Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  I gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, and then cocked my head to the side. “Wait. You’ve been divorced for how long?”

  “Four years.”

  “How long have you had this bed?”

  “Four years.”

  I was sure of the answer, but felt the need to ask, nonetheless. “But, you’ve had sex with someone, right? Just not in this bed?”

  “I haven’t.”

  It wasn’t the first time I’d been wrong. In complete shock, I sat up, bringing her with me when I did.

  “You haven’t had sex since the divorce?” I asked.

  She seemed embarrassed. “No.”

  I gasped. “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  I swallowed heavily. “Nothing. That’s pretty cool.”

  “Do I even want to know?” she asked.

  I immediately regretted asking and preferred not to respond. I gave a response that wasn’t too revealing but wasn’t a complete lie, either. “That’s not something I talk about.”

  “Fair enough,” she said.

  I never would have guessed it, but at that moment, I couldn’t see myself having sex with anyone but Kimberly. Our bodies seemed to fit together perfectly, whether we were having sex or not.

  “All that matters is from this day forward,” I said.

  She pressed her hands against my chest, forcing me down onto the mattress. “I’ll only listen to you if you’re laying down.”

  I relaxed onto my back and waited. Like my mother’s cat finding the perfect spot on the couch, she wiggled around until her head was right back where it was. Then, she rested her knee against my thigh.

  I shifted my eyes to the digital clock on the night stand. It was ten am. I hadn’t been to the clubhouse in the past week for anything other than attending the weekly meeting. My time had been spent fucking, eating, showering, and sleeping.

  I doubted the fellas would understand, no matter how I tried to spin it. How Kimberly made me feel was proof enough that I was in the right place, doing the right thing.

  And, that was all that mattered.

  63

  KIMBERLY

  “That was crazy how you jumped out of bed last night. Scared the shit out of me,” he said. “Is that a common thing?”

  I had no idea why the nightmares of going to the morgue and identifying my parents returned. It was something that happened repeatedly when I first lost them. After a few years it stopped. Since I started seeing Cash, I had two of the nightmares.

  All I could think of was that I subconsciously feared losing him, and that fear brought back the horrible dreams.

  “Must have been a weird dream. I don’t even remember it,” I lied. “I don’t know what that was about.”

  “Crazy,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “Who knows.”

  It was time to change the subject. I opened the carton of eggs and stared at the white oblong spheres. “How do you want me to cook them today? All I’ve done is scramble them. Is there a better way?”

  “Better?” he asked.

  I’d eaten more scrambled eggs in the last eleven days than I’d eaten in a lifetime. I glanced over my shoulder and hoped he hated them as much as I did. “Is there a way you prefer to have them cooked? If you got to pick?”

  He lowered his coffee cup. “How do you like them?”

  I preferred over medium, but doubted he’d agree. I’d scrambled them since we began eating breakfast together, hoping he found them suitable. But I was sick of them.

  “Hard-boiled,” I lied. “How about you?”

  “Boiled is okay. If I was in a restaurant, I’d go for over medium.”

  “With toast to soak up the yolks?”

  “Fuck yes,” he said.

  “Let me see what I can do,” I said.

  I cooked the bacon, fried the eggs in the grease, and toasted four slices of bread. It wasn’t the healthiest of breakfasts, but it was what my father cooked for me nearly every morning, and it was what I’d grown up enjoying.

  I set a plate in front of Cash and watched for a reaction.

  He looked at the eggs and smiled. “Looks just like Rudford’s.”

  “Rudfords’s?”

  “Place right off the Eight-oh-five in North Park. Been there since nineteen forty-something. Best breakfast this side of my mom’s place.”

  I tore the corner off a piece of the toast. “I’m sure I’m not up to par with Rudford’s or your mother’s, but hopefully this will be a good third place.”

  He carefully lifted one of the eggs, placed it on top of a slice toast, and cut the half the display into bite-sized pieces. After devouring the chunks, he lifted the remaining portion and ate it in two bites.

  He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Cook ‘em in the bacon grease?”

  “I did. Is that okay?”

  He chuckled. “My ma keeps bacon grease in a coffee can on the back of the stove.”

  “My father used to keep it,” I said, recalling the porcelain dish he kept it in. “But my mother would toss it out with the trash.”

  “If I tossed my ma’s grease, she’d whack my knuckles with a spatula.”

  “She sounds like a hard case.”

  He chuckled. “She is.”

  I nodded toward his plate. “So, you like them?”

  He tore the corner off the remaining piece of toast. “Love ‘em.”

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as he poked the piece of toast into the yolk and stirred it around. After eating the yolk-covered piece, he repeated the process.

  I smiled to myself.

  Because I was alone, there wasn’t much on most days to reminded me of my parents. Eating breakfast was one thing that did. It was a tradition that my father maintained throughout my childhood and continued whenever I’d pay them a visit.

  Since Cash and I began eating breakfast together, thoughts of my parents had returned. Instead of feeling sorrow for their loss, I’d been grateful for the memories that had surfaced.

