Goose
Scott Hildreth
Contents
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Prologue
1. Goose
2. Ally
3. Goose
4. Ally
5. Goose
6. Ally
7. Goose
8. Ally
9. Goose
10. Ally
11. Goose
12. Ally
13. Goose
14. Ally
15. Goose
16. Ally
17. Goose
18. Ally
19. Goose
20. Ally
21. Goose
22. Abby
23. Goose
24. Ally
25. Goose
26. Ally
27. Goose
28. Ally
29. Goose
30. Ally
31. Goose
32. Ally
33. Goose
34. Ally
35. Goose
36. Ally
37. Goose
38. Ally
39. Goose
40. Ally
41. Goose
42. Ally
43. Goose
44. Ally
45. Goose
Epilogue
Also by Scott Hildreth
Dedication
To any girl who was ever told,
“you can’t because you’re a girl.”
This one is for you.
Because you “can”.
Don’t let anyone tell you differently.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
THIS BOOK IS A WORK OF FICTION.
All names, incidents, and occurrences in this book are a figment of the author’s imagination and are depicted in a work of fiction. Any likeness to fact is pure coincidence. The Devil’s Disciples MC depicted in this book are in no was affiliated with or associated with the Devils Disciples MC that exists in the real world. Different spelling, different club.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.
GOOSE 1st Edition Copyright © 2018 by Scott Hildreth
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Cover design by Jessica Hildreth
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Prologue
The smell of leather, rain-soaked polyester and sadness melded together. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, hoping to rid myself of the foul taste that had plagued me since walking through the ornate double doors, but had no such luck.
Prior to his death, I hadn’t given dying much thought. Now, the subject consumed me. Not simple things like wondering when it would happen or how to draft my will. I questioned whether living without him was even a possibility.
I felt that a little of me was dying with each pronounced click of my watch’s second hand.
I gazed blankly at his casket. Regret enveloped me. Suffocating, I forced myself to breathe. Each spoken word of the eulogy sliced through the surface of my skin like a razor. I scanned the sea of navy, black, and gray, hoping for a means of relief.
Amidst the grief-stricken faces in the pew across from me, a pouty set of ruby-red lips provided just that.
Relief.
The creamy white color of her skin replaced the harsh reality of the truth. Completely paralyzed by her angelic beauty, I stared. I wondered if I reached out to touch her if she’d simply vanish.
Her pale blue eyes mimicked the clearest of Montana skies. A few ringlets of her curly auburn hair trickled over the front of her shoulders, the tips teasing the hint of cleavage exposed by the neckline of her sleek black dress.
Her appearance was seductive, yet a child-like innocence seemed to encompass her being. I studied her as she did the same with me. Although simplistic and natural, her beauty defied description.
Her full lips parted ever so slightly. Beaming with the same fiery desire that drove my lust-filled stare, she held my gaze.
She tilted her head toward the entrance and raised her brows playfully.
I gave a reassuring nod.
While those seated at her side listened intently to the eulogy, she inched her way past them, toward the end of the pew.
I stood and did the same.
The kindly spoken words of praise echoed behind me as I followed her toward a door in the distance. Upon passing through it and into a darkened corridor, I all but came crashing into her. I steadied myself and took a step back.
Her innocence was gone.
Wearing a seductive smirk, she leaned toward me. As the space between us vanished, I swallowed heavily. I had no idea who she was.
I didn’t care.
I studied her eyes. They gleamed with life. Happiness. Joy. I swam in their suggestions. She unzipped my fly. I narrowed my gaze. She slipped her hand into my pants.
I exhaled an unsteady breath.
Her cold hand gripped my swollen shaft. The flesh-on-flesh contact stripped me of any ability to conceal my desires.
I yanked her dress past her shoulders, taking her bra with it as my hands slid past. Her perfect tits sprung free of the sparse black cups. Nipples as hard as diamonds confirmed her state of arousal mirrored mine.
A fiery urgency surged through my veins. I sank my fingertips deep into her flesh. Firmly, I squeezed her breast, teasing the nipple with the pad of my thumb. My mouth quickly found the other, sucking and biting with such vigor that we came crashing into the wall.
The breath shot from her lungs. Our eyes met. Seemingly unaffected by my savage advance, she held my gaze. Her eyes said what she was obviously afraid to.
My palm raced the length of her inner thigh, taking the hem of her dress with it in the process. My knuckles slammed to a stop against the thin wet fabric that separated me from fulfilling my desire.
