On his bike and headed across the causeway, he automatically adjusted for the constant wind blowing in off the Gulf and let his thoughts fly ahead of the bike to where he was headed. An exclusive club in the Quarter where he kept a suite. They had a price tag to match their promises of private and discreet, and for Po’Boy, ever since he’d been introduced to the place by his mother’s husband, it had been his goal to keep a place there. A play place. Now that he could afford it, he did.
It isn’t that I’m gay. Po’Boy grimaced at the thought. The fact he’d never been with just a guy was something he kept on his internal tally sheet. Like being bi was somehow less damning in his own eyes. He liked watching other people fuck, liked being part of the act, of what they were doing, liked having another man be part of what he was doing. Loved watching a woman get fucking pounded, and seeing the distracted confusion in her expression when his touch on her breasts or face was soft and sensual, the contrast helping to overwhelm her and open the gates for the best fucking orgasm she’d ever had.
He loved fucking a woman at the same time as another man. Mouth or asshole, didn’t make him any difference. Feeling how she would move at the mercy of either man, like a ragdoll at their whim. Doubling up was the best, feeling another dude’s cock against his while enveloped in a woman’s raging heat—Fuck. Po’Boy reached down and adjusted himself.
Be honest, asshole. Po’Boy snorted at his thought. I don’t mind a little dick once in a while, too. Especially in my asshole, rubbing up against my magic fucking button. Having a guy drill him while he was fucking a chick. Paradise. That was an activity restricted to his suite. Something he’d thought about for the first time when he was fifteen, maybe even obsessed about after watching a series of porn videos one night. Porn had been his outlet for a long time. He snorted again. Porn, and Twisted.
His brother didn’t mind sharing chicks. In all the time Po’Boy had known him, Twisted was one of the most laidback dudes when it came to fucking. Public or private, it didn’t matter to him; he could still get into it and get his nut off even if the entire club had chairs lined up and watching. Sharing with him meant anything goes. Standing with a bitch on a spit between them, taking her mouth while Twisted slammed her from behind, watching Twisted’s hands on her ass or hips. Sometimes standing with a bitch on their spits between them, him in her ass while Twisted’s cock rubbed and stroked his dick inside her. He reached down again and pinched the head of his cock hard, needing to not pop a painful boner on the bike. A semi wasn’t bad, and just the friction from his jeans could keep him half hard for hours.
Then Twisted found his old lady. Penny Dane, or Yousa as Po’Boy liked to call her. No sharing that bitch, and Po’Boy had known this as fact from the very beginning. The idea had never crossed Twisted’s mind, not that Po’Boy thought Penny’d be up for it, either. And now he had gotten to know her, Po’Boy would put the brakes on anything, even if Twisted brought it up. Cain’t fuck my little sister, he thought and realized his dick was rapidly softening in his pants. Bitch is finally good for somethin’. Mouth open and laughing behind his bandana, he roared off the causeway and onto the mess of highways leading down into New Orleans.
***
“Jesus,” he grunted, pushing himself off the sweaty back of the woman in front of him, keeping his dick lodged firmly in her ass as he shifted backwards on his knees. “Fuckin’ tight. Jesus, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, blondie.” One hand on her hip, he gripped her waist with his other, pulling her back onto his cock. Angling so he could watch not only his dick moving into her, but also see the dick of the man on the bottom of their pussy sandwich. Wet and gleaming with lube and juices from all of them, the thick cock pulled out and pushed in hard and fast. Po’Boy reached down between them and trailed his fingers along the man’s thigh, tugging hard on his sac, grinning as it drew up tight to the man’s body.
“Awwww, Lewis, you’re gonna make me blow.” The complaining voice was laughing, and Po’Boy lifted his gaze to see Greg’s face smiling at him over the blonde’s shoulder. Po’Boy grinned back and repeated the motion, watched as Greg’s eyes rolled up into his head and felt the heat against the head of his dick when the man filled the condom. “Oh, baaaby.” Drawn out and breathy, the word jolted in the middle when Po’Boy pounded deep into the woman’s ass, moving her on Greg’s cock. “Oh, baby. Do that again.” With a smile, Po’Boy accommodated the request.
