SLY: Kings of Carnage MC

by Nicole James

  “That’s great, really.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’d love to read it sometime.”

  I take another sip of coffee and we’re quiet for a few minutes.

  “Babe?”

  “Yes?” I turn to look at him.

  “What was in the letter you were reading when I walked in your office last night? The one that had you so upset.”

  I look down and pull the sheet over my breasts, suddenly feeling way too exposed. “It was from the bank—final notice on the arrearages due and also notification of a huge balloon payment coming due.”

  “Oh, man.”

  I set the coffee aside. “Look, I don’t want to talk about the bar now.”

  “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

  “If I ask, will you tell me?”

  He nods. “Told you I would, didn’t I? As long as it’s not about the club.”

  I bite my lip. “Tell me more about prison, about how you survived it.”

  Sly looks away and I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I’m sorry for asking. Before I can tell him so, he starts to speak.

  “I used to lie awake at night in that cell and imagine what my life woulda been like—goin’ to college, life on campus, livin’ in a dorm … That life feels like a dream now. But instead I was in a cell with a guy doin’ time for armed robbery. We became friends. He had my back in prison. Probably the only reason I survived.”

  “How’d you end up with the Kings of Carnage?”

  “Not many opportunities for a convicted felon once I got out. Bein’ an ex-con, not many places wanted to take a chance on me, but one place where it’s actually a plus is an MC. I met some of ’em in a bar. I started hanging around, sold some drugs for ’em, doin’ anything I could to earn some money. The more I hung around, the more they trusted me. Eventually, I became a prospect. Got my full patch a year later. Been in the club ten years. Things are different now. Back then, when I first became a member, Chaos’ father was president. He took the club to some dark places. Eventually Chaos had enough … asked a handful of us for our loyalty. We gave it and made the move to take over. Club’s been a hell of a lot better ever since. That other life? I can’t even imagine it anymore, and I don’t miss it. I’m happy in the club.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Ma doesn’t seem to understand that, though. She’s sure I’m miserable, living a lesser life than I deserved.”

  “She’s your mother, of course she wants what’s best for you.”

  He peers down at me. “She was happy about you, though.”

  “Me?”

  “She’s been on my case to find a good girl, one who’ll see past all the trappings to the man inside. Guess she figured you fit the bill.” He grins.

  “And what do you think? Do you think I fit the bill?”

  Sly rolls over on top of me, his body a heavy weight of heated skin that cocoons me in warmth, pressing me to the bed. He runs a thumb across my forehead, between my brows.

  “You got little worry lines right here. I wish I could take them away. Make it so you don’t have to worry about a damn thing ever again.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  He dips to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Thought I showed you last night what I think of you. You need another demonstration?”

  “I need words.”

  “You’re a tough cookie, aren’t you?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not. I wish I were.”

  “You want to know what I think of you? I think you’re beautiful. I think you’ve got smarts and a good heart … and yeah, I think you could fit the bill, if you wanted to. If you let down the guarded wall and let me in.”

  “I let you in last night.”

  He smiles and taps my forehead with his finger. “I’m talkin’ ’bout in here”—he shifts lower and presses a kiss to my chest—“and in here.”

  Sly wants in my head and in my heart. The admission has me wanting him to make love to me all over again. Last night he’d been sweet at times and take-charge dominant at times, and I loved both sides of him.

  Earlier this morning, he seemed more playful.

  He drops down lower, kissing a trail down my belly and then lower, shoving my thighs wide to accommodate his broad shoulders. A beat later, he’s got his mouth on me and sets about driving me wild with need until I’m climbing quickly toward that sweet, sweet peak of release.

  I writhe, rubbing myself against him. I can’t get enough. The more I move, the more he holds me down, forcing me to take it at his pace, and his pace is slow and torturous until I can’t stand it anymore.

  “Please, Sly,” I beg. “Finish me.”

  And that’s when he really doubles down until I’m thrashing and panting and chanting his name over and over, and I can’t catch my breath. Then, he gives it to me, the sharpest, highest orgasm of my life.

  I’m soaring, flying so high before melting into a pile of exhausted contentment. Oh, my God. Best ever. This man, who would have guessed?

  He trails kisses back up my slick body until he’s smiling down into my face. “You hungry?”

  I giggle. “Maybe.” There’s a loud, whining sound, and I frown. “What was that?”

  “Somebody else is hungry.” Sly climbs off the bed and tosses his flannel shirt at me. “Here, throw this on and come on.”

  I quickly jam my arms in the sleeves and follow him, fastening a couple of buttons as I go. We walk down the hall and into the kitchen, then Sly opens the sliders and goes out onto the deck. I pause in the doorway as he squats and scratches the ears of a young dog, more or less a puppy, but big.

  “You have a dog?”

  “Nope. I have a stray who has kind of adopted me.”

  I watch as Sly fills the water and food bowls, and then steps back. “There you go, buddy boy.”

  Again, this man is surprising me at every turn. He obviously has a heart and empathy for God’s less fortunate creatures. How bad could he be? I realize I really need to guard my heart because I’m starting to fall for this man in a big way. If I’m not careful, he could shatter what’s left of it. And right now, I’m not sure I could take it.

