While the party rages I watch to see if my words we’re taken seriously or not. I have to wait about twenty minutes before a small group of guys make their way over to the big man. I see that Shooter, the clubs Sargent at Arms is with them. He walks up and says something to the man who shakes his head and starts to walk away but Shooter’s men deftly position themselves around the doomed man. They walk out the back door and out of sight. I just wonder if my snooping around has cost the man his life.
I don’t have to wait very long before the men come back in and I’m not surprised to see that the big ugly man is not with them. Shooter catches my eye and makes his way through the throng of bikers and babes over to where Stacy and I are standing. He steps in close enough for me to hear him over the noise.
“Thanks for the tip Morgan. He was trying to recruit for the Outkasts. I think he figured people would listen to him on the heels of everything that happened in our clubhouse. Guess he thought the time was ripe for insurrection. If he would have known us very well he would have known that this kinda thing only knits us more tightly together.”
“What’d you do? I ask not really sure if I want to know the answer or not. “Kick him out?”
“It’s best you don’t know sweetheart.”
The old me would have needed to see the blood splatters on his boots to actually believe that they harmed him in any way. But the old lady Morgan doesn’t have to look down to know that the big ugly man is going to turn up in a ditch on the outside of town somewhere. The question is…which am I? Am I Cade’s old lady who just accepts everything or Morgan Swift financial advisor who never in her wildest nightmares would have been party to anything illegal or at least on the fringe of society and outlaw bikers are the definition of the fringe of society. I pull up from my own thoughts just as Shooter escorts Stacy towards a crowd of bikers, old ladies and whores dancing and drinking. I don’t even think twice when someone hands me a joint. I inhale deep, gag, and cough. On the third try it goes down smooth. Well, as smooth as marijuana can go that is. I pass it to the nearest pair of hands, not bothering to see if the hand’s owner is even over eighteen. That goes to show just how far I have come…or just how far down I have slid. It’s a slippery slope I am treading me thinks; a very slippery one indeed.
The new brothers are easy to spot, with their brand spanking new Iron Disciples cut on. When I wander over to the bar I notice a stack of well-worn Black Knights cuts stacked on a shelf. I am curious to know how many walked out of here still wearing their Black Knights cut or if they were even allowed to wear it still. My guess is no.
I’ve never been high before. I believe one hit off that joint would have sailed me right through cloud 9 and well on my way to cloud 99, but I had to take three hits. I’m surprised I can for coherent thoughts.
There’s a cute looking prospect manning this end of the bar so I approach him and ask.
“Where’s the blow?”
He actually drops the cigarette that was pursed between his full lips.
“What?” He asks. He looks at me like I have just suggested everyone here sacrifice their first born in the name of the club.
“The blow…you know, coke. Cocaine?”
“Oh shit. Did you take a hit on that opium laced Thai weed? I heard that shit was strong.”
“Opium what?”
“Uh…never mind. You’re Cade’s old lady right?”
“Yeah that’s me the big wigs old lady. But you can call me grandma…or granny for short.”
“Yeah, you definitely had some of that shit.”
He comes around the bar and pulls out a stool for me. “Here you should sit here and I’ll pour you a club soda.”
“Club fucking soda? Are you for real Prospect?”
Heads turn. I do believe I may have shouted that last bit.
“Okay here, here, have a beer.”
“A beer? I want that op…opium Thai…joint…What the fuck did you call that shit?”
“Having a good time Morgan?”
I turn around and there is my old man… my biker boyfriend Cade…Cade…something. It just occurs to me that I don’t even know his last name. Or maybe I do and just forgot it. At this point anything is possible.
“Yes as a fatter of mact…am I a good…This shit is real fucking strong darling.”
Cade turns on the cute prospect. “What the fuck did you give her?”
“I ain’t given her shit. She was way fucked up before she came over here. That’s why I sent Corky over to find you.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.”
“Take me to bed President.” I say. All of a sudden I am fucking hoooorrrrny!
“Oh I’ll take you to bed but not for the reason you’re looking for babe.”
“To bed with you!” I exclaim.
Cade’s strong hands take mine and he leads me to the far side of the clubhouse and to a side door. We go through and down a long narrow hall past a number of doors with strange names on them. When we get to the last one he opens it. It’s a small bedroom with a neatly made bed along the far wall.
“You’ll be safe here babe,” Cade says, patting the bed for me to take a seat.
I sit down and he kneels in front of me and proceeds to take off my boots while I fumble with my top. Trouble starts when my fingers fail to navigate the clasp on my bra. Frustrated I start pulling and tearing at the lacy material until Cade’s strong hands take over. But instead of taking it off he just puts my hands at my side and grabs my legs to swing them over onto the middle of the bed. It appears we have different ideas about what is going to happen next. My pussy’s saying fuck me and my brain is saying…well; fuck me, with an altogether different emphasis.
“Just go to sleep baby. Close your eyes and let sleep take you. I’ll come join you soon as I can, but don’t wait up.”
“There are whores out there old man…fucking whores…”
“And there are there for brothers who don’t have an old lady. Those of us who are lucky enough to have someone like you, we don’t need whores. You’re all I need baby, I promise.”
