My phone starts ringing in my jeans, and I break away from her sleeping form to answer it.
Torch.
“What’s up?” I ask, knowing that it must be something big if he’s calling me right now.
“Got a problem with the shipment to Canada, brother. The club says they’re having issues with the Mexican Cartel there. They need muscle—they need backup. The shipments are getting intercepted by the Cartel and the club hasn’t been able to make their deliveries. The Aryan’s are pissed,” Torch explains on a hiss.
“I fuckin’ hate the Aryan’s. I don’t know why that deal was ever made in the first place,” I grumble, walking into Kentlee’s living room.
“Money talks, brother,” Torch sighs. I know he feels the same way about those racist fucks.
“So they want us to come up to Canada, guns hot, full force, to protect their shipments? Do they not understand the word incognito?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
“You know them. They don’t give a fuck. They just want their shit. Douchebags,” Torch answers. I stretch my neck from side-to-side, trying to relieve the tension I feel building.
“We try one more shipment, the one going out next month, on a different route. If it’s intercepted, then we come in and make ourselves fucking known,” I explain.
No way in fuck do I want to help those assholes, but they pay us well, and Torch is right. Money talks.
“I’ll spread the word,” he offers. I thank him.
I’m not contacting them unless I absolutely have to.
I never agreed to doing business with them. I’ve never wanted it, and I’ve never liked it. The original charter set all that shit up. While I was a voting member there, I was too busy fucking and drinking to give much of a shit about the business side of it. I took my orders like a good solider and did what I was supposed to do, but that was about it. Now that I’m in charge and have a fairly decent clear head, I don’t like it at all.
I walk back into Kentlee’s bedroom, which is about two steps away—seeing as her house is the size of a fuckin’ postage stamp—and crawl back into her comfortable as shit bed. When I wrap my arms around her again, I hear her let out a sigh and I smile.
Fuck, this little girl and what she does to me. Unbelievable. I close my eyes and sigh out my own breath.
I’m happy.
Never been happy like this before.
My woman.
My baby.
Fuckin’ bliss.
Kentlee
The heavy arm that is pressing me into the mattress should feel uncomfortable. It doesn’t. In fact, I like it – a lot.
I roll over to face Pierce and see that he is still asleep. He looks younger when he’s asleep, his jaw slack instead of clenched.
I trace his eyebrow with my fingertips and then drag them along the edge of his face, down along the underside of his jaw, feeling the scruff of his beard.
“Feels good, baby,” he mumbles in a hazy sleep-filled voice. I slip my fingers through his shaggy hair and gently rake my nails along his scalp.
“Good afternoon,” I remark as his eyes slowly open.
“Yeah. Fuck. Passed out,” he says as he stretches next to me.
“You want me to make something to eat while we discuss budgets and stuff?” I ask, hoping that he’s still on board—that sleeping and time haven’t changed his mind.
“Yeah, sugar, that’d be good,” he says, smiling as his stomach growls.
I laugh slightly as I crawl out of bed in search of something to wear.
I slide a clean pair of panties on over my hips and turn around to see him watching me from the bed. His eyes are a bit darker than their normal gray, but they are completely focused on me. Biting my lip, I put on a bra and grab an oversized shirt before slipping a pair of leggings on. I don’t plan on going anywhere else today.
“Gorgeous,” he breathes as he climbs out of bed and heads my direction. I jump when his hands grasp my hips and he angles his head to plant a hard kiss on my lips.
“Peirce,” I moan after he lets me go. He doesn’t say another word.
He pats my ass and then turns and walks to my bathroom. I watch him as he goes, enjoying the view of his bare ass and the muscles that move with each step he takes. As soon as the bathroom door closes, I sigh and make my way toward the kitchen.
I don’t have much in my refrigerator, because I really don’t like cooking for just one person. It’s sad and makes me feel lonely, so I don’t do it often. Luckily, I have all the ingredients to make meat sauce spaghetti and I have a new loaf of bread that I can turn into cheesy garlic bread. My mouth waters at the very idea of more carbs, so I quickly get to work making food for my man and myself.
