BITTER SWEET CRAVINGS (The Kingsmen MC Book 6)

by Oakes, Tara

  She’s right. I am.

  How could I not? The more I look at it, even in the loose skirt, I convince myself that it’s the finest ass I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s fuckin’ perfect. She’s fuckin’ perfect.

  The perfect eyes, the perfect ass, the perfect skin… the perfect pussy.

  My dick aches in the best way possible just thinking about how tight she was, gripping and squeezing every inch of life out of me. I laugh, more loudly than I’d planned thinking how I’ll never need a cock ring with her.

  “What? Am I walking funny?” She turns, blushing.

  Huh? Oh, the laugh.

  I pull her close to me as we’ve reached the door. “Damn right you’re walkin’ funny… probably gonna be sore later, too. You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

  I kiss her nose as she shakes her head no, even though I see in her eyes she’s debating the merits of the suggestion.

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow. Open a business account, call a contractor, a printer, and set up a supply company. Honestly, you’d be a fantastic yet horrible distraction all at the same time.”

  Her eyes subconsciously dip between us down to my crotch.

  I laugh again as she licks her top lip, unaware of how insanely cute and sexy it is at the same time.

  “Well, get your shit done early, ‘cause I have a feeling we’ll both be looking for a distraction before long. And don’t worry about finding a contractor. We’ve got plenty of brothers who work in that area.”

  She eyes me, “Really? That… would be such a help! Do they know what they’re doing?”

  “Go by Sunny’s salon and take a look. Did everything ourselves to help save her a bunch of cash when she opened.” I hope she’ll listen to me and actually go pay a visit, get to know Sunny a little better, make it easier for her around the other women in the club.

  “But why would they all go out of their way to help me?” Her eyes open wide before she’s even finished her thought. “Oh, because Charlie’s my sister?”

  I shake my head, “No. Because you’re with me.”

  “T.J… I--”

  I quiet any objection she’s trying to voice with my lips on hers, convincing her of the reason I want to help. Her hands wrap around my waist, hanging low, relaxed, playing with the leather that still has a newness to it.

  “You-you have something in your pocket--”

  Curiosity getting the better of her as she feels some type of bulge in my pocket, she pulls the string of the stripper panties, freeing them from the hiding place I’d forgotten about.

  At first I can see that she doesn’t register what they are, and I try unsuccessfully to take them back.

  “What- is this? What I-”

  I drop my head back, eyes able to stare up at the stars for a second before rolling and closing.

  FUCK.

  “It’s not what you think, babe.”

  She drops the g-string on the ground as if it were contagious.

  “It looks like a cheap pair of panties. It looks like a trophy. Let me guess, you gonna need a pair of mine, too? Add them to the collection?”

  She pulls away from me, anger building.

  “Whoa! First off, I don’t need a pair of your panties, cupcake. I’ve got a second by second account of it on permanent replay in my head, still not truly believing that it actually fucking happened. Second, the most important thing you need to know about me is my word. I say something? It’s true. Never have to second guess shit about that, Okay?”

  “Oh? Everything you say will be the truth?” She’s setting me up, I can feel it.

  I nod.

  “Then where did they come from? Why are they in your pocket? And did you fuck her?” I’m amazed she’s calm enough to speak rationally, not used to a woman not taking the opportunity to fly off the goddamned handle.

  “Came from a sleazy stripper tossing me a souvenir of the show, hoping I’d give her more than just a tip later. They’re in my pocket because I shoved ‘em in there to get them off my face so I could fucking see. And no… I didn’t fuck her. I didn’t touch her or say a word to her. Not because I didn’t have the opportunity to… because I couldn’t imagine touching anyone else. I kept finding myself comparing everyone else to you, realizing they didn’t even hold a candle. I’m not sure what the fuck you’re doin’ to me, cupcake. Some kind of pussy magic or some shit like that. For days now, all I do is remember little things about you that I didn’t even realize I’d learned. But I did, I fucking memorized every little thing about you without even knowin’ it.”

  I can’t read her, can’t gauge whether she believes me or not.

  “Get them off my sister’s porch.” She kicks them with the toe of her shoe. “They fucking reek.”

  Then, she smiles, turns her back and closes the door softly as if nothing happened at all.

  What the hell? No chewing me out? No screaming her fucking head off? No slapping me across the face? I’m godsmacked right now.

  I bend to take the offensive object to toss in the trash when I see the base of the door open.

  “Oh, babe?” she asks, sweet and demurely as if she’d forgotten to tell me something. “Remember how good it felt when you slid inside me? And remember how you panted my name, saying how it was even better than you imagined? Oh, and then there was that little moment when you broke out in a sweat and swore you were about to die happy. Remember all those?”

  I feel my dick harden just thinking of it.

  “Yeah, well, if I ever find another pair of panties on you, on your bike, in your bed, in your house, or anywhere else… all you’re gonna have are those memories to think about as you cry yourself to sleep at night knowing you lost the best thing that ever happened to you. ‘Cause believe me… it will make you break down and sob every single time you think about the sweet, tight, little pussy you’ll never get to have again.”

  She’s surprisingly upbeat.