Five minutes later the three of them were reclining, tangled in the huge bed, Greg and the woman on either side of Po’Boy, his arms around their shoulders or waist, his hands stroking their skin. Greg Stanton was a regular hookup for Po’Boy, but didn’t know his real name. Once Po’Boy got to the underground parking of the club, he shed the Incoherent vest and became Lewis. This meant Greg only knew him as the man’s personal, tatted-up badass. That was how it needed to be. How it had to be.
At the thought of any of the men in the MC knowing him like this, seeing him like this, Po’Boy shivered, and Greg immediately soothed him. “Shhhhh.” Fingers moving up and through Po’Boy’s hair, Greg gripped and then tugged, tilting Po’Boy’s head down. Regular did not mean exclusive, but regular meant Greg knew him really fucking well. He saw something in Po’Boy’s expression, and whatever it was Greg didn’t like it, a flash of pain showing on his features for a moment. Raising his head slowly, Greg asked permission with the gesture, and Po’Boy granted it when he pressed his lips to Greg’s. Soft lips contrasting with hard angles and the prickle of scruff against his skin nearly made him groan, but he bit it back, and Greg settled his head back into place on Po’Boy’s shoulder.
Fuck. The guy was getting attached, which meant it was time to move on and find another regular fuck buddy. He lifted an arm and reached across, bringing a bent knuckle under the blonde’s chin and lifting so she looked into his face. “You okay?” She nodded, her features relaxed, eyes at half-mast. Satiated. “You sure?” She’d been someone Greg had brought, and Po’Boy hadn’t vetted her like he normally did the women he picked up for a threesome. “Not hurting, and not freaked out?” The last thing he needed was some bitch to run to the cops about the encounter. She shook her head and smiled.
“Y’all were good to me.” Holding his gaze, she offered him a crooked, one-sided smile. “Not sayin’ I’d be up for a round two anytime soon, but it was good. No worries.”
He nodded, knowing Greg was offering the same reassurance, his cheek moving against the skin of Po’Boy’s chest. “What’s your name, doll?”
“Denise.” Now her smile lifted both corners of her mouth.
“Leave your number on the dresser if you’re interested in a repeat sometime.” With a deep sigh, he pushed up on an elbow and looked down at the two people in the bed. “I need a shower.” Greg tensed because any version of those words was Po’Boy’s code for “and don’t fucking be here when I get out.” Cupping Denise’s cheek in his palm, he bent and pressed a kiss to her lips. Sweet and soft, he intended it as a goodbye. Moving to Greg, he searched the man’s eyes for a moment and saw exactly what he had expected to find. Hadn’t wanted, but expected. Painful hope that Po’Boy would ask him to stay. Yeap, time to cut this cord. “I’m going to be out of town for a while. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me.” He wasn’t, of course. He just wouldn’t be calling Greg again. Ever. He kissed Greg softly, letting the other man nibble on his bottom lip, pulling back when Greg tried to deepen the caress.
When he got out of the shower thirty minutes later, the suite was empty. Denise had left her number, and he tucked the slip of paper into the drawer of the tiny desk in the corner. He didn’t take anything from this world with him when he left here, keeping his lives strictly separate.
Glancing around the space, he saw the dirty sheets from the bed were piled in the basket across the room. Fuck. Greg had remade the bed, even knowing he might not be the next one in it with Po’Boy. That right there was why he didn’t have exclusive anything. Hooking up was better, and far easier. Throwing h
imself into the armchair, he pawed his phone out of his pocket and turned it back on, waiting impatiently through the bootup cycle. Texts started to roll in even before he unlocked it, and he could see names but not messages, a security measure Twisted “strongly” recommended for all Incoherent members. Po’Boy frowned down at his phone, seeing he had more than a dozen contacts. Fuck.
Taking a minute to center himself, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, pulling the club version of Po’Boy back into place like a cloak. Eyes opening a slit, he started working through the demands of being an MC club vice president. National, as Twisted liked to remind him these days, with them starting chapters in Texas and Mississippi, which gave them a presence in three southern states. It took him two hours, but he finally dealt with everything. Outside pressure on their Baytown chapter had caused a threatened outflow of members, but like with nearly everything, he’d found a direct response was the best way to deal. Calling the president of the other club had surfaced info that the motherfucker hadn’t known what his officers were doing, and Po’Boy let Twisted and other Incoherent officers know they’d see a quick resolution to the problem. The only other major thing had been three texts from Penny, wanting to know if Po’Boy would help her plan a fucking birthday party for Twisted.
