Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  “Well, that’s dumb.”

  I didn’t like that I couldn’t explain to her how she made me feel. I shifted my eyes to the setting sun, and then back to her. “Stand up.”

  “Huh?”

  I stood. “Stand up.”

  She did as I asked. I draped my arms over her shoulders, looked her in the eyes, and then kissed her.

  The kiss was long, passionate, and included me gripping her little ass firmly in my hands. When our lips parted, her sunglasses fell from her forehead down onto the bridge of her nose.

  “How did that feel?” I asked.

  She lifted her glasses. “Awesome.”

  “Okay,” I said. “You make me feel awesome.”

  She lowered her glasses. “I’ll accept that. Awesome is as good as it gets. You make me feel awesome, too.”

  “Thank you.”

  She leaned onto the handrail and faced the ocean. “There it goes.”

  I draped my arms over her shoulders. “We almost missed it.”

  “There will always be another tomorrow,” she said.

  There were no assurances that tomorrow would ever come, but I didn’t argue with her. I simply enjoyed the sunset while I held her in my arms. As a myriad of colors merged into the sea, I dreamed of a life filled with as many tomorrows as a man could imagine.

  He simply picked them off a tomorrow tree, like apples. Each piece of fruit was one more tomorrow. Beyond each tree was another, just like it, as far as the eye could see. A land where my relationship with Abby lasted as long as there was fruit to pick from the trees.

  And the trees went on forever.

  97

  ABBY

  Porter and I were days away from being together one month. I’d convinced myself if we could last that long, we could last forever.

  Lying on my back with my head resting against the arm of the couch, I faced Porter, who was on the opposite end, positioned in the same fashion, facing me. My legs were draped over his thighs and my feet rested on his hips. A cluster of grapes was resting on my chest, and a cluster rested on his.

  I plucked a grape from the stem, took aim, and paused.

  “It doesn’t look like you’re ready,” I said. “Are you ready?”

  “Uh Uh,” he muttered.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Damn it. I can’t respond with my mouth stretched wide open. I was ready. Just toss the damned thing.”

  I flipped the grape into the air. After reaching its apex, it began to fall toward Porter’s face. With wide eyes he studied it, and then snatched it from mid-air.

  “Are you part frog?” I asked. “You snatched that thing with precision.”

  He swallowed. “I told you.”

  He picked a grape from his cluster and raised it. “Damn. What kind of grapes are these? They’re good.”

  “Cotton Candy.”

  His brows knitted together. “Cotton Candy grapes?”

  “Yep.”

  He looked at me in disbelief. “Really?”

  “What do they taste like?” I asked, my tone sarcastic.

  “Cotton Candy.”

  “That’s because they’re Cotton Candy grapes.” I tilted my head back. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”

  He tossed the grape with expert precision. I watched intently as it rose, and then fell. With a wide-open mouth, I positioned myself beneath the falling piece of fruit, only to be hit in the chin by it.

  “Damn it,” I said as it rolled into my arm pit.

  I reached for the grape and hoisted it into the air.

  “One to zero,” he said. “And, you can’t re-throw a grape. Get a new one.”

  “Who says I can’t re-throw a grape? There aren’t rules.”

  “I’m not eating a grape that smacked you in the chin. Get a clean one,” he insisted.

  I laughed out loud.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You stick your tongue in a hole that I piss out of.” I chuckled so hard I had to catch my breath. “And you’re worried about a grape that hit me in the face?”

  “Fine,” he said. “Throw the damned thing.”

  I tossed the grape at him not to him. Nonetheless, he somehow managed to catch it in his mouth. After chewing it, he gave me a cross look.

  “What the hell, Abby? You threw that fucker.”

  “I didn’t know we had rules about speed.”

  He scowled at me.

  “Okay, let me make a few mental notes. No dirty grapes. Nothing over five miles an hour. Alright, I think I’m good for the next one.”

  He picked a grape from his bunch and raised it. “Ready?”

  I nodded.

  “Two to zero,” he said.

  He lobbed the grape into the air.

  I leaned left, and then right. Despite being certain I was well within the grape’s path, it fell against my upper lip and then ricocheted off the arm of the couch. As it rolled across the floor, Porter laughed.

  “Your fat lips get in the way.”

  “You like them when they’re wrapped around your dick, Dick.”

  “No need to call names.” He checked his watch. “This is just a friendly game.”

  “How much time do we have?” I asked.

  “Three or four minutes.”

  “Is it three or is it four?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Three and twenty seconds.”

  I pulled a grape from the bunch and flipped it into the air carelessly, and without warning. Using his eight-pack of stomach muscles, Porter did a sit up, catching the grape in mid-flight.

  “Is there anything you’re not good at?” I asked.

  “I’m sure there’s something,” he said. “It looks like this isn’t it, though.”

  “You suck,” I said.

  He inspected the grapes, chose a small one, and then raised it. “I picked a little one. Smaller should be easier, right?”

  “Throw it, I’ll tell you in a minute.”

  “Just open your mouth wide, and don’t move. I’ll throw it right in there.”