  “Have a nice day.”

  I feel like I’ve been simultaneously kicked in the gut and had my cock swallowed by her sweet mouth as she leaves me with the well-articulated threat and a raging hard-on.

  ~*~

  CHARLIE

  “Hey, Charlie! You workin’ an extra shift?”

  Maude has become especially nice to me since our little shared ordeal in the emergency room a few days ago when I lost my shit after seeing Clink.

  I smile, thankful I have her as an ally around here, no matter the reason why.

  “Nah, just checking on a friend before visiting hours begin.” I click my fingernails along the keyboard as I type in Sable’s information. Room 202. “See ya tomorrow, Mo.”

  She nods to me over a clipboard, entering in her daily med. checks.

  The first-shift nurses are making their way in to relieve the overnight ones, like Maude. Other than the handing off of charts, reviewing OR and testing schedules, and catching up on the turn of shift gossip, it’s pretty quiet here this time of morning.

  I knew Sable wouldn’t be moved to a private room until well after midnight last night so I thought it better to just scoot in here before visiting hours begin to check on her.

  Clink had told me that Blue was practically arrested for trespassing when he refused to leave her side after visiting hours had closed yesterday. I don’t know Blue well compared to most of the other brothers, but I think it’s sweet he’s got a thing for her. Just goes to show you that there’s someone out there for everyone… even sick, perverted, deviant little fuckers like Blue.

  Room 202 is on the far side of the east wing, but it doesn’t take me long to reach it. With the nurses preoccupied with the shift change back at the main nursing station, these distant halls are completely empty.

  I turn the corner but stop short and slink back as I see a dark-haired man leaving her room. He’s moving quickly, confidently, down the hall away from me before scanning a card in front of the barcode reader of the security door to exit.

  I take quick littl
e steps to follow the tan-skinned man as he makes his way down the corridor for the back stairwell. The employee stairwell, that required an employee badge to get to.

  I’m not an old-timer around here like Maude, but I certainly have never seen this guy in any professional capacity and judging by the looks of him, he seems more of a back-alley kind of creep than a medical professional.

  However… he did seem to know Harris that morning at the Waffle house… and they both specifically went out of their way to hide that fact. Could he be hospital security, maybe?

  Thank God I’ve worn my sneakers today, with the hopes of hitting the gym for the first time since surgery. The soft-rubberized soles help me covertly tail the murky-looking man as well as get enough traction to pick up some speed.

  The loud clicking of the heavy, fireproof metal door can be heard before the swooshing of air being moved as it closes with a heavy thud. Thanks to the block-lettered painted B on the wall of the landing, I know we’re in the basement, the bottom parking level for the ambulances and higher-level administrators.

  I sneak close, hiding, tempted to hit the bar handle to follow him further but know that will sure as shit get me caught. Instead, I slowly raise myself to peek through the square safety glass, through the crisscross of metal meshing embedded within.

  The basement is dark with only the scattered artificial lights casting from yellow light bulbs. I see the man standing next to a dark sedan with heavily tinted windows talking animatedly with a taller, more slender man showing his back to me.

  The second man has lighter hair, is clean-cut, and wears a long-sleeved baby-blue business shirt that looks fresh and recently ironed and light khakis. He couldn’t be more of a contradiction to the dark t-shirt wearing man in expensive looking jeans and a leather jacket.

  The two of them continue to talk and I struggle to get a better view without blowing my cover. I contort myself into a perfect sitting chair position that my yoga instructor would be damn proud of but it isn’t enough.

  Fuck!

  And fuck this soundproof door! I can’t hear anything!

  I garner the courage to stand a bit more, exposing nearly the top half of my head through the window, risking being seen but the payoff is immediate.

  I see the dark-haired stranger point his finger accusingly at the clean-cut guy before handing over a thin lanyard with a small white card attached to it. An employee badge, just like the one I have. Just like the one every legitimate employee of this hospital has.

  The taller white man takes it quickly and swoops his neck into it, before turning to leave his companion. The nearby wall-mounted low wattage light falls on him so I’m finally able to see his face, to see the identity of the employee who allowed the dangerous looking man to gain access to not only Sable, but a damn good escape as well.

  My heart stops and my breathing pauses as I see the familiar jawline and clean-shaven profile.

  It’s Harris.

  I don’t know why I’m shocked as much as I am, but I quickly lose my balance and perfect yoga pose, stumbling to regain it only to fall against the cold, solid, metal door. I’m able to avoid the handle, to keep the door from opening with my impact, but the sound is unmistakable.

  The noise crashes through the perfect echo-ready walls and I gasp deep before taking off in flight up the stairs. I don’t think, I don’t reason… I don’t do anything except run as fast as I can, literally for my life, as I hear the tell-tale signs of a chase behind me.

  Shoes screeching, heavy panting, thudding echoes… and the clicking of a gun.

  Holy fucking shit! This just hit a whole new level.

  A powerful burst of adrenaline shoots through my veins, pushing me further, faster, up the stairs until I reach the third floor, slamming my body weight against the long rectangular handle bar of the door, giving my pursuers not only a strong clue as to my method of escape, but an exact location of where to go next.

