by K. L. Savage
“I dug up worms and was useful. What’s your excuse?” the kid quips.
“Oh!” Poodle laughs at this.
“You can’t talk either,” Jenkins says to Poodle.
I’m slapping my knee, cracking up from the kid calling the prospects out. “Man, he got the two of you! Quick, this one.” I ruffle his hair.
The prospects look down at their clothes, dripping with water and sand.
“Come on, guys. Let’s fish. You know how to bait a hook, kid?”
“No.”
I show him real quick, looping the hook in the worm’s body until it’s secure. Once that’s settled, I teach him out to cast his line, pressing his thumb on the button to hold it down and then swinging the rod back. Then I explain that once he flicks it forward to let go of the button, and the line will fly in front of him and into the river.
It takes a few tries and a few huffs of impatience from him, but eventually he gets it, and he’s casting like a pro. His line has a bobber on it, so he’ll know when a fish grabs it. The bobber will go under.
“Remember, a bite is going to feel like your rod is tugging.”
“Ha! I tugged on—”
“Poodle, shut up,” I hiss, warning him not to say another word. It’s hard to keep the men in line around Jenkins when they’re so used to being crude all the damn time. There’s a lot I don’t know about this kid. Did Hawk have the sex talk with him yet? Does he know that his dick is for more than just taking a piss? I’m not sure, and I feel awkward thinking about it because that means I’ll have to deal with it when the time comes. If Poodle doesn’t keep his mouth shut, and Jenkins starts asking questions, I’m going to drown Poodle right in this damn river.
“Sorry, Prez.” Poodle stares at the ground in shame, and Skirt scuffs him on the back of the head, shooting me a wink as if he did me a favor.
These prospects are going to be the death of me.
“I have a bite!” Jenkin’s shouts and stands up in a hurry, putting the rod on his belly as he tries to reel.
I drop my beer and shoot up out of my chair with a big smile on my face. “Alright, kid. You got it! Reel, remember what I said. Pull up, then release and reel. Pull, release, reel. There you go. You’re getting it.”
“I’m fishing!” he shouts with a large grin. His hand is working overtime as he works the handle, trying to reel the line.
“You are, kid. You’re doing it. You need help?” I ask, watching as sweat trickles across his brow and his momentum slows.
“No, I got it. I can do it.”
“Yeah, it looks like you can,” I say, feeling a bit proud. I’m kind of having a ‘dad’ moment, even though he isn’t my kid. I’m proud of him. He’s trying, and he’s doing it all by himself.
“Go, Jenkins, go!” Poodle shouts, cheering him on.
“What’s happening? What’s that funny sound?” Jenkin asks, a bit panicked.
I drop to a knee beside him, the grass wetting my jeans, and stop his hand from reeling. “You don’t want to reel when it’s making that sound. Let the fish go for a bit, or he will break your line, okay? Once there’s slack in the line, start reeling again.”
“But I was so close,” he pouts, wiping his eyebrows with his arm.
“I know. That’s the fun of fishing.”
“I got one too!” Skirt says, but when he reels it in, it’s just a stick. “Here, Poodle. Go take this to your dog.”
“Fuck you. I don’t give need this shit. She gets the best stuff. As if I’d ever let Lady chew on a damn piece of wood.”
“Oh my god, do you hear yourself? She’s a damn dog!” Skirt throws the stick at Poodle, who then picks it up and starts beating Skirt with it.
“Ignore them. I’m going to,” I mumble.
The kid giggles.
“You need a break? There’s no harm in asking for help,” I ask again.
“No. I can do it. Let me do it.”
“Alright.” I back off, lifting my hands in the air.
I reel my line in and place my rod on the ground. I want to make sure I’m able to help and have no distractions if he needs me. Skirt and Poodle are useless. It’s like having a pair of toddlers around, so they won’t be able to help.
“Uncle Reaper?” Jenkins groans with impatience. “I’m so tired. My arm hurts.”
“I know, kid. You almost have it. Once it’s on the bank, I’ll show you how to hold it.”