Uh, lemme think. Fuck no.
As he stared at his phone reading a final e-mail, it buzzed in his hand, and he flipped to the text message application.
Why not? :pouting:
USA I’m busy. USA was on the patch he’d gifted her with after the shitstorm which had been her introduction to Incoherent and life with Twisted. Yousa was what he called her, but everyone knew it was an echo of her words, “Upright and sucking air.” Pretty much a definition of his life. Not good, not bad, just keeping on and as long as they were all doing the air sucking thing at the end of a day it was a win.
He’s your best friend. Help me.
Rolling his eyes, Po’Boy decided to shut this shit down. He missed Twisted too much to want to lose a scrap of time with him, but spending a day with Penny and hearing her talk about Twisted? Torture.
Penny, I just can’t.
He flipped back to the e-mail and was tapping out a response when his phone rang, Penny’s picture showing above the “Yousa calling …” Fuck. He answered the call without trying to hide his irritation, “What?”
“What’s wrong, Po’Boy?” She sounded worried, and it shocked him, because why would she be worried about him?
“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Patterned tin panels decorated the edges, adding a small touch of elegance to the room. “Nothing’s wrong, woman.”
“Bullshit.” He could hear the impatience in her voice. “You never call me Penny unless something’s wrong. Now spill, big guy.”
“Jesus, you’re full of yourself today, little sister.” He gave her the title approved by Twisted, something which granted her a station in the club separate from her property patch. As Twisted’s old lady, she had been issued a vest she wore whenever the club was around other clubs, at rallies and parties, places where she’d be riding bitch behind Twisted, and flying his PO patch granted her untouchable status. Around the club, and on her bike, she wore a different vest, a set of blacks holding an Incoherent support patch over her heart, and right under that was the nameplate Po’Boy had given her. Calling her little sister allowed her to call him brother, something reserved for only members and select people, like Penny, who even if she weren't Twisted’s old lady, would have been issued a PO by the club because of her actions to save him. Saved them all. Po’Boy shook his head. “Ain’t nothing wrong. I just don’t have time to plan a bullshit party for Twisted. Man wants sammaches and beer, maybe a little bourbon and green on the side. He don’t want no fuckin’ party.”
She was quiet for a minute, and he gave her time, knowing it meant her brain was working overtime. Her response was soft, and he swore under his breath because when she talked like that, it exposed so much of what she felt. Emotions he’d never be able to show anyone. Couldn’t even acknowledge. “He loves you, Ralph. Bell misses you. Can’t say so. Not my he-man. But, he does. I see it, and I can’t figure out how to fix it. I know you love me, and I love you, but I hurt you, too. I thought if we could do this together, he’d see it and…I don’t know, it’d be easier for him.”
“Penny,” he started, but she cut him off.
“Please?” That single word hung between them, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Fuck.
“Fine.” She made a noise, but he cut her off. “Not today, though. I got shit to finish up in Orleans. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He didn’t even try to fight her, didn’t try to turn her down again. That single-word plea had knocked every argument out of his head. “Don’t gloat, bitch.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Talk tomorrow.”
He disconnected the call without responding. Fuck. If Penny saw this much with as little as he let himself be around the happy couple, then he was doing an absolutely shit job of hiding anything. I need an uncomplicated hookup. Just a fuck. Long, hard, and sweaty bodies moving against each other without any feelings involved.
With quick, practiced movements, he downloaded and logged into an app on his phone. A few minutes later, he tugged on a shirt and his boots, closing and locking the door behind him on his way to a quiet bar around the corner. A quiet bar which was his go-to spot here, where his newest hookup would meet him. He deleted the app and locked his phone.
Chapter Three
“So,” Po’Boy licked a stripe of frosting off the cupcake in his hand, then glanced up at the redhead seated on the couch on the opposite side of the room, “when are we gonna see some little Twisted-Yousa ankle biters running around?” He licked off another stripe of frosting and then peeled the paper down, taking a big bite of the cake.