  I opened my mouth wide enough to throw a cat into it. He tossed the grape with a flick of his wrist. It shot right into my mouth without so much as grazing a tooth, flew right past my tongue, and then got lodged in my windpipe.

  My eyes bulged. I tried to cough but couldn’t. I wanted to give the universal signal for I’m choking, help me, but had no idea what it was. After pounding my fist into my chest twice, frantically, Porter must have realized the threat was real.

  He leaped from his end of the couch, yanked me to my feet, and spun me halfway around. I felt a surge of pressure against my chest. I coughed and watched the grape shoot from my mouth and then bounce across the living room floor.

  “Holy crap,” I gasped. “I almost died.”

  “You didn’t even come close,” he said, releasing me from his grasp. “Three to zero. Time’s up. You lost.”

  “I can’t go pick that crap up,” I said. “I almost died.”

  “You choked on a grape, and it’s over. We had a bet. The loser of this grape toss has to dive to the Chinese place and pick up the food.”

  “The loser is recovering from almost choking to death,” I said. “You go get it.”

  “What good did it do to play the game?” he asked. “If you’re going to cheat and stay home while I go get the food?”

  There were a million and a half people in the city of San Diego. Of those, roughly half were men. Of that population of seven hundred and fifty thousand men, I doubted there were more than one who would agree to a grape toss contest with the loser picking up the Chinese take-out.

  Porter was quickly finding his way into my heart. Deep into my heart. He was so much more than what he appeared to be on the surface.

  “How about we both go?” I asked.

  He twisted his mouth to the side. “If I go, I’ll feel like a loser, but I didn’t lose.”

  “Come on,” I whined. “I don’t want to go alone.”

  �
�Suck my cock after dinner?” he asked.

  His cock was huge, and my mouth was small. Sucking it was nothing short of jaw-breaking torture. But, if that’s what it took to get him to go with me, so be it.

  “Sure” I said.

  “Promise?”

  I extended my hand.

  He shook it, grinning the entire time.

  I scrunched my nose. “What?”

  “Who’s manipulating who, now?” he asked with a laugh.

  I tried to act stupid. “What are you talking about?”

  “That bullshit in the kitchen last week, after I bent your little ass over the island to prove a point.”

  “I wasn’t manipulating you,” I lied.

  “And, I’m not manipulating you now.”

  “You are, too,” I argued.

  “Manipulation is tricking someone into doing something. I won the grape tossing contest fair and square. You tried to claim you damned near choked to death, hoping I’d get the food out of sheer pity. I agreed, but only if you’d suck my cock later. You agreed to the blowjob offer, because you wanted my company on the ride to China-Go. This deal is as legit as the day is long. Zero manipulation.” He snatched his keys from the end table. “You ready to go?”

  It sounded pretty legit.

  I nodded. “I guess so.”

  On the way to the door, I had a brainstorm.

  “How about when we get home, we have a contest to see how many peas we can pluck out of the fried rice using chopsticks? If you lose, you lick my pussy.”

  He opened the door. “Sounds good. What do I get if I win?”

  There was no way he could win. “Two blowjobs,” I said.

  “One tonight, one tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  I stepped through the door and onto the stairwell, all but tripping over a box that had been placed in front of the door.

  He nodded toward the Zappos box. “What the fuck is that?”

  I pushed the box inside the door with my foot. “New pair of Chucks. My old ones are getting raggedy.”

  “What’s it doing up here?” he asked.

  “The UPS guy always comes up the back steps. He knows I sit back here, and he likes to chat. I think he feels like he’s kicking it with a celebrity.”

  He nodded, and then pulled the door closed. “So, do we have a deal?” he asked. “Chopsticks tricks for blowjobs?”

  “You haven’t been practicing, have you?”

  “Nope,” he said.

  I laughed. “You’re going to lose. You can’t use chopsticks for shit.”

  “What’s the punishment, again?”

  I locked the door. “Licking my pussy.”

  “Damn it,” he said. “Looks like you’ve manipulated me again.”

  I paused and looked at him, confused as to who was manipulating who. Truth be known, I think Porter was manipulating me into manipulating him into having hot sex. But, he was doing so willingly, and knowingly.

  Which, in my mind, meant that I was the one being manipulated.

  I shrugged it off and followed him down the stairs, wondering if I could ever win at anything with him.

  Anything at all.

  98

  GHOST

  To describe our MC as an Outlaw Motorcycle Club would be an understatement. We were an outlaw club, but beyond that, we were outlaws. Being an outlaw and appearing to be otherwise wasn’t an easy task. Not expressing emotion was crucial to our way of life, and to protecting our identity. I had the ability to look into the eyes of the devil himself without showing emotion. Remaining stoic had become second nature for me.

  Until I met Abby.

  Positioned between the door frame and the window, I rang the doorbell. Despite the cool morning air, I wiped sweat from my brow while I waited for her to open the door.

  The door swung open. Wearing running shoes, nylon shorts, and a tight-fitting tee shirt that said Nevertheless. She Persisted on the front of it, she looked adorable. She always looked adorable.

  “Oh, Wow.” She leaned forward and kissed me. “You’re early. Come in.”