  The recently polished floors don’t help with traction, but I use every single muscle in my legs to propel me, not daring to look behind, instead listening for the inescapable sound of the stairwell door once more behind me as they barrel through it.

  I hear the dreaded sound I’ve been waiting for just as I grab hold of a corner and round it, throwing myself into a small maintenance closet. I don’t dare turn the light on; instead, I feel my way through the dark, carefully, knowing that one more clumsy mistake like what I’ve made in the basement could cost me big time.

  The round, generic metal doorknob has a lock, so I carefully depress it, until I hear the faint clicking. Only then can I breathe, only then can I finally release the air that’s been building in my lungs, begging for escape.

  There’s a thin strip of light at the bottom of the door, and I watch it like a hawk. I don’t have to watch longer than a few seconds, before several shadowed interruptions break the white line of light, heading away from my dark little hiding place.

  Please, God, please let me get through this.

  Just when I think my prayers have been answered, the dark blotches return. Two of them. And then the doorknob jiggles.

  Oh crap!

  “What’s in here?” One deep voice, a voice I’ve never heard before, asks out.

  A second pair of shadows appears under the door.

  “In there? Just a broom closet, I think,” Harris’s unmistakable smooth voice answers his accomplice.

  The door vibrates, being pulled. “Why’s it locked?”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

  “I-I don’t know. Probably so patients don’t go wandering around near cleaning chemicals? You think the guy went in there?”

  Damn Harris!

  “You got a key?”

  I hear Harris’s snooty little laugh. “I didn’t spend five years in med school to be mopping floors. Of course I don’t have a fucking key!”

  “Well go get one! Put all those years of higher education to work, doc, and go find the damn key!” The gritty voice reprimands Harris.

  Two of the little shadows disappear and I can tell Harris has done as the other man has suggested. It’s only a matter of time before he finds a janitor to unlock the door, and then I’m done for. There’s no way out other than to wait like a sitting duck.

  Or is there?

  I reach nervously for the cell phone in my pocket, making sure to turn off the sound before sending out a mass text to everyone I can think of, knowing whoever gets it first will hopefully save my life. Clink, Dana, Vince, Lil’s, T.J., Jean, Sunny… they all get the same message.

  CALL 911 WITH A FIRE, A BOMB THREAT, ANYTHING FOR THE HOSPITAL ASAP.

  I slip the phone back into my pocket, knowing I’ll have an endless barrage of questions after they’ve done as I ask. I don’t have time for that right now. I have to plan for the worst and be ready to protect myself as best I can.

  I reach forward blindly and take hold of a long, thin, wooden handle. It must be a broom… maybe a mop. I know it’s nothing compared to what the guy on the other side of this door has, but it’s all I’ve got right now.

  It’ll have to do.

  And now… I wait.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  DANA

  I punch the little C button once more on the calculator, erasing the number that’s broken my heart.

  It’s not enough. Even cutting corners and taking out some of the bigger expenses that I really shouldn’t isn’t enough to make it work. I still come up a few thousand dollars short.

  Only a few thousand dollars separates me from my dream. A few measly thousand dollars between me and the independence I crave. I throw the pencil down on the tabletop as it’s failed me. No matter how many times I erased and rewrote the lists, making them shorter each time, it was never enough.

  I don’t have very many options.

  A bank will never give me a loan without collateral. I don’t own anything of value to use to secure the financing, so it’s a dead end. I could never in a million years ask mom for a
loan, although I know dad’s life insurance has provided for her pretty well.

  Her first reason for giving me a big fat “no” would be that I should just stay and work with her at her own catering business, with promises that one day she’ll turn it over to me when she’s ready to retire. Knowing Regina Griffiths, she’ll never retire.

  She’ll work herself into every decision, every transaction, micromanage every little detail. It kind of defeats the entire reason why I want to be able to do this on my own. I want to accomplish something on my own terms, to break out of the shadow of being “little Dana” for the rest of my life.

  Her second reason for denying me the money if I ever asked, after she’s claimed she’s having a heart attack from the shock of me moving to Chisolm, let alone opening a business there, would be her connecting the dots to figure out why I’ve picked that particular town, and then all hell’s going to break loose between Charlie, mom, and me.

  No, thank you.

  My only other option is to get a little job around here and continue to save up my money, hoping that by the time it’s enough, the space is still available. It would probably take me about four or five months. Maybe six if I can’t find a job right away.

  I let my head fall and leave it resting on my forearms while I wallow. The knock at the door is the only thing to pause my little pity-party.

  “I’m coming.”

  I open the front door in mere seconds.

  “Hey, Dana,” Lil’s whispers. My eyes drop down to the baby she’s holding in her arms and I catch on really quick that the volume level is most definitely on purpose.

  I motion for her to come in, tiptoeing around her and the baby to close the door as quietly as I can. When I return to Lil’s, I angle my chin so I can peek under the pile of light brown fuzz that covers baby Charlize’s bow-adorned head to see her plump little lips and chubby cheeks.

  I make the universal sound for a cute baby breaking someone’s heart and Lil’s rolls her eyes.