Highest Sins: Mountain Misfits MC Book 2

by Deja Voss

  Brooks walks to the sink and picks up a canister of lye while Gavin slices open my father’s t-shirt, exposing the giant Misfits tattoo across his chest.

  “Esther, go outside,” Gavin barks at me. “Better yet, go home.”

  My legs feel heavy and I struggle to breathe, but Heat grabs me around the waist and opens the door, ushering me outside. “You don’t want in on that, do you?” he asks me as we walk through the gravel parking lot, towards the clubhouse.

  I hear a loud howl come from the shed, likely my father’s skin being burned off, ridding him of all tattoos that represent the club, and I don’t even turn around.

  “Nah,” I say, shrugging, a smile stretching across my face. “Those guys earned it. What he’s put my brothers through, what he’s put Brooks through, what he’s taken from them… that’s their time to shine.”

  “I’m not trying to put my nose in your business, but you do know he took from you, too, right?” The howls turn to screams and I start walking faster until I reach the clubhouse door.

  “Who’s in charge of soundproofing that place?” I ask, laughing nervously, trying not to get sick imagining what’s going on in that shack.

  “Esther,” he says. “He hurt you. He broke you. He used you. He confessed to trying to have you killed. You don’t have to forgive him.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But it feels really good.” Forgiving my father is the most spiteful thing I could possibly do in his eyes, and if Moses Boden taught me anything, it’s how to be a spiteful person. It feels like a ton of bricks are being lifted off of me. I don’t even want to think about the future yet, because right now, I just feel like I’m at peace.

  “Are you ready for a beer?” I ask him.

  “How about we bust into the scotch. It is, after all, a celebration,” he says, and although I can hear the sadness in his voice, his eyes look clear, and his smile looks peaceful. This old guy looks like he’s twenty years younger, the worry of the terror and destruction my father has been causing since he’s become president melting away.

  “To our liberation,” I say, sliding a rocks glass across the counter.

  “To the Mountain Misfits,” he says, slugging down the double shot in one gulp.

  44

  Brooks:

  She broke down for a little bit when we first got back to the house, sitting on the front porch, her green eyes red and puffy while she stared out into space, and I get it. This shit was traumatizing. I know what it feels like to lose a father. Sometimes you just need to be left alone to process whatever you’re feeling.

  I let her have her space.

  I was thankful she needed some space. I don’t like her to see the violent side of me, even though she understands it fully, just by being raised in the club. I needed some space too. I needed some time to come down from the adrenaline high, some time to put the day behind me and start thinking about our future.

  While she sat outside, I went into our bedroom and started packing. I took the engagement ring I’d been hiding in the gun safe and slipped it into the hidden pocket inside my backpack. I don’t want to let the sadness of today forever taint the memory of me proposing to her. It’d just be another way to keep Moses and all the damage he’s done to her on her mind. I want to get her away from here and make this about her and I. Nobody needs to know yet.

  “Where do you want to go?” I ask her as she starts pulling stuff out of the closet, tossing it on the bed. “Anywhere you want.” We both decided the best thing we can do right now is take a little time away from the mountain, from the club, just get on the bike and go on a little road trip to clear our heads and hit the reset button.

  She holds up a white sundress to her body and looks at me with her head cocked to the side. “You think I can still get away with wearing white, or will I be better off in ivory?”

  “You can get away with wearing whatever you want, gorgeous,” I say, pulling some clothes out of the drawer and setting them in my backpack, not even looking over at her. “You know I don’t care what you wear.”

  “That went right over your head, didn’t it?” she asks with a nervous laugh.

  “Is that what you think?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at her. “*You think I can’t take a hint?”

  “Well, I figured this is the first time we’ve been able to get away together in a while. Who knows when it’s going to happen again.”

  “You sure you want to do this right now? Are you sure you’re not just fired up? Don’t you want a big old badass biker wedding?” I tease.

  “No,” she says point-blank. “I want to go to the justice of the peace, and then I want to go straight on our honeymoon.”

  “What about an engagement ring? You don’t want one of those?” I ask.

  “I don’t need anything like that, Brooks. All I need is you for the rest of my life.”

  I dump my backpack out on the bed and pull out the black box. “I guess I’ll just take this back, then.” Her eyes grow wide and she rushes over to the bed.

  “God, I ruin everything,” she says. “I didn’t even ask you what you wanted.”

  “I want what you want, Esther. I want to get down on my knee and propose to you like a decent man. I want to promise to make you the happiest woman alive. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to fill you with babies, and make you feel like the queen that you are every day.” I can tell by the tears in her eyes that she’s going to say yes. “It’s what I’ve wanted since the day I met you. I’ve never wanted anything other than this.”

  I get down on one knee in front of her and open the box. She gasps when she sees the giant ruby and slaps her hand over her mouth. I slide it on her finger and she starts bawling before throwing her arms around me, pressing her lips to mine.

  “This is the best day of my life,” she says. “All my dreams are coming true.”

  “It’s just going to keep getting better,” I say. “Now hurry up and finish packing before you change your mind.”

  “You want me to bring this?” she asks with a wink, holding up the crushed velvet purple teddy she was wearing the night she busted me spying on her through the window.

