by V. Theia
“Come to my place tonight.” Dark penetrating eyes a caress.
Not in the habit of making plans with her one night stands this was teetering on cumbersome, only because she was epically tempted to say yes please and kiss the face off him.
Her hand had a mind of its own, grasping onto his beard, letting the wiry hair run through her fingers. She’d tugged on it so much last night his chin must be sore, but he’d never stopped her not once, nor now, just grinned down at her like he liked her touching him.
“We shouldn’t.” Talk me into it. Make me relent. I want it. God. she did. Her pussy clenched flooding with moisture. Here she was with his taste saturating her mouth and her skin on fire to fuck him on the damp ground from the night's rain, with people around to jeer some more.
Ruby was a lost cause. And a sucker for a good penis.
“You said we can have more time, you telling me last night was enough for you?”
“It was … nice, Preacher.”
“Nice!” Rather than be offended, he laughed, the noise a direct line to her crotch. Jesus. He ignored whoever had been catcalling and pulled her in flush to his body, his neck cranking down to look her straight in the eye. Naughty emerald blades that were so shrewd at times it cut past the easy-go-lucky persona Preacher wore.
He saw straight down to her blatant lie calling her out on it. He'd been in that bedroom with her, he knew her cries and pleading, sex that good demanded a repeat, she just didn't know if she could risk it, already she was ... feeling the things in the place she had no right feeling anything and not for a biker, god, a biker. “If that was nice I’d hate for us to experience amazing. We’d die, baby. I’m willing to chance it. Come to my place tonight.”
“Preacher. No.” Before he could talk more, she pressed a kiss to his mouth, deep closed lips kiss, luxuriating the plump feel of them before she dropped back to her toes, and turned. “Later, Asher.”
“I’m going to think of the sounds you made when you came for me, Ruby. All fucking day I’ll hear those breathy greedy noises. I want more. This isn’t over. Talk to you soon, beautiful,“ his roughened amused tone teased and she cast a look back to see him looking at her before he headed back into his clubhouse.
She’d had the wildest sex with a dirty horny biker.
Breaking all her own rules. With Preacher of all men.
Ruby found herself smiling unlocking her car door, she didn't have a single regret.
You want so much from him. She did. Why deny it. They could just continue to have casual sex. Preacher didn’t seem like he was the relationship type, and good sex was hard to come by, and after her dry spell, she had been spoiled in the last twelve hours. Friends with benefits. That same voice suggested, only it sounded very much like Preacher’s scratchy sexy filled voice, the same voice he used on her when he’d been pounding the life out of her.
Stepping out of her car, sparks of intended lust shooting low in her abdomen, Ruby was smiling as she made her way back inside to tell Preacher man to have his piercing ready for her tonight.
******
Nothing pleased Grinder more than having a brother to rip the fuck out of first thing on a morning when he wasn’t hungover or feeling the effects of a good dose of weed. Both of which he indulged in last night and still he woke early and didn’t feel like a five-hundred-year old turd. He knew he should lay off the weed and the booze, especially when it fucked him up for days afterwards, the boys said it was ‘cause he couldn’t handle that shit like he could in his twenties and denying he was aging he refused to give up his partying ways, he’d taken it easy instead last night, the latest strain of green was stronger, so he’d kept it to two joints, and went to bed far too early like a good boy knowing he had work today.
He'd gone to bed alone. It was a Christmas in June miracle. None of the groupies had interested him after seeing them give a blowjob to another club brother he wasn’t inclined to stick his tongue in her mouth, call him crazy but blowjob by proxy he didn’t fancy.
Grinder smirked watching the exchange between his buddy and the bar-girl. It must be a first for a chick to stay overnight, but then to knock Preacher back for seconds, he wasn’t letting this slide, not after Preacher ragged him for days last summer when he crashed and burned with her-who-wasn’t-to-be-named because that shit still made his blood nuclear. Holy shit, he’d fuck the stupid out of her one of these days, it was his dying bucket list wish.