My man.
I still can’t believe that Fury is mine.
Pierce “Fury” Duhart is mine.
I am Pierce “Fury” Duhart’s woman.
I shiver slightly at the thought.
I am taken out of my daydream when two strong arms wrap around my middle and a pair of soft lips touch behind my ear. I inhale his scent; sweat, spice, and Pierce fills my lungs.
“Smells good, baby girl,” he rumbles behind me, his chest vibrating against my back.
“It’s ground beef, Pierce,” I chuckle. His arms squeeze me slightly before one of his hands drifts up the inside of my shirt to wrap around my breast. I moan when he pinches my nipple through my bra.
“Haven’t had a woman cook for me since my mama did before she died. Smells good, baby girl,” he says, repeating the phrase, rocking me to my core.
I realize that I truly know nothing about the man. He lets me go and grabs a coke out of the fridge before settling down at the bar to watch me.
“You’re mom passed? I’m so sorry,” I say quietly as I turn to face him.
“I was fifteen; twenty years ago, sugar. I miss her, but I’ve dealt with all that sorrow,” he confesses. I blink, realizing that he’s well over ten years older than I am.
“Does it bother you that I’m twenty-three and you’re thirty-five?” I ask. He smiles slightly before he speaks, his eyes roaming my body.
“Not even a little. Now, if you acted like a young idiot chick, it would probably bug the fuck outta me, but you don’t. You’re a woman, you’re responsible, and you’re fuckin’ heaven around my cock. Plus, you cook. How could I fuckin’ complain?” he asks as he chuckles.
I want to throw my spatula at him, but I can’t. He is being his own brand of sweet again, and I’m falling all over it.
“Pierce,” I hiss before I turn around and smile into my pan of browning ground beef.
“You love it, baby girl,” he grunts.
I shake my head. I do. I absolutely love it.
Pierce and I exchange small talk, very small talk, while I make dinner. I find out that he’s not from Idaho but California, and that his club’s original chapter is there. Not that I even understand that. I tell him that I’ve never left Idaho. My brother goes to college at Notre Dame, but I’ve never left state lines. I ask him about his father, where he is and if he misses him. He tells me that his father is the President for the club he was raised in, back in California.
“So, what do all the patches mean on your vest thingie?” I ask as I continue to cook.
“It’s called a cut, baby girl, and they stand for different things. My position, my charter, and some of them are for shit I’ve done,” he explains in a roundabout way.
“Oh, okay.”
I don’t push the issue or try to get him to tell me all about the things he done that earn those patches. In all honestly, I don’t think I want to know.
“I’d like to meet him soon—your dad,” I say as I plate the food, trying to avoid conversation about the cut he wears, or anything to do with it.
“Yeah. I got some shit coming up here at the club, but once that settle’s down, we can go out there. I want him to meet you before the baby comes, anyway,” he offers. It makes me smile that he really does care.
&n
bsp; “I need to tell my family about this—about you and the baby,” I say. He grins.
“You want me there for that?”
“No, I should probably go it alone. My mother and I don’t always get along. Odds are, it will turn into a scream fest. Brentlee will probably kick me out of her wedding, too, which is fine with me.”
“Why would she do that?” he asks, taking a bite of bread.
“Her maid-of-honor gave all of us a diet plan, along with a workout regime to follow. No way would she be okay with me being pregnant for her perfect day. I’ll be, like, seven months along and as big as a house,” I explain, taking a bite of food. “Especially if I keep eating carbs like this.”
“First of all, that girl sounds like a cunt. Secondly, you look fuckin’ smokin’ hot. I’m gonna keep feeding you carbs. Love that big ass of yours,” he murmurs, then grins.
“I’m not sure how I feel about you calling my ass big,” I mutter. He laughs as he leans in and places a kiss on my neck.