“Oh, God. Never, if I have my way,” Penny laughed through her answer, holding her cupcake with both hands to keep from dropping it in her amusement. “I’m not mommy material, Po’Boy.”
“The fuck you aren’t.” Frowning, he glared at her. “You got tits and a womb. That’s all nature needs.” He swallowed, then took another bite. “Actually, I think it’s just the womb part. You ken bottle feed the little bastards iffn you needa.”
She shook her head at him, tossing a bright smile before she sank her even teeth into her cupcake. Muffled by her mouthful of cake, she said, “I don’t have the want to, at least not right now.” She swallowed and grinned again. “You got frosting on your chin.”
“Fuck,” he grumbled, lifting a hand to swipe at his face. “Why are we eating cupcakes again?” He finished peeling the paper back and tossed the rest of the cake in his mouth. He chewed a minute, then stuck his tongue out at her, grinning at her easy laughter. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Yousa, them are tasty treats. Just not sure why we’re chowing down today.”
“These are the leftovers from the cupcake cake.” Looking down, he folded the paper in half, then in half again, only looking up when she called his name. She smiled hugely at him, and he laughed aloud at the green coating her teeth from where she’d smeared frosting on them.
“You made a cake out of cupcakes? Jesus, you’re domesticated. I’m telling you, gonna be spawning soon. Look at the place; you’ve made a great nest. Mama Penny, I’ll start calling you that instead.” The laughter died in her eyes, and he frowned. “Shit. Sorry. Too far? Did I take it too far? I do shit like that, Yousa. Don’t mean anything by it.”
“Not too far, asshole,” she retorted, then shook her head. “I just…I dunno. You know him better than me, better than anyone else could. Do you think he wants kids?”
Pushing up from the chair where he was seated, he walked over and slouched down beside her on the couch. Leaning close, knowing the position would hide his expression, he tipped his head to rest against her shoulder and said, “You know Bell, Penny. If he wanted something
, he’d say something. He ain’t shy, woman. Do I think he’s pining for kids? No.” He shook his head, and she made a noise. “Do I think if you wanted kids he’d be okay with it? Hell, yeah. Because it was something you wanted. Man wants to give you the world, and you know it. Don’t read anything into my bullshit today. I’m just raggin’ on ya.”
“I love you, Po’Boy.” From his position beside her, he was close enough to hear her rough swallow as she fought for control of her emotions. “Brother.”
“Little sister.” He gave the respect right back to her and reached down, grabbing her hand and pushing his fingers between hers. She was tiny, so he had to slouch far down to sit like this, but it gave her something she needed, and he knew it because she allowed it as often as he was willing. After a few minutes, he stirred and sat up, and that was when she leaned against him like she always did.
When Twisted first brought Penny home, Po’Boy had been appalled. Her bloodline was enough to warrant caution, since she was princess to the Caddo Hobos. Add to that the fact she’d earned the attention of the Guanyin’s Shield, which just happened to be the CoBos rivals. The Shield were also a close support club for the Vicar’s, which in turn made them an enemy of Incoherent. Hell, just having the bitch in his house opened Twisted up for all kinds of shit. Po’Boy had avoided meeting her for weeks, avoided talking to Twisted about her as much as he could, still seeing how his brother was hooked, pulled deeper and deeper into something Po’Boy had never seen.
Then the shit hit the fan in a way which meant it got all over every-fuckin’-body, and Twisted was in the wind. It had taken Penny to find him, taken Penny to rescue him, too, and she had more than earned her way into Po’Boy’s heart with her determination. “Stubborn as a mule,” he muttered, and she giggled. “What’s next? We got a food truck comin’. They’re gonna handle food. Boys’ll handle booze. You made a fuckin’ cake out of cupcakes. I ain’t hanging a banner for my boy. I think we’re done for today.” The party was tomorrow here at Twisted and Penny’s house, since more than Incoherent would be coming. Given Penny’s connections, it wasn’t a surprise that when she’d invited her family and friends, the list was mostly bikers and their bitches. “I think we’re done.”
Neither This Nor That Box Set 1 Page 30
