CHEAP SMUT: Four Erotic Romance Novels (Boxed Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  After we both shifted our eyes toward Vince, he reached for the bowl of homemade salsa, scooped out a large spoonful, and held it to his side.

  “Bradley!” he said.

  Bradley turned, realized he was being offered food, and ran to Vince’s side. After flopping his butt down on the floor, he looked at the spoon, looked up at Vince, and barked.

  “Come on bud, it’s good,” Vince said as he wiggled the spoon.

  Bradley glanced at the spoon, tilted his head back, and barked again.

  “He doesn’t like salsa,” Anita said.

  “Come on bud, look,” Vince said as he raised the spoon and pretended to eat some of it.

  He lowered the spoon to his side again.

  Bradley barked.

  Vince raised the spoon, dumped the salsa on the side of his plate, and shook his head. “His stomach’s bothering him after that tamale.”

  “Bradley!” Anita said.

  Bradley turned, studied what she held in her hand, and upon recognizing it, ran past me toward Anita. As he reached her side, he quickly sat down and tilted his head back slightly. She tossed the piece of tamale in the air and Bradley caught it in mid-flight. After gobbling it up and licking his lips, he glanced toward Vince and me.

  “See?” Anita said. “He knows what he likes.”

  “Tamales,” I said with a laugh.

  She patted her hand against my knee. “That’s right, Honey. He loves the tamales.”

  “Stephen, you’re picking again. Did you eat with those boys before you came?” she asked.

  “Ma, how many times do I have to tell you? Sienna and I eat every Sunday. And we ate at noon. It’s 5:30 now. So, to answer you, no, I didn’t eat with the boys. And I’m not picking, I’ve had two tacos and two tamales,” he said as he poked his fork in his half-eaten tamale and raised it in the air.

  “Well, what did you eat for lunch? Maybe you’re still full,” she said.

  Vince sighed and bit into the tamale. “We do this every week, Ma. I’m not full. I’m hungry, and I’m eating.”

  “You’re talking with your mouth full again. That’s what you’re doing. If that’s the type of manners those boys are teaching you, you need to just quit that little club,” she said.

  Vince swallowed the tamale and took a drink of tea. “I’m not quitting the club, and they’re not a bunch of manner lacking pigs.”

  “How would I know? You never bring them over for dinner. It makes me wonder, Stephen,” she said. “I’ve always wondered.”

  “Keep wondering. They’re not coming over,” he snapped back. “Not now, not ever.”

  Uh oh, time to change the subject.

  Although Vince was in the MC, and was an active member, he wasn’t at all what I expected a member of an MC to be. He went to all the meetings, rode in all the mandatory runs, and sometimes I was convinced he loved his motorcycle more than he loved me, but he wasn’t really friends with any of the members. He didn’t hang out with them, ride with them, or do anything with them that wasn’t mandatory or sanctioned by the club.

  He told me he didn’t trust them, and I silently wondered why he was in the club with 30 members he didn’t trust. He explained the trust of the brotherhood was much different than trusting someone as a friend, and even though they were each his brother, none were his true friend.

  It made sense, but it didn’t make perfect sense.

  I suspected, like with all things Vince, he simply didn’t want to set himself up for a failure by being misled, lied to, or develop and expectation and have it unmet.

  “It’s warming up outside, huh?” I said.

  “It sure is, Honey,” Anita said.

  Vince stood from his seat. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom, excuse me.”

  “You’re excused, Dear,” his mother said.

  After he walked away, Anita patted me on the leg. I turned toward her and grinned, assuming she was going to say something about Bradley eating tamales, but that wasn’t the case. What she chose to share with me provided considerable insight to Vince, and why he was the way he was about some things. As she covered the side of her mouth to speak, I knew what she was going to say was about Vince, but only after she proceeded to speak in a light whisper, did I realized the significance of what she was telling me.

  “When Stephen was a little boy, he had very close friend. He was the cutest little boy, and so polite, his name was Jackson. They were inseparable. The little boy had a heart condition, and we all knew it, but it wasn’t something we ever discussed. You know, as parents we think those things will always work themselves out. Well, he lived down the block,” she said, pausing and pointing over her shoulder.

  “Three houses down. They started kindergarten on the same day, and were together until third grade. The bus picked them up at the corner. I think Stephen was nine and Jackson was ten at the time.” She lowered her fork to her plate, leaned forward, and peered through the doorway to confirm Vince wasn’t coming.

  “He died that summer. Vince hasn’t had a friend since. Not a single one. And when that woman…when she cheated on him? I thought he’d never be the same. The two people he opened up to and chose to let into his life had both let him down. I guess they were each for separate reasons, but he didn’t see it as different. You know, he looks at things differently than most, and I blame it on him losing Jackson,” she said.

  Vince hadn’t told me about his friend. As with many things from childhood, I suspected it may have been something he chose to forget, but I doubted that was the case. More than likely he remembered it, and the memory of losing a loved one and a cherished friend at such a young age not only affected Vince then, but still affected him today.

  “That’s so sad,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “So were we, Honey. They moved out right after. We lost them all. The Smiths. A wonderful couple and a wonderful little boy,” she said.

