rushed on. Was tiny dancer rambling? Fucking cute.
“Relax, beautiful, I got what you meant. Jim loves chatting to the pretty girls, I bet he talks your ear off, doesn’t he?”
“Well…” he could hear her smile.
“Yeah, he does. I would, too. I intend to.”
“You … intend to?” Hesitant voice turned weary. He smiled as he pushed himself to stand taller so he could kick his overalls off the rest of the way. Underneath he wore his wifebeater, ink decorating both arms, and his usual dark cargo pants. He switched the phone to his other ear to slip his wallet attached to the chain into his back pocket, then he took the walk to the other end of the shop to find her car keys. Lifting them to eye level, she had one of those pink furry pom-pom things dangling from the keychain.
“Yeah, babe. You’re not surprised, are you? I want to spend time with you.”
Cards on the table he braced for her to counter argue it.
Outside the shop, he walked the distance over to the clubhouse, finding who he was looking for playing pool in the main room, he clicked his finger, pointed for Tag to get his ass over here, silently telling him to follow him outside. “Didn’t we already have this conversation, Preacher man? I feel like we did. Don’t tell me, you have Dory-syndrome?”
“Who is Dory?”
She laughed and he swore the noise pulsed straight down his dick piercing. She had the sultriest voice he’d ever heard. A voice made for screaming during sex.
“Damn. Unschooled man. Finding Dory.”
“Still not with you, beautiful. But I will be in about twenty minutes. You can stay in bed if you like. In fact, yeah, you wait right there for me, hope it’s big enough, things could get shaky.” Behind him the prospect dared to fucking snicker, he turned a vicious glare that shut his trap real quick. “Hold up a minute, babe.” Turning to Tag, he tossed him his bike keys. “You follow me. And kid … I see one scratch on my baby-girl, you choke her throttle too hard, and I wring your neck, you get me?”
Hard blinking the younger man just nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Sure thing, you got it, Preacher.” Glaring at him while another man straddled his hog, he slid into Ruby’s car, shutting the door affording some privacy so he could ask, his voice dropping an octave, with lust streaking his blood. “So, what are you wearing right now, baby?”
“A burka and those rubber boots horsey people wear.” She fired back barely with enough time to think of an answer. Damn, he laughed.
“That’s fucking sexy. It gives me something to work towards peeling off you, real slow. Heading off now, beautiful, be with you soon.”
“Preacher, wait, you never said how much I owe!”
“We’ll talk about that in a few.”
“Shit. Is it that much I have to brace myself? I might have to work out a payment plan, just so you know. I’m good for the money, I won’t leave RS with a bill, I swear.”
She could brace if she wanted, preferably against a counter while he got in good and tight behind her, his hands spanning her tiny hips so he could shove in and shove deep.
“Relax, beautiful, it’s next to nothing. W
e can talk about it.”
“But----”
“About to drive this tin can of yours with my knees shoved into my lungs.” She laughed and he smiled. “Stay in bed, Ruby.”
Oh, if only she would.
******
Ruby was the type of woman who could do a whole spring clean in under ten minutes if she knew someone was dropping by unexpectedly. She didn’t have the kind of friends who did that, mainly her socializing was done in bars, she’d missed out on the whole ‘coming over for coffee’ phenomena, she was kind of sad about that, but she’d kept to herself for so long it was hard to make friend connections, those she had were still on the peripheral of her life.
The moment she knew Preacher was coming to her apartment she launched herself out of bed, almost rolling on the floor in her haste she got tangled up in the white cotton sheet.
Dinner plates from the past two nights were still on the kitchen counter, take out menus next to that, and clothes everywhere in the living room because she hadn't had time to tidy things away lately. Shit shit, she scooped everything in one go, dishes tossed into the sink, no time to wash them, she froze in the middle of the room, surveying as a stranger would. Messy with junk. Her apartment was on the low rung for rent, she’d taken what she could, it didn’t even have a good working AC, now that was a killer in summer. Asshole landlord.
It was only when she was a sweaty mess from the fast hiding of things, she realized she didn’t have to let Preacher in at all, she could meet him outside.
Pulling on a pair of pink sweat pants with her white vans and a simple white t-shirt, she left her mess of hair around her shoulders, it wasn't as though she had a reason to look good, he was dropping her car off for frick sake, she wasn’t auditioning for miss world.
He pulled into the parking bay twenty minutes later, she was waiting outside by the curb, belatedly realizing she was without a bra when the cool end of May air hit her breasts, beading her nipples to hard points, or was that the reaction to seeing Preacher unfolding himself sexily out of her car? The man looked ridiculous, like a clown emerging from one of those mini cars.
And still, it had the power to deflate Ruby’s lungs. She folded her arms over her chest, masking her traitorous happy nipples, and tried to smile at him, she was grateful, she had to remember that before she barked his head off.
She didn’t know why her defense mechanisms kicked in harder with him than any other man.
Screw him and get it over with.
He pinned her with his gaze the entire walk over. She didn’t know what bothered her the most, that he wasn’t wearing a jacket and his arms were bare and full of tight muscle, or the smile he had on his face.
"Miss Steele." The deep timber went through her like a train. His rogue smile devastating to her equilibrium. She folded her arms in tighter, only popping out a hand to take the keys he offered over.
“Thank you, Preacher. What was wrong with it?”
“What wasn’t wrong with it, beautiful. But she’s running again. Your radio is still fucked, nothing can revive that, and I brought your brakes up to code, how the fuck you haven’t crashed I don’t know. It’s not a permanent fix, understand? I would have had to rebuild the entire engine and undercarriage, but it’ll run, for now, can’t guestimate a time when it won’t, but it should get you around a while if you’re staying local. Don’t try to head out onto the freeway.”