Slurping on his coffee, smiling over the rim of the cup he shoved himself off the bar stool, rounded to the coffee machine Jed had set up back there ever since Z-girl had come aboard their dysfunctional family. Fucks sake they all drank lattes and those caramel frap-things like giant pussies but he'd take a dump in hell first before he’d give them up now he’d tasted heaven. He still drank it out of a big manly fucking mug, shut up. Offering a cup to Preach, he waited just a minute to begin. Had to hand the credit to Preacher --who was the first guy Grinder had brought to Rider for consideration into the club, spoke up and sponsored him-- he always got the chick, but to ask her to stick around for eggs? He started humming the wedding march under his breath. This was too good to pass up. Grinder wondered what color his Boutonnière for his best man wedding cut would be? Yellow, it went with his eyes.
“Do I need to buy some fucking rhinestones for my cut then?”
Preacher’s brows bunched. “What the hell you wanna do that for? You got some homemaking bitch tendencies in ya, G?” The groupies had a hard-on for putting bling on everything.
“I was thinking for this big spectacular fucking wedding we’re gonna have for you and miss hottie. I mean really, Preach, you offered eggs,“ his laugh rumbled the moment he saw Preacher had caught on, his stare turned nasty. “It’s just as good as a proposal. I almost cried, man. Can I give you away? Jed can sing. He does a mean Johnny Cash.”
“Oh, fuck you, asshat. It’s too early.” Preacher chuckled but made to walk off back towards his room. Grinder laughed then sobered. “I’m yanking your chain, fuckstick, don’t run off. Hey, Preach. She said you were sleeping. Like asleep for real. You were okay with her?”
He watched the man he was closest to within the club tense, then his shoulders dropped from around his ears and relaxed, his eyes darkened pinning him. “Yeah, it was fine. Didn’t aim to fall asleep. Nothing happened.”
“Sex was that good?” Of course, he was waiting for details. It was what they did. Usually over beers, but neither of them were getting any younger, they could adapt and talk pussy over coffee.
“Drop it.”
“What? No details? The fuck is up with that? You usually can’t wait to brag the adventures of your dick. What about that chick who blew you so hard you had cock-sore for two days?! And that crazy one who cried and said Jesus wanted you to fuck her again.”
Preacher smirked but said nothing.
Look at that, Grinder thought to himself, shoving some escaped hair that fell into his eyes back up under his hat
“You caught feelings for the bar hottie? I can't even believe it, Preach. Must be some pussy, man. You gonna tell her about ---”
For a second Preacher looked uncomfortable, eyeballing Grinder like he was deciding whether he wanted to punch him clean in the face or confess what wedding bouquet he wanted to carry. Without doubt, yellow roses, Grinder with a dirty smirk on his face.
“Fucking leave it, G.”
“Daaaaaamn, bro, really? I mean I was joking around with you, but ... really?” Grinder grinned, but only ‘cause he’d caught sight of the dark haired miss hottie coming back through the double doors. He could see the rhinestones he’d get one of the groupies to mock up a shirt for him.
“It was just goddamn pussy, G, shut the hell up.” Preacher growled.
Oh, shit, buddy. Fuck.
The chick halted in the doorway, her face stricken. Crestfallen like she’d been punched in the gut. Grinder grimaced. Shit, fuck. It was one thing to rag on his friend, but they wouldn't do that crap in front of th
e chick of the moment. Even Grinder had some manners in him somewhere.
“Better get ready to eat crow, brother.” Grimacing, the chick had already turned and was hoofing it out. He jutted his chin her way making Preacher spin.
“Ruby? Did she hear that? Oh, you goddamn shitbag! RUBY!” It was too damn early to catch a half cup of coffee, but as Preacher accused he was a shitbag because when Preacher shoved the cup his way Grinder caught it, most of it spilling over his hands. “Jesus motherfucker in a kennel, that’s hot! Shit. Fuck!”
Grabbing a towel, he found a finger shoved in his face, teeth bared nastily. “I’m gonna kill you so dead when I get back, you better hide under Rider’s cut, I’ll shove your head so far up your own ass you’ll be whistling farts!” Preacher took off calling out after Ruby. Good luck with that, chicks hearing they were just pussy... Grinder whistled through his teeth, this was not gonna play out well.
