by Avelyn Paige
My orgasm is going to hit hard, and she knows it.
“You’re going to kill me with that mouth of yours,” I groan. Her laugh vibrates around my cock, and it sends my head into a tailspin. She sucks and glides her mouth over my length, until I’m about to explode in her mouth.
“I’m going to come,” I warn her, but she doesn’t move away.
My balls tighten with my release impending, just as my phone rings.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, reaching over on the nightstand to grab it. Raze’s name and face is flashing on the screen. Boner… meet boner killer.
“It’s your brother.” Presley looks up at me, but doesn’t even move.
“Hello,” I hiss into the phone, as Presley licks another figure eight around my tip. I cover my phone with my hand and moan.
“Church in five.”
“Okay,” I grunt, as I bite on my knuckle to fight off trying to moan, with what Presley’s mouth keeps doing my cock.
“You alright, V?” he inquires. Fuck me sideways, he knows my voice is off. Presley chooses that exact moment to graze her teeth around me, and sends my orgasm spiraling over the edge. My come shoots in her mouth, and she takes every drop.
“Yup, fine. I’ll see you in a few,” I bark out, before hanging up and tossing my phone to the floor.
Presley smiles at me from between my legs, and all I can do is shake my head at her.
“Jesus, you are going to kill me. You fucking got me off, while I was on the phone with your brother, woman. That’s not exactly something I can explain away.”
She crawls back up to my side and snuggles in.
“I was thinking about that. I think we should tell him.”
Oh shit. Red alert. Death imminent.
“Can we talk about that later?” I offer up as a distraction. She side eyes me knowing exactly what I’m trying to do. I really need to work on my deflect and redirect skills.
“Either you tell him,” she says rolling over into her pillow putting that perfect ass of hers on full display for me. “Or I will.”
I groan. Maybe I should check on that life insurance policy of mine and make sure it’s up to date.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I repeat, before slipping from the bed and smacking her ass as I stand. She jumps at the sting then laughs.
I take a look down at my phone and see the time. Fuck. I’m late for church already. No time for a shit and shower. That would have to come later. I grab my jeans from the floor, stuffing my half-hard cock inside, and zip them up. I would usually be good for a while after that kind of orgasm and the two from last night, but with her, I can’t get enough. I grab one of the shirts I stashed in her room for emergencies, such as this and my cut, throwing them both over my head.
I plant a quick kiss on her cheek, before I turn for the door.
“I’m not kidding, V. He needs to know,” she calls out from our bed.
“And I need to live.”
I close the door behind me, and start making my bucket list that I want to do, before he finds out.
Church is surprisingly uneventful, except with the news that Don Zezza, Gio’s dad, has died. While any other time that news would mean nothing, this time it did. Italian families are notoriously close knit. When a patriarch dies, they flock together. With Don’s death, we would have a momentary break in in our high alert status. With time being of the essence, it could be the break I needed to find my way in. Raze dismisses church shortly thereafter, and my brothers disburse from the room.
I bolt for my office knowing that I was going to have to deal with Presley’s ultimatum, sooner rather than later with a very uncomfortable conversation with Raze. Just as I make it to the door, I spy Ratchet coming down the hallway. `
“Dude. Office. Now,” I spew out in a quick, nearly unintelligible word vomit. Ratchet cocks an eyebrow at me, before I grab ahold of him. I pull Ratchet in my computer room, and quickly look around the hall, before quietly closing the door. Ratchet’s cold stare of concern is locked and loaded on my panicked face.
“Jesus, V. You look like someone is hunting down your ass for sport. What the fuck is going on?”
Ratchet arches his brow, probing me for answers.
“Because I’m being hunted, fucker.”
“You didn’t?” he gasps. “Please tell me you didn’t tell him yet because I want to watch him kick your ass.”
“No, but she wants to tell him.”
A smile cracks on Ratchet’s face followed by a chuckle rumbling from his chest, as the dam of laughter breaks free. He grasps his stomach as he laughs at my pain.
“Shut up, asshole,” I bark at him. “This shit isn’t fucking funny.”
“But it is,” he forces, while still gasping for air. “He’s going to kill you.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Tell me something I don’t know.”
I push off my heels, and pace the floor in front of him like a father expecting his first child. He’s right, and I know it. Sleeping with Presley was the point of no return, and I hurtled past that barrier with recklessness abandonment. Maybe Ratchet was right about the box of screws being loose in my head. I have to be one thousand French fries short of a happy meal to do what I just did.
“What the fuck do I do, Ratch? I’ve run this scenario in my head about a million fucking times, and every single one of the ends with me pushing up daisies in Darcy’s flower bed.”
“You’re on your own with this one, V. I tried to tell you to just leave it be. She didn’t even know who you were.”
I sigh and stop my pacing to face him again.
“That’s the problem, Ratch. When it comes to Presley, I have no restraint. I didn’t have any restraint, when I started the charade online watching her for you. I sure as fuck didn’t have any restraint, when I fingered on Raze’s fucking desk. And don’t get me started about what happened in her room last night,” I trail on, pacing again.
