“I can’t lose Cash if he doesn’t want me to have him. He knows how I feel. He promised me that he’d find a way for the three of us to be together if you survived. He hasn’t made one fucking move to accomplish that.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, Fee, he did.” A look of annoyance crossed his face before he shook his head. “Enough about him. I want you so bad I feel as if I’m about to burst.
She wanted him, too. Not because he didn’t care if she ended up pregnant. It was because of him. The man he’d shown himself to be.
Reclaiming her lips, he took her mouth in hungry kisses, shattering the last of her control. He explored the recesses of her mouth with his tongue, the feel of him leaving an imprint on her soul. She burned to have him inside of her.
“Take off your jeans, Ophelia,” he ordered, his kisses turning slow and drugging, masterful. “Then lean back against the handlebars.”
Not questioning his demands, Fee did as Stretch instructed.
He zeroed in on her naked bottom half. “Put your shoes back on.”
Inspired by his lazy drawl, Fee turned before bending over to do his bidding. The inhalation of his breath told her the sight of her exposed pussy affected him. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she threw a grin at him.
Her mouth watered at his exposed cock and she hurried to complete her task before standing and facing him. Dressed in her T-shirt and tennis shoes, Fee walked to him and climbed on the bike again, leaning back as he’d asked.
Stretch grabbed her thighs and pulled her closer to him, impaling her on his cock. Fee released a small cry, the sharp metal digging into her back adding to her pleasure. Arching up, she met each of his thrusts measure-for-measure. His hands gripping her waist branded her and she increased her pace, urging him to do the same by silent demand.
The pressure of his fingertips against her clit sent her over the edge. “Stretch!” she cried, jerking against him and closing her eyes.
“I’m here, Fee,” he grunted and stiffened, pouring into her and then stilling.
A drop of rain fell against Fee’s forehead and she popped her eyes open.
“Fuck!” Stretch said, traces of amusement in his voice as he pulled out of her. “Hurry and dress. Let’s see if we can beat the rain.”
Jumping up, she hopped from his bike and stumbled, her legs little more than jelly she felt so relaxed and sated. More rain hit her head and she giggled. “I didn’t see clouds.”
Stretch looked up. “Who was paying attention?”
“You’re right!” she cried as the heavens opened up. Screaming at the coldness, she hurried to finish dressing, then ran and bounded behind Stretch. “Go, go, go!” She felt like a kid again, completely, wonderfully alive.
“Hang on, sweetheart.”
Before he faced forward again, Fee kissed his cheek. As he sped away, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder, knowing she wouldn’t soon forget this morning.
By the time Stretch reached the clubhouse, the rain had stopped. Fee declined his intention to escort her to the door, so he waited until she disappeared inside before he went in search of Cash. With the scent of Fee clinging to him and the memory of her wet heat, he decided Cash needed to do what he said he was going to do today. If Fee ended up pregnant, Stretch didn’t want her so uncertain over their future. He doubted fear of Outlaw’s wrath was the only thing stopping Cash from confessing. It was also the streak of inferiority in him that rivaled Stretch’s.
At Cash’s door, Stretch knocked. A moment later, it opened.
Cash lifted a brow, once again creating a chasm to keep his distance. “Yes?”
“I need to talk to you.” No, he needed to fuck him up for pushing him away again.
Cash stepped aside. “Talk,” he commanded, slamming the door shut.
Perhaps, starting from where his time with Fee ended would get through to Cash. “I had unprotected sex with Fee today. She wants a baby sooner rather than later. I’m willing to be its father, so you don’t have that burden if you don’t want it. But if we don’t want to lose her, we have to give her what she wants. Besides, I see no reason not to have a baby.”
For a moment, Cash stared, before he narrowed his eyes. “You’re shitting me, right?”
“No. This is nothing to joke about.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“I’ve never felt saner or more in control,” he admitted, the truth shocking him. “Fee and I love you. We want you with us. We want to make us work. The time has arrived to get off the fucking pot and move forward. If you can’t do that, Fee and I will make a go of it. Somehow, I’ll convince Outlaw to trust that I won’t fuck over her with you. I want what she wants.” He swallowed, the do or die moment undeniable. “I’m going to fight for her. Try my best to convince Fee to stay with me. With or without you.”