“You love me, remember that! And you said it! Fuck.” Across the room, Z-girl and Rider were laughing their asses off at him. Grinder wasn’t stupid, he knew to get out of the way, just for now, until that big Neanderthal calmed down and got in touch with all those feelings he wasn’t feeling.
******
It was just goddamn pussy. Her throat stung, gunning the engine, aware of Preacher in her rear-view mirror trying to get her to stop. Screw that and fuck you. You’re right, Preacher man. You're so right, what was I thinking?
What a dumb mistake she would have made. Leave it at a one night stand. Taking a last look back in her mirror, standing like a towering menace in the courtyard, a man in just denim and ink staring at her car as it passed through the gates, her belly hurt wrenching her eyes back to the road.
It was just goddamn pussy. Fricking ouch, dude. I mean, really, I'm not going to be telling people it was just a dick. Ruby had more class than that. See, she chastised, fucking bikers, never get involved with any of them. They were like their own species of man, a sub-genre devoid of morals or social manners.
Just as well, she supposed, a lucky escape. She had no room in her life for more heartaches.
She drove home, ignoring her phone when his name lit up the screen. Funny how she was going to do him the nice favor by allowing him to give her more addicting sex and now she was both pissed off and offended. Stupid biker jerk. She was done with that pathological flirt, and so what if she would have reviewed him five stars on Amazon for his penis alone, never mind the sex. (extra five stars) Ruby was glad she hadn’t been so dumb as to give him extra more-night-stands.
At least she had Sebastian to look forward. Just a few hours to wait.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“And Preacher was born…” - Grinder.
“Where did that little ass-monkey run off to?” Preacher, feeling his entire body bristling, barked the question across to Rider who laughed and pointed out into the courtyard. Probably hiding out in the shop. Grinder would so keep. It's coming, bro.
But it wasn’t really G he was really pissed at, though he could use him for a punchbag. It'd suit Preacher just fine.
Goddamn his own mouth saying that shit for Ruby to hear, he’d never get her again after this.
She had been a perfect soft pussy. She was perfect. And he'd ruined it by opening his fat fucking trap.
After trying to call her, and being pushed to her voicemail, he snarled and strode off to pull on some clothes. His room smelled like them, his cock instantly reacting to the scent. A fast shower, and fresh clothes he headed out to the bike shop, he had one more job left to finish before he took off for Nebraska again, something else he wasn’t looking forward to doing.
The ass-monkey of the moment was leant up against the workbench, eyeballing Preacher warily who strode in and glared at him.
“Now before you shoot me…” He was laughing. Preacher only glared harder and pulled on his overalls, leaving them hanging around his waist.
“You couldn’t have given me the heads up, you shithead?”
“I didn’t see her until you’d said it. Does it even matter if she’s just a pussy?”
Preacher’s head swiveled around to pin the question with a darkening look. He weighed up his answer before he spat something nasty. Yes, it mattered. Ruby was … different and because he had guarded that from his best friend he’d shoved his foot firmly in his big fucking mouth and he’d hurt her.
“Forget it. I have to work on this.”
“Preacher. Seriously. If it’s something, go find her, tell her you were mouthing off because I was a nosy fucker, she’ll understand.”
He wasn’t so sure. His belly sunk hollow, lack of food, and feeling like a complete shit, he scowled, going down on his haunches to dig into his toolbox to find the correct size socket wrench.
“I’ll catch up with her later. I wanna get this finished before the guy comes to collect it at one.”
“Still going back out to see H?” Grinder had his own workstation, the boys rotated, depending who was on shift that day, no doubt the others were sleeping off a hangover. He had his own hangover that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with amazing mind-blowing sex and sleeping more than an hour. And right up against Ruby. No night terrors. No wonder Grinder looked skeptical. Preacher was still a little stunned about it himself. He never did sleepovers, not after the first and last time it was disastrous, near fucking murderous, he didn’t intend to sleep with Ruby last night, his eyes were closed before he knew it, just a minute, he’d told himself and then knew no more, only the warmth and sweet vanilla scent of her invading his nostrils, her skin up against his was the best feeling he’d had in a long time, soft and she'd been so damn cuddly, he was lost.
