Dirty Bastard (Wet Dicks MC Book 1)

by Echo Slater

  Entering the Hanger late, Raqui sits Cross in his high chair. The dark-haired kid immediately laughs at Horse. My brother nurses a hangover and likely a sore dick after all the fucking he did last night. No, Horse is definitely not impressed by the kid’s antics, even as the boy finds his sleepy face hilarious.

  “Last night, I came around to meet your high school honey,” Raqui tells me after kissing the top of Grizz’s thick head of brown hair. His dark eyes watch her sit next to him before he returns to his plate full of SPAM and eggs. “But you’d already taken her back to your bungalow to spunk inside. Talk about moving fast.”

  “I kept my activities with Cameo strictly PG-rated. Once it was just my hand and me, yeah, sure, there was plenty of spunk.”

  “I’m trying to eat,” she mutters, giving me a dirty look.

  While I consider complaining about how she started it, Grizz frowns at me. I glare right back at him. If he wants his woman on a pedestal, he needs to also surround her with soundproof glass. Raqui’s mouth inspires me to snap back.

  “I’m taking her out to eat this Wednesday,” I announce as Bishop joins us while looking as if he forgot to wake up.

  “After she finishes her homework, right?” Cash asks and smirks behind his coffee cup. “But before curfew, I bet.”

  “She’s legal.”

  “Did you check her ID?” Raqui asks. “Grizz checked mine. Just started rifling around in my purse like an escaped mental patient. If he weren’t so hot, I’d have kicked him in the balls, grabbed my shit, and ran.” She pauses to fondle him under the table before continuing, “But he was hot, so I let him look at my stuff.”

  “True story,” Grizz adds.

  “Heartwarming,” Horse says and stands up. “Good luck with that jailbait babe, Mad Dog. But don’t go knocking her up. We already have to dodge enough toys around here.”

  “If that’s a dig at me, I refuse to acknowledge your negativity on this pleasant Sunday morning,” Raqui says and then mutters, “Asshole.”

  Chuckling, Horse steps over a line of matchbox cars on his way out of the dining area.

  When my hungover friends remain silent, I say, “I’m thinking about running over to Cameo’s place to surprise her.”

  “And no doubt her parents,” Cash says before nudging a grumpy Stoney. “Can you imagine a better gift on a Sunday than this guy showing up to make eyes with your daughter?”

  “If a man like him showed up for my princess, I’d be winding up the chainsaw and wondering where to hide the body.”

  “Don’t listen to them,” Raqui says, suddenly my buddy. “You go be sweet on her. It’s adorable. In fact, Grizz and I were just sharing how cute you are for this girl.”

  “Another true story,” says my president.

  “I agree,” Dexy announces, finally sitting down after finishing the final batch of eggs. Grizz’s aunt-mom releases her waist-long brown hair from its bun and relaxes. “You boys aren’t young men. If you ever plan to settle down, you best do it before your balls sag to the floor.”

  “I’m eating,” Stoney mutters.

  “We’re all eating, boy,” Dexy tells him and then pats her man’s head as he chows down next to her. “You won’t all age like Rubber Duck with his thick head of hair and still potent balls.”

  Raqui grins at Grizz as if to say she believes he will also refrain from going bald and weak-dicked. Without a doubt, my president gives his woman’s thigh a nice squeeze.

  I study Grizz, who’s living his dream life with his perfect woman, a healthy son, and another kid on the way. Is that what I want with Cameo?

  If I’m only looking for a short-term hookup with a sexy-as-fuck young woman, going to her house today is a mistake. I’ll likely run into her parents. That’s some boyfriend shit right there. Yeah, I’m asking for trouble with such a move. Such effort isn’t worth it for a simple hookup.

  But Cameo feels like a forever girl. I even picture her sharing breakfast with my club family here in the Hanger. After only a few hours together, she’s got me wild with big dreams. I need to know if what I’m feeling is real. Or has my brain been damaged by her pussy’s pheromone?