That makes him excited. He starts reeling the line in faster and sticks his tongue out across his lips. I’m not sure how long he fights the fish, but another ten minutes has gone by, and he’s starting to waver. The fish is losing strength too. I squat by the bank when I see the beautiful color of the trout coming to view.
“You’re almost there, Jenkins. Just a few more seconds,” I shout over my shoulder.
“I can’t do it!” he cries.
“You can. Don’t you dare give up. You’ve come too far,” Skirt says something useful for once.
“I can’t feel my arm,” he gripes.
“I can almost touch the fish!” I say, reaching as far as I can into the river without falling in. The fish’s body wiggles against my fingers, and I try to stretch one more time to grab the mouth when my boot slips, and I fall forward, splashing into the water.
“Uncle Reaper!” I hear shouted behind me.
I play it up worse than it really is. I flop and struggle, getting the fish into my hands as if it’s the biggest beast out there. I jump out of the water and hold the fish as it tries to wiggle free. I can hear Jenkins laughter, and it’s the only reason why I’m still putting on a show.
I know Poodle and Skirt have probably already sent a video to other members of the club, and I’ll get shit for it, but I don’t care. The kid deserves a few good laughs. I get up, finally, exhausted from all the flopping around, and I hold the fish to my chest. It’s a good size for his first one. It’s about seventeen inches long. A few more of these bad boys and we’ll have dinner.
“Look what you caught, kid!” I drag my boots through the mud and shake my head to get the water out of my hair.
“Are you okay?” Jenkins rushes to the edge of the water to meet me.
“Fish kicked your ass, Prez.” Skirt snickers.
“It sure did, but I won in the end. You want to hold him?”
Jenkins reaches out before I can tell him what to do. “Hold the fish like this, okay? Right by the mouth or wrap your hand around head and tail.”
Once the fish is in the kid’s hand, he smiles real wide, and that’s when I notice that he’s a little sunburnt. “It feels funny.”
“Those are its scales. We’ll fillet him. I’ll show you how to do that too.”
“Hey, let’s get a picture of the two of you. It’s Jenkins’ first catch. “
Skirt holds up his camera, and Poodle gives us a thumbs-up. Jenkins lifts his fish up, and I put my hand on his shoulder. I’m soaked to the bone, dripping nasty river water, and I smell like fish, but it’s the best day I’ve had in three months.
And by the look on the kid’s face, it’s been the best he’s had too.
Two Years later
“Goodnight, kid. Happy Birthday. I can’t believe you’re twelve. Your dad would be proud of you.” I hold onto the door handle and stare at Jenkins. Damn, the older he gets, the more he looks like Hawk. It’s unbelievable.
“Thanks for the best birthday ever, Uncle Reaper.” He yawns and rolls over. “Love you.”
He sure knows how to pull on my heartstrings that I thought were long gone. “Love you too, kid. Get some sleep.” I shut off the lights and close the door, taking a minute for myself. Shit, this parenting stuff is hard and exhausting. I’m not sure how Hawk did it and was able to found time to be in the club.
Music from the main room is muted through the steel door I had installed between the hallway and Jenkins’ bedroom, so he doesn’t hear all the commotion going on. This place is my home, and it’s his home now too, and the members have
been good about following my rules. Now that the kid is sleeping, the adults can have a good time.
And fuck do I need a good time.
I need a real fucking good time.
I haven’t gotten laid in months because it’s just too damn difficult with a kid always around, but that ends tonight. I’m going to grab my favorite cut-slut and take her to my room, which is on the other side of the clubhouse. Thank god.
I walk into the main room, and everyone is there: Slingshot, Tool, Poodle, Skirt, Pirate, Knives, Bullseye, Ghost, Tank and a few dozen others. Everyone lifts their mugs that are full of beer as I come into view, cheering, shouting, and celebrating that somehow, someway, we were all able to keep this kid alive for the past two years without his father.
Sounds pathetic, but it’s something I’m damn proud of, especially with all the shit going on in the MC right now. We’ve made enemies, dipping our hands in a few casinos. We own half of one, have a few where we run private poker games in the back. We got involved with the Italian Mafia, and now there’s a rival MC on the other side of the strip that isn’t too happy with our new arrangement and expansion because we took business from them.