  I scoop her up around the waist and throw her on the bed, her red hair spread across the pillow and her face flushed. Everything that happened today melts away. Everything that ever happened between us, it’s done and gone and we’ve moved on. We might be wounded, we might be orphans, and we might be Misfits, but as long as we have each other, none of that matters.

  45

  Esther:

  I feel like a new woman as we walk hand in hand out of the courthouse and onto the steps. He looks so handsome in his “good jeans” and a button-down shirt, nothing over the top, just enough to signify that this is a special day. I wouldn’t want him any other way. It’s the Brooks I know and love. And now, he’s officially mine forever. The piece of paper I’m clutching in my hand tells me so.

  I pull my phone out of my purse and snap a selfie of us on the steps. We both agreed we’re not telling anyone until we get back from our honeymoon, but I want to make sure I document everything about this adventure we’re about to go on together. I never want to forget this day. The start of our new life together.

  I always thought I wanted a big wedding. Growing up, I imagined myself in a giant mess of white gauze and gold rhinestones. I wanted a huge party in the field behind the clubhouse, with twenty bridesmaids and a band and bikers from every chapter of the Misfits to be there for my big day. I also imagined my father walking me down the aisle, though. Goes to show how times change. It’s not my big day anymore. It’s Brooks’s and I’s perfect little day. A day that’s not about me showing off for our friends and trying to be the perfect hostess to a group of wild bikers who want to get drunk on my dime. Sliding out of your jeans and leather jacket in a public bathroom stall and into a white sundress maybe isn’t every girl’s dream come true, but as I tucked my hair up into a tight bun and slapped on some lipstick over the sink in th
e courthouse, I felt it with every fiber of my being; this was exactly how my wedding, our wedding, was supposed to be. Plus, the bruises on my face had nearly faded, thank goodness. Nothing a little bit of make-up couldn’t hide.

  “I can’t believe we just did that,” I say, biting my lip and staring at our marriage license for a solid minute just to make sure it’s real.

  “Does it make you feel any differently about me?” he asks, lacing his fingers with mine as we walk down the road.

  “About you? No. About me? Absolutely.” As much as you dream about your fantasy fictional wedding as a young girl, sometimes you grow into an adult and think you aren’t going to get any wedding, let alone your dream wedding. I certainly thought that was going to be the case for me. I’m still shocked at how everything in my life is falling together. I’m still amazed that I’m going to get my happily ever after once and for all.

  “Care to indulge me?” he asks.

  “Maybe later,” I say. “First, I need some pancakes.”

  Who needs a fancy wedding reception when the best diner in town is only a block from the courthouse? The first stop on our road trip is going to be about a five-hour drive away, just the two of us on his bike and the wind in my hair. I love the idea of spending all day wrapped around him, putting all my trust in him as we head off into the unknown.

  I don’t remember the last time I saw the ocean. I definitely have never been on a traditional vacation, and neither has Brooks. When it comes to the Mountain Misfits, every trip is a family trip, but it’s usually to one rally or another for a week of partying, or something involving business.

  This trip, though, is strictly pleasure. We don’t have any solid plans, just driving down the coast, going wherever the wind decides to blow us on that particular day. We are free to go wherever we want, do whatever we want, with nothing but a backpack full of essentials and a pocket full of cash.

  “This place is amazing,” I say, as we pull into the driveway of the Beach Bottom Bed-and-Breakfast. The smell of the salty ocean hangs heavy in the air, and the way the sun bakes the skin on the back of my neck and shoulders makes me feel like, even though we’re only two states away from our home, that I’m somewhere exotic. The little cottage sits right on the beach and has a big private backyard area with a fire pit and a swimming pool. It’s tiny, but definitely luxurious looking. “Do you think they have any open rooms?”

  “No,” he says to me, grinning from ear to ear, grabbing our backpack and putting his arm around my waist. My legs feel wobbly from the ride, and I rest my head on his shoulder.

  “Well that’s a bummer. What are we doing here?”

  “I got the place for the weekend,” he says, ushering me up onto the wraparound front porch.

  “How’d you pull that off on such short notice?” I ask. I’m pretty impressed. I assumed this trip was going to be full of crappy one-star hotels miles away from the shore, and honestly, that’s more than enough for this girl. Its prime-time beachgoing season, and it was just yesterday we decided to throw caution to the wind and go on this adventure.

  “I have connections, you know,” he says, flexing his bicep, showing off his Misfits tattoo. “I called in a favor. Told Rodger I needed a place to impress my girlfriend for a few days. Something that’ll melt her panties right off.”

  “Well, when’s she getting here? I’d hate to interrupt ,” I say, laughing. He picks up a little frog statue off the porch and grabs the key out of the trap door in the bottom. He swings open the door, and the first thing I notice is rose petals littering the floor, littering a path straight up the wooden stairs. “You must really be trying to impress this broad.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t sure you were actually going to follow through, you know. I figured you’d come to your senses before I could con you into signing that paper. Worst-case scenario, I was going to just come here by myself and drown my sorrows in strawberries and champagne. If I’m gonna be crying into a pillow, I’d prefer it was somewhere no one would ever expect to find me.”