Ratchet’s hands begin to jerk quickly, as I continue to pace, naming off all of the places that Presley and I had christened, while I was supposed to be guarding her. His movements become quicker, and that’s when I notice the stoic look on his face. My body freezes in place, when I hear heavy breathing coming from behind me.
“He’s behind me. Isn’t he?” I whisper to Ratchet.
“Yup.”
“And he heard everything. Didn’t he?” I whisper back.
“Yup.”
“Fuck.” I exclaim, before turning around and meeting the eyes of my very pissed off club president.
Sweet fucking zombie Jesus, I am a dead man.
“Office. Now,” he growls.
“Nice knowing you,” Ratchet taunts. “Can I have your bike when you die?”
“Fuck off,” I mutter under my breath, while shooting him the one finger salute. I’m not even dead yet, and Ratchet’s after my shit. Fucking typical. I consider bolting out the back door when I reach the hallway, but Raze would find me. And what would happen then would be so much fucking worse.
If I really wanted Presley in my life, I had to do this. For us. The only problem now is that she might be in a relationship with a ghost because of what Raze just heard in my office. Good thing I took notes, when Presley made me watch that stupid Patrick Swayze movie with Demi Moore. I might need those romantic otherworldly skills soon enough. I just wish I had learned to throw clay first.
I take a deep breath in and walk into my doom. Raze is pacing the floor and sharply turns, when I shut the door behind me.
“Is it true?” he screams, charging towards me. Raze stops just inches from my face. “Are you fucking my sister under my fucking roof?”
“Yes,” I freely admit.
His growl comes right before his haymaker comes at my face. It’s like watching Neo dodge bullets in The Matrix, except it was a fist coming straight for me. I had that split second to decide whether to dodge it or throw one of my own, but I waste it thinking about the fucking Matrix. His fist connects with my right eye and nose, s
ending me stumbling backwards into the door with a thud. I can feel the thick stream of blood beginning to flood from my probable broken nose.
“I deserve that,” I tell him, using the back of my hand to wipe the blood.
Raze’s chests heaves, as blind rage courses through him. All of this is my fault, the blame landing completely on my shoulders.
“How long has this been going on?”
“A few months.”
He looks at me processing my admission, likely doing the math in his head. It wasn’t adding up, and the part I really didn’t want to tell him was about to be put out on the table. I say an internal apology to my right side and possibly my balls, for what is about to come my way.
“Explain.”
One-word questions disguised as demands. Danger Will Robertson. Danger.
I take a deep breath, and tell him about the whole online relationship. Raze listens intently pacing around and growling, as I talk my life right into a six-foot grave. He growls and balls his fist, as I spill my secret. I finish my admission, and he stands there in a silent rage, likely imagining all the ways he can kill me.
“And Ratchet knew?” he finally asks.
“Yes, I did what I had to do in order to help Ricca adopt Asher, but I didn’t expect to fall for her.”
Silence again.
Just keep talking asshole. You’ve got a broken nose, and a black eye. Wonder what else will be broken when this is all over.
“I’m in love with her, Raze.”
“You should have fucking told me, Voodoo. From the very beginning. The moment you realized she was my sister, you should have come to me. But you didn’t. Now you’re standing here in my office telling me that you love her. Does she even fucking know that it was you on the other end of that conversation?”
“No. I have wanted to tell her so many fucking times. It’s eating away at me. But with all this shit going on, I just couldn’t do that to her.”
Raze charges again. His hot breath and glare burning me without even touching me.
“You’re gonna tell her, and after you do, I’ll let her decide what to do with you.”
“I’m not dead?” I stupidly ask.
I’m a fucking dumbass.
“The jury is still out. You fix this, V.”
“Believe me, I will,” I promise him. “But, I need a favor first.”
I tell Raze my plan to expose the truth, and while he doesn’t like it, he reluctantly agrees that Presley deserves privacy, when I deliver this blow. He throws in his own requirements to my plan, and I stalk back to my office in desperate need of a raw steak or a frozen bag of peas.
I survived this time, but that was going to come into serious question, after I started the spiral of no return. I sigh, look to the drawer in front of me, and slide it open.
Beauregard’s silence was about to break and with it, my heart.
Blissfully happy.
Those are the only two words that can describe the feeling soaring through my heart and soul right now. A feeling in these circumstances that shouldn’t even be in my vocabulary. I was being hunted, and I was smiling.
Was I finally losing the grip on reality? Maybe I was, but I would do it all over again for him. Voodoo came into my life unexpectedly. His nervousness around me in the beginning was shocking in comparison to the man who I was sharing my bed and body with now. The pre-conceived ideas that I had about the men who serve my father’s former club had been on point, except for him. Voodoo was the odd ball. His kind, gentle nature, as I was struggling to come to grips with the bounty placed on my head, was more than I could explain with words. His kiss was meant to be a distraction, but it was so much more.
With his lips upon mine in that moment, he took away all the pain in my life, and with our bodies, we created something new. It’s a connection I can no longer deny. The last few days have been amazing, and even as I caught myself thinking about Beauregard in fleeting moments, the love I had felt for him was melting away. He would always be a part of my life, even if I didn’t get closure from our sudden break.
