Ink's Devil: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #5

by Manda Mellett

  Vi and Demon’s heated kiss hadn’t been PG, but someone had clearly been impressed. Someone who’s loud whistle had caught my attention from across the room. Not a someone I’d expected to see, not in the place I call home.

  Beth’s here. Be fucking hard to miss her given the way she towers over all the girls and even some of my brothers.

  As our eyes lock, my cock immediately begins to swell.

  I can only see two options. March over to her, take her hand, her hair, fuck I don’t care which and drag her up to my room and sink my thickening cock into her sweet depths, or, I can run upstairs and take care of this shit myself.

  For more time than I should, I stand staring as our eyes lock. I’ve heard the term rooted to the spot, but I have never experienced the feeling before. It’s like I’m resisting a magnetic force that’s trying to draw me across the room. This hold, this thrall she has me in, there’s no other term for it. It’s dangerous.

  She breaks eye contact first, but not of her own volition. No, because Judge has come up behind her and caught her attention. Well I’ll be fucked if Sparky’s not heading toward her as well. My hands curl at my sides.

  “Good ride that, Brother.”

  My eyes are fixed on what’s happening across the room.

  “Hey, I said that was a fuckin’ good ride. Needed that.”

  Rapidly I shake my head. “What?”

  Mace stares at me, his brow creasing. “You feeling alright? I didn’t see you come off and knock your head, still, might have missed it.”

  “I haven’t banged my fuckin’ head,” I growl and turn away, as my eyes are drawn back to Beth again. Has Judge dared to put his hand on her?

  Mace turns to see where I’m looking. His eyes widen. “Hey, that’s that bitch from the wedding, isn’t it? Mel’s friend. Christ, those jeans hug that ass nicely. Thought she looked pretty in that dress last week, but those tight-fitting pants?” He lets out a low whistle. “Those legs go on for miles, they’d feel great wrapped around my waist. She’s fuckin’ hot, Brother. Think I might need to go and chase those youngsters off.”

  “Sparky’s my age,” I rasp.

  His elbow bumps my arm. “Yeah, I was talking about Judge. We can teach her something those youngsters can’t, eh, Brother?”

  We? Sure, the enforcer and I have shared women before, even as recently as this past week, but the thought of watching him and Beth turns my stomach. Nah, can’t be that making me suddenly feel sick. Maybe I downed my beer too fast. Drank on a too-empty stomach, must be what it is.

  “She doesn’t want anyone pawing at her,” I warn him.

  His eyes narrow as he observes, “Well, she doesn’t seem to be pushing anyone away. Judge has his arm around her now. And fuck me,” he laughs as he continues to describe the scene, “Judge is staring up into her face. He’d have to go on tippy-toe to kiss her. Now that I’ve gotta see.”

  I’ve got eyes in my fucking head. There’s only an inch or two height difference, so tiptoe’s stretching it a bit. And there’s no need for a fuckin’ running commentary. “He should leave her the fuck alone.”

  Mace turns back to me, shaking his head in confusion. “You’ve already tapped that. You never do a civilian more than once. Surely, you’re not getting jealous?”

  Jealous? Not fucking likely. “Of course, I’m fuckin’ not,” I bark. “You know me better than that, Ground Pounder.”

  “Thought I did, Leatherneck,” he half says, half mumbles. Then he looks again at my face. “Look, Ink, I’ll be fuckin’ straight with you. There are girls you fuck and forget, and girls you fuck then can’t get out of your head. If she’s the latter, nothing’s stopping you going in for a repeat.”

  Fuck knows, right now I’m tempted. If only to get those assholes off her back. There’s one good reason I can’t. “It will give her ideas.”

  “Might, might not.” A burst of feminine laughter reaches my ears. “But if you don’t move in now, you could lose your chance. Looks like Judge is getting pretty… no, I was wrong. Sparky seems to have caught her interest now.”

  “I don’t want a bitch,” I say, unsure whether I’m trying to convince myself or him. Is she really thinking of going with one of my brothers? Is she so shallow to jump from my bed into one of theirs? I slam the heel of my hand against my forehead as I remember that’s exactly what I’ve been doing all week, trying to fuck her out of my mind.