“I can’t thank you enough, you saved my life. It’ll make job hunting that bit easier. I won’t have to beg to borrow Tom’s car again.”
“Tom?” His head went back, eyes trained on her and Ruby had the unmitigated feeling if she didn’t answer correctly she was in for a grilling. Her belly tightened with fluttery butterflies.
“Work colleague. He let me use his car yesterday to drop off applications.”
A hand coasted down his beard, her eyes followed the soft motion, wanting to touch as well. “Just a work friend?”
“Nosy, aren’t you, Asher Priest?”
“Just want to know if I’m stepping on toes, beautiful. So?”
This was where she was meant to tell him absolutely, no question or room to misinterpret that he was barking up the wrong flirting tree. That she didn’t want him that way so he should move on.
Only Ruby didn’t. Couldn’t. The refusal stuck in her throat, and all she could imagine was how good he'd look stripped down to nothing with her straddled over his lap exploring the ink on his body peeking out from underneath his shirt, and how he could possibly be the best sex of her life.
Sue her, because of all chaos she was dealing with, she really couldn’t afford to lose her feelings over a man right now.
But she wanted to.
For a little while.
She fortified her breath as it churned, made sure she was holding Preacher’s intent green stare when she replied in a steady voice. “No toes to step on. Unless I grew a penis in the last five minutes. You’re more his type.”
“Good. Not that he’s my type either, but good he’s not yours,” he smirked. A dirty twitch of his lips and he stepped forward. And once more, until he towered forcing her neck back to see what he was doing. The color flashed in his eyes, he seemed pumped full of adrenaline or it was just his natural state, she didn’t know. Her arms dropped and so did his eyes.
Oh, shit. Folded them quickly. Too late. Preached grinned knowingly.
“I’m happy to see you, too, beautiful. Tell me, why you waited out here for me, instead of inviting me inside your place?”
“I didn’t want you inside.” When it came out harsher than she intended she added quickly. “I haven’t tidied, it’s a mess.” The disgruntled displeasure noise he made in his throat had her head going further back to look at him. Like he was holding onto patience and he wasn’t a man to be patient.
“That’s a pity.”
She had an insistent throb in her skin, low on her abdomen, a place she wanted to be tickled, caressed, kissed a lot until she cried out. Did he really have to smell as good as he did? The man was a hazard to her hormones. After all these months of not really being interested in sex, understandably since she was still sick at herself, her body wanted Preacher. To roll around with, to take a hard pounding from, to feel his sweat slide against hers while he dragged pleasure out of her by any means necessary.
By force. That dark little voice whispered. You like it. And didn’t he just look the type to give her what she craved?
She wanted to fuck the hell out of Asher Priest. That hard-worn biker she’d avoided since he’d rolled into her bar years ago. She wanted to fuck his brains out. And have him fuck hers out.
And then do it all over again. Until they were comatose with exhausted pleasure.
Ruby swallowed, every part of her body reacting to the news; heated and swollen and so ready.
Dammit. Great timing, body.
CHAPTER SIX
“I think my cock needs Prozac. It’s depressed it’s not buried inside you. – Preacher
Seduction and flirtation used to be her sport, her recreational play time, there was no cheesy line she hadn’t mocked and she knew every trick in the book for a man to get into her pants, but she'd been off her game for a while now. Hadn’t wanted to, more to the truth. As though something had gone from inside her, that hunting instinct of flirting with a pretty face, of sharing hot kisses and maybe more, but she felt it stir to life didn’t she… for him. That tiny little tickle of her thighs, the belly clench when she saw him, oh yeah, stirred awake alright. Dammit. She shouldn’t flirt or want to kiss that outlaw again, he was too cocksure, and would probably play the game better. Not when she knew he was bad news. The fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type. Bikers were notorious with their reputations for fucking, him more than most since he never hid what he was.
Still, she was attracted. Couldn't help it.
No one is better than me at flirting. But that same little voice acknowledged this guy was so high on the food chain he had his own off-menu. She�
�d watched him for months prowl around the bar, looking for things to fuck and find them he did, so easily. He was friendly with it, that’s what threw her, none of the waitresses ever called him a bad name, the opposite, in fact, vying for his attention like he was Ryan Reynolds post-Deadpool. From what she could tell, the jerk wasn’t so jerky, and still, she hastened to guess he was not the guy to flirt with.
“Why is it a pity?” From the way her pussy clenched she was going to regret asking as he smiled and cocked his head to the side licking the very corner of his lip. Did he know the effect that had on her?
“I only tasted you once, Ruby, and already I want more. It shouldn’t have stopped at one kiss. You should invite me in and I’ll show you how much you’ll love me putting you on your knees.” He got right in her face like he was making to kiss her again and dammit she’d let him. Every bone melted in preparation for his mouth to attack, to take and plunder, already tasting him.
Oh, shit. She really would let him kiss her right here out in the street, maybe put her on her knees as he said. Her belly pitched forward, she was so wet she could feel it dampen her panties. “Fuck. Look at you, Ruby. I didn’t know how much you’d want it. I hoped as much as me. You’re hot, aren’t you? Aching? Tell me. Let me make it better,” he only touched her lightly, low on the waist but she felt branded by a hot poker. His fingers didn’t grip and yet she was in his grasp as hard as if he’d clicked handcuffs around her wrists.
Some sea swept shit was happening in her belly.
Unused feelings all came rushing over her, swamping her. She’d never felt this overpowered by desire and thirst before, for lack of a better word. Ruby took three measured small inhalations before she felt like she could speak past the heady intoxicated excitement nestled in her chest.
