Hopelessly Devoted: (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter #3)

by Bink Cummings

  Resting my e-reader on the chair arm, I brace my hand on the other for support as I cradle my belly for the pregnant lady descent. Falling into the chair is a no-no this far into my pregnancy, I don’t want to pee myself. It’s happened before. Not the full enchilada. A tiny tinkle, but it’s still embarrassing as hell when you’re a young-ish woman who shouldn’t have incontinence issues.

  My butt hits the soft cushion with a creak.

  There’s a rap, rap, rap at the back door.

  Are you kidding me right now?

  Sonofabitch.

  Groaning my displeasure, I readjust my glasses on my nose, and heft my round body out of the chair. Taking my sweet ass time, I waddle to the rear door, annoyed by the impatient jerk on the other side as they continue to knock for a third time.

  Irritated beyond rationale, I unlock the deadbolt with an aggressive snick and yank it open. “What?” I bark, faced with yet another trashy dressed woman. That’s it. I’ve had it up to here with these chicks coming into my house when I’m trying to live a normal flippin’ life. I don’t care if they’re worried about Ryker. They could call first, or something. Anything besides dropping by unannounced, thereby disrupting our lives. Not only is it rude. It’s disrespectful.

  Taking a wobbly step back on her hooker heels to get some distance from me, at least the curvy brunette has the decency to look nervous. Poised on one of her upturned palms, as expected, is food. Except… Goddammit, it’s a pecan pie—my weakness.

  Snatching the pie out of her hand, not caring one bit how rude I’m acting, I growl, “Ryker’s indisposed. Come back later. Thanks for the pie.”

  Before the lady has a chance to speak I slam the door in her face, pivot on my heel, stomp into the kitchen, open the garbage can and throw the damn pie away. It kills me to see all that scrumptiousness go to waste, but I’m not eating vagina pie. And if I can’t eat the vagina pecan pie, nobody can.

  Fueled by days of repressed anger, fists clenched at my sides, I exit the kitchen to head to the bedroom where Ryker is. He needs to know another one of his fan club was here.

  Not wanting to wake Walker, I quietly approach the closed bathroom door. Just as I’m about to reach for the knob, it opens, revealing a half-naked beefcake. With a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist, knee perched on the scooter, Ryker pauses at the sight of me, expression transforming from relaxed to concerned in an instant.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” He wheels a step closer, reaching out to touch my face.

  Dodging his advance, I scoot backward and shake a fist at him. “Another one of your… your… women were here to bring you food. This one brought a… a… motherfucking pecan pie!” I rage, forgetting about the sleeping baby.

  Ryker holds up both hands in surrender as droplets of water trickle down the valleys of his muscled form. “Whoa, babe. Calm down. Did she say somethin’ mean to you?”

  “No!”

  The dickhead has the audacity to tip his head to the side and smirk as if I’m the cutest thing he’s ever seen, not someone who’s about to club him to death. Why I’m so angry, I dunno. All I know is that I am. Each muscle in my body’s strung tighter than a guitar string, ready to snap. Air’s pistoning from my lungs at an alarming rate. My leg twitches with pent-up aggression.

  Taking a substantial step away from Ryker, I gain enough distance that I can’t leap and punch him in the face. Because that’s what I wanna do right this second. Clenching and unclenching the fists at my sides, I inhale a deep breath to calm myself, and nothing freaking happens. This isn’t like me. Christ, what if I do hurt him?

  “Calm down, babe, and tell me what’s got you all riled up,” he soothes with a deep whiskey drawl, sounding sexier than normal.

  “Shut up. Don’t use that voice.”

  “What voice?” He does it again.

  “Your panty wetting voice!”

  He smirks like the deviant he is. “Am I making you wet?”

  Sarcastic bastard.

  “Shut the hell up. All I wanted to do is come in here and tell you—”

  “That a club whore brought over a pie… excuse me, a pecan pie. What I don’t understand is why you’re so angry about it. That’s your favorite kind. If you want it, it’s yours,” he offers.

  “I threw it in the trash.”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “’Cause I’m not eating vagina pie.”

  Ryker snorts. Blue eyes glittering in amusement. “What’s vagina pie, sweetheart?”