  “She might not want a man.” He jerks his head in her direction. “She might turn you down, might prefer Judge who’s not got so many miles under his belt.”

  “I’m thirty for fuck’s sake, not over-the-hill. And it doesn’t matter whether or not she prefers a younger man, they’re not getting the chance.”

  Mace eyes me from head to toe, then grins. “Get the fuck over there and talk to her. Your face is red as though you’re going to blow a gasket, and you’re sporting one hell of a chubby in your pants. If she turns you down, reckon you’re going to need a very cold shower.”

  I shift my stance, hoping to make my swollen cock less noticeable, but all I do is press it harder against my zipper, and wince.

  He throws up his hands. “I’m going to get a beer. Go see her, talk to her, fuck her, but do something, or else I might have to take away your gun. You look like you could kill someone right now.”

  He’s the enforcer. He’s allowed. But hey, disarming me at the prez’s birthday party would be embarrassing.

  I wait maybe five seconds after he’s walked away, then as if there’s an invisible piece of string pulling me across the room, I close the gap between us.

  “Get out of here.” I glare at Judge, then turn the force of my stare onto Sparky. Judge raises his hands and steps back.

  Sparky, though, he unwisely decides to taunt the beast as he puts an arm around Beth. “We were just getting acquainted.”

  “Well you can get un-fuckin’-acquainted fast. And unless you want to lose that arm, take it a-fuckin’-way from her.”

  Beth’s eyes meet mine, she looks shocked, which probably matches the way I’m feeling. What the fuck am I doing?

  The room is crowded and busy. People are jostling around us making their way to the bar and returning with plates laden with food. Automatically, I move Beth out of the way when a brother steps back and nearly bumps into her.

  For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to say. I know how to fuck, but not how to speak to a bitch. If she asks me why I chased the others off, what could I tell her? My mouth has gone dry, and I swallow, trying to find some justification for sending my brothers away. Christ, I may as well have peed on her. All I can think to express is, Let’s go fuck.

  But she’s different today. Last week, it had been clear what was on her mind, today she looks nervous, unsure. Like the little girl I’d come to know her for, not the put-it-all-out-there woman who had brazenly approached. Suddenly it’s me who’s uncertain. Would she even want a repeat if I made the suggestion?

  Could she be thinking, been there, done that? Would she prefer me to step away? Would she really have liked to see what Sparky or Judge could offer? It dawns on me I don’t like it when the tables are turned.

  As her mouth opens, I only need to incline my head slightly to hear her words.

  “I, er, I was just going to get some food.”

  Food. Fill a plate, find a table. Sit down and talk. Conversation with a bitch? Not what I normally do. I know fuck all about girly shit and stuff she’d probably want to talk about. I don’t watch TV apart from the odd game or that show where they customise motorcycles. I glance at her again, noticing she’s not meeting my eyes, and she’s shifting from one foot to the other.

  I could shrug, walk away, leave her to her own devices. “Sure, let’s fill a couple of plates,” I find myself saying, telling my cock it will have to behave while I feed a different appetite instead. She’s here for a birthday party, fuckface.

  The old ladies have done us justice. Before Vi, Jay, and Steph came along, the s
weet butts reluctantly prepared food under the direction of Jeannie. Now Steph and Vi have taken charge of the kitchen, the quality of what they make has definitely taken an upturn. Add in Mel and her offering of cakes and desserts and we’re set. Of course, the women don’t spend all their time cooking for us men, even we’re not as cavemen as to expect that. But on a day like today, they’ve gone to town.

  I grab a few items then look around, most people are eating standing around the laden bar-top as though not wanting to step away and miss anything. So there are a couple of tables empty. Pointing out one and signalling my intention with a jerk of my head, I’m pleased when Beth steps in line behind me.

  We sit, and for a moment all we do is stuff our faces. What can I say? This is good shit and eating it hides that neither of us seem to know how to kick off a conversation.

  “You work with Mel?” I say lamely, once my plate is clean. I already know that.

  “I do.” She smiles. “And do you work?”

