Right To My Wrong (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 8)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I hoped they didn’t look wet from behind.

  That would be incredibly embarrassing.

  “You know,” I grumbled, situating myself. “This would be better if you’d wear a condom on these times where I have to be around people almost immediately after we do this.”

  Sebastian snorted.

  “Yeah, there’s never going to be a condom between us. Ever,” he said matter of factly.

  My eye started to twitch.

  “This doesn’t let you off the hook for not telling me you needed a dessert…or you not picking up your shoes,” I informed him.

  He winced. “Sorry.”

  I rolled my eyes and ran my hands down his chest, relishing in the hardness.

  God, he was so sexy and perfect.

  He didn’t look like he’d aged a year since we’d gotten together.

  Me, on the other hand; I looked like I’d gained about fifty pounds, even though it was really around twenty-five.

  My stomach was flabby, and I was fairly sure I had a double chin…not that Sebastian ever confirmed nor denied it when I asked him about it.

  “Get that look off your face,” Sebastian said, pulling me into his body.

  I smiled sadly at him.

  “About that double chin,” I started.

  He growled and picked me up until my eyes were level with his.

  “For the last fuckin’ time, you’re not fat. And even if you were fat, which you aren’t, I wouldn’t give a fuck. Because you got those stretch marks from birthing my kid. You have an ass that I like to fuck, and I like the way your breasts jiggle when I fuck you. Enough about your fucking double chin, even though you don’t have one,” he said roughly.

  I smiled and pulled his face forward until his mouth hit mine.

  “Good answer, big boy,” I said. “I love you like a fat kid loves cake.”

  He rolled his eyes, but he kissed me back. “It’d be more meaningful if you said you loved me like Dixie loves beer.”

  I laughed and dropped my mouth to his once more, and might have gone for a little something more, but the tones dropped, signaling a call.

  “Be good,” I told him, dropping my legs from around his waist. “And be safe.”

  He gave me one last kiss before he left, and I followed him outside and watched as they all piled into an ambulance and the firetruck, pulling away within a minute of the call.

  With my heart in my throat, I walked to my car and prayed that, just like the last time, he’d make it through this call, as well as the rest of the calls he responded to.

  ***

  Sebastian

  “So…” Kettle said, a smile in his voice. “About that cobbler.”

  I raised a brow, inviting the man to continue at his own peril.

  “Yeah, what about that cobbler?” I asked.

  He grinned widely.

  “Shit must’ve been good to earn that kind of thank you,” he replied.

  I flipped him off. “Fuck off.”

  “I bet her cobbler’s worth it,” Dallas said from the front seat.

  I sighed and closed my eyes.

  “You boys are just jealous that my woman comes to visit me and yours don’t,” I quipped.

  Kettle and Dallas grunted.

  “Yeah, it’s because our wives don’t have anyone to watch our kids while they do. Not everybody has a built in babysitter across the lake,” Kettle grumbled.

  I rose a brow at the whininess I sensed in his voice. “You know my pop would watch your kids if your wife wanted to fuck you. It’s apparent she doesn’t want to, which is why she’s never here.”

  Kettle threw his half empty bottle of Gatorade at my head, but I caught it with quick reflexes honed from years of experience.

  “I’ll have you know my wife likes my cock, thank you very much,” Kettle shot back. “She’s just a classy girl. Doesn’t like to flaunt her shit in public.”

  “You’re saying my girl’s not classy?” I asked calmly.

  Kettle shook his head. “No, I am not.”

  “Good. Because my girl’s the best girl one could ever have. Sweet. Beautiful. A good mom to my kids. She’s all I could have ever asked for and more. And I thank God every day that she was given to me.”

  Kettle’s eyes got serious. “You deserve her man. I’m happy for you.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  And as we finished the ride to the scene of the accident we’d gotten a call to, I thought about my life.

  Thought about how happy I was.

  How much I’d changed since I’d met Baylee…and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

  She was what made me whole.

  What made me face every day like I did.

  Because without her, I would be lost.

  I loved her with all my heart, and I hoped the next fifty years were as good as the last five.

  And I had no doubt in my mind that they wouldn’t be.

  What’s Next?

  Whiskey Neat

  3-3-16

  Chapter 1

  I work hard so my cat can live a better life.

  -T-Shirt

  Lenore

  6 months later

  “Do you have any batteries?” A deep male voice asked.

  I blinked, looking up from the Cosmo magazine I’d been reading, and immediately blushed.

  Freakin’ blushed!

