by V. Theia
Ruby talked to Pastor Danny a lot. Usually after Sunday church or when she took Seb along to Thursday kids play group. She still pinched herself that this was her life now. And he posed the question. Why not you? Why wasn’t she deserving of happiness too?
He was right, she supposed.
Ruby reaffirmed her faith in religion this past year and she fully believed God had brought Preacher into her life.
Not only to help her, to help Sebastian, but to heal his heart too.
She had family now when two years ago she was so bitterly alone and sad.
A family she adored beyond measure. Every day she woke smiling.
Okay, that was a lie. Some days she was grumpy as hell. But the happiness was real.
Now her life was so full of her own little family, her extended in laws and the MC friends she’d made.
Lucky wasn’t the word.
And because she had him on her mind.
Like, when didn’t she?
That man of hers occupied most of her thoughts.
Ruby smiled, fished out her phone and typed out a short message to her hubby.
Ruby: I love you, Preacher man. Wanna play Santa and Mrs Claus tonight?
Not even a minute later. Because as she knew, there were no flies on Asher when his dick was concerned. He used to be a big, beautiful manwhore back in the days before she came along, and she joked with him now that he could sense when she was thinking about sex. Running a hand down his pointed beard and giving her that wicked smirk of his, he’d told her that his dick was a tuning rod for her horny hormones.
That man. She adored him.
Asher: Hell yeah. Mrs Claus has been a bad girl.
Flipping her mass of chocolate curls, she bit back her smile and tuned back into the girl’s conversation in time to hear from Luxe.
“Don’t any of you think it’s weird how Lawless has all the cats?”
Three sets of eyes looked his way.
“I think it’s cute,” Ruby said. “He’s a scarier Dr. Doolittle.”
With their butts on stools facing out into the main area of the club where everyone congregated on and off during the day and night, they watched as the bald man lounged his tall body on a couch. His legs encased in black jeans sprawled so long in front of him, making him appear eight feet tall, one arm along the back of the couch and the other holding an iPad he seemed engrossed in.
He was a big man.
An intimidating one at that.
As she knew of him Lawless didn’t suffer fools lightly.
It was the small kitten napping nestled into his tattooed neck that had the ladies fascinated.
“That poor little thing was dropped off here last night.” Zara filled in the details. Lawless had a feline reputation in that he raised, healed, took care of all strays and then rehomed them when it was time.
Weird for a man as dangerous as him to be so gentle with animals.
They spied on him reading and petting the kitten for far too long.
Longer than was deemed appropriate.
Whispering among themselves.
Only when he rose suddenly did they play like trees and blend into the background.
Lawless, as he passed by, the cat clinging onto his shirt, scanned his perilously sinful eyes over all three of them and though Ruby was dangerously in love with her own husband—seriously in lust with him too, but she felt that gaze down in her hormonal abdomen.
Being a bartender meant Ruby heard stories.
A lot of stories.
Most of them were once about her hubby who liked to sex up waitresses, but enough about that, she thought, or there would be no Mrs Claus fun later if she got in a mood for no good reason and put Asher on the couch.
Wouldn’t he just love that.
Anyway, the stories, some of them were about Lawless.
Dark, dirty whispers.
She’d never once seen him with a girlfriend.
Nor a steady date.
The man was a mystery within a conundrum walled up by a box of enigma, but every hushed rumor she’d once heard … of the deviant things he liked to do to people, willing people …made her eyes bulge a little with curiosity to know if it were all true.
Lawless was far from the romantic status you see depicted from dominants in books and film.
A cat loving sadist?
She chuckled to herself. Right.
And she was really Mrs Claus.
Some rumors were ridiculously outlandish.
“Adios, girls. I’m out of here.” Luxe announced slipping into her waist length leather jacket that fitted her perfectly.
Oh, the envy. Ruby sighed wistfully. Could it be February yet, so she could give birth and fit back into her regular clothes?
Luxe was not a typical girlie-girl and when Ruby had first met the now wife of Grinder, bestie to her own husband, it was inevitable the two women would be forced together … Ruby admitted she wasn’t overly keen on the woman.
Luxe was sharp and caustic and her humor took some getting used to.
Zara was sweet and chatty and instantly approachable.
Some of Ruby’s issue came down to the fact she’d let all her friends drift away through the years and just wasn’t used to female companionship.
What bonded them into fast friends?
A bottle of tequila and talking about what their man’s dicks could do.
So juvenile.
Yet it worked. The boys had found them sprawled in the living room, drunk off their asses.
“Don’t get caught.” She warned her thief friend and Luxe winked.
“Me? Never. Your brother hates losing money.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to know what illegal pies her brother had his fingers in.
This close to Christmas she was poking her head in the ground.
Nothing but good from here on out.
Until she had to visit her dad, that was.
December 11th
“You’re supposed to keep watch, dipshit.” Preacher hissed grabbing the handle from Grinder, he yanked the steel door closed with a solid crack.