  “Strawberries and champagne?” I ask. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man eat a piece of fruit in my entire life. I sure as hell have never seen him drink champagne.

  “Beer and oysters?”

  “That sounds a little more like my speed.”

  “Well, you can have whatever you want, Esther, at least, as soon as I get what I want.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask seductively, batting my eyelids at him. He runs his fingers through my hair, kissing me on the neck. A moan escapes my lips, the feeling of his beard brushing up against my collarbone instantly stirring up a fire deep in my core.

  “I want to carry you up those steps and rip your clothes off,” he says. “Then I want to fuck you so hard that you can’t run away from me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Brooks,” I whisper.

  “You’re right,” he says, tossing me over his shoulder without even struggling. His strength overwhelms me in all the best possible ways, knowing that, soon, that strong hard body of his is going to be pressed up against mine. “I know I promised you I’d never let anyone kidnap you ever again, but it’s going to be really hard for me to not keep you locked up in the bedroom with me all weekend.”

  “We don’t have to stay locked up in the bedroom, you know,” I say as he carries me up the steps. “We have a whole house to ourselves. We have a whole beach to ourselves. The options are endless, Brooks.”

  “Wait ’til you see this bedroom,” he says. “You just might change your tune.”

  He follows the path of rose petals and I try to stifle my giggles the whole way. I’m feeling kind of ridiculous letting him carry me. He doesn’t have to. Honestly, I’m so ready to take him right now, all he’d have to do is look at me the right way and I’d melt into a puddle on the floor.

  He sets me down at the foot of the king-sized bed and walks through the room, lighting a bunch of candles. The man knows me well. I do appreciate my candles. The sun is just starting to set over the water, the window in the bedroom the size of the entire wall, with a French door leading out to the balcony. It feels like we are right on the beach.

  “No curtains, huh?” I laugh, thinking back to my little trailer and my Peeping Tom of a husband.

  “There’s blinds, you perv,” he teases. “Want me to close them?”

  “What do you think?” I ask, sliding my shirt up over my head, exposing my sheer white bra.

  “I think you better lose those jeans before I rip them in half,” he growls in that commanding voice of his that turns my brain into mush. “I have been waiting all day to get you naked, Mrs. Harrison.” I slowly unbutton my jeans, sliding them down my legs as I watch him strip before me. I don’t care how many times I’ve seen him naked, his body is a work of art that takes my breath away every damn time he takes his shirt off.

  The way his big solid chest is just that perfect amount of hairy that I can rake my fingers through. The way his abs feel up against my face as I kiss down them. His big thick thighs and that hard ass of his. There’s not one inch of him that I don’t love licking, exploring, feeling pressed up against my body.

  His mouth.

  Jesus Christ.

  The way he starts behind my ear, licking and nibbling until I start to purr. He lays me back on the bed, my knees hanging off the side, and begins dragging his perfect mouth down my neck, sucking on my collarbone, certainly hard enough to leave a mark. I won’t complain. My body is his now, and it feels so fucking amazing that he isn’t afraid to kiss me how he wants to, bite me where he knows I like it, and take me however he sees fit. He doesn’t treat me like a porcelain doll. He treats me like his old lady, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  His hand reaches for my breast, teasing my nipple between his fingers over the top of the thin fabric. He buries his bearded face in between my tits, squeezing them together, kissing my sensitive skin as he pulls open the clasp in the front.

  My nipples are hardened peaks before he even h
as the chance to get them in his mouth, and I wrap my legs around his body, desperate for release, desperate to feel him inside me.

  “You in a hurry, kitten?” he asks, smiling up at me. “I love seeing you so needy.”

  He works his way down my stomach, dotting my belly with the kind of kisses that make me squeal, one part ticklish and one part torture. He roughly grabs for the waistband of my panties, sliding them down my thighs as I buck my hips to assist him in his efforts.

  “I don’t know what the big deal is about an ocean view,” he says, parting my thighs. “I think I have the best view in the world right here.” All I can do is throw my head back and moan as he uses his tongue like a paintbrush, collecting my wetness and swirling it up and down my swollen mound. I’ve grown used to the brush burn between my thighs thanks to him, and I wrap my legs around his neck, letting him indulge in one of his favorite pastimes.

  I don’t know how I got so lucky. He flicks his tongue in and out of my dripping hole before pressing it into my clit hard, just the way I like it, my toes curling and my moans growing louder.

  “Mmm, cum on my face,” he groans.

  “Yes!” I scream, unable to contain the contractions in my core, bucking up against his mouth, pulling his long blond hair as he expertly draws the orgasm right out of me. “I’m gonna need you to fuck me now,” I say, still high as hell off of this lust ripping through me, not wanting to come down.

  “That’s my girl.” He presses his lips to mine, infiltrating my mouth with his tongue. I can feel his rock-solid cock poking into my thigh, my hips rising to meet him, desperate to feel him inside me. “Get up,” he says. I stare up at him in confusion, but he guides me to the window overlooking the beach, pressing my body up against it as I look out into the ocean, the sight of the sun dipping down on the horizon enough to take my breath away.