  You would think after owning a sex toy store for four years that I would be beyond blushing.

  But, boy oh boy.

  The man currently standing in front of me was to die for.

  Drop dead gorgeous.

  Tall, blonde, and handsome.

  Okay, I needed to stop reading romance novels.

  But he was freakin’ sexy.

  He was tall with blonde hair shaved up at the sides, leaving hair on the top of his head like that the men in that Viking show wore. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and a beard covering the lower half of his face.

  He had on a navy blue t-shirt tucked into dark washed jeans, with a brown belt around the waist.

  He had muscles.

  My God, did he have muscles.

  I didn’t even think I could span my hand around his biceps, they were that big.

  And his t-shirt clung to his well-defined chest, making my mouth dry.

  “Batteries?” He asked again, impatiently this time.

  “Umm,” I hesitated. “The only types we sell are the ones prepackaged with the v-vibrators,” I stuttered.

  He glared harder.

  “Which ones have double A’s?” He asked shortly.

  I stood on shaky legs and walked over to the huge wall of vibrators.

  We had every shape and type of vibrator known to man.

  And, as a courtesy, we sold batteries to go with them.

  In case, you know, you wanted to try it out in your car on the way home.

  Well, not really.

  I wasn’t sure why they were included, to be honest.

  I refrained from asking why he came here instead of the Dollar General down the street, and was glad I did in the next instant when he offered that information up willingly.

  “The dollar store’s power is out due to the storm,” he said, grabbing the nine inch whopper dong that was directly in front of him.

  “Umm,” I interrupted him. “If you don’t mind me asking, how many batteries do you need?”

  His shrewd blue eyes turned to me, and I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping.

  “I need six of them,” he answered.

  I nodded.

  “Then that one,” I said, pointing to our most popular one, “Would be your best bet. It’s the cheapest that we have that takes six.”

  I handed him the All American Whopper Vibrator and promptly blushed up to my hair roots.

  “Thanks,” he said, tucking it under his arm. “Got any drinks here?”

  I sho
ok my head. “No. Not unless you want a Capri Sun,” I said.

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to take your drink. Thanks…”

  He stopped when a moan drifted up to us from the dressing room.

  I sighed. “Be right back.”

  I walked through the fetish wear and stopped at the closed dressing room stall that was only half a door for this very reason.

  “Sir,” I said. “Ma’am. You can’t do that in here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  I freakin’ hated it when people had sex in the dressing rooms!

  I mean, seriously! Who does that?

  A moan was the only thing that drifted to me in reply and I started to get mad.

  People thought that since I was just five feet two inches tall, that I wouldn’t bust my fist in their face…but they would be wrong. I grew up with two brothers who treated me like a little brother instead of a little sister.

  I knew how to hold my own.

  I pulled my keys out of my pocket and opened the dressing room door to find a pasty white ass thrusting viciously into the willing vagina of his girlfriend.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Do you mind taking that outside before I call the police?”

  The guy kept thrusting, but the woman’s eyes opened.

  She promptly started slapping the man on the back.

  However, the man kept going, and I knew this was going to get nasty.

  I’d detected the guy was on something the moment they’d come in here.

  His pupils had been dilated something fierce, and I knew that he spelled trouble.

  His girl, though, hadn’t been wasted.

  In fact, she’d been just fine.

  And she looked nervous as hell to be in a sex store.

  Now, though, she didn’t seem all that embarrassed if the pleasure that rode high on her cheeks was any indication.

  “She said to fucking leave,” the deep voice said from behind me. “Get your fucking cock out of her and get the fuck out.”

  I coughed.

  The guy listened to the man, though.

  Thank God.

  He turned around with a glare, pulling himself from the woman with little care that he was swinging it out for everyone to see.

  He had a pretty sizable cock, but it was nothing compared to the monster dildo I used.

  “Please leave,” I said again.

  The man glared and bent down to pick up his jeans that were around his ankles, roughly pulling them up and over his still hard cock.

  Luckily, he left without another word, the girl trailing behind him.

  “That happen often?” The man asked.

  I shrugged. “At least once a shift.”

  His eyes showed surprise, and I thought it was kind of funny.

  I didn’t think much of anything would shake this man, but him knowing that I dealt with that on a nightly basis upset him.

  Weird.

  “That’ll be thirty-two fifty,” I said softly.

  He handed me a credit card, and I couldn’t help but look at the name on it before I handed it back after swiping it.

  Griffin.

  That was an interesting name and fit him aptly.

  I wondered if he went by Griffin.