  She clearly doesn’t know much about the club. “I do.” I throw her simple reply back at her. But rather than letting the conversation run dry, I give her more. “I work at our auto-shop. All the brothers have jobs. It’s not all riding around and having fun.”

  “Is your shop busy?” she asks with genuine interest. “Don’t people worry about bikers working on their cars?”

  “I’m an ex-Marine, Pyro and Mace are ex-Army. We learned our trade when we served.” Among other things, but no need to go into that. “Got all the certificates and qualifications. We do fuckin’ good work. Many of our customers are regulars and wouldn’t go anywhere else. Got enough going on, we employ civilians as well.” We’ve got a good reputation which we deserve. As she looks interested, I continue, “As for bikes, doesn’t matter whether men wear a cut or not. There’s nothing a man with a motorcycle likes more than chatting with like-minded folks. We get people riding out just to talk about customisation and shit like that. Even get a few come down regularly from Denver and other surrounding towns and cities.”

  She nods, and it would appear she’s impressed. “You live here? At the club?”

  I jerk my chin in an upward direction. “Yeah, I’ve got a room here. Most brothers have. Well, Hell, Bomber, and Buzz have lived in town for years, Demon moved out a year back, and now Beef and Steph have got a house too. And of course, Pyro and Mel, but you know that. The rest of us live here.”

  “I live with my mom.” Without me asking for an explanation, she tells me why. “It’s cheap and convenient. Oh, I pay rent, but not as much as I would with my own place.”

  “You must get on well with your mom.”

  “Yes.” She grins. “She’s just turned fifty but looks much younger, people often think we’re sisters. She’s got a young outlook on life. She’s also become a good seamstress over the years, so she can do my clothes. She’s branched out and made it into a small business.”

  My eyes crease. “Clothes?”

  Her hand waves toward herself. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit taller than most girls. These skinny jeans are a man’s size and fit alright, but tops they make for big girls assume they’re large everywhere.” She indicates her breasts and holds her hands a few inches away from them. In doing so she draws my attention to her body, and I can’t help but focus on her tits. The memory of how they felt under my hands and mouth makes my cock start to misbehave once more. I try to focus on what she’s saying. “Mom alters tees and stuff that’s long enough but too wide. And some things she makes completely from scratch. She had to start altering my clothes when I started my growth spurt and didn’t stop, so she’s had plenty of practice.”

  “How tall are you?”

  “I was six-foot-one when I was twenty, I’m six-foot-one and three-quarters now I’ve reached twenty-seven.”

  I almost spit out the mouthful of beer I’ve just taken. “You’re still growing?”

  She gives a twisted grin. “It’s slowing down, hopefully stopped.”

  An image comes into my mind and I spit out a mouthful of beer as I laugh.

  “What?” Her brow furrows.

  “I just thought of a scene from Alice in Wonderland.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You mean the ‘drink me’ potion where she grows too big? I may have heard that before.”

  I chuckle. “That’s it. Perhaps we can find you a magic mushroom to munch on to reverse the effects.”

  “I wish we could,” she says, glumly.

  Hmm. Have I hit a sore spot? “Do you mind being so tall?”

  “Do you?”

  I shrug. “It’s different for a man. I’d rather be tall than short, but I suspect it’s not the same for a girl.”

  “You’re taller than most, though.”

  My shoulders rise and fall for a second time. “I used to get asked if I was a basketball player, but that stopped when I started wearing a cut.”

  “And what’s the weather like up there?” She chuckles.

  We share a moment. Yeah, tall people can be the butt of many jokes. It’s almost a way to cut us down to size.

  “I like you being tall,” I tell her, my mouth running without my brain being in control. “Nice not to get a crick in my neck or need to bend myself in two to fuck you.” I change the subject quickly before she can read too much into it. “So, sports. You do any?”

  “I run.”

  Yeah, she looks fairly athletic. I imagine her running around the block a couple of times when the weather is warm enough. “Often?” I ask, while trying to get the thought of her in tiny running shorts out of my head.

  “Every day. Either outside or in the gym if the weather is against me. I like entering half-marathons.”