  It had been exactly one month since we kissed that day at the pie shop. I stepped through the doorway and revealed the hand that I’d nervously been hiding behind my back. Upon seeing my surprise, she gave me a bug-eyed look.

  “Oh my God. Are those.” Her blue eyes met mine. “They’re for me?”

  Seeing the excitement in her eyes was reassurance that she liked the flowers as much as I hoped she would. Expressing my feelings wasn’t easy, which made conveying how much I cared for her a difficult thing to do.

  I wanted to say that being with her made me feel different than I’d ever felt. That comfort washed over me completely when she was in my presence. Nothing else seemed to matter after meeting her, but I couldn’t find the words to tell her without feeling foolish.

  So, a gift of flowers and a simple card was my only hope.

  Beaming with pride, I handed her the vase of flowers. “They are.”

  She raised them to her nose and inhaled a slow breath. “They’re beautiful.”

  “One of the fellas has a nursery,” I said. “His Ol’…his wife has a green thumb. She picked them out special for me. She told me what they were, but I can’t remember what they’re called. Inside of the Mustang smells good as fuck, though.”

  She looked the flowers over. “Some of them are tulips, I know that. I’m not too familiar with the rest of them, this is the first time I’ve ever had flowers.”

  Seeming to be in a trance, she walked toward the kitchen and set the vase on the center of the island. She adjusted the stems, turned the arrangement in a circle, and then stepped back and gave it a long look.

  “They smell so good.” She wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm and then met my gaze. “I’m sorry. This is just…I’ve always wanted this to happen.”

  A tear welled at the corner of her eye. I placed my hands on either side of her face and wiped her eyes with my thumbs. “So, those are tears of happiness?”

  She nodded. “They are.”

  I kissed her. “I hate to see you cry, but I’m glad you’re happy.”

  Kissing Abby was indescribable. The things in my life that once seemed important became irrelevant after I kissed her the first time. All that mattered following that kiss was kissing her again.

  “You’re amazing.” She hugged me.

  “I’m not that amazing,” I said. “It’s kind of like an anniversary, or whatever. I thought I needed to do something.”

  She leaned away. Her expression changed from joyous to one of surprise. “That’s what these are for?”

  “Yeah, like a celebration, or whatever.” I shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do. Thought maybe we could get dinner.”

  She grinned from ear to ear. “At nine in the morning?”

  I chuckled. “No. I was just excited. Hell, I couldn’t sleep last night when I got home. I came over as soon as I thought you’d be done running.”

  She raised her index finger. “I’ll be right back.”

  She bounded across the living room like a lion chasing a gazelle. She returned just as fast, with her hand hidden behind her back. “I got you something too I couldn’t decide whether to give it to you or not because I thought maybe I was being sappy or whatever and it’s been on my dresser since the day before yesterday and last night I was thinking I was an idiot for getting it but now I know that you and I are like peanut butter and jelly or whatever maybe peas and carrots I always thought that was a cute line from that movie.” She extended her hand. “Here.”

  I laughed at her breathless explanation and then looked at what she’d handed me. A pale-yellow envelope with a bulge in the center. I grinned upon seeing it and reached into my back pocket. I pulled out the card I’d purchased and handed it to her.

  She smiled. “Open yours first.”

  I opened the envelope, pulled out the card, and then reached inside. After removing the gift, I looked it over. A weath
ered piece of hammered brass had been formed into a bracelet. In the center, it had one word stamped.

  Believe.

  “I know you like to wear bracelets,” she said. “I had a lady make that one special for you. It looks old, but it’s not. I measured your wrist by wrapping my hand around it. I hope it fits.”

  I tried to think of the last time someone gave me a gift. I couldn’t. I studied it for a moment, and then slipped it onto my right wrist.

  “Believe.” I looked at her. “I like that.”

  “In anything, and everything,” she said. “If it can be done, you can do it. We can do it. All we have to do is believe. Remember that.”

  I rubbed the bracelet with my thumb. “I will.”

  “Read the card,” she said.

  The card had a photo of a pile of shit on the front of it. I chuckled at her selection and opened it. Printed inside, it said, you are not a turd. I laughed again, and the read the elegant hand-written script.

  Ghost Porter-Porter,

  I know how and when our relationship began is a matter of opinion, but I’ll give you mine. I’m sure it isn’t what you want to hear (because it involves God) but I’ve always had a problem with saying what comes to mind, and this is what came to mind.

  Here we go.

  I think God put you in my life because you were exactly what I needed. Consequently, I’m exactly what you need, too. You may not know it, but I am. I make you happy. I can see it in your eyes.

  If you can’t see the joy that you bring me when you look into mine, it’s because you’re too busy paying me compliments (which I adore, btw). We’ve been together a month. I know it’s only the beginning, but something as devastatingly beautiful as the Grand Canyon started with one trickle of water flowing across the desert.

  We have a beautiful future together, I’m sure of it. All we have to do is continue believing this is where we belong.

  Believe.

  Abby

  With a lump in my throat and a swollen heart, I looked up.

  “B-T-W means ‘by the way’,” she said. “I was going to cross it out and spell it, but I didn’t want the card to look crappy.”