“Yeah…wait till one starts rubbing her smelly gash on your crotch and you’ll forget that promise you just made.”
“And you’re high as a kite. You’re not gonna remember a thing in the morning babe.”
I think we talked more but I have no memory of it. When I closed my eyes the room just started spinning round and round and kept at it until I woke up with the sun in the morning.
I stretch out my hand to cuddle with Cade but I just come up with air. I roll over and it seems that he hasn’t even been to bed. The covers on his side aren’t even ruffled. I glance over at the clock on the nightstand; it’s almost noon!
I was sure I’d be totally hung over this morning but I actually feel fine except for my leg which aches. I get out of bed and slowly get dressed. I am so fucking tired of this clunky cast and I still have four more weeks to wear it. At least I can ride on the back of Cade’s bike otherwise I’d be back at the clubhouse board as shit. It was a great party last night and for a while I even forgot I’m still a gimp. In fact I believe I may have been using more of my leg than my crutches, especially after I smoked that weird bud. My whole body kind got all warm and numb. I really don’t have a sense of what happened last night either. It’s all a big blur.
The next couple days are rough on the back of Cade’s bike. The only saving grace is that I get to be with my man. Stacy seems awfully cozy with Cade’s Sargent at Arms, Shooter. I never figured her to be the type that’s into bad boys. All in all, it was a six day road trip and when we finally get back to the clubhouse I am totally exhausted and ready to sleep in a nice bed with Cade. Too many of the last 5 nights I went to bed alone and woke up alone. Cade’s priority was securing his club’s future which meant he had to patch over as many guys as he could. When we got back our ranks had swelled sizably.
We get back around ten in the morning and as usual Cade has meeting in the inner sanctum. It’s his ver
sion of a war party. I almost forgot during the patch over road trip that we may be having a war with the Outkasts. I don’t see him again that day until late.
SEVENTEEN
Murder Your Family
I know that look! Cade and his inner circle of brothers have just come out of a long-ass meeting and are headed for the bar; not my man though. He walks up to Stacy and me and takes me hand in his.
“Walk with me.” He says softly.
Something is up and I know better than to question him right here so I get up, give Stacy an apologetic smile and follow my man out of the clubhouse. We walk across the yard and to the apartment that Stacy and I cleaned up in after the shootout. This is serious. My heart starts to pick up as Cade leads me to one of the back bedrooms. In other circumstances I would have been excited about being in this room with him but today is different. I don’t know what’s going down but I’m pretty damn sure I’m not gonna like it.
He leads me to the bed and sits down. He pats the bed next to him, indicating I should take a seat beside him. When I do he takes both of my hands in his and breaks the news.
“We have come up with a way to avoid an all-out war with my brother and the Outkasts.”
My heart skips a beat. “Well that’s great!” I exclaim. “For a second there I thought you had bad news or something. You’re acting all serious.”
“It’s not good news Morgan. You’re not gonna like what we have resolved to do, but it’s the only way we can stop this war before it happens and save the most lives in the process.”
“Stop trying to rationalize it. Just tell me what the fuck you’re going to do!”
“I’m going to meet my brother in a fight to the death.”
Before I even know what I’m doing I jump up off the bed and whirl around to face him. My heart is pounding in my chest, my fists are clenched, and if I had a club I’d smack him across his fool head!
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I advance on him, drawing my fist back, fully intending to deck him.
“What would you have me do? Sacrifice all my brothers just to save my own skin? What kind of a leader would I be then?”
“A fucking live one!” I shoot back at him. “Do you see president Obama in Afghanistan with an AK fucking 47? No his soldiers do!”
“They actually use an M16 bu-”
And that’s when I punch him! Right smack in his fucking nose. His head rocks back and forth like a bobble head doll. I had no idea I could punch that hard. Apparently he didn’t either. To his credit, he didn’t strike back. He just blinks his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets his air out. That’s some fucking composure he’s got!
“Why does it have to be you?” I ask. “Why can’t someone champion you?”
“I’m no king, and this isn’t Game of Thrones. This is the biker way Morgan and it’s the only way either club will recognize it.”
“But does it have to be to the death? Why can’t it be like a boxing match or even one of those cage fighting matches; those are pretty brutal. No one would doubt your prowess after beating him in a cage fight.”
“Are you kidding me?” He answers, beginning to get pissed off. “You would equate a match without weapons and referees with a no rules, knife fight to the death? Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”
“I’m not. You and your fucking testosterone are gonna get you killed or at least maimed for life!”
“Maimed? You’ve seen my body and you act like a few scars are something to be afraid of or avoided.”
“I’m not talking about a few benign scars here. You could be permanently injured and you’re fighting your own brother for fuck’s sake! How do you justify that?”
“I have to weigh the life of one man, NO MATTER WHO IT IS, against the lives of dozens of others, maybe even more. It’s no contest!”
“I would never go against family.” I reply.
“You can make that statement only because you’ve never been forced into that situation. You should withhold making statements about things you don’t know anything about!”
“But I know me! And I know I would find a way out of it. I would never let myself be put in a situation where I had to kill my family. You need to find another answer before you murder your brother! I can’t be with a man who cares so little about family!”