  “My father taught me how to cook.” I looked up. “This was how he loved his eggs.”

  His face washed with confusion. “Is he…is he not around anymore?”

  It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t told Cash about my parents. It wasn’t something I’d consciously kept from him. It seemed I assumed he knew.

  I took a sip of coffee and met his gaze. “Someone rear-ended them on the Five. It’s been just me for almost ten years. July twenty-ninth, it’ll be the tenth anniversary of their death.”

  He reached for my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It must have been God’s will,” I said. “That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I wish you could have met them, though. They were they best.”

  As he held my hand in his, his eyes remained fixed on me for a long time. After taking a precursory glance at my plate, I looked at him.

  “What?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman,” he said.

  I squeezed his hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

  He reached for his fork. “Did you like ‘em like this? Like your dad cooked ‘em?”

  I smiled. “I did.”

  “Hell, I’ve been staying all night over here for what? A week? Why have you been scrambling them?” He poked another chunk of toast into the yolk. “We could have been doing this.”

  “Eleven days,” I said. “It’s been Eleven days.”

  “Eleven days of scrambled eggs?” He chuckled. “You’ve been counting?”

  “Not the eggs, but yes.” I smiled. “I’ve been counting.”

  “I don’t keep track of days.”

  “At all?”

  “Nope. Every time that clock ticks, it’s one second less that I get to spend on this earth. I make the most of my time here, and don’t bother keeping track of what’s gone. If I did, it’d just remind me of what little I’ve got left.”

  “What about birthdays?”

  “I don’t celebrate ‘em.”

 
; I laughed.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “It’s another reminder.”

  “But you know how old you are.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” he said with a laugh. “But I don’t need to celebrate being another year closer to death.”

  “I’ve never looked at it that way.”

  “I can’t look at it any way other than that. I never understood someone wanting to celebrate a date that reminded them that another year had passed. That they had one year less to live on earth. It’s like, hot fuckin’ damn, I’m one year closer to death. Let’s have a fuckin’ party.”

  He cut the remaining egg and toast in unison, eating one piece of each with every forkful. Cash was definitely cast from a different mold than most. I couldn’t imagine him any other way.

  For the next minute or so, we ate our breakfast in silence. In the living room, twenty feet away, my Tiffany & Co knock-off clock ticked away each passing second with a pronounced clack.

  A reminder that I’d spent one more second with the man of my dreams.

  64

  CASH

  Jennifer sat on the loveseat across from us with a mimosa in her hand. After a long study of Kimberly, she shifted her eyes to me.

  She took a drink. Then, another.

  “What?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “You two make me sick.”

  “Why?” Kimberly asked.

  She kept her eyes trained on me. “How long have you been here?”

  “On earth? Thirty-one years.”

  “No, you big dumb dork. Here. At her house?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Too long,” she said. “That’s how long.”

  Kimberly gasped. “Jennifer!”

  She looked at Kimberly. “Well. He’s cutting into our time.”

  “Spend more time with Tito,” I said with a laugh.

  “I spent time with him last night. He came by to fix my computer.”

  Kimberly leaned forward. “He did what?”

  “Fixed my computer. He’s a computer tech. A good one, too. He cleaned all the viruses I got from those porn sites, fixed the hard drive, and now I’m up and running.”

  Kimberly looked at me. “Tito fixes computers?”

  “He’s good at anything to do with computers,” I said. “He got a scholarship to MIT, but didn’t go.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He even got job offers from the government to hack into the hacker’s computers, but he didn’t accept them. He just does his own thing.”

  “Wow. That’s incredible.”

  “What’s incredible is that you’re still here,” Jennifer said in a snide tone.

  I gestured toward her flute of juice-laced champagne. “Who drinks at ten in the morning, anyway?”

  She waved her hand toward Kimberly. “We used to. Now I do. Alone. You’ve changed things. That’s why I’m here. It’s time for you to go home, Dolla.”

  “Quit calling me that. My name’s Cash.”

  “To me, you’ll always be Dolla Bill.”

  She finished her mimosa in one gulp, set the glass aside, and then covered her face with her hands. “My life is over.”

  “What’s wrong?” Kimberly asked.

  “I’ve got to beg him to come over. I think he’s embarrassed about his mouth. Jaw. Whatever. All the wires.” She lifted her head and looked at me. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be riding your buddy’s dick right now.”

  “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do,” I said. “Sorry.”

  She thrust her face into her open hands “Sorry doesn’t get me laid.”

  Jennifer was an active part of Kimberly’s life no differently than the fellas were an active part of mine. I liked it that the three of us were becoming friends. Despite her theatrics, she was friendly, jovial, and always playful.

  “If you want to get laid, all you’ve got to do is go down to the 7-Eleven, buy a bottle of water, and then drop it on the floor in front of the checkout.”

  She glared at me. “How’s that going to get me laid?”