  I don’t know if showing up at her house is a way to push things in the right direction or if I’m self-sabotaging. Either way, I park my midnight black Harley at the curb behind her red Terrain. As I walk to the front door, a bouquet of flowers swings in my hand.

  The residential street is quiet except for a few people working in their lawns. Cameo’s family lives in a well-kept two-story colonial house with navy blue siding and white trim. The front yard is lush green, and two mid-priced cars are parked in front of the garage. But all those facts are dwarfed by the sheer number of gnomes littering the well-manicured lawn.

  When I knock on the front door, a little dog begins yapping inside. The glass storm door keeps him from me. The interior door is open, so I see the fluffy white bugger bouncing around as he barks.

  “Bane, settle yourself,” says the man approaching the door.

  He’s a tall guy with a balding head and big brown eyes. I notice the exact moment when Cameo’s dad truly catches sight of me. His face freezes, and his forward momentum comes to a halt.

  “Yes?” he asks, still a few feet away from the door.

  “Is Cameo home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I speak with her?” I say, lifting the flowers for him to see.

  Look, I get it. No dad wants a guy like me to show up at his house and say his daughter’s name. Papa Sutton likely wants nothing more than to slam the door shut and lock his girl inside forever. But this guy lives in Barrow and knows men like me can’t be wished away.

  “How do you know Cameo?” he asks, forcing his feet to move him closer to the door.

  “We met at the Ranch. I’m taking her out for dinner on Wednesday,” I explain while trying—and failing—to seem smaller and less intimidating. “I wanted to meet her folks and make sure everything was completely above board before our date.”

  Papa Sutton nods, absorbing my words and searching for a way to end this conversation. When his petite brunette wife appears to ask why the dog continues to lose its miniature shit, he accepts reality.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” Papa Sutton says and reluctantly opens the door.

  I step inside, avoiding my big feet squishing their little dog. After furiously sniffing me and likely smelling the stray Bishop recently brought home, this sentient cotton ball plops down with a huff.

  “Mike Teller,” I say, shaking Papa Sutton’s hand. “People call me Mad Dog. Feel free to use either name.”

  “I’m Phil, and this is Arlene.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mama Sutton says as the dog starts circling her as if looking for a spot to piss. “What’s this about?”

  “Mike is taking Cameo out on a date Wednesday and wanted to meet us first.”

  “I brought these for you,” I say, handing them to Arlene, who looks ready to run.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbles even while taking the flowers. “What?”

  “They met at the party last night,” Phil says, signaling to his wife to be cool.

  “You’re one of those Dicks.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I live out on the Ranch with my club brothers and a couple of our family members. Got a little kid running around, too. Real family vibe.”

  “But you had a rowdy party.”

  “Just on one part of the Ranch. Not around the kid.”

  I skip the part where Stoney’s mom ran around flashing her sixty-year-old tits at high schoolers. I’m fairly sure that shit’s illegal, and these people don’t seem to be the lawless types.

  “Cameo and Hagan stayed out of trouble, but I’m sure you’re used to that.”

  Phil and Arlene share a look. Though I don’t know what they’re saying with their eyes, I sense I’m winning.

  After interrogating the baby dicks at The Cherry, I did a little research on Cameo and that dumpster-baby thing. Apparently, her r
eal mom left her in the trash outside a CVS. After an employee found the baby, the state used the publicity to draw attention to the many kids in foster care. Cameo’s fate was sealed by a lottery, where already approved parents got a chance to win the adorable baby girl. These two upstanding citizens won the right to be her mom and dad.

  When Arlene pulls out her phone, I worry she’ll call the cops. Instead, I hear movement on the floor above and realize she’s alerted her daughter to my presence.

  “What do you do?” Phil asks, falling into a normal male conversation. He’ll likely follow up with questions about cars, sports, and maybe lawn care.

  “I work security at The Cherry. You know, keeping out the kids with their fake IDs. Also, I handle anyone who can’t handle their booze. Mostly, I sit in the front and enjoy the quiet.”

  “Can’t imagine many people would start trouble if they knew you would break it up,” Phil says, chuckling as if we’re pals.