My dick twitched in her hand.
Her eyes fluttered, and then fell closed.
In one sharp tug, I pulled her panties to mid-thigh. I held her crumpled dress against her waist and lowered myself to my knees. While I studied the perfection of her naked lower half, I released her breast from my grasp and reached for the crimson lace.
Clutching her panties in my fist, I touched my nose to her skin and drew a slow breath. She smelled like an array of flowers, each of which gave off its own crisp aroma. A hint of gardenias, peonies, and orange blossoms tickled my senses.
Driven by a desire entrenched deep within my soul, I licked her sweet-tasting pussy with a fervor unmatched by anything I’d experienced in my thirty-two years.
I circled her swollen clit with the tip of my tongue. The stone corridor filled with the soft sound of her moans.
I slid a finger into her with ease. I added another. Her moans deepened. Flicking my tongue against her swollen nub, I jacked my fingers wildly, sucking and licking as I fingered her into a frenzy. After bringing her to near climax, I leaned away.
Kneeling before her with my face covered in her pleasure, I gazed upward.
She peered into my eyes. Her face was painted with desire.
Incapable of wai
ting another second to feel myself inside her, I turned her to face the wall and shoved her against it. I pushed my slacks to mid-thigh and pressed my hips against her bare ass. With my throbbing cock in my fist, I guided the tip against her wet folds. Then, in one animalistic shove, I sank my entire length deep within her.
An unsteady breath escaped her.
I gripped her waist firmly. With my chest against her back and the side of my face pressed to hers, I pounded myself into her tight confines. With each emotional thrust, her feet lifted from the floor.
The fragrance of jasmine permeated from her skin.
With every powerful stroke, a grunt catapulted from my lungs. Each carried with it an ounce of the frustration that was bottled within me. Hoping to cleanse myself of everything the grief of his death brought with it, I fucked her as if she would be my last.
My hips slammed into her, forcing her against the wall again, and again. She gave no objection, accepting my forceful offering without complaint.
Completely lost in the euphoria of mind-numbing sex, I closed my eyes and continued. The walls of her vagina tightening around my shaft snatched me from my dream-like state. The sound of the muffled voice from the adjacent room was replaced by her moaning.
A sense of erotic satisfaction inched its way into the void left in my heart by my brother’s absence. Soon, it encompassed me, filling my wounds completely. Driven in part by her willingness to comply and partially by her undeniable beauty, my strokes became rhythmic and predictable.
My cock swelled. She moaned deeply. I pushed my entire length into her and held my position firmly. She arched her back and opened her mouth wide. Her pleasure echoed along the surface of the stone walls, carrying with it the threat of exposure.
I stuffed her panties into her open mouth, muffling her from making another decipherable sound.
Her muted groans continued as I pumped my pleasure into her. As the last drop shot from the tip of my satisfied cock, her body shuddered, and then relaxed.
She was exactly what I needed. Satisfied beyond words, I situated myself, brushed the wrinkles from my slacks, and reached for the door’s brass handle.
Door handle in hand, I admired her. A sense of satisfaction washed over me knowing that I was the one who took her from primped perfection to a half-dressed disheveled beauty.
“Brother Goose…” A hand gripped me firmly. “Brother Goose. You’re up.”
I blinked. Somewhat confused as to what had or hadn’t transpired, I glanced over my shoulder. With unkempt hair and a flush face, she was in her seat with her blue eyes fixed on me.
I offered a muted smile.
She looked like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Even so, she managed to smile in return.
I stumbled to the stage and scanned the crowd. Although all had come from different walks of life, one common thread was woven between each of us.
Porter “Ghost” Reeves had touched our lives.
“I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t already been said.” I chuckled a false laugh, almost bringing myself to tears in the process. “But I’ll do my best.”
I gripped the sides of the lectern and focused on the pale-skinned beauty. “Upon receiving the guidance of someone who loved him unconditionally, Porter Reeves found faith late in life. Nonetheless, the faith he possessed was heartfelt, and genuine.”
She clasped her hands together. The corners of her mouth turned upward, just enough to notice. The words came easier than I expected.
“He left this earth early, leaving behind five loving brothers, countless friends, and many other lives touched by his simple smile, an act of kindness, or the lending of a helping hand. He may be gone, but the memories left in his life’s wake will be forever etched into our minds.”
I alternated glances between the faces of those who were seated before me. “He was that type of person. A man, who through his words or his actions, left a lasting impression with each of us. When he exited the room, an undeniable void remained. One that could only be filled when we were graced by his presence once again.”