  As soon as she finished speaking, Vince walked back into the dining room. I turned toward him and forced myself to smile the best I was able.

  “I love you,” I said.

  It wasn’t all I could offer him, but it was the best I could do. I meant it, and I wanted him to know it. He needed to know it, understand it, and hopefully believe it.

  “I love you, too,” he said with a smile as he sat down.

  I told myself as I watched him prepare another taco that regardless of how bad things ended up, or how difficult life became that I would always be there for Vince. I would be the one person in his life that would never let him down.

  And all I could hope was that one day he would be able to realize my devotion, my sincerity, and my need to have him as my significant other.

  At that moment, and forever.

  VINCE

  April 7th, 2014

  Never let your guard down. I have no idea how many times my father had told me that, but it was a phrase not only that I remembered, but something I applied in my day-to-day activities, and it proved to be some of the best advice I ever received.

  “How bad?” Axton asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Pretty bad.”

  “Well, fuck, Vince. Your definition of ‘pretty bad’ and mine might be different. Let’s hear it,” he said as he sat down.

  I pulled the chair away from the edge of the table and hesitated. Although I was proud that I wasn’t hurt, and thankful I was aware enough of my surroundings to recognize what was happening at the time, I wasn’t proud of what happened.

  “Broke out most of his teeth, at least the ones you can see when a guy smiles, anyway. Said I broke his jaw in a couple places, and broke his ankle,” I said.

  Axton stood from his seat, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and shook his head from side-to-side. After inhaling a long breath, he exhaled a whistle. “God damn, Vince. And how in the fuck did you break his ankle?”

  “When he came up behind me. I flipped him over my shoulder. He landed pretty bad on the table and all,” I said.

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sp; “Right there in the restaurant?” he asked. “Broad fucking daylight? This fucker just comes up behind you with a gun and tries to rob you?”

  I shook my head. “Wasn’t really a robbery. He was mad about me taking the money I took from him on a deal from about a year ago and was trying for a little get back. Little more than ten grand, and he sure didn’t want to give it up at the time. He kept going on and on about how if I took the money it was going to cause the whole snowball effect and shit. Goes without saying I took it anyway. Guess he just saw me and recognized me.”

  “And that girl? She wasn’t there?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Actually I was in there looking for someone else.”

  “Work?” Axton asked.

  “Yep,” I said with a nod.

  “So in three months you’ve shot some prick, killed him, and beat some other poor bastard half to death, leaving him in intensive care in the hospital. And, to top it all off, when this shit happens, nobody can help you, you can’t help yourself, and the club’s got our pants around our fucking ankles and our asses in the breeze…” he said.

  “Is that what this is about?” I said through my teeth as I stood from my seat.

  “I haven’t said shit yet, Vince. Now sit the fuck down!” he demanded.

  I stood for a moment, glared at him, and eventually sat down. Axton had called me to the clubhouse to have a talk, and although I suspected he wanted to talk about the incident, I had no idea he was going to make it club business.

  “So what are you trying to say?” I asked.

  “I’m not trying to say a damned thing. What I was saying was this; the business you’re in is your business, at least until it becomes a problem for the club. Your business isn’t a problem for the club…” he paused and lowered his arms as he sat down.

  He locked eyes with me and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Yet.”

  “At the rate you’re going, you’re going to be on the news more than Bret fucking Baier, and it’s going to become a problem if the club’s brought into it,” he continued.

  I kept my eyes locked on his and leaned into the edge of the table. I respected Axton, but no one was going to intimidate me, including him. “Anybody named the club yet? Ever?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “That’s not the point…”

  “It sure as fuck is,” I interrupted.

  “Slow down, Vince. God fucking damn, we’re on the same team here, you hot-headed prick. Jesus H. Christ,” he paused and pulled the rubber band tight, released it, and snapped it into his wrist.

  After snapping it again, he fixed his eyes on mine. “Here, let me say this before you fucking explode again. Don’t wear your cut when you’re working. And, it goes without saying, nothing with the club name on it. Just while you’re working,” he said.

  He leaned back in his seat and glared.

  “I don’t,” I said.

  “Ever?” he asked.

  “Never. Not fucking once,” I said.

  “Well,” he said as he raised his hands in the air. “Looks like we’re all good.”

  “That it?” I asked as I stood from my seat.

  He shook his head from side-to-side and rubbed the few days of growth on his face. “No. There’s one more thing.”

  I gazed down at him and widened my eyes. “And?”

  “A phone. I know you got rid of your phone after Natalie and you split up, but…”

  “We didn’t split up. I divorced her,” I said.

  “I swear. You’re one difficult motherfucker. Nobody here is out to get you,” he said.

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest and shook my head. “Never said anybody was out to fucking get me.”

  “Sit down. You make me nervous looming over me like that,” he said.

  I sat down and glared in his direction.

  “You didn’t have to say you felt like anyone was out to get you. You fucking act like it. Now this brings up another thing. Answer this. When was the last time you did anything with anyone in the club that wasn’t mandatory?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders and glanced around the room. After a moment of calming down, I turned my eyes toward Axton.