“Well, I know how I feel about that big ass of yours, and I like it just as it is. Don’t listen to that anorexic, little girl. You look like a woman and I like all that is you, Kentlee,” he mutters before taking another bite of food, essential shocking me — once again.
“Pierce,” I admonish.
I decide to leave the talk about my ass alone and start the conversation about budgets instead. I ask him how much he would like to spend on a house to rent and he shakes his head before answering.
“Whatever you want, baby girl. Just find what you want and I’ll lay down the cash for it.”
“That’s insane, Pierce. We need a budget. You said you wanted to pay for all of it, but I can’t accept that. And adding no budget on top of that? It’s insane,” I say as I finish up my last bite of pasta.
“I’m a man, Kentlee. I don’t pay anything right now for rent, and I have plenty of money. I can take care of you, and I will,” he announces. I blink at him.
“Okay, well, how about I put together a few rental listings and then we can look at them together?” I offer. He shakes his head.
“Baby girl, pick what you want. You’ll be decorating and cooking and shit there. I’ll be happy if it has a garage for my bike and your ride.” He emphasizes his need for a garage and it makes me smile.
I like that even though he wants one, specifically for his bike, he wants my car in there too – safety.
“Okay. You want to look at a few online with me?” I ask, willing him to say yes.
“Sorry, babe, I gotta get back to the clubhouse. Been gone all day. Still got some shit going down that I need to reign in,” he says, standing up and stepping closer to me. I widen my legs so that he can get close.
“Get some good sleep. Let me know what your parents say. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow, yeah?” he asks, his eyes searching mine, looking for something. I’m not sure what, exactly.
“Yeah, okay. I’m going over for wedding planning and dinner tomorrow night, so I’m going to tell them then,” I explain. He nods once before he leans down and places a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth.
“Saw your phone on your nightstand so I added my number and got yours. I’ll text you tomorrow night. You can tell me how it all went down,” he says. I nod, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“You aren’t coming home tomorrow night, then?” I ask, sounding needy and pathetic.
Home.
This isn’t his home and I damn well know it, but last night and this afternoon, wrapped in his arms – I don’t want to face another night without his strong body next to mine.
“Can’t, baby girl. I won’t be home with you every single night. Like I said, I need to keep you and the club separate. I’m the president there, I have to be there more times then not,” he explains.
In the back of my mind, it sounds like complete bullshit; but I’m so fucking needy for him, I accept everything he’s saying.
“All right. Well, okay, I’ll just talk to you tomorrow then?” I ask.
“Yeah, sugar, you will,” he says before leaning down and brushing my lips with his.
I spend the rest of my day searching my company’s online database for rentals in the area and I find four that I want to look at. Three of them have huge yards that I envision Pierce and our little baby playing in. I wonder if he is going to be the hands-on dad that I dream of, or will he be like mine? Home for some evenings and only making it to half of our events as children. I hope that he’s hands-on. I hope that he’s really in this like he claims to be – I hope that we fall madly in love. It wouldn’t be hard to fall for him. Our connection is there; we just need our hearts to fall into line.
Fury
Leaving her is harder than I imagined.
I need to go, though.
Being dependent on her will make me weak.
In this life, I cannot afford to look weak.
Kentlee is carrying my baby, which in and of itself is a weakness. But the way I feel about her already — fucking ridiculous.
I ride back to the clubhouse, trying to push thoughts of her aside. The way she feels around my cock, the way she looks in her oversized shirt making me spaghetti. Fuck, the bitch can cook, too. If she were Old Lady material and I was down to have one, she’d be it – one hundred percent.
I park my bike outside of the clubhouse doors and walk inside to see that Saturday night’s party is gearing up, at least for the brothers. We’re still on lockdown, but that just means that they’ll corral all the kids to one room while the adults party. They’re already drinking and smoking green. Harder drugs aren’t encouraged, but some guy’s party with coke on the weekends. I prefer the mellowness of green. I’m usually jacked up and need something to calm me; booze, and weed always does the trick, along with a good fuck.