  “Have a nice night,” he said as soon as I’d handed him the receipt.

  I couldn’t say I wasn’t disappointed…because I was.

  A lot.

  But it wasn’t really surprising.

  I didn’t get many second looks.

  It was the red hair.

  Match that with pasty white skin, freckles on top of freckles, and a scar down my chest, and men didn’t give me a second look.

  Not that he could see that scar…but when they did, men started to freak out a little.

  It was my hair length, though, that fascinated most guys.

  It went down to the lower half of my ass cheeks if it was unbound; which it usually wasn’t.

  And guys seemed to think it was really cool that I had such long hair, which was inevitably what made them stop to talk to me in the first place.

  The next few hours seemed to drag by as I waited for the end of the night. By the time two A.M. rolled around, I was practically bouncing off the walls to leave.

  Not that I had anything to go and do on my Saturday night.

  Nobody in Uncertain, Texas had anything to do on any night, whether it be Monday or Saturday.

  We had two bars, two restaurants that closed at eight p.m., a Walgreens near the interstate, a Dollar Store, and a neighborhood grocer.

  That was literally it.

  Unless you wanted to go to the lake, something that I didn’t do. Not at night, anyway.

  I wasn’t one for being eaten alive by alligators.

  Humming to myself, as I always did, I locked up and started to walk around the building where I parked.

  As I spotted my car, I nearly choked on my tongue when the dildo that Mr. Griffin had purchased, a few hours earlier, sat on my hood with a note that said, “I won’t be needing this.”

  I laughed as I took it home.

  I wasn’t laughing at all an hour later when I was using that thing of beauty and calling out Griffin’s name as I came.

  Hard.

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  ICE- by Chelsea Camaron and Jessie Lane

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  Ding. Dong.

  Ding. Dong.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  The rapid percussions of someone at my door startles me awake. Grabbing my pepper spray from my nightstand, I sit up and get out of bed. No one visits me unexpectedly. Ever. Not even Casey. My neighbors must have misplaced guests, or maybe this is some crazy prank.

  Looking out my peephole, I see a man in a black shirt, a black leather vest with a patch that says “ice”, and jeans. His brown hair is short on the sides yet a little longer on the top. Before I can inspect him through the tiny hole longer, he is pounding on my door again, making me jump.

  Twisting the safety piece, I ready my pepper spray as I twist the lock on my door. I don’t even get my hand on the knob to turn it before I am being pushed back by my door opening.

  Raising my arm, I ready to spray when my wrist is suddenly wrapped in a firm grip and my hand quickly and efficiently emptied of its contents. So much for my self-defense savviness.

  “This one belong to you?” the rugged looking stranger gruffly asks me as he points his thumb over his shoulder, obviously pissed. There is another man with him. His vest has a patch that says “Hammer” and a teen girl shifting nervously beside him.

  Taken aback by his terse attitude, I stand there for a moment, frozen and unsure of what to do. His eyes are so dark and lethal looking I can’t tell if they are black or brown. The harsh lines of his face accentuate his high cheekbones that are flushed in anger, and his strong jaw is clenched tight. I can’t decide if he is drop dead sexy, in a scary sort of way, or just plain scary. My chest rapidly rises and falls as I struggle to catch up with everything happening. Following his pointed finger, my eyes land on my sister.

  Madyson, my drop dead gorgeous, just turned eighteen, high school senior, little sister is standing in my doorway. Her eyes plead with me to take her.

  What the heck did she get herself tangled up in now? Why did she bring this to my doorstep? Our parents expect bad things from her; therefore, this would be nothing unusual. However, I don’t expect her to bring her problems to me.

  “Ummm,” I begin, but I am cut off.

  “Ummm, nothin’. She gave us this address to drop her off at. Since you obviously aren’t old enough to be her mother, I’m goin’ to assume she’s your sister. There is a similarity in your features. Clue in, sweets; girls at this age shouldn’t be out this late and certainly not dressed like a hooker. Know where your girl is. Take responsibility, for fuck’s sake. Bad things can happen,” He releases my wrist harshly and turns to walk away.


  Something changes inside me. I should stay quiet and let him leave, but I can’t. “Take responsibility? You don’t know me, mister, don’t judge me.”

  Looking over his shoulder, his cold stare meets mine. “I didn’t fuckin’ stutter. Take responsibility. She’s yours. She’s carefree and breathing. Keep her home, keep her dressed, and that’ll keep her carefree and breathing.”

  My sister steps into my condo as the stranger makes his way out without ever looking back.