“Dammit! You have no idea what you ask. You want me to condemn men who have families of their own; wives…children. Are you sure that’s what you want? ‘Cause I can beat this guy. I’m not gonna die and I’m not going to get permanently maimed. Hopefully I’ll come out of it with a nice scar for my troubles.”
“I can’t believe you’re talking like this. What the fuck is going on with you?”
“Look Morgan, I don’t have much time here. Do you want to spend our last hours fighting about something that cannot be changed? If that’s what you want I’m outta here. I don’t want to spend my time fighting with you. I’m gonna have to do enough fighting in a few hours from now.”
I open my mouth to bite his head off and stop myself. Do I have to win this argument? My arguing with him may be taking his focus away from the things he needs to be concentrating on. As pissed as I am, I do not want him to die…or even get a new scar. I’ve gotten used to the one’s he’s got. Those are fine without any new ones fucking up his canvas (skin). So I take a deep breath and will myself to relax.
“I’m sorry…the last thing you need right now is me clucking around you like a mother hen. You do what you have to do and I’ll do what I have to do. But tonight…we both need tonight Cade.”
I go back over to the bed and sit down beside him. He smells good and my body is already beginning to respond to his. And that’s it. I can’t even be near him without my body betraying me. And it really is a betrayal. Here I was prepared to be angry and never talk to him again and now my pussy’s doing the talking for me. In that I am like a guy thinking with his little head rather than the big one. I have to give him credit though. He waits for me to make the first move. He waits to make sure I am okay with what is happening between us and I respect him for that. But right now I just want his cock inside me. I decide to take the direct approach and rest my hand on his growing bulge. He responds immediately; with both heads. It’s such a turn on to see how men react to me, and specifically how he reacts to me. Two seconds after I make contact he’s splitting his seams and if I don’t get that cock out soon he’s gonna tear himself on his zipper.
Our mouths find each other while my hands hurry to unbuckle his belt and zip down his jeans. This time our passion is laced with an extra dose of heat due to the anger that’s still in the air. He’s always been a good kisser, but not a super aggressive one. Tonight he takes me from mouth to pussy, hard, fast, and completely! And this time I am equally aggressive right back at him. I’m not interested in making love, and I’m not interested in any tenderness or soft whisperings in the dark. I’m gonna fuck the shit out of him (not literally of course). He gets the idea.
The top button of my jeans pings off the mirror over the dresser. The skin around my neck burns as he rips the tee right off my body. I’m no weakling either and I leave my mark on his back as I pull his shirt up over his head. I didn’t mean to do it, but when I finally got his fucking boot off his left foot I sent it sailing in no particular direction, which ended up in the middle of the mirror that my button just bounced off of. Someone’s going to be pissed about that. I take the other boot off and draw my arm back to throw then catch myself. Do I really need to do this? Fuck yes I do! The steel toe actually puts a hole in the plaster wall by the front door.
He shreds his own briefs then grabs me by the waist and throws me down to the floor and somehow keeps my head from hitting the hard wood surface. I was thinking bed, but this kind of sex needs a hard wood floor more than it does a soft down comforter and a Posturepedic mattress. I need to be ridden, fucked, dare I say used and abused and put away wet and fucking exhausted. In that we are like minded.
H
e fucks the fear out of my mind. He fucks away the anger I was feeling towards him and crushes my desire to hurt him. I can taste blood on my tongue and I’m not sure it’s he who bit me or I bit him. It’s all becoming one jumbled hot and sexy mess. When I finally cum if fucking rocks my world! Just when it feels so damn good I can’t stand it he starts all over again. Where the fuck is the recharge time that men are supposed to need between blasting off? Apparently no one ever told him about that.
When we are finally finished I am done. So much of my sex life has left me lying next to a sweaty man wanting for more and not getting it. For the first time in my life I am satisfied. I am full and I don’t want a shred more. We’re lying side by side on the hardwood floor; side by side in our collective pool of sweat. I am just thinking it would be nice to lie on the bed now when Cade gets on his knees and just scoops me up in his arms, then stands and carries me to the bed where he gently deposits me in the middle. I roll to the side and he lies down on his side and draws me into his own warm body.
I don’t know how long we lie here before my brain begins to work again. All that anger that was brewing is beginning to boil again like I knew it would. He’s still going to go on with his fucked up plan and kill his little brother and I am still going to have to leave him. I hate myself for being this way but I cannot help it. I don’t have a family anymore. I lost my mom and dad within 16 months of each other. The rest of my family died the day I turned fourteen. I’m an only child. Cade’s parents are dead but he has a brother and I’m guessing that since his brother is the VP in the same motorcycle club that they must have been close at one time or another. And now he is hell bent on killing him in some misguided effort to stop a club war. Who’s to say that his brother didn’t leave instructions for his club to start a war with the Disciples if he were to lose the fight? In fact, I bet that is going to happen. And I also bet that Cade is using this as an excuse to kill his brother and it’s got nothing to do with protecting those brothers in his club who have wives, girlfriends, and children. Fucker almost had me convinced!
The Filthy Few (Iron Disciples MC) Page 15