  “I’ve never been in there that there wasn’t fifteen or twenty people in line. If you bent over to pick it up, someone would ask you out. Why don’t you go try it?”

  “What are you saying?”

  Kimberly snorted. “I think he’s saying your shorts are too short. Without saying your shorts are too short.”

  She reached between her thighs and tugged against the denim. “They’re not too short.”

  “If you say so.”

  As Jennifer made another mimosa, I sipped my coffee and pulled Kimberly tight against my shoulder. My life had changed in the last few weeks. The differences weren’t anything I was searching for, but I welcomed them without question.

  I couldn’t argue with how she made me feel.

  When Jennifer returned, she looked at us and shook her head. “Aren’t you two cute. The big bad biker and the prom queen all snuggled together on the couch.”

  I turned to face Kimberly. “You were prom queen?”

  She smiled. “It was a long time ago.”

  “But, you were?”

  “I was.”

  Jennifer raised her glass to her mouth, paused, and cocked one eyebrow the best she could. “What have you done that’s noteworthy, Dolla?”

  I thought about her question for an inordinate amount of time. After coming to the realization that I’d done not one thing worth mentioning, I decided the last two weeks contained the most notable accomplishment of my life.

  “Nothing.” I kissed Kimberly. “Until now.”

  65

  KIMBERLY

  I stood in front of the mirror, staring into the one spot I’d wiped free of condensation. I watched Cash’s reflection eagerly as he walked through the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. There was so much of him that was easy to admire when his clothes were on. With them off I easily went into sensory overload.

  He pulled his towel free, reached for the shower door, and paused.

  My gaze fell to his mid-section. A perfect side view of his cute butt commanded my attention. I stared at it until my mind drifted away and the image went out of focus. Even though he had just finished fucking me senseless, my pussy began to tingle. He seemed to have that effect on me, making me wet with not much more than a smile or the light touch of his hand.

  Wet washboard abs or a bare ass wreaked havoc on my ability to make it to work.

  He’d spent the last eighteen nights at my house, going home each day for a change of clothes. I scanned the length of his body, pausing his broad chest. As I gazed at him admiringly, I noticed he was watching me while I watched him.

  “What?” his reflection asked.

  “I was just.” I sighed. “Get in the shower. You’re driving me nuts.”

  His eyes fell to my butt. “Your ass drives me nuts.”

  I realized I was standing in front of the mirror in nothing more than my panties. It was something I’d never done with Marvin. I learned in the last few weeks, however, that I enjoyed being naked in Cash’s presence. His verbal admiration of me was enough to keep me naked more than I was clothed.

  “You look incredible,” he said.

  I turned around. “Thank you.”

  “That ass is…” He bit into the heel of his palm and growled.

  I’d always thought my butt was too big, but he seemed to see it differently. His praise of it was convincing me that maybe I’d been wrong for all those years.

  “Did you put a new blade in your razor? he asked.

  “Actually, I bought you your own while you were out last night,” I said. “It’s in the shower. Yours is silver, mine is blue.

  “Seems kinda backward.” He stepped inside and pulled the door closed. “Thanks.”

  I put on my makeup while he took a shower., singing a song the entire time.

  “What song is that?” I asked.

  “Fuck, I don’t know,” he responded. “I just ma
ke shit up and sing it in the shower. Have since I was a kid.”

  The more I learned about Cash, the easier it was to like him. He was big, and he was tough, but he was nothing more than a child at heart.

  “You know what’d be cool?” he asked.

  I wiped the fog off the mirror with a hand towel. “What’s that?”

  “To have a shower big enough that we could both fit in it.”

  I grinned at the thought. “That’d be nice.”

  “Maybe one of these days.”

  Hearing him say such things gave me hope that I was more to him than a piece of ass or a two-week long fling. Our future wasn’t something we’d discussed. Considering the amount of time we’d been together, I didn’t expect it. At least not yet.

  But it was sure nice to think about.

  He finished showering. He opened the door and reached for his towel, only to find out he’d placed it too far away to reach.

  “Can a man get a little help?” he asked with a laugh. “I don’t want to get the floor wet.”

  The little things he didn’t do – like traipse water all over the bathroom floor – made seeing a future with him much easier than if he did them. It seemed all my pet peeves were things that he, too, saw as annoying.

  I turned around, pulled his towel from the rack, and reached toward his outstretched hand. With the quickness of a cat, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the shower stall with him.

  He pinned me to the wet wall, pressed his lips to mine, and kissed me deeply. While we kissed, his firm chest pressed against my bare boobs. His hands slid the length of my body, pausing at my butt. He gripped it tightly and pulled me into him. Feeling his cock swell against my stomach drove me wild with passion.

  I wagged my knees back and forth. My pussy ached for him.

  He pulled away and looked me in the eyes.

  “Cash, my God,” I whispered. “You’re…”

  “I’m what,” he whispered in return.

  “You’re driving me insane. I haven’t stopped by the boutique yet this week. It’s Wednesday.”

  “Go to work,” he said.