Ginger hums and snuggles in a bit more. I drop one of my hands to her belly and rest it against the hard ball, hoping to feel my baby move inside of her. “No, she’s nervous, reluctant, and scared. She begged me not to send her back to Montana. I think that’s where she’s from.”
“I’ll let Free know, he’s looking into her Old Man.”
“We need to help her, she looks so lost,” Ginger mutters.
I explain to her my plan, which causes her to sit up. When she does, I open my eyes to find tears streaming down her face. Then before I can ask her anything, she cups my bearded cheeks in her palms and leans in to press a kiss against my mouth.
Reaching up, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, deepening the kiss not allowing her to end it. I slip my tongue into her mouth, consuming her the way she always does me. When Ginger hums and her fingers grip my shoulder, I know that she’s feeling as affected as I am.
I gently break our kiss, nibbling on her bottom lip before I make my way over to her earlobe. “You want it hard and fast, or slow, peaches?”
She stiffens and jerks her head back. “That poor abused girl is just feet away and you want to get laid?” she hisses.
“Fuck yeah, I wanna get laid. You’re on my lap, kissing me, what the fuck else do you think is gonna happen?” I bark.
Ginger scrambles off of my lap and narrows her eyes at me. Her face is flushed, and she looks wild and beautiful. “You’re an asshole, Prescott.”
I snort. “No shit, Ginger.”
She turns around with a huff and begins to walk away from me. I don’t let her, I’ll never let her go. I stand as quickly as I can. When she reaches the door, I slam my hand against it, flipping the lock into place.
I hear her huff out a breath, but she makes no move to leave or turn around. Leaning over her, I press my lips to her neck, my tongue tracing my tattooed brand. Ginger shivers, goosebumps appearing on her flesh.
Placing my hand on her hip, I slide it around and cup her pussy. “You’re still an asshole,” she breathes as I press my fingers against her clit over the fabric of her leggings.
“I know I am, peaches,” I rasp against her skin.
Ginger reaches an arm up, wrapping her fingers around the back of my neck. I slip my hand beneath the elastic of her leggings and drag my fingers through her pussy. With a groan, I find her wet and her hips roll with my touch.
We don’t speak, my fingers playing her cunt the way I know she likes. My mouth and tongue enjoy the taste of her skin at the side of her neck. I rub my aching cock against the crack of her ass with a moan, searching for my own relief.
“Prescott,” she whimpers.
Removing my hand from her panties, I wrench her leggings down as far as I can. She tips her hips, arching back for me. I take a step back from her, shoving my jeans down my own thighs. Letting out a groan at the sight of her wet pussy. My fingers grasp her waist and I adjust her hips a little more as I align my cock with her wet entrance.
“Brace, peaches,” I grunt, slamming inside of her.
Ginger throws her head back and I fuck her. Forgotten are my concerns over hurting her, I need to claim her right now. Seeing that girl, the memories of my sweet Georgia peach being in her same shoes once has turned me feral. I grip her skin even tighter, knowing she’ll be bruised later, but I can’t stop myself.
“Yes, oh God,” Ginger moans. Her head falls forward, hitting the door with a thud.
I grind my jaw, clenching my teeth as I fuck my woman. I need her to remember where she is, and who she belongs to, or maybe I need to remind myself of those things. Whatever it is, I can’t control myself as I pound into her slick wet heat.
One of her hands leaves the door and I feel her fingers graze my balls. With a moan, I reach back and slap my hand against her ass. “Come, Ginger,” I growl. It’s all I can say; all other words have completely left me.
I fuck her harder, and faster, my back tingling and my balls drawing up tight. I hear her low mewl, her cunt clamping down around me tightly. She forces my climax from me, and I let out a shout, burying myself completely inside of her, my cock twitching and filling her with my release. “Fuck,” I grunt.
“I should be so pissed at you for pushing that,” she whispers breathlessly.