  “When was the last time you did anything with anyone except with the five or six motherfuckers you run with? Fucking never. You gonna tell me who I got to run with now?” I asked.

  “That wasn’t what I was…” He paused and shook his head, obviously frustrated. It made two of us.

  He glared at me as he responded. “To answer your question, no I’m not going to tell you who to run with. Who you run with is your business.”

  “That it?” I asked as I pushed myself away from the table.

  “Get a phone,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “You tossed your phone in the bon fire after you found those text messages from Natalie on it. We all figured you’d get one after a while, and we’re coming up on two years here pretty quick, and you still don’t have a god damned phone. What if someone needs to get ahold of you?” he asked.

  I stood from my seat, turned toward the door, and took a few steps. After exhaling what little breath I had in my lungs, I turned to face him.

  “Anybody I care about needs anything from me, they know how to find me,” I said.

  And I walked out the door.

  SIENNA

  May 8th, 2015

  Vince and I had known each other for almost a year. The last eleven months had flown by – quicker than any other time in my life – and I wondered if a life with Vince was just going to whoosh past, leaving me with many memories and no real recollection of where all the time had gone.

  Spending time with Vince was like watching an action packed movie or reading a fabulous book; it passed at three or four times faster than any other time. I loved the watch he bought me for Christmas more than anything, but if we were out on a date all I had to do was look at it, and I was immediately reminded that the night was all but over.

  It was apparent the satisfying things in life caused my mind to relax, and the passage of time was immeasurably fast when my mind was less resistant to what was being processed. Life’s stressful events made me tense, and when I was stressed out the clock seemed to stand still, making my shitty days last forever and my great ones over before they ever got a good start. Life would be so much more enjoyable if the tables were turned; and the memorable times seemed to last forever, leaving the tension filled days to blow past like speeding freight train.

  As I heard the rumble of the motorcycle’s exhaust, I grabbed my purse and ran to the door. I pulled the door closed and turned toward the street just in time to see him come around the corner and accelerate toward my house.

  Riding on Vince’s motorcycle was one of my favorite things ever, and even though it was ugly to look at, it was delightful to ride on. Mentally, I compared his motorcycle to oatmeal; something grotesque to stare at, but one thing I clearly couldn’t imagine life without.

  As he pulled into the driveway I jumped off the porch, hurried down the walk, and stood by the garage door waiting. He slowed down, turned around in the drive, and faced the street. With the change of weather from winter to a very warm spring, his thick beard was long gone, and he was back to having nothing but short stubble on his face. Sad that my beard porn winter was over, but enjoying his new look, I lifted my leg over the seat and got on.

  “Glasses,” he said over his shoulder.

  Shit.

  I opened my purse, grabbed my glasses, and put them on. Remembering all of the things I had to do when riding the motorcycle didn’t come naturally to me, because I didn’t ride on it often enough. I did always remember that I needed to hang onto him to keep from falling off, but each time Vince pulled out of my driveway, I made it a point not to, because it felt like riding a rollercoaster when I teetered back in the seat as he pulled away. And he always pulled out of my driveway slowly, which allowed me to enjoy the feeling each time.
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  After placing my feet on the rear pegs, I tapped him on the shoulder and kissed his cheek.

  “Ready,” I said as I lifted my hands out to my side and closed my eyes.

  He pulled out of the driveway slowly; causing me to rock back in the seat and making me feel as if I was riding an amusement park ride. As I opened my eyes and grabbed him around the waist, he accelerated up the block, leaving me to wonder if he realized I enjoyed coming out of the driveway slowly, and he purposely did so for a that reason alone.

  It seemed Vince knew everything, so I chose not to ask, deciding he did what he did for a reason.

  As we rolled to a stop at the end of the block, Vince tilted his head to the side. “There’s this cool little place in Andover. It has a pretty small selection, but it’s great food. Guy started out on one of those little street vendor grilles with fucking wheels on it.”

  He glanced in either direction, and pulled away from the stop sign gradually. “Maybe fifteen minutes to get there, sound good?”

  I didn’t ever care what I ate with Vince, simply being with him was enough. Hell, he could starve me, and as long as I was starving with him, I really wouldn’t care.

  I leaned forward and rested my chin on his shoulder. “Sounds great.”

  “Andover it is,” he said, twisting the throttle a little more after he spoke.

  I gripped him a little bit tighter and pulled my chest tight to his back. Feeling my body against his provided a level of comfort I had not previously known. It didn’t matter if he was hugging me, making love to me, or we were riding on the motorcycle, but when our bodies were touching and I was positively held in place, I felt as if nothing could harm me.

  With Vince as my lover, I felt the only person who could harm me was me.

  What seemed like five minutes and very little traffic later, we pulled into a small and rather sparsely occupied strip mall. At the far end was a small restaurant with a nice unoccupied covered seating area outside. As Vince came to a stop in a parking stall adjacent to the restaurant, I envisioned us sitting alone in the outdoor patio, talking and eating while enjoying the warm western evening sun.

  We walked to the door side by side, and Vince pulled against the handle. The door rattled, but didn’t open. He pulled against it again, rattling the windows of the storefront.