  Sly throws an arm around my neck and draws me against his side, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Come on, I’ll scrounge us up something to eat.”

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting in his lap at the kitchen table, sharing a bowl of cereal with him. I’m basically spoon-feeding him at his command.

  His palm strokes up my bare thigh, caressing and affectionate as I feed him, then me, and then him again. Cheerio’s have never been so sexy.

  He’s got a pair of faded blue jeans on, but he’s shirtless. My gaze follows the ink running up his arm and neck. “You have a lot of ink.”

  He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “And you have none. Ever think about changing that?”

  Before I can answer, the sound of motorcycles breaks the stillness. We can hear them coming up the street, and as they get louder, I’m sure they’ve pulled into Sly’s driveway.

  He seems unperturbed.

  “Expecting someone?” I ask, partly because I’m sitting on his lap with his flannel shirt and nothing underneath.

  Before he can answer, I hear the front door open and men’s voices as they troop inside. I know it’ll only be seconds before they’re at the kitchen door.

  I try to bolt, but Sly locks his hold on me, keeping me from scrambling off his lap. He’s grinning.

  “Babe, it’s just my brothers.”

  Like that makes it okay?

  I freeze when they appear in the archway, like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Boys,” Sly says by way of a greeting.

  “Thought we were going ridin’,” one of them grunts, not at all happy to see me curled up on Sly’s lap.

  “Who’s your friend, bro?” a tall guy asks, his big muscles on display in a white wife-beater shirt as he shoulders his way in the room.

  The
y’re both wearing Kings of Carnage cuts.

  Another brother steps in. I recognize him from the diner. “Hey, Michaela. How’s it shakin’?”

  “Hello, Bouncer,” I whisper, mortified with how I’m dressed, and that even now, Sly’s hand is creeping up my bare thigh.

  “Where’d you meet her?” the tall guy asks Bouncer, pinning him with an accusatory look. “Why didn’t I know about her?”

  “There’s lots of shit you don’t know about, Jinx.” Bouncer grins at me. “We had lunch, didn’t we, babe?”

  “Um, sort of,” I reply.

  The grunter pulls his shades off and he’s got the most beautiful brown eyes. “We ridin’ or not?”

  “You roll outta the wrong side of the bed this morning, Bash?” Sly asks, not at all in a hurry to move me off his lap.

  “Savannah wasn’t in it, so yeah.”

  Sly frowns. “Where’d your ol’ lady spend the night, if not in your bed?”

  “She was up at Chaos’ place havin’ ladies night or some shit with Cambri, even though Cambri’s only allowed alcohol-free cocktails during her pregnancy. Savannah drank too much wine. Chaos called and said she’d sleep it off in the guest room.”

  “And you’re not up there right now picking her ass up, because …?”

  “Because now the girls are painting the baby’s room.”

  Sly’s chest vibrates with his laughter.

  “What are you laughin’ at?” Bash snaps. “From what I’m seein’, you could be in the same boat as the rest of us quick as that.” He snaps his fingers.

  Sly’s warm hand closes over the nape of my neck and squeezes affectionately. His eyes meet mine, but his answer is for Bash. “Brother, if you’re tryin’ to warn me off, I got news for ya, it ain’t gonna work. That kind of shit doesn’t scare me in the least.”

  “You say that now, but wait until you’re lookin down the barrel of a gun called diaper duty.”

  “Chaos looked a little distracted the other night.”

  “A little? He’s losing his mind worryin’ about Cambri’s delivery.”

  “So, we ridin’ the tail today, or not?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad, little girl. Jeez,” Sly snaps and jerks his chin to the refrigerator. “Help yourself to a beer while we get dressed.”

  He slides me off his lap, thankfully without flashing everyone in the room, although I can see they’re all hoping for a glimpse. I move quickly before him, darting down the hall with the men’s chuckles echoing after me.

  When the bedroom door closes behind us, I whirl on Sly. Before I can hiss out a litany of curses, he scoops me up in his arms, and my legs go around his waist as he places me on my back upon his bed.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss.

  His hand moves to the fastening on his jeans, and before I know it, he’s got his dick out and is thrusting it inside me.

  I stutter in a breath at the feeling of Sly filling me so perfectly. He grinds against me, engaging all my over-sensitized nerve endings. My inner thighs are still sore, and I moan as his mouth comes down on mine.

  As he begins to rock against me, he pulls his head back to look down at my face, and I can see that bad-boy devilment in his eyes. He loves the fact that his brothers are right down the hall, probably listening to every sound. He thrusts harder until the headboard starts banging against the wall.

  He grins down at me, loving that I can’t stop him from broadcasting our hot-as-hell fuck to all of his brothers.

  “Sly, stop. What are you doing?” I hiss again, really meaning it this time.

  “Letting ’em all know you’re mine, babe. Letting ’em all know I can’t keep my hands off your sexy, fucking body.”

  I’m turning pink with embarrassment, and what does the man do? He pours gasoline on the fire.

  “Oh, yeah, baby. Fuck, yeah,” he growls so loudly, I’m sure they hear every word.