I flex my hips, my cock still deep inside of her, which causes a hitch in her breath. “What was that?” I ask, licking the side of her neck, before nipping her skin.
“You’re an ass,” she grunts.
I chuckle against her neck. I am an ass, she knows it, she’s known it. It’s nothing fuckin’ new. I shift my hands from her hips to her belly and move my lips to the shell of her ear. “Love you my little Georgia peach,” I whisper.
“I love you too,” she sighs. “Hayden is going to need a lot of support and help.”
I grunt in agreement, although I have no desire to talk about it while my dick is still inside of her. I gently slip out from between her legs, pulling my pants back up. I walk over to my desk, grabbing a paper towel from the roll and hand it to her to clean up.
“You know this feels like sandpaper, don’t you?” she asks, arching a brow as she wipes between her legs.
I grin, giving her a wink. “It’s all I got, babe. Take it or leave it.”
She shakes her head and tosses the crumpled towel at me. I step to the side and watch it land next to my feet. I smirk, it’s actually not the worst thing to touch this floor.
“We don’t know anything about her yet, so let’s just take this shit slowly,” I murmur.
Ginger nods, her teeth sinking into her lip at the corner of her mouth. She isn’t going to take anything slowly, I can already tell. She’s going to dive in head first and become best friends with this girl. There’s absolutely nothing I can say, or do, to stop her either.
Fuck.
CHAPTER THREE
GINGER
I wake with a start. I’m not sure what’s woken me, but I feel funny. Glancing around the bedroom, I notice that I’m alone. I hate waking up alone, I have since moving back here. I don’t know why, but I feel like I need Prescott’s body next to mine to feel safe.
Grabbing my phone, I check for notifications to see if he’s texted me. There aren’t any new alerts, but I’m surprised to see that it’s after eleven in the morning, the day is almost halfway over. I’m not one to sleep this late normally, but since being pregnant, I’ve noticed that once my eyes close, I can sleep for feels like an unlimited number of hours.
Where are you?
I send the text off, as I sit up, and slip out of bed. Nothing looks out of place. There doesn’t seem to be any reason as to why I’ve woken the way I have, with my heart pounding and my body sweating.
Yet, I did just the same. Maybe it was some subconscious dream I had. Whatever it was, I decide not to give it anymore headspace. There’s no use in stressing over it for the entire day.
My phone buzzes with a new notification, as I start the water for my shower.
PRES: Cash Bar. Come down when you’re ready.
I frown at the message. He made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t to be down there working. He said he would bring the books and payroll home for me, but I wasn’t supposed to really be there, and if I did go he would take me himself. Now, all of a sudden, he wants me to come down. Something is definitely up.
I quickly shower and dress for the day, annoyed that less and less in my closet fits. I’ll need to go shopping again and buy some more maternity clothes. I feel like it’s such a waste of money for only a few months of wear.
Unfortunately, there is no way I’ll be able to wear what I currently own for much longer, my stomach seems to be growing at a rapid pace. Never mind my ass, that’s doubled in size the past few months.
Once I’m completely dressed, I send Prescott a text that I’m on my way down to the bar. I hurry downstairs and grab my coat before I walk outside. It’s not frigid yet, but the temperatures are dropping lower each and every day.
It’
s the one thing I don’t care for here.
The weather.
I miss the hot, sticky, Georgia heat, and I never imagined I would think that way—ever.
It only takes me a couple of minutes to drive to the bar. A good thing about my house is that in the summer I can walk to the bar, but in the winter, I only have to hold my breath for a few minutes driving in the snow, to make it to the parking lot.
Now that I’m pregnant and with my minor complication, Prescott would shit a brick if I tried to walk, so even though the weather is decent today, I drive.
Pulling into the parking lot, I find my spot and shift my Jeep into park. I grin when I see the sign in front of my parking spot.
Snake’s Old Lady. Park Here and Die.
The man is crazy, absolutely insane, and yet—I love the big asshole.