  “It’s like vagina casserole, only it’s a pie.”

  The smile he cracks is blinding and even more annoying. He’s loving this more than he should. I’m not trying to be cute. “You’ve lost me there, Tiger.”

  Harrumphing, I tap my barefoot on the bear rug, not getting the desired noise. It’ll have to do. “It’s food that your lady friends bring over.”

  “Right. I got that part. What I don’t understand is why you call it vagina pie.”

  “Because.”

  “That’s a non-answer. Give it to me straight, I can take it.”

  Mother fluffin’ Christ, how can he be so calm? That too is infuriating.

  “I know you can. You’re a badass biker with a big dick, who almost died, and for whatever god-awful reason is somewhat attracted to me,” I blurt, cheeks burning. Embarrassed by my outburst, I briefly look away. I cannot believe I said that.

  “There’s no somewhat about it, Kat. You’re the only woman I’m attracted to. Period.”

  “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

  Ryker quirks a sly grin. “Are you jealous?” This pleases him to no end.

  “No. I’m not.” Liar, liar pants on fire.

  “You’re full of it. I know better. Now tell me.”

  Growling in my throat, I scowl at the impossible man who has my name tattooed right there on his thigh, and stitches all over the place. Shit. I’m a jerk. He should probably sit down before we continue whatever this is we’re doing.

  Disregarding his demand, I point to the bed. “You need to sit down.”

  Scratching the back of his smooth, bald head, he frowns. “Why?”

  “Because you have a cast on your leg and you’ve gotta be in some sort of pain.”

  Ryker nods once as if he agrees, then scooters to the bed, and carefully climbs on. Off falls the cotton towel, and I’m greeted with an ass cheek, and a peek of half-hard cock swinging as he gets in position. Maintaining an ounce of modesty, Ryker re-lays the towel over his private area, his bare bottom kissing the mattress, shoulders resting against the headboard.

  Satisfied that he’s comfortable, I ignore the growing dampness of my panties and carry on. “You okay? Did you take your medicine?”

  “Kat, you’ve asked me twice today if I’m takin’ my meds, and what did I tell you?”

  I roll my eyes. “That you’ve got it handled.”

  “Right. ‘Cause I’m a big boy.” Ryker pats his stomach. “Been takin’ care of myself for a long time. I don’t need you to mother me.”

  “I’m not mothering you,” I dispute, hooking a hand on my hip.

  “Yes. Ya are, babe. It’s sweet, really. But you’ve got enough on your plate.”

  I wanna stomp and yell that you’re my family, and I take care of family. Only, I don’t. There’s no use. He’s right, I suppose.

  “Okay. I’ll try to stop.” It’ll be hard. Taking care of people is sort of my thing. If he doesn’t take his meds as he should, I’ll start feeling guilty.

  “Thank you. Now get back to this vagina pie thing and why you’re jealous.” He waves me forth with the jerk of his hand, a tiny smile playing on his full lips.

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “You are. It’s not a bad thing, babe. It means you care.”

  “I’ve always cared.”

  “I know. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You’re a good woman.”

  My pride swells.

  Head held high, I reply a haughty, “Thank you.”


  “You’re welcome. Now… Vagina. Pie. Spill.”

  Shrugging one shoulder, I feign nonchalance. “The vagina part is gross to admit. And stupid when you think about it. But I’m not eating anything those women have brought. Mainly because, well…” I’m jealous as all get out that they were getting all your attention when we were so close to having a normal adult conversation the other day, and starting something new, against my better judgment. That they’ve been pawing at you, when I can’t manage to get a hug. Even though we’ve been sleeping next to each other, I rattle off inside my head knowing I can never say it aloud. “I picture all these women who throw themselves at you fingering their lady parts, then putting the fluid inside the dishes before they bring them by,” I cringe.

  Covering his mouth with his big mitt, Ryker’s entire body starts to quake with repressed laughter. His beautiful eyes crinkle around the edges as he conceals a broad smile. Then, as if he can’t withhold it any longer he belts a short guffaw followed by another. Soon, he’s freely laughing his sexy ass off. Shoulders bouncing, his face reddens, and eyes dampen at the edges as he loses it, not caring one iota that he’s, in a roundabout way, making fun of me. Not that it matters. Not when I get to watch a treat like this. He’s so handsome when he gets lost in the moment. The way his pecs and abs flex as amusement consumes him. The wrinkles on his forehead that form. I smile softly, soaking up the unfettered view regardless if it’s at my expense.