“Hey, Fury. Missed you last night,” Kitty whines, sliding right up next to me, her big, fake tits out and bare.
“I was busy,” I say, signaling for the prospect to hand me a beer. He does. Once I take a pull, I turn to look down at the little slut hanging off of me, obviously wanting my attention.
“We didn’t get to finish what we started,” she says, pouting her lips and giving me innocent eyes.
“Don’t want you, Kitty,” I mutter as her hand goes down her little shorts, obviously to her pussy.
Fuck me, she’s a train wreck. I don’t want her, but nothing is hotter than a woman playing with herself.
“Let me show you what you’re missing, Fury. I could be so good to you—best you could ever dream of—if you’d just give me a chance.” She moans before she bites her lip, her hand working her pussy. It’s making me hard even though I can’t see a fucking thing.
“I ain’t gonna fuck your pussy, Kitty. I’m not available anymore,” I grunt.
“No Old Lady, though?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“That Kentlee bitch, then? She’s got your balls in a vice?” Kitty bites harshly. My back goes straight and I look down at her.
“You know her?” I bark, which startles Kitty. She removes her hand out of her pants and takes a step back.
“Went to high school with the bitch,” she spits angrily.
“You don’t know her. You don’t talk about her. You pretend she doesn’t fucking exist, do you get me?” I ask, grinding my jaw and glaring at the whore.
“Yeah, I get you, Fury,” she says, her voice quivering.
“Good. Now take off your shorts and get on this bar. I want to watch you make yourself come. Finish the goddamned show, Kitty,” I say with a grunt.
I watch her strip her little shorts off and then make a show of climbing onto the bar and spreading her legs right in front of my face. Her feet are flat on the bar top, and I watch her fingers trail down her stomach to her pussy.
I watch, but it doesn’t affect me like it should— like it used to. I love watching a woman get off, it’s hot as fuck; but right now, with Kitty, I can only think of Kentlee and how fucking sexy it would be to
watch her play with her perfect pink pussy.
Kitty shoves two fingers inside of her cunt and throws back her head with a cry. I feel my brothers at my back and side, watching the show from all around me. I should be into it. Kitty has a great body, even if her hair is a mess, and her face ain’t much better.
I can’t, though.
Kentlee Johnson is on my mind. Her soft tits and her greedy cunt. The way she whimpers and the way she takes me inside of her. Everything about her is fuckin’ perfect.
I take my beer and stand up.
I need to breathe.
“Where ya goin’, man?” Dirty Johnny asks me.
I just lift my chin toward the back door and head out. He doesn’t follow me. He’s too into the Kitty finger-bang show.
Once I am outside, I see Sniper leaning against one of the picnic benches we use during cookouts. I make my way over to him and pop a squat right next to him. He’s quiet. I don’t know his story, other than he is ex-military, as are a few of our other guys. He showed up fresh out of the Marines, back in his hometown, but not the same guy as he once was. Now, he’s a brother.
“Hey, Snipe,” I say, taking a joint out of my cut pocket.
“Prez,” he offers with a head nod.
“You ever been in deep with a woman before?” I ask as I light my smoke.
“Once,” he offers but doesn’t go any further.
“You ever think about settling down then?” I ask, knowing damn well that he and his girl never did.
Snipe is single.
He fucks whoever he wants and lives at the clubhouse, much like me – or the me I used to be.
“If I had the chance to go back and make that little girl mine? I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’da made her fuckin’ miserable, I’m sure, but she’d be mine and I could spend a lifetime tryin’ to make her little ass happy. Don’t worry about what other people think, brother, it’s a waste of fuckin’ time. Only thing that matters in the end is your happiness. If some bitch makes you happy, claim her ass,” he advises. I stare at him in shock.
Rough & Rowdy (Notorious Devils #1) Page 7