I slide out of the front seat, unable to hop or jump anymore, and slam the car door closed. Turning to walk into the bar, I’m surprised to see Prescott walking toward me. He looks almost, mad, and I’m not sure why. I open my mouth to ask him when he’s close enough to where I don’t have to yell, but he speaks first.
“The girl will work out. Unfortunately, the brothers are all fighting over her. It’s disgusting really,” he grunts.
My eyes widen when I try to figure out which brothers would fight over her. She’s not even eighteen, and a mother to an infant. I’m not even going to think about how damaged she must be from her captor’s abuse.
“Fighting over her?” I ask, arching a brow.
Prescott shakes his head. “To protect her, they’ve all got some kind of big brother complex shit going on there,” he shrugs. There’s more to it, but I don’t push him, knowing that he probably wouldn’t tell me.
“And you called me here…”
He shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. “I know you probably want to check her out, make sure she’s doing things the way you want. Crooner can only tell her so much,” he shrugs.
This, this is why I love this man. He knows it’ll kill me to stay away from this bar for three months, maybe longer. He’s giving me a way to hang around, at least for a little bit.
Prescott places his hand on the small of my back, and together we walk into the bar. Motorhead, Crooner, and one of the prospects are sitting at a table, their eyes on Hayden. She is looking down at the bar top and wiping it down like it’s her sole mission in life.
“Hey,” I call out with a smile.
She jerks before she lifts her head and then she gives me a timid smile. She looks terrified, and I don’t blame her. I want to talk to her and get to know her, but I also know that she probably isn’t ready to spill anything yet, so I keep my lips zipped.
“Do you have any questions about the bar, or what you’re expected to do?” I ask.
She presses her lips together, rolling them for a brief moment, then she nods. “Crooner said something about inventory. He said Jacquie is supposed to do it, but she doesn’t. I’d like to learn how, if that’s okay?” she asks.
Her voice is barely above a whisper, and I wonder how well she’s really going to work out in this roughneck bar. It can get a little wild on the weekends, especially when you mix the Notorious Devils and the locals. She’s eager to learn though, and I shouldn’t tell her no, or try to inhibit that desire. Instead, I decide to show her inventory, and my system.
It doesn’t take me long, Hayden isn’t stupid, in fact, she’s really smart and she picks up on my system in only about ten minutes. I leave her to finish the task and then I tell her that I’ll show her how to place orders next. She seems excited about that and I wonder if I might have a manager on my hands. With this baby coming, it would be a relief.
“Ready, peaches?” Prescott murmurs, walking up behind me.
He wraps his hand around my waist and tugs me against his side. Hayden makes a small noise in the back of her throat. I glance up to see if she’s okay, but she just shakes her head once.
“I’m ready, I’m tired,” I admit. “Bye, Hayden I’ll see you soon,” I call out with a smile.
“Let Crooner know if you need anything, he’s here as your protection while you’re at work,” Prescott announces. She nods once and lets out a heavy sigh but doesn’t say anything else.
Pres keeps his arm around me as we walk outside, but doesn’t say anything. I have so many questions, and one of them is why Hayden has protection. I open my mouth to ask, but Prescott dips his chin and presses his lips to mine.
“I have a meeting with Free. I’ll be home after, and I’ll tell you what I can when I am, okay?”
I tip my head back slightly, looking into his pretty deep green eyes. He knows me too well, so I just press my lips to his. “Okay, what do you want for dinner?” I ask.
He tilts his head to the side, as though he’s thinking really hard about it, then he turns back to me. “Beer and pussy,” he grunts, with a completely serious look on his face.
I gasp, breaking out into a fit of laughter and watch as his eyes smile down at me, his teeth even peeking through his thick beard. “Man cannot live on beer and pussy alone, Pres.”
“How about I bring something home. We’ll just veg tonight,” he offers with a wink.
I know exactly what that means, it means he’s going to be expecting pussy. He also knows that I’ll never deny that, not ever. I love the way he feels inside of me too much. I agree to the plan, and we separate with a scorching kiss.