  Sharing his smile, I notice pictures lining the wall and lean closer. Cameo’s pretty face beams back from probably two dozen photos.

  “She’s got such pretty eyes,” I say as Cameo takes her sweet time coming downstairs. “Don’t you think?”

  Arlene remains leery, likely because she was once a young woman in Barrow and knows how tempting men like me can be.

  “She was a sweet kid,” Phil says like we’re two regular guys shooting the shit. “Always athletic. Loves to camp. Did she tell you that?”

  “No, but now I know what topics to stick to on Wednesday.”

  Yeah, Phil suddenly remembers how the large, tatted, fully grown—in every way, wink, wink—man before him will soon be out on a date with his gorgeous innocent daughter. His smile falls, and he looks back at Arlene for help with soothing his brokenhearted-daddy emotions.

  Fortunately, Cameo appears from the stairwell and stares bright-eyed at me. Based on how shiny and straight her hair looks, her delay was a result of her primping.

  Hagan pops her head over Cameo’s shoulder, wearing the same “What the fuck” look as her friend. Yeah, I’ve gone and screwed up everyone’s Sunday plans.

  Sure, I feel their pain and all that shit. However, seeing Cameo for even this single minute is worth the trouble I’ve caused.

  CAMEO—LIFE IN THE FAST LANE

  On Sundays, Hagan and I never get up before noon. My parents know we won’t join them for breakfast. So much so that they’ve taken to making Sunday their romance time. They go out for breakfast, take a walk, and return to have nature-inspired sex. All before I stumble out of bed.

  For over a decade, Hagan has lived with my family. Her father pays my parents a hundred dollars a week to help with the expenses. After Hagan’s mom OD’d years ago, Arron Weaver tapped out on parenting. He kept dropping my bestie at our house or leaving her alone. Always wanting more kids, Phil and Arlene finally took Hagan in full-time and made things legal.

  Once a family of four, we shoved a second bed into my oversized room and cleaned part of my closet for her. Though Hagan could have bunked in the spare bedroom, she and I always preferred to share.

  That’s why she’s right next to me in bed when Mom texts an alert.

  “A biker man is here to talk to you. Why is this happening!?!”

  Though I ought to run downstairs to save my parents, I’m fairly certain Mad Dog won’t rough them up. He’s in seduction mode.

  “How’s my skin?” I ask Hagan while washing my face and checking my teeth. “Should I put on makeup?”

  “No, he’s probably stoned and hungover, anyway. Just go au naturel, so he can see the real you. If he doesn’t puke, you know you have a keeper.”

  “Check for snot flakes,” I say, lifting my chin. “How’s my breath?”

  “If I was into girls, I would eat your pussy out right this second,” she says, tugging up my shirt before handing me a better one. “Dirty Bastard is into girls, so you better be ready to get your muff scarfed down.”

  “How would that work with my parents here?”

  Already laughing at the visual she created, Hagan mumbles through giggles, “I’ll distract them with hand puppets while you enjoy an orgasm with the buff biker.”

  Grinning at her bull-crap, I start downstairs with Hagan right behind me. I really don’t know what to expect. Mad Dog showing up wasn’t something I ever considered. We’ve never existed in the same space during the day. He almost feels like a fantasy I built up in my impressionable and very clearly horny mind.

  Mad Dog stands in the brightly lit room with Bane keeping guard at his feet. He’s somehow more exquisite in the day. His tanned skin is tawnier. His inked flesh is darker. His brown hair reveals copper highlights under the sunlight filtering in through the front window.

  When his gaze finds me, I shiver at the way he smiles. None of his biker-boy swagger is on display. With him grinning in such a relaxed, joyful way, I can forget who he is and who I am and how my parents are staring at me with a million questions I don’t want to answer.

  “Hello,” I say and take the final step down to the main floor. “This is unexpected.”

  “No doubt,” he murmurs in his deep voice. “Is this a bad time?”

  Shaking my head, I walk to where my parents stand. “Let’s talk outside.”