Waking up in bed without her had kicked a sensation in his chest. One fucking night and he missed her in his bed.
“Yeah,” he answered belatedly, throwing his leg over the Yamaha XVS1300 Custom, kick-starting her into a gurgle that sounded more like a bad case of whooping cough. She was a thing of beauty, the exterior was still in excellent condition, but some joker had ridden her into exhaustion. He revved it one more time, listening to the distinct noise. If he had half of Red Light’s skills with engines he could probably diagnose what was wrong just from that sound. Instead, Preacher went about taking the baby apart.
“I can tag along if you want? Rider would probably clear me for a few days.”
“Fighting all my battles?” Preacher looked over. Grinder was the only one he’d told of the animosity he’d faced from Red Light the last trip. “I’m good, but thanks, bro. Not gonna be gone long. Long enough to sort whatever shit H has for me this time. The man needs to learn to delegate to his own lazy crew.”
“The offer is there.”
Preacher appreciated it, but he’d go to Nebraska alone.
Grinder was his boy. His best bud and they were complete opposites in everything but they both had wanted to belong to something. After Preacher had been discharged from the army with highest honors for killing a score of the enemy, feeling none of the honor and all of the survivors guilt, he'd wandered aimlessly suffering from nightmares almost to the point of madness, it came close, too close to losing his mind, he dropped off the face of the earth, ignoring all attempts by his family, he couldn't deal with their pity, worse, the blame, it choked him most nights and it was on one of those nights he'd stumbled into a bar, drank his weight in whatever his money could buy and it was there he found Grinder. Or Grinder had found him.
Five years ago.
"That your hog outside?"
The question came from the right of him. Ash moved his arm to look up at a tall, dark short-haired bearded man wearing all black and a pair of shades tucked into the neckline of his T-shirt.
He couldn’t even remember what state he was in, let alone the city, the last one was Delaware, maybe. Or was that last week? It didn’t matter, they all looked the same from inside a beer bottle.
"What gave it away, my leather jacket, the biker rings or sparkly nature?" He slurred smilin
g. Ash was never a nasty drunk if anything he became friendlier, but that was the last thing he wanted to be now, he kept to himself and liked it that way, he had too much hollow in his chest to deal with letting people in with conversations and their general nosiness that gravitate them towards Ash like flies around shit. Him being the shit in that equation. He took a slug of his beer and found it empty, frowning, shoulders hunched, he called down to the barman "Yo, Preston, my man, hit me again and bring one for my friend here."
"You know his name is Kane, right?" smirked the smartass guy straddling the stool one down from him. Ash shrugged a big shoulder. Who cared, he looked like a Preston and the guy never corrected him. Names weren't important. He'd been a rank for a long-ass time; Lieutenant Colonel of the United States army. Now he had no idea where he fit in. He was nothing.
Roaming and getting lost while he did it. Maybe if he got so lost he'd forget about himself, he'd get so lost he'd forget where he was, who he was, what he'd done, but until then he'd ride and he'd drink. The life suited Ash. The peace would come, maybe. In time. It had to if he kept chasing.
“You got a name?” He asked his bar friend. Passing over a twenty to Preston, nix that, Kane, the fucker still looked like a Preston, maybe he knew a Preston and he'd just forgotten. Ash pulled the bowl of roasted nuts towards him, tossing a fist full into his mouth, the food hit his stomach harder than the beer did, reminding Ash he hadn’t eaten since the pizza last night. This bar was as good as any, it had what he'd needed, some down time, loud music and the beer was okay. He’d stopped because of the row of motorcycles parked outside. It was noisy, rowdy and it afforded him the shelter from his own background noise. A few years on the road was a long time with just his own company, some days he forgot how to hold a conversation. He stopped when he wanted to, slept when he absolutely needed it and he fucked as often as he could with bar bitches along his journey, never stopped in one place longer than two-three nights. Keep moving. Outrunning his demons.