  Praying the noise hasn’t jarred Walker awake, I peer inside his bassinet for confirmation. Yep, he’s as snug as a bug in a rug. Or, more specifically, he’s as snug as a baby swaddled in a blue and white gingham blanket as he sleeps on his back, arms fanned above his head. Dark wisps of his hair are sticking up every which way. I sigh longingly. He’s so sweet.

  Minutes later Ryker calms himself enough to formulate a coherent response. “I… Wow… Tiger, that’s an interesting theory.” Using his thumb, he swipes the tears from the corner of his eyes and rubs the collective wetness on the sheets.

  Another shrug is pulled from me as I massage the side of my belly where the active baby kicks. “Eh.”

  “You know they’re harmless, don’t you?” he prompts.

  “Them, or the food?”

  “Both.”

  “Wrong,” I blurt, shaking my head in mild disgust, lips thinned. “I don’t believe that. They came here lookin’ all sexified to try to get you to notice them. If they weren’t, they would’ve worn yoga pants and a hoodie like every other normal woman. Then, they rubbed up on you. That’s not harmless flirtation. That’s a woman tryin’ to get the attention of a guy they, at the very least, want to screw. Your wife’s dead. They think you need someone to console you in your time of need, and they want to be that person. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re not making side bets to see who can score first.”

  “You think so?” He slings attitude.

  Suppressing an eye roll, I try to make him see reason. “What kind of world are you living in? You can’t be that dense. You know when women are throwing themselves at you.”

  Leaning forward, Ryker scratches around the top edge of his cast, that the girls decorated with bright girly colors and glitter nail polish his first night home. “Duh, Tiger. I’m not stupid. I figured they were just bein’ nice. Club whores aren’t all bad. Most of the regulars do care about the club.”

  “N-ice?” I mock.

  “Yeah, nice. They weren’t pawin’ at my dick. And most of the time when they touched me they were wantin’ to see the stitches in my shoulder and arm.”

  “You’re the wounded animal, Ryker, and they wanna pounce.”

  “They can try all they want. It doesn’t mean shit to me.”

  “How’s that possible? You’re not the least bit flattered or turned on? Come on, you’re a guy.” I’ve never met a man in my life who wouldn’t be thrilled to have women basically throwing themselves at his feet. Why does it matter if he was flattered? I dunno. It just does. I’ve put my heart on the line for him before and ended up regretting it later. The thought of being put through that kind of anguish again is crippling. For years, I wished he would return and beg for forgiveness. It didn’t happen that way. Life never does. But to watch sexy women fling themselves at him, and he doesn’t even have the balls to acknowledge their intentions, it aches in places I didn’t know existed. I’m never going to look like those chicks. Especially not after three kids. Sexy to me is a pencil skirt, blouse, and cute boots. This body is never going to resemble hotness to the Nth degree. I have curves on top of curves and an ass that just won’t quit. And I’m okay with that, but is Ryker, long-term? When in reality he can have any lady he wants.

  “Who has a woman,” Ryker snarls, yanking me from my sullen thoughts, his upper lip curling back exposing a strip of white teeth.

  “Not really. We haven’t… you know…” I sulk, shoulders slumping, suddenly feeling down and out—drained.

  “No. I don’t know. Tell me.” Ryker’s tone simmers down, to match mine. As if he knows how I’m feeling without having to pry.

  Head tipped to stare at my feet, hands clasped behind my back, I comb my toes through the bear fur. “We…we didn’t make anything official.”

  “Maybe not. But in my heart and head, it’s been official since I saw you during Thanksgiving. I haven’t touched anyone since then, besides you. And some club whore stoppin’ by to shove her tits in my face isn’t gonna change that.”

  “So you do agree they’re tryin’ to shove their tits in your face, after you just said you thought they were only droppin’ by to be nice,” I mutter, glancing up, knowing I’ve got him by the balls.

  Ryker stabs two fingers in my direction, temper inflating. “You’re the one who said they wanna pounce, not me. Not once did any of them offer to suck me or ride my dick.”