Voodoo had replaced him in my heart nearly entirely, and it was a switch that I welcomed with open arms.
But V’s reluctance to tell my brother was fast becoming a sticking point for me. In normal cases of a brother’s friend and his kid sister hooking up, the emotions would run on high. Mikey would be like that, but turned up to eleven. Voodoo was his non-blooded brother, and our relationship without first seeking permission or at least telling him about it, would be seen as a low blow. Possibly even a betrayal. Something that I know scares V. My brother held power over him. He could make his life miserable or rip away his cut, effectively taking a piece of his soul with it. I wanted to give him more time to tell Mikey, but suspicions were starting to run high around the clubhouse. The club girls watched us like a hawk, and whispered about us sitting together every morning. As careful as he was, I had no doubt that one of them had seen him slipping away from my room, after so many nights together. It only takes sex before dawn escapes, to put two and two together, and these girls were experts at floating from bed to bed.
I had a selfish reason for wanting our relationship out in the open. Waking up alone was beginning to get old. I wanted to wake up next to him, and cling to him like a normal couple. I wanted to be able to hold his hand and kiss him without having to slink away to his office or my room. With my life in jeopardy, I wanted those moments of normalcy because it could all change in the blink of an eye. Death was a possibility, and with the grim reaper’s scythe so close to my neck, I need to feel normal. Just for a little while
I made a plan once V bolted for his church meeting to tell my brother. I had hope that the news coming from me would be a softer blow, than it would be coming from V. With a wave of his hand, he could cast V out. My protection would go with him, if I chose to follow him. The decision between my brother, my safety, danger, and V wasn’t going to be an easy one to make. But I knew in my heart, which way the decision would swing. I just had to accept it.
I make short work of my shower and getting dressed. I admittedly spent far too much time rehearsing my grand speech about having the right to love who I choose, and my brother’s opinion being only that just an opinion. I had to cling to my strength, if I was going to make it through this.
I take one last glance in the mirror, before heading out the door to my brother’s office. My eyes scan the main room quickly as I stalk through it, finding that most of the guys are out and about. Church must be over, and knowing my brother, he would be holed up in his office, just where I want him.
Just as Mikey’s door comes into sight, I watch from afar as Voodoo beelines for his office with blood all over his shirt, face, and hands.
“That motherfucker,” I growl, under my breath.
I don’t even knock, when I reach my brother’s door. I shove it open, and then slam it behind me.
“Please do come on in,” he sarcastically fires at me, from behind his desk.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Mikey? I just saw V. Did you do that to him?” I point out the door towards V’s office.
“Sure did,” he says with a smile on his face. “No one touches my sister without permission.”
He’s fucking gloating over the fact that he’s assaulted one of his own men. And for what? Because he dares have a relationship with me. It’s like fucking high school all over again. A man gets close to me, and my brother runs him off. Unfortunately for him, I worked around that little issue, and he is about to get a huge surprise. No one tells me what to do. Not anymore. I have lived that life for far too long, and look where that got me. That ends today.
Rage fuels my every move. Before I can stop myself, I charge towards him. He slides his chair back, glaring up at me, but standing his ground. Mikey sits like a coiled viper. Cautiously monitoring the situation without inserting himself. He’s waiting for me to make my move. My hand goes rogue, slapping him hard across the face. Mikey remains steadfastl
y still, as I recoil my hand from the pain of hitting him.
“That wasn’t a bright move, LeeLee. Are you okay?”
“My hand is fine, asshole,” I hiss. I cradle my hand against my chest, trying not to think about how badly it hurts and praying it’s not broken. My fingers extend, when I try to move them. Not broken, thank God. “I want to make something crystal clear for you, Michael. I’m an adult. I do what I want, and I fuck who I want. You have no say in that.”
“The fuck I don’t. He’s one of my men,” Mikey says, on the verge of yelling. His finger points to the door mimicking my own gesture. “He is supposed to be protecting you. Not fucking you.” He hisses as he stands, planting both of his hands on the table. I can’t help, but notice the specks of a bruise forming on his hand from hitting Voodoo. The sight of it enrages me.
“Not your decision. You had no right to do that,” I yell back at him. His eyes narrow as angrily.
“I have every right to be pissed off, LeeLee. It is my decision, when your life is on the line. What if he was with you and didn’t see The Zezza’s rolling up? What if they came into this clubhouse and killed us all? Do you see what I’m trying to tell you?”
The hypothetical scenario he presents does make sense, but he’s thinking so analytically. My brother has always been hardwired to look at all the angles of a situation, except for the emotional part of it. Right now, I can almost bet that he’s sitting there trying to decide what else he can throw at me. But the bottom line is that this isn’t a fling like he thinks. Though there is the complication with Beauregard, I’ve fallen for V despite my best attempts not to do that very thing.
“I do see, but you aren’t seeing the whole picture.”
“I see it perfectly fine. You’re my sister,” he says with a bite to his voice. He pushes off the desk, rounding it and comes to a stop before me. “My only sister, and I will break off every man’s hand in this club, if they touch you, if I feel so inclined. This is my club, and these are my rules. No one trumps me here.”