  “Why not stay in here?” Phil asks in an overly chipper voice.

  I smile at my nervous father. “Hagan needs to tell you something.”

  “I explained to your parents how we met last night at the Ranch,” Mad Dog announces to give me a heads-up on any lies he’s set in motion. “And also, how we’re going out to dinner on Wednesday.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to explain any of that yet,” I say, walking past him and opening the door. “I crashed after I got home before curfew, and I’ve been lazy all morning.”

  Mad Dog gives my parents his most charming smile. “It was nice meeting you.”

  Arlene stares at him while holding flowers I assume he brought. Though Phil nods as if he’s super relaxed, he’s totally planning to eavesdrop. Hagan will likely offer her assistance since she has tip-top hearing.

  Outside with Mad Dog, I step under one of the large oak trees to offer us shade on this sunny day.

  “This is a powerplay,” I mutter, crossing my arms until I realize this gesture offers him a better view of my cleavage. “Why do that?”

  “I missed you.”

  Okay, what? Here I am playing everything cool like a totally badass. Just until he goes and says something so perfectly honest and sweet.

  “Did you bring my mom flowers?” I ask, erasing a little of the space between us despite having to step over a gnome to get closer.

  “Figured it would soften the blow. Don’t know if it worked.”

  “If you were striving to make my heart beat faster, you succeeded. As for my mom, she’s more difficult to please.”

  “I’ve chosen to view them not calling the cops as a win.”

  “The cops? Over you?” I ask, giggling behind my hand. “You’re harmless. Your tough-guy exterior is all for show. I bet you don’t have a bad bone in your very sexy large body.”

  Shuffling closer while barfing my bullshit, I erase the last bit of space between Mad Dog and me. His fingers trace my face. This small touch acts as a blowtorch, sending heat through my entire body.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” I say, holding his gaze. “Why scare my parents before we get to do anything naughty?”

  “My hand cuddled with your tits last night. A line has been crossed. Coming here to get a taste made sense.”

  “Over-the-clothes stuff doesn’t count, child,” I taunt and turn away when he tries kissing me. “I can’t ride you in the front lawn with the neighbors gawking.”

  Mad Dog glances around, noticing what I already felt—we’ve got an audience. He even spots Hagan and my parents staring out the front picture window.

  His dark eyes find me. Of course, he smirks. Public displays won’t bother him. He rides around town
, making noise and drawing attention to himself all the time.

  Not that I’m a bashful bitch. I know I’m hot because guys tell me all the time. I keep a fan club filled with nerds who rub one out after my cheerleading practices. I’m popular at school, even if I never hang out with the mean girls. Eyes are often on me. If people aren’t checking out my youthful hotness, they’re gossiping about how I was the dumpster baby. But I don’t seek out an audience, especially not from my worried parents.

  “You are the sexiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen,” I say, and his smirk deepens. “And I’ve seen your hot friends. Oh, and I went to Philadelphia and witnessed male sports models flexing their muscles. None of those guys have shit on you, Mad Dog.” I capture his wrists, pushing his hands away from finding my hips. “But I respect my parents, and making out with you in the front yard would be rude to them.”

  Mad Dog frowns immediately. I prepare for whatever smooth-talking bullshit he throws in my direction. With him looking finer each time I see him, telling him no isn’t easy. But I’m stubborn when need be.

  “You’re right,” he says, startling me. “I don’t want them thinking I’m a horny boy.”

  “No one is confusing you for a boy,” I say and give him a once-over.

  Mad Dog’s smirk is back. For a man who walks around sexy twenty-four hours a day, he’s surprisingly hard-up for compliments.

  “Wednesday’s too far off, though. You need to give me time before then.”

  “I have practice after school.”

  “And you’re too much of a good girl to ditch those, right?”

  “Well, I might do it, but what kind of time are you looking for?”

  Realizing we’re negotiating, Mad Dog puts on his serious face. “I could pick you up and go out for a quick meal. Just talk, no humping.”

  “What if words kill the buzz we’re enjoying right now?”

  “What if there’s more here than just the buzz?”