  Resuming my pose, I swish my right foot over the rug, suppressing the urge to look at my ex. He’s too attractive to stare at for too long if I don’t want my panties to burst into flames. “Nope. They coddled you instead. The rest is implied. I can’t believe you’re not able to see that,” I whisper.

  “Maybe, because I’m not lookin’. Babe, as nice as some of their tits and asses were, they’re just that—tits and asses. I’m a guy. We notice things like that. Doesn’t mean it turns us on. It’s like it’s ingrained in our DNA or some shit. However, I have no desire to touch, fuck, or cuddle with any one of those broads. Them touching my arm, or askin’ how I’m doin’ is harmless.”

  “You’re an idiot if you believe that.” All it would take is the snap of his fingers, and they’d be putty in his hands. That’s the effect he has on most women. And sometimes, even me.

  “No, I’m really not. They weren’t flirtin’ with me like you think.”

  “Riiight.”

  “I’m fuckin’ serious. You wouldn’t stick around long enough to know.”

  I swallow the emotional lump in my throat. “Because I’m not gonna sit and watch them flirt with you.” After everything we’ve been through, and the chats we had this week, it kills me to watch. There’s only so much I can take. I’m not a glutton for punishment. Nor am I going to wallow in self-pity. When life gives you lemons, you flip off the world, make a pitcher of margaritas, and burn your bra. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, this maudlin crap will pass, and I’ll be ready to do just that.

  “Jesus, babe, I cannot believe we’re arguin’ about this. First, it’s the club you hate. Now a few club whores can’t bring food for us to eat without you gettin’ jealous. Women are gonna throw themselves at me, Kat. It’s gonna happen. You’re gonna have to trust me enough to know that I would never, ever, let anything go on with any of ‘em. I love you. Not them. I’m not askin’ for them to flirt, nor am I flirtin’ back.”

  A tiny rosebud of hope blooms in my chest.

  “But you won’t tell them to stop, either. Like you did with the doctor.” This is true, he can’t deny it.

  “The doctor was disrespecting y
ou.”

  “And these women aren’t by coming into our—your home and touchin’ you?”

  “No. They’re not,” he placates. “If they were rude, I would’ve kicked them out without thinkin’ twice. But most of them were here to genuinely ask if I was okay. And when I started tellin’ them about you and the girls, they weren’t assholes about it. They were nice. Even asked questions.”

  My head snaps up, lips parted in surprise. “You talked about us?”

  Ryker’s chest puffs up, a smirk hooking the corner of his mouth. “Fuck yeah, I did. My kids know who I am now. And we’re workin’ on bein’ together. Why wouldn’t I tell them?”

  My fingertips tingle at his admission.

  “So they know—”

  “That you’re my old lady? Yeah.” He nods the affirmative a few times. “They all know. The whole fuckin’ club knows I’m with Ghost’s daughter. The guys who dropped by yesterday were givin’ me shit about it. Sayin’ I’d better not fuck up, or my pops and Ghost would be gunnin’ for me. Like I didn’t already know that.” Ryker rolls his eyes on the last part, smiling playfully at me, two fingers tapping out beats on his thigh.

  Shifting from foot to foot, as a toasty yet exuberant feeling bubbles in my gut, I moisten my bottom lip with the sweep of my tongue. “I… I still can’t believe you talked to them about us.”

  “Babe, I’m gonna talk about us to anyone who’s willin’ to listen. I’m proud as fuck to have you and my girls back in my life. A few club whores droppin’ food off and touchin’ my arm ain’t gonna change that. Either they respect that I got a woman, or they get the hell outta our house. Simple as that. What I don’t like is you gettin’ all jealous over stupid shit. There’s nothin’ to be jealous over. You own my dick, Tiger. Along with my heart and every other fuckin’ piece of me. I’m hopelessly devoted to only you… And, sweetheart, it wouldn’t surprise me if some of those chicks drop by a few more times with food. Next time, though, it wouldn’t hurt if you actually spoke to them instead of blowin’ ‘em off. I get that old ladies, and club whores don’t always mix. But that doesn’t have to be the case. Trust me, they can get plenty of biker dick from other club brothers. They don’t need to try and ride mine.”