  Eighteen

  Michaela—

  Sly takes me with him on the ride with his brothers. I’m not sure if they’re too pleased about it, but he doesn’t seem to care. We ride three hours up to a place called Deal’s Gap, Tennessee. It’s a beautiful ride and I’m having a blast. The roads are crazy scary with a bunch of hairpin turns, but Sly handles his bike like a pro, which he kind of is. They call it the Dragon’s Tail.

  The guys inform me this is only a small portion of the trail.

  The day is beautiful. When we arrive, we eat lunch in a small diner and then lounge in the grass outside. I’m sitting Indian-style while Sly stretches out next to me, resting on one elbow with his boots crossed.

  He points out a tree where they’ve nailed up a bunch of motorcycle parts from all the wrecks they have up here. He tells me they call it the Tree of Shame.

  His brothers run into several guys they know and wander off to chat.

  I tickle Sly’s face with a long piece of grass. He grabs at my hand, and the next thing I know, I’m lying flat on my back, pinned to the ground, staring up into his smiling face.

  “Told you, babe, I’m an ex-wrestling champ. You can not win this game.”

  I cock a brow and wiggle my pelvis.

  “Now you’re playin’ dirty.”

  I nod and laugh.

  He leans down and kisses me, then let’s me up.

  I brush the stray grass off me. “I really need to be back by four.”

  He frowns. “Why? I thought you said the bar was always closed the day before Easter?”

  “Yes, because we’re always busy. We have a family tradition. I can’t let my mother down now, not the very first holiday Da is gone.”

  “What’s the family tradition?”

  “We deliver Easter baskets and food boxes to needy families so they’ll have essentials and goodies for a nice Easter tomorrow. We’ve been doing it since I was old enough to remember. I always went with my father as a child, but I guess this year it’ll be my brother and me.”

  “All right. Let’s go. I can help you with that.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah, why not? Or does it have to be family only?”

  “No, you’re welcome to come, but I’m surprised you’d want to spend your time doing this. I just thought you’d be busy with the club or something.”

  “Michaela, I’ve got time, and I want to do this with you. Say the word if you don’t want me around.”

  “I want you around.”

  “Then let’s head back. We can use my truck to haul the boxes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He stands, pulling me to my feet. “I said so, didn’t I? If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t offer. Told you, I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

  “Okay. I’d appreciate your help, and I’d love to spend more time with you.”

  “Let me go tell the guys we’re cutting out. I think they had plans to keep goin’, maybe spend the night up here somewhere.”

  “Oh? Were you planning on that?”

  “Babe, I’d rather spend time with you than my sweaty, drunken brothers.”

  “They’re not drunk.”

  “They will be. Give ’em a few hours.”

  “You ride drunk?”

  “Not on this road. They’ll hole-up somewhere and booze it up.”

  “So now I feel bad, like I’m encroaching on your fun.”

  “Michaela, been there, done that, and some other day, I’ll probably do it again, but you and me—this is new.”

  I smile at his explanation, pleased he’s choosing time with me over the club. I’m sure, if whatever this is between us continues, that won’t always be the case. But for today, I decide to shut up and enjoy it.

  I nod. “Thank you, Sly.”

  “For what?”

  I shrug, smiling. I press my lips to his. “For being you.”

  He shakes his head, hooks me around the neck, and we move off to tell his brothers goodbye.

  By five o’clock we’re loading the last of the boxes with the food Ma and Aunt Kathleen
collected.

  “When did your family start this tradition?” Sly asks my mother.

  “Cullen started doing this when he was a teenager. We were dating when he was asked to do some type of community service. It didn’t have to be big, just some way to help. At the time, he had a car and a little money from cutting lawns, so he decided he was going to gift two families with food for a nice Easter dinner and baskets for their kids. He asked the church for the names of two families who would be too proud to ask for help. Then he attached a note that said: This is a gift from a friend. If you can, someday pay it forward.

  “You see, when he was a child they didn’t have much, so this became personal to him because he knew what it was like to go hungry.

  “The next year, two boxes turned into four, then eight, and now we do as many as we can each year. We get donations and sometimes the grocers give us a discount. We’re up to fifty-four this year. Each box has a ham, a bag of potatoes, some boxed and canned food, and a cake. Kathleen bakes those. Then we get some candy and stuffed animals to make up baskets for any families with children. We’ve got thirty-two of those. We’ve always put those in black garbage bags so the children don’t see them.”

  “You’ve got quite an operation going. I imagine it takes weeks of planning and work to pull this off.”

  “That it does.” Ma brushes her hands together. “Well, they’re all packed. We just need to load them up.”

  “I’ll carry them out to my truck. If we double stack them, we should be able to fit them all.” Sly grabs a box and heads for the door.

  I grab one and move to follow. Ma’s hand on my arm stops me. After Sly steps outside, she whispers to me, “He seems nice, but he has too many tattoos, dear.”

  I grin. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts, though, isn’t it, Ma?”

  She purses her lips, but admits, “I suppose you’re right about that. He’s a good man, then, Michaela?”

  I nod, surprised to find myself defending him. “Yes, Ma, I believe he might be.”

  She nods in return. “It’s the sinners who need our help most of all.”