“I, like many of you, will wander this earth for my remaining days with a cavity in my heart. A void, if you will, created by Porter’s absence. His presence will be missed, but his memories will live in my mind’s eye forever.”
I clenched my fists and gazed at the ceiling.
I love you, my brother.
Lost in the recollection of a funeral I’d attended mere months before, I shuffled to my seat. One by one, the remaining members of the club took their position in front of the crowd, each offering a respectful tribute to our brother.
I heard little of what was presented, choosing to mentally place myself on a ride along the PCH with the ocean at my side for as far as the eye could see.
“Come on, Brother.” Baker tapped me on the shoulder. And pointed the aisle. “Let us out.”
My eyes came into focus. In a mind-numbing daze, I stood and stepped aside. The remaining members of our club filed past me and into the aisle. I gazed blankly at the throngs of saddened souls as they made their way to the exit. They’d return to their respective lives before the sun set.
I wondered if a day would come when I could do the same.
Someone brushed against me. A wisp of jasmine tickled my senses. I lifted my head and scanned the departing crowd, hoping for a glimpse of the blue-eyed beauty.
I stopped on the church’s stoop beside my remaining brothers. The sweet smell of a winter rain shower lingered. I searched the crowd. Disappointed that I couldn’t find her, I reached in my jacket pocket for the keys to my only hope of salvation. I desperately needed a ride along the coast.
Instead of keys, the tips of my fingers found delicate lace. Befuddled, I pulled the material from my pocket.
A pair of red lace panties dangled from my fingertips.
Cash coughed out a laugh. “Knock off a piece of ass before you came?”
Intently searching through the sea of those in mourning, I paid little attention to his comment. I hadn’t been with another woman since my divorce. Other than me, the only one who knew about my near celibate status was Ghost.
I had no desire to share my lack of sexual promiscuity with the rest of the club, especially Cash.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Banged a little hottie I met in the bar.”
I shoved the panties into my pocket and shook my head in disbelief. I may have been confused, but I wasn’t crazy. My fling with the pouty-lipped beauty was nothing more than a daydream.
Finding the pantyless Cinderella would now become priority number one.
Determining whether or not she could live up to my dreams would be number two.
1
Goose
He stood and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “You’re a hard man to reach, Mister Pearce.”
I gave a half-hearted apologetic smile. “My apologies, counselor. I don’t answer phone numbers I don’t recognize.”
“I must apologize as well.” He sat down and raked his fingers through his silver hair. “I learned of Mister Reeves passing rather late.”
“No worries. I’ve been busy planning the funeral.”
“Considering your voicemail was incessantly full, I opted to send the letter.” He slid a pile of paperwork across the desk. He pulled his sun-spotted hand away. “As I stated, I’m terribly sorry for your untimely loss.”
The loss was going to haunt me for a lifetime. I realized Ghost’s death wasn’t a result of my actions. I was left to wonder, however, if action on my part could have prevented it. I’d live with that wonder bottled within me until the day I died.
I gave a nod of appreciation. “Thank you.”
“As you may or may not know, Mister Reeves inherited a good portion of Miss Northrop’s fortune, including her home on the beach. The paperwork I’ve given you explains in writing what I’ll attempt to summarize verbally.”
I viewed attorneys in the same light I viewed cops. They co
uldn’t be trusted. As Mister Wicks situated himself in his leather seat, I thumbed through the edges of the paperwork he’d provided me.
He laced his fingers together and peered over the desk. “The copy of the will I’ve provided outlines Mister Reeves’ legal intentions. You’ve been awarded his home on the beach, several million dollars in cash and investments, multiple motorcycles, and his personal effects. Additionally, Mister Reeves left a letter addressed to you. He asked that you consider reading it to the club, but he didn’t insist upon it. There’s no mention of the letter in his will, therefore you’re not bound to do so if you’re uncomfortable sharing the contents.”
My mind shot to the notion of Ghost knowing he was going to die. It made no sense. Ghost may have loved Abby, but her death wouldn’t have prompted him to take his own life. He was killed by a drunk driver. His death was an accident, and I wasn’t willing to accept anything else as being fact.
I shot a glare at the silver-haired devil. “You’re saying it was a suicide mission? That he knew he was dying?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Not at all. In fact, quite the contrary. He left the letter two months prior to his passing. Miss Northrop left him a similar letter. I’m sure her doing so prompted him to do the same. A kind gesture I must say.”
Goose Page 1