Closing them in to the barely used garage that once upon a few years ago was their old shop on the Renegade Souls compound until they expanded across the forecourt.
“You’re supposed to be a tracker,” Preacher bitched, prowling back over to the Cherry Red Dodge Viper he had up on the hydraulic lift.
He’d been working quietly on this baby ever since he found it rusted at a police auction back in October and he wasn’t about to have the surprise ruined now at the eleventh hour because his buddy got bored and stopped being a look-out.
Go figure, an outlaw buying from the cops.
He’d had a good chuckle about that.
“I find people, asshole,” Grinder fired back with a half-grin under his dark beard. He picked up a socket wrench and hunkered down next to Preacher. “I’m not a look out. Besides, she’s doing Tag’s ink today, that’ll take your girl a while.”
True.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous.
He wanted to surprise her and that meant keeping shit from his old lady and he hated secrets.
They told each other everything.
That meant MC business too.
Because Preacher had learned the hard lessons of holding shit inside and how it affected his mental health.
The last few months had been rough as fuck with the Russian’s non-stop rampage through their city.
Not even gonna front about it, he’d watched his family like stink on shit. No one was laying a hand on his people. So, to keep Ruby aware of any dangers he always filled her in.
Mostly after sex when his lady was soft and sated and more susceptible to hearing these things.
He loved that woman and all her understanding.
If he could have single-handedly chosen the perfect woman, not only to deal with his crap on the daily, but to embrace a way of life that most people couldn’t handle, he’d pick
Ruby every damn time out of a line-up of billions.
She was a ball buster and an angel.
And for Christmas this year he’d finally found her ideal car. A 1998 Dodge Viper. It was a fucking wreck when he’d bought it for too much.
Keeping it at the compound took some work, since he couldn’t fix it up around the clock like he wanted to.
He’d stripped it down to the bare bones and with the help of his boy, Capone and Snake over the last two month this little beauty was almost ready for its big bow and reveal.
“She’s gonna lose her shit over this.”
“No doubt about it, buddy. You’ve got some good sex ahead of you.” Agreed G.
Preacher grinned happy as a pig in shit.
He wasn’t doing it for the sex bene.
But it didn’t hurt any.
His little darling already got a lot of loving from him. More so now his wife was expecting.
This gift was special. It was something teen Ruby was never able to afford, what with her family bleeding her dry for every penny.
Things were different now.
They were in a position he could get her the things she wouldn’t spend on herself, deeming them not a priority.
Ruby was his priority.
Making sure she had that smile on her face was his priority.
He was gonna give the keys to Seb and let their boy do the honors. The little cockblocker would get such a kick out of that.
He loved making Ruby happy too.
Preacher was still on cloud nine from the first time their boy called him dad.
He’d never pictured himself a father, not with his fucked-up mind, but every puzzle piece clicked into place that day he saw Sebastian.
He was his son. Blood or not. The boy was his through and through.
And with the baby on the way, it became more important to show his Rubes that she was still and always would be top tier of their family.
Queen and goddess.
“Where you headed?” G asked once they’d locked up an hour later. There was no more work to do. The car was ready to be unveiled.
Both men hunkered their shoulders against the bracing snow that started to fall again this morning.
Boots crunched.
“To find my girl. My folks have Seb.”
“Don’t wanna waste the time,” Grinder smirked and reached out to bump Preacher’s fist.
He had it in one.
Having a kid in the house and one that could talk and yell at times when Preacher was about to dig in and feel really good between his wife’s beautiful legs, was beginning to look to Preacher like the kid had a beacon and knew the exact moment to kick up a stink or call for water, or a second story, or something was in his closet or he was sure he heard Aquaman outside in the pond or…. The excuses went on and on.
So, he felt no guilt palming the boy off on his parents.
They loved him. Seb adored them, so it was a win all around.
He loved his son, so much.
But if he didn’t get his hands and his mouth and his fucking pouting cock on and in his Rubes soon he might just cry.
Seriously. He wasn’t afraid to show his emotions.
Some might say it was the calm before the storm as Preacher broke off from Grinder who headed towards the shop and he headed inside the clubhouse.
After all things had been quiet for weeks now.
That always made him jittery.
Could just be the season.
He’d like to think it was anyway, and not the Russian’s gunning for something bigger while the Souls had their eyes elsewhere.
He banged his boots in the entryway, freeing the gathered snow, and shrugged out of his coat before shaking snow out of his knotted long hair at the base of his neck.
Next, he gave his beard a scrub.
Fuck, it was cold. The sudden warmth of inside stung his cheeks.
His kid was gonna be born in the cold months.
He didn’t stop to chew the fat with Jed, or flirt Helen out of sneaking him three or four of her blueberry scones. Instead he took the hallway leading to his girl’s tattooing station.