SNAKE
I watch her drive away and pull out my phone. “Free,” he grunts into the line.
“I’ll be there in five, just leaving the bar now,” I state.
Jogging over to my bike, I straddle it before the engine roars to life, and then I ride. I haven’t been able to ride lately as much as I normally would. I refuse to put Ginger on the back of my bike pregnant, so anywhere we go together, we take my pickup.
Unfortunately, I’m not really able to enjoy this current ride. I have to meet Free, and I need to get there quickly. He has information for me, information about Hayden.
The girl seems to be a good fit here so far. I know she’ll have some adjustment period, but as the President of the Notorious Devils, I need to know what her past entails. With her age and her situation, it’s obviously something, and I have a feeling it’s more sinister than I could ever imagine—just by the urgency in Free’s tone.
I wait as the prospect opens the clubhouse gate, and then I ride toward my spot and kick the stand down before dismounting and making my way inside. I don’t bother looking in the bar area, instead I make my way straight toward my office.
Free is sitting inside on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands dangling down. He lifts his head and I see clearly that there’s pain etched in his features.
Fuck. This is bad.
I close the door and flip the lock for privacy then make my way around my desk and sit down in my chair. I mentally brace before I tell him to hit me with whatever it is.
“Her Old Man,” he spits, sounding as disgusted as he looks. “Lucifer.”
I didn’t know her man’s name before, and now my stomach turns. Everybody knows who he is, and the evil shit he’s done. He’s not respected as part of the Devils, but feared.
I’ve heard the president of the original charter is the only man who can, and has, put Lucifer in his place. The man is the devil—he’s fucking evil. MadDog placed him in a remote town in Montana, as a way to isolate him from the rest of society. Hoping he wouldn’t be too much of a stain on the Devils out there.
“How did a sweet kid like that end up in his clutches?” I wonder aloud.
“You eat lunch?” he asks tipping his head to the side.
I shake my head once. “Good,” he grunts.
By the time Free is finished telling me what he knows of the situation between Hayden and Lucifer, I am physically ill. I’m glad that I hadn’t eaten, and in all honesty, dinner is up in the air at this point.
I yank open the bottom drawe
r of my desk and bring out a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. Quickly, I fill them up and push one toward the edge of my desk, before I down the other. Free joins me and we sit in silence for the next hour, shooting glass after glass.
I don’t know that I’ll ever forget anything Free said today. I’m not sure a person could. It’s something that will forever haunt me. I’ve never been one to really feel sorry for people. Shit happens in life, it changes you, and you learn and grow. I never felt sorry for Ginger, I felt anger, and I felt guilt, but my Georgia peach is stronger than ever.
Hayden, however, I feel sorry for her.
Fuck, that poor kid.
“She’s under our club’s protection. No matter what,” I grunt.
Free shakes his head. “He’ll find out where she is. Those Nomads know exactly who she belongs to. It’ll get out somehow,” he murmurs.
“I’ll call down to California, talk to MadDog, at the original charter. We have him on our side, Lucifer won’t do jack shit,” I grunt.
“Fuck. Not what we need breathing down our neck. That fucker is crazy,” he points out. He’s right.
Lucifer is fucking insane, but no way can I send that kid back to him, not now, and not ever. “Lucifer might be insane, but he’s also not getting her back. Don’t give a fuck what he tries. She’s ours and that’s why that Nomad left her here, he knew we’d protect her,” I state.
Free nods in agreement, but there’s a look of dread in his eyes. I’m sure I have that same look, but it doesn’t matter. Hayden is ours, and we will watch over her and her baby no matter the cost.
CHAPTER FOUR
GINGER
I open my eyes with a start, yet again. This time I’m on the sofa, the television on but only a low hum of voices spilling from the speakers. It wasn’t the TV that woke me, it was something else. A creepy feeling slithers through me, as though I’m being watched, again.
Laced with Fear (Cash Bar Book 1) Page 5