Right now, I’m not going to think about that. I’m going to get a beer, grab Millie, and go fuck her until I pass out.
“Prez! Here’s to you,” Tool shouts, lifting his beer in the air. “To a good Prez, a good uncle, friend, and brother. Here’s to more, the many, and the MC!”
“Aye!”
“More the many!”
“More the many!”
“Here, here!”
Darcy, the bartender, grabs me a beer from behind the bar and slides it over to me on the old counter. “Congrats, Prez. Today was a big deal.”
“I suppose it was.” I take a swig of cheap beer, sighing when the carbonation burns my chest as I swallow. Feels good after a long day like today. We had at least twenty kids from Jenkins’ class to come play laser tag. All the members showed up. They had to. I made them, but they all had fun. All these childish assholes played with the kids the entire day. Jenkins has changed the morale of the club. Before him, we were too dangerous, too heartless, and we were getting involved in things we shouldn’t have even thought about getting in.
The death of Hawk and the innocence of Jenkins reminded the club of what was important. The members were on board with being on the straight and narrow and toeing the line of the law instead of crossing it. I don’t see myself going back either. Life is good. Too damn good.
Avengers balloons are still blown up all over the place, and the leftover cake is in the middle of a table where the guys are picking at it. A few of the members are in corners with cut-sluts. Tool is now cuddled up with two of them, but Millie is standing all by her lonesome, begging for some company.
After all these years of being with the club, she’s still chasing the property patch. I can’t say I blame her. If a woman in the club ever becomes an ol’ lady, it’ll be a big deal. We protect everyone in this club with our lives, and having someone by your side, wearing your patch? Damn, I’d kill to see the day for that to happen to me.
I sit on the stool and wait for her to come to me. I know she will. She does every time. She’s dying to be my ol’ lady, but cut-sluts are just that—a good fuck. Nothing more, nothing less. Millie is a sweet girl, and maybe one day when she grows bored of being passed around like a cheap whore, she’ll realize that for herself and meet someone nice, like a lawyer or some shit.
I don’t beat around the bush. I stare at her, telling her silently to come to me. I imagine her green eyes and beginning to roll into the back of her head while I drill my cock in and out of her pussy. Hmm, just the thought is making my cock lengthen in my jeans. Her hair is long and shiny, even in the poor lighting of the clubhouse, it shines for all to fucking see.
And to feel. I want to wrap those long strands around my hands while I’m fucking her from behind. I’ve never been so riled up.
She’s wearing one of those tight, cut-off shirts that reveals her abdomen, and ripped shorts that practically fall off her with how little material there is. Her ass is tight and in shape, and her belly ring makes me want to nibble and lick at her flesh. I know for a fact her nipples are pierced too. She blows me a kiss and tosses her hair over her shoulder as she starts her catwalk toward me. Millie doesn’t walk; she struts. She has the most confidence I’ve ever seen in a chick, as she should. She’s badass, smart, and goddamn beautiful. It may just be sex between us, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she became someone’s ol’ lady. She good like that, but right now, she’s looking for one thing.
And I have it.
A grin forms on her pretty plump lips, and she takes my beer from my hand, taking a long swig. My eyes drop to her throat as I watch the flawless column bob. I don’t know where I want to look more.
Her glossy lips are around the neck of the bottle, and I imagine it’s my cock instead. I watch her swallow and pretend imagining it’s my cum.
“Hey, Reaper.” Her tongue flicks the top of the bottle, gathering what’s left of the last drop. Fucking tease.
“Millie,” I growl, turning on my stool so my body is facing hers.
“It’s been a long time.” Her nails tap against the bar as she bends over, and her shirt falls down, revealing the black outline of her bra pushing up those succulent tits.
“I’ve been a busy man. I have a kid now, you know.”
“I know. You hardly have time for me anymore.” She pouts her bottom lip, running that red-painted nail down my chest.