She only worked a few days a week now she was closer to being ready to give birth. That was more for Preacher’s own sanity, because his girl refused to sit down for more than a minute and it had him like a neurotic motherfucker chasing her around.
Lucky for him Tag was just heading out with cling wrap around his forearm guarding his fresh ink. “My brother,” they slapped hands.
Prince Charming grinned. Ambling off in his signature strut. He’d been going hammer lately on the females who came around the club. A different one each night.
Since Preacher was once the same, using sex as a mood stabilizer, he kinda saw something in Tag that he recognized.
He might have given it more thought, even might have tracked after his club brother to check up on him, but the moment he heard a pained moan coming from inside the tattooing room he about pulled the door off its hinges to get inside.
“Ruby? What’s wrong?”
She turned, startled. One hand on her lower back, the other on her forehead.
Preacher lost his stomach.
Was it time? No, it was too fucking soon.
He got across to her, almost sweeping her off her feet if not for her sexy laugh and her hands pressed to his chest.
“At ease, soldier. I’m just tired. I’ve been on my feet for two hours.”
Well that was easily solved, he thought, letting his heartbeat return to normal, he did grab her up then, and plonked his ass in the leather recliner chair she used for the boys and their ink. Depositing his girl on his lap, he smoothed her wild mane of riotous curls and kissed along her mocha colored shoulder and neck.
“You want a massage?”
“Oh, god.” She moaned, and the noise went directly through his stomach lining and forced its heat down to his dick.
He was hard in seconds.
Uncomfortably so with the teeth of his zipper nearly slicing him in two.
“I’d love one, Asher. But can I sit here for a while?” She all but buried into his skin and didn’t that light him up.
Providing her with what she needed was a bigger job than Preacher had ever done in his whole military career.
He kissed her forehead.
“I got you, beautiful,” grabbing his phone, he thumbed through his Spotify and found that old time shit she’d been listening to all week at home. Strings of Bing’s White Christmas began to play as he cuddled her in and he caught her languid sigh.
“Love this.” She said, curling her arms around his back, she pressed her face into his chest. “I love you, Asher.”
With his hands on her belly, feeling his kid kicking gently, Preacher’s heart fired up into a steady thump-thump.
He knew his big bro was up there making sure Preacher had all the good down here. How else could he explain holding his dream woman and about to be a dad for the second time?
He owed Shane big time.
“Love you, beautiful.”
It took only minutes for his old lady to conk out, puffs of air warmed his neck and he settled into that old creaky chair for the duration.
It might not be the pretzel sex-fest he’d envisioned, but having her in his arms? Jesus, some motherfucker really had blessed him.
Sometimes you didn’t need to wait until December 25 to get what you asked for.
“Stealing Christmas.” - Grinder
December 12th
“Give it up, Luxe.” Grinder issued with a growl roaring through his voice box, sweat dripping into his eyes with every forceful slam.
His wife was a fucking tyrant.
A beautiful, cunning thief.
And the love of his life.
She also climbed into his pants wherever the fuck she wanted.
Even if that meant pulling over onto the underpass in a stolen Maserati because taking something that didn’t belong to her got his Luxe’s juices boilin
g under her skin, and the only thing she liked to do more than steal, was fuck his brains out.
“Chico. Mi amor.” She panted, working her little hips in a frantic fever on top of his lap.
They were crammed in like sardines in a can.
The front wasn’t made for fucking, he’d pushed the seat back as far as it would go and even that was barely enough room to breathe.
His knees ached. His jeans were caught tight around his mid-thigh and his wife was pumping his heart fast enough he was fearful he’d stroke out.
Grinder had never felt better.
She laughed into his grabbing mouth. The slick of her tongue careened arousal through his body.
Wanting her never quit, and lucky for him she had the libido of a cushion humping dog.
Seriously, he’d hit jackpot with his thief.
“Nathan…”
“You’re beautiful taking it, love. Do you need something else?” He teased, kissing along her neck. She was damp and salty sweet.
He sucked a little.
Knowing what she needed, he liked when she got spitfire mad, that shit turned him on.
Luxe hadn’t calmed down since their wedding. She still got into bar arguments, or grocery store spats over kiwi fruits, fortunately he usually … most times … grabbed her up and got her out of there before she put her fist in someone’s face.
Such an angry little thing.
And he worshipped every inch of his temperamental baby.
“Hands on me,” she issued, making him see stars when her inner walls squeezed him tightly. “I need those big hands owning me, Nathan. Making me come and scream. Show me what you got, chico.”
Oh, fuck.
That was his teasing woman right there.
The one that tied his dick in knots and laughed about it.
Her teasing him hadn’t stopped either.
If he thought she was a tyrant before; being married to her—having her in their bed, in their house, taunting him with her scent and her little smiles when she walked through the door in just a tiny pair of panties. And all the nights she sat on his lap while he watched baseball or football, just sitting on his dick telling him to watch TV, like he could concentrate after that.