“With or without me?” he echoed with incredulity. “Are you fucking kidding me? You barge in my fucking room, telling me you stuck your cock in her and came without benefit of protection…Fuck you. There’s no fucking way Outlaw will accept me right now for her. I have a plan to show him I’m right for her. We’re right for her.”
“How? What the fuck are you doing to advance the campaign?” As far as Stretch saw, not a fucking thing. “While you’re strategizing, we’re going to lose her.”
“First, you tell me I’m an aimless, goal-less motherfucker. Now, you’re telling me I’m a ball-less one.”
“Your words, asshole. Not mine,” Stretch growled. “I’d just call you a fucking coward.”
Cash rounded on him and shoved him. Unprepared, Stretch teetered back and fell against the nightstand.
“You have no right—”
Stretch straightened himself and went to Cash’s bed to sit. “I have every fucking right. The world isn’t stopping while you get your shit together to fight for us. Fee isn’t stopping.”
Glaring at him, Cash paced. At any moment, Stretch expected him to throw him out of the room. Cash surprised him, though.
“What do you propose? If she’s pregnant, we have to get all the legal issues settled.” He shrugged, his veneer of nonchalance dropping into his face. “You two should marry. That’s what she’s always wanted.”
“Weeks ago, we agreed that we’d find a way where we’d all be on equal ground,” he reminded him, wanting to strip Cash of his indifference. “Marriage won’t do that. We can create a partnership. A corporation. An LLC. Something like that.”
“Fee wants to be married,” Cash repeated.
“Stop making this so fucking difficult,” Stretch snapped. “Yes, she wants to be married, but this was her idea. As long as she has a baby, we can work out everything else.” An idea hit him. Cash had stood by Stretch’s side during his illness. For months, he’d been faithful to him and Fee. The man just needed to be steered in the right direction. “Why don’t we get all of this together and then go to Outlaw? If everything’s in place, he’ll see how serious we are.”
Cash relaxed his shoulders. “We can do that…”
“Ghost?”
Slipper’s voice travelled through the door and they both stiffened. All at once, terror and dread hit Stretch. They were club brothers so he could visit Cash. Yet, rumors about his sexuality persisted.
“I know you’re in there with Stretch,” Slipper called. “What are you two doing?”
“Fuck,” Stretch managed, getting to his feet and reaching for his cane.
Drawing his gun, Cash started forward. Before he reached the door, it opened. Slipper stood there, bottle in hand, his look assessing.
Cash raised his weapon. “You have two seconds to get the fuck out.”
“What’s going on in here?” Slipper asked, his stench polluting the space. Cash would have to air out his room for days. “You been holed up in here for a long time. Why?”
“None of your fucking business,” Cash snapped, cocking the gun.
“Boys!” Slipper ye
lled. “You was right. They in here together.”
His sons, Fritz and Orange, along with two other brothers, rushed into the room, guns drawn.
“Drop your fucking gun, Ghost,” Orange ordered, aiming at Stretch’s head. “Or we fill Stretch with holes.”
“I say we fill both these motherfuckers with holes anyway,” one of the other guys said, newer members who Stretch stayed clear of, so he couldn’t remember their names.
Fear and apprehension swept away Stretch’s confidence and he shuddered.
“Prez gotta make that call, Mink,” Slipper said around a belch. He pulled out his phone, then nodded to Cash. “But drop your weapon ‘fore I tell him to shoot your fucking hand off.”
Rage reddened Cash’s complexion and darkened his eyes. At first, Stretch thought Cash wouldn’t obey. But, then he remembered how Cash always went out of his way to protect him in times of danger.
Cursing, Cash tossed his gun to the bed.
Stretch hoped the compliance hadn’t gotten them killed.
Christopher hadn’t realized how miserably he’d slept in jail, until he fell asleep after fucking up Kyler. For the first time in years, he decided to spend the day relaxing, surrounded by his girl and his children. Megan gave Bunny the day off, preparing snack foods for them to bring into the media room. Christopher checked on Fee, but found her gone. He would’ve worried until Diesel told him that Stretch had been there.
After calling to check on Cash and discovering he was also hanging around in his room, Christopher let Stretch and Fee be. Maybe, they were getting a fucking clue, turning to each other and leaving Cash the fuck alone.