  I eye her with a new respect. All the sweet butts ever do is sit around on their asses, the most energy they use outside of bed is doing their hair, donning their makeup or painting their nails. “Anything other than running?”

  “That basketball joke?” I nod as it seems to be expected. “Well, yes, I was on a team at school for a while.”

  My brow creases as it looks like a painful memory. “What happened?”

  “I sprouted early, so I was taller than the girls on most other teams.”

  An ideal player in my opinion. “You get hurt?”

  Her chin rises and falls. “But not in the way you’re thinking. I got more baskets than anyone else, and it was hard for anyone to take the ball from me. So, there was jealousy on my own team. Our opponents? They’d accuse us of cheating. Oh, not on the field, but in the locker rooms. I left the team.”

  “You were bullied?”

  “I was the odd one out. So, yeah. That’s when I learned it was better to try to hide, than be seen.”

  Seems anyone who doesn’t fit the norm is fair game. Fuck, I know that as I wear my cut, but as an adult I can handle it. Not so much so for a kid. Boys tend to settle their fights with fists, girls use spiteful words. I wouldn’t be surprised if the latter caused more hurt. I reach over the table and squeeze her fingers, before drawing back my hand. While she’s with me, no one is going to be picking on her. If they do, they’ll have to answer to me. My sudden desire to be there to protect her is surprising.

  Again, I move on to another topic. “Your mom okay with you coming here tonight?”

  Once again, her eyes meet the ceiling before looking back. “I’m twenty-seven, Ink, not a kid. Wouldn’t matter if she did, but to answer you properly, no. She’s always respected Mel’s judgement. She was at the wedding. I don’t know if you remember?”

  Probably not. I didn’t take much notice of citizen guests. Replaying her words in my head, I snort. “Seems like we’ve got to up our game if we’re becoming respectable.”

  I’ve made her giggle. “I don’t know about that. People who don’t know you’re big softies are still scared when they see your motorcycles coming along the road.”

  My eyebrows rise, and I lean in. “Softie? You reckon I’m soft?” There’s more than a hint of suggestion in what
I’m saying.

  She doesn’t miss it. She swallows, then those blue eyes land on me, focused and not looking anywhere else. “I thought you didn’t do repeats.”

  I don’t, but I’m realising that for her, I might make an exception.

  I’m trying to formulate an answer that won’t raise her expectations too far but would allow us to end this party with us both getting some satisfaction, when a shadow looms over me.

  “Ink,” Mace’s unwelcome voice interrupts me just as I’m opening my mouth. “Got trouble at Tits Up. Few of us are riding out. Beef wants you along.”

  My eyes close briefly as I sigh. “Sorry Beth,” I tell her, already getting to my feet. “Duty calls. If you’re still around when I return, we’ll continue this, er, conversation.”

  The flare in her eyes shows she knows exactly where our discussion was leading, and the crestfallen look on her face must mimic my own disappointment.

  Fuck.

  “What is it?” I snap at Mace, once we’re headed to the bikes, earning myself a quick glance and a raised brow at my unusual impatience. Luckily for him, he leaves it alone.

  “Looks like someone might be dealing behind the strip club. Beef thinks it might be the asshole who was mentioned in church. Need to see whether we can catch up with him.”

  Chapter Seven

  Beth

  Bad timing or what? I stare after Ink’s retreating form, not missing the tension in his shoulders, his shortness with Mace signalling he’s not happy at being called away. I’m part relieved, part disappointed. After our conversation which I certainly hadn’t come here today expecting would take place, I thought Ink was going to ask me to go up to his room. I couldn’t have refused. Couldn’t, because this controlling man wakes something inside me. Shouldn’t, because to go back for a second time would surely be a mistake.

  Damn him. Why had he come over and stolen me away when I’d been sharing light-hearted jokes with his friends? Why had he taken time to eat and talk with me? Surprisingly I’d enjoyed our conversation and liked what I’d learned about him. He’d been focused completely on me, not looking for an escape, or, until the final few minutes, making any suggestion we’d do more than use words. His good looks, his masculinity, are a dangerous combination. He’s exactly the man I’ve been looking for all my life and spending more time with him will only set me up for disappointment.