Just the slight touch has my sack pulling tight, and my entire body trembles. My cock leaks like a sieve, pleading with me to end this back and forth flirting and take her to my room.
“I have time for you now. How about we go to my room.” I push her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. I bring my lips across the delicate shell, flicking my tongue across the globe. “I’ll eat that pretty pink pussy how you like, and then I’ll fuck you all night. How does that sound?”
“Depends,” she says.
“On what?”
“If I get to suck your cock in the morning.”
“Baby, you can suck my cock anytime you want. You never have to ask.” I stand up and down the rest of the beer, and the cold temperature makes my eyes burn as it settles in my stomach. I slam the empty bottle on the bar and grab Millie’s hand. It’s soft in mine, and the anticipation of having those nails digging into my chest as she rides me has me almost running to my room.
“Woo! Get it, Prez!” Poodle shouts, half drunk. Something falls and hits the floor, and with the roar of laughter behind me, I can bet anything his dumbass fell off of whatever chair he was in.
I kick the bedroom door open and toss Millie on the bed. Her tits bounce from the force. I take off my cut and lay it on the chair, then grab my shirt from behind the collar and pull it over my head.
“Damn, Reaper. You sure haven’t let yourself go, have you?”
“You know the game here, right, Millie?”
“Nothing has changed, baby,” she says, getting up on her knees. She takes her shirt off, tossing it on the floor, then her bra, and her beautiful, ripe tits spill out. My eyes focus on the bars piercing her nipples. My tongue begs for a taste. Stepping forward, I unbutton my pants and kick my jeans off.
My cock stands tall and proud, a little bit angry too since it’s been so long. I wrap my hand around my dick and a bead of precum flows out. I rub it into the flesh, using it as lubricant. Millie licks her lips and inches forward.
I yank her head back by her hair and bend down, snarling as I speak, “Not right now. Right now, I want your cunt.”
“You said I could suck it when I want,” she whines.
“Well, I changed my mind. Take off your shorts and spread your legs.”
She leans back and wiggles her ass out of those tiny things she calls shorts. They shouldn’t even be called shorts. I grin when I see she isn’t wearing panties.
“Good g
irl, making it easy on me.”
“Do I get a reward for being good, Reaper?” She tugs on her nipple rings.
I shoulder my way between her thighs and flatten my tongue on her glistening sheath. Millie cries out when I shove my tongue in her hole, then I pull it out to lap on her bundle of nerves. “What do you think?” I blow cold air on her clit, and Millie trembles.
Fuck. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted pussy. I dive back in, feasting on her like I’m a starving man. Her moans are loud, echoing off the walls. For a second, I worry about the kid, but then I remember the nearly soundproof door I had put in place just for instances like this.
Millie shatters, chanting my name as she comes into mouth, just like I knew she would. She scrapes her fingers across my back, and the sting causes my cock to ooze clear fluid. I kiss my way up her body until I’m at her tits, sucking each one into my mouth. The piercings click against my teeth before I let go. I open the drawer to my nightstand and pull out a condom. I’m not stupid. I always suit up.
And there’s one rule I always have: I don’t kiss cut-sluts. Never have. Never will. I’ll eat pussy, fuck them, have them suck my cock, but kissing is way too intimate. It can lead to feelings and shit I’m not about right now. Millie knows the deal. Her back arches off the bed when I settle between her legs and slap her clit with my cock. She relaxes into the mattress on a breathy sigh.
I lift her legs, all smooth and freshly waxed, and put them on my shoulders. I take one last look at her flushed face before lining my cock with her entrance, groaning when I sink into her greedy pussy in one thrust.
Next Morning
I wake up with a hot mouth around my cock and a hand cupping my balls. I crack my eye open and see Millie between my legs, and I give her a sleepy smile. Her hair is a mess from our night of fucking, and her mascara is smudged under her eyes, but damn it, if she doesn’t look good.
“Good morning to you too,” I moan, arching my back when she hollows her cheeks and almost takes all of me to the back of her throat.
“You didn’t let me taste you last night. I was dying for you this morning, Reaper.”