Therefore, when Slipper called, trumpeting about catching Stretch and Cash together, it infuriated Christopher on several fucking fronts. First, it was bullshit. None-of-their-motherfucking-business bullshit. Second, it was bullshit. He was home enjoying his family and Slipper was sticking his nose in another man’s pants, concerned with where his cock went. Third, it was bullshit. Stretch would never get the fuck over Cash, which meant he’d fuck over Fee.
All in all, it was motherfucking bullshit on a big ass stick that Christopher could do without.
Furious to be fucked with by stupid motherfuckers, Christopher stormed to the clubhouse to find Cash and Stretch tied to chairs, guns trained on them.
Stretch trembled, petrified. Cash shook, enraged. Their different expressions told it all and Christopher understood both of their angles. Stretch was just getting his sense of self back and these motherfuckers were fucking with his head again. Never mind that Christopher wanted to fuck him up because of Fee.
“Outlaw,” Slipper slurred when he noticed Christopher from across the room.
“Untie them,” Christopher ordered, moving forward.
Mink shook his head. “Nah, Outlaw. I think we need to put them out of their misery. What do you say, brother?”
“This.” Without another word, Christopher took out his nine and shot the fuck out of Mink, stepping aside as the motherfucker crumpled to the ground. He aimed at Fritz. “I ain’t repeatin’ my motherfuckin’ self. Untie these two motherfuckers now.”
His hand trembling, Slipper drained his bottle. “Untie them, boy!” he yelled in a shaky voice.
Christopher nodded to the body on the floor. “Drag this motherfucker front and center. Church in a hour.”
No one said a motherfucking word as the podium was brought out and Christopher’s gavel was set on top. His anger increased when he heard his boy’s disappointment that he wouldn’t be home anytime soon. Diesel promised to entertain CJ, but that wasn’t cutting it. Mort, Digger, Val, and Johnnie grumbled at the phone call to get the fuck to the clubhouse. Digger was the furthest away. He’d taken Bunny to lunch. Fine with Christopher. It gave the other local members a chance to arrive.
“Aww fuck, man,” Mort said when he stepped into the room and saw Mink’s dead ass, and Cash, Stretch, and Slipper.
Johnnie glared at Cash. Undaunted, Cash glowered back.
“Lock the fuckin’ door,” Christopher ordered Digger. “Don’t need Megan or my boy comin’ in and seein’ this dead motherfucker.”
Usually, Christopher needed a minute to get everybody’s attention, but dead fuck did the trick. A fucking pin could’ve dropped and it would’ve been heard. He called the meeting to order, laid his nine on the podium, then scowled at Slipper.
“Tell me the fuckin’ reason my treasurer and explosive’s technician got tied the fuck up,” he opened.
“They were fucking each other,” Slipper announced.
“Don’t say shit that’ll get you fucked up,” Cash fumed.
“Shut the fuck up, Ghost,” Christopher demanded, fed the fuck up. He narrowed his eyes at Slipper. “Ghost right, motherfucker. Lies get a motherfucker fucked the fuck up.”
Slipper licked his lips. “Not no lies, Outlaw. They were in Cash’s room arguing.”
“We fucking argue all the time,” Val clapped back. “That don’t mean shit.”
“Not with us,” Slipper insisted. “With them, it do. Stretch was at Cash’s when you sent me to get him, Outlaw. The day Fee was stabbed up. I heard his voice and saw his bike. When Cash walked out of his bedroom, he was fucking naked.”
Christopher hadn’t known that. Still, that wasn’t a motherfucker’s business.
“This shit ending today,” he snarled. Stupid motherfuckers was the goddamn bane of society. “We each other’s brothers. We ain’t here to fuck up each other, if a motherfucker ain’t commitin’ a grave offense. We about brotherhood.”
He let that hang in the air before he lifted his piece, stepped over Mink’s body, then walked amongst his members. “Slipper, if you woulda walked up on them fuckin’, what the fuck you woulda done?”
“Brought them in to you.”
Everybody knew he’d fucked up Cowboy and crew. Speculations as to why ran fucking rampant, but nothing had ever been confirmed. It ranged from him finding Cowboy fucking another motherfucker to the fucking truth, so, of course, Slipper would expect turning Cash and Stretch into Christopher was the right thing.
At least, he hadn’t said he’d kill them.
Christopher looked at Slipper’s eldest son, Orange. His ma must’ve known he’d patch in when she named him. “What the fuck you woulda done?”
Orange nodded in the direction of Slipper, chewing gum. “Called Daddy.”
Who, in turn, would’ve called Christopher. Fucking fine. Still not murder. Christopher went to Slipper’s youngest. “You, Fritz?”
“Called Orange.”
Obviously, a chain-of-fucking command amongst the rancid motherfucker and his sons. They were overzealous but controllable.
Christopher stared at Mink’s cousin, already knowing the motherfucker would be a problem, just because Christopher had blasted Mink the fuck away. It didn’t matter that they were amongst Orange and Fritz’s inner circle. They answered to each other. “You, Rock?”
“Shot them like Mink said.”
That’s what the fuck Christopher thought. To save bullshit later, he shot the motherfucker now.
Orange hurried to Slipper and hid behind him, as Slipper yanked Fritz out of Christopher’s line of fire.
“Ain’t shootin’ another motherfucker at the moment,” Christopher announced with disgust, not impressed with Fritz and Orange cowering behind Slipper. “At least not fuckin’ yet.” He walked amongst the members, looking each one of them in the eye. Not a motherfucker spoke. Not even his boys. They knew he was on fucking edge after being cooped up for seven fucking days and away from Megan. “I just ask motherfuckers to respect each fuckin’ other. That I gotta police grown as men and be your fuckin’ conscience—” such as it was, “ain’t amusin’ to my ass. I fucked up Mink and Rock cuz even if I woulda told them to get the fuck outta my club, they woulda been startin’ shit. I ain’t got time for that.”
“Only a few motherfuckers worry about that, Prez,” Mort said, then scowled at Slipper. “Like your meddli
ng ass, son.”
“Lemme ask you, Slipper. If you was prez and you had a motherfucker you thought fucked men, what the fuck would you do?”
“Kick them out,” Slipper said with vehemence. “I wouldn’t want to offend my other members.”
“Ain’t good e-fuckin-nuff.” This argument would last for-fucking-ever. “I’ma give every-fuckin-body the chance to get the fuck up and patch the fuck out if you ain’t respectin’ another man the right to fuck any consentin’ adult motherfucker.”
As long as it wasn’t his sister or his daughter being fucked over by cheating motherfuckers.
Walking back to the podium, he returned his nine to the spot next to the gavel, then took his seat at his table. He wanted everyone to see that his piece wasn’t near him, so they’d be honest in their responses.
“Whoever got a problem if what Slipper think he saw real, come up. Patch out. No hard fuckin’ feelins. At the moment, you still fuckin’ members, so same fuckin’ rules apply for church. Don’t open your fuckin’ mouth about a motherfuckin’ thing we talked about at this fuckin’ meetin’.”
Five of the sixty brothers in attendance came up. Slipper and his sons weren’t amongst them.
Christopher got to his feet again. “Digger, take them to my office.”
After Digger guided the men out, Christopher returned to the podium and looked at his members again. He wanted to be absolutely sure they understood his position. “I’ma give you motherfuckers one more fuckin’ chance to get out. You stay, you leavin’ Ghost and Stretch in peace. Ghost got his fuckin’ limits. Like me. Stretch a quiet motherfucker. Been through a lot. We fuckin’ protect our own. Ghost and Stretch friends. Good friends. Best friends. More than that, they my fuckin’ friends. You all my fuckin’ brothers, but each got motherfuckers we close with. We each got motherfuckers know all about us. My boys is Johnnie, Mort, Digger, Val, Ghost, and Stretch. Under-fuckin-stand? Ain’t meanin’ I wouldn’t kill to fuckin protect all of you motherfuckers. Any of you motherfuckers.” It just meant he’d take just a slight more of their bullshit. “As my boys and your brothers, I expect you to protect Ghost and Stretch from every-fuckin-body. You ain’t their enemies. That mean, you stay in my fuckin’ club and if what Slipper say turn out to be true, you look the other fuckin’ way. Or…” He glanced at the two dead motherfuckers, allowing it to go unspoken that if they stayed and fucked over him, they’d be fucked up, too. “You can see them fuckin’ and you keep fuckin’ walkin’. You hear fuckin’ rumors and you squash them motherfuckers. You spread fuckin’ rumors and I’ma fuck you up. Hear me?”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 354
