Concerned for my best friend because I haven’t seen her like this before – dejected, with a crestfallen look on her face – I ask,
“What’s going on, Meg? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can sort it out.”
Meg shakes her head, no, refusing to meet my eyes.
“I knew it was a bad idea at the time, but what did I do? I ignored all the warning signs and dove in with both feet. Shit, Linny,” she hisses, tearing her hands through her hair. “He’s a good man, but he isn’t for me. I’d eat him up and spit him out, and he doesn’t deserve that. No one does, that’s why I’m better off sticking to casual encounters of the one-night stand variety.”
I hate that she thinks about herself this way. Underneath her tough exterior, insults, and bravado, there’s a compassionate, loving, beautiful woman who is unable to realize her own self-worth. No matter how many times I tell her, try and convince her she has just as much right as anyone else to be happy, Meg refuses to see it.
“Come on, Meg, that’s just not true,” I assure her. “Sure, Jump’s a great guy; sweet, funny, easy-going, but you’ve got plenty to offer someone like him, I just wish you could see that.”
“You and me both,” Jump rumbles from behind the couch. Plucking Meg out of the cushion and throwing her over his shoulder, he says, “Me and you are going to have a little chat about that shit you just said.” Winking at me he adds, “Don’t expect her back for a while. I’m not letting her out of my bed until she and I have come to an understanding.”
Saluting him, I laugh,
“Aye, Aye captain. Be gentle with her, though. She’s a delicate flower, our Meg.”
As if to prove me wrong, Meg snaps,
“I’ll cut you, you betraying bitch. You’re supposed to save my ass, not throw me to the wolves.”
“You don’t need saving, Meg, you need a wake-up call. I’m doing you a favor by letting Jump have his wicked way with you, and you know it. When you’ve calmed down and taken your meds, I’ll be ready and waiting to accept your undying gratitude in the form of you worshipping at my feet,” I return with a smirk.
“You’ll pay for this. Mark my words, you’re going to pay,” she warns, wagging her finger at me.
Jump stride off with her in tow to threats of violence against his manhood, leaving me alone for the first time all day. I realize Dex said I was to have a man with me at all times, but I can’t help being relieved I have a minute to myself. That is until Sarge sits down beside me, throwing his arm over my shoulders.
“How you doing, girly?” He questions, giving me a tight squeeze.
I really like Sarge. He’s sweet with a side of sour, hard yet soft in the center, and he doesn’t mince his words. If I had a Granddad, I’d want him to be exactly like the aging biker who is currently nursing what has to be his fifth beer so far this afternoon.
“I’m getting there,” I sigh, leaning my head on his shoulder.
Kissing my temple, Sarge hefts his motorcycle boot-clad feet onto the coffee table, signaling he’s settling in for the long haul.
“Lot to take in, what with you Ma and ex here, and finding out who your daddy is. Wouldn’t blame you if you were having trouble dealing with it, sweetheart.”
“I’m not worried about the first two,” I state with conviction. “And for the most part, finding out Reaper’s my dad isn’t as shocking as it is surreal.”
Most kids would wonder who their father is, search for him when they were old enough, or constantly ask questions about him, but I’m not most people. Discovering and locating my dad wasn’t even on my radar as unbelievable as it sounds. I had enough to worry about without the added trouble of concerning myself with finding a man who never wanted me.
Truthfully, I have always held the desire to know who fathered me at bay, scared he would be just like my mother. One soulless, heartless, vicious excuse for a human being was more than enough for me to deal with, let alone two.
Even with the gift of hindsight, knowing what I do now, I still wouldn’t have looked for him. I had innate fear about the answers I’d get if I were to question what kind of man he was – especially considering he stooped low enough to sleep with the she-bitch – and why he didn’t want me. A fear which gave me sufficient reason never to ask or dig deeper.
But now, faced with the reality that my dad didn’t even know about me, I don’t know what to think.
Nudging me with his arm, Sarge grins.
“I’m a good listener, or so I’ve been told. You want to talk about anything, you can bend my ear any time.”
“What’s he like?” I ask, my mouth forming the words and expelling them before I can stop it.
“Who? Your daddy?” He confirms raising an eyebrow at me, which has me nodding my head where it’s still resting on his shoulder. “A lot of people judge a man based on whether his actions are right or bad, they’d be wrong. Good men sometimes have to make hard choices, sweetheart, and not all of those choices are what’s considered good. That doesn’t mean he’s bad, just that in that situation he did the best he could with what he had. Your daddy’s had to do that more than most.”
Stoking his rough, calloused hand down the length of my hair, he goes on to say,
“He worked for the government, not because he wanted to, Reaper fucking hated doing it, but because his three best friends joined and you daddy is the kind of man who’d have their backs regardless of his feelings about it. Loyal to a fault, strong, dedicated, Reaper’s a protector by nature, sweetheart. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if something happened to them and he wasn’t there to prevent it.”
That makes sense. From what I’ve seen and heard about him, Reaper would live and die for the people he cares about.
“His boy, Steel, your brother, was born and he changed. Loved his wife, although most of us didn’t know why, but seeing him with that baby was something else. Reaper’s whole world revolved around that kid and making sure he was safe and taken care of. He did his best to raise him right and did a damn fine job of it if you ask me. Steel’s Devil’s Spawn’s VP, married to a woman even feistier than your Meg, and daddy to two kids about ten years younger than you. I see a lot of him in you, and vice versa. Both of you are thinkers; you’ll sit back and watch, but when the time comes to defend your own, you’ll come out swinging.”
Truer words have never been spoken. Regardless of my well-known temper, I don’t like conflict. I’d prefer to avoided it at all cost actually. Meg has done her damnedest to make that a virtual impossibility, but with that said, I rarely get into altercations unless it’s absolutely necessary.
“Not sure where either of you get that from, your daddy, Steel’s Ma, and yours are all act first, ask later types. You two broke the mold there. Not entirely sure what else you wanna know, girly,” he grins teasingly. “Reaper’s one of the best men I know. Could use a little work cleaning up his mouth and lessons on being a gentleman, but he does alright judging based on the saint he conned into marrying him.”
“What was that old man? My Ade a fucking saint? You might want to think again, that woman’s far worse than I am on a good day,” Reaper chuckles.
“She’s a goddamn saint for putting up with your ass, and I won’t hear you say anything different about my beautiful girl,” Sarge retorts, not in the least bit angry.
Facing me, Reaper gives me an assessing look before he uncharacteristically winces. This man embodies everything a biker should be; rough with an edge of danger, strong, controlled, and smart in a slightly unsettling way, so seeing his body taut with what appears to be nervousness is highly unusual.
“I did what I could, but I’m sorry to say Ade and Steel are already halfway here,” he confesses, bracing himself for my reaction.
Shrugging because I’m well aware Ade is a formidable force when she sets her mind to something. And honestly, I can’t wait to meet my older half-brother, I murmur,
“Fine by me. On a quick side note, though. Where’s Dex?”
It’s been a good three or four hours since I last saw him, and it’s well after dinnertime now. I won’t begin to presume I know the intricacies of Dex’s position or the lengths he goes to when called upon to do his job, but I didn’t imagine it would take this long.
“Still busy, precious.” Reaper eyes me shrudely dissecting my body language for traces of disgust, uncertainty, and revoltion. He can look all he wants, he won’t find any of that here.
Again, I understand most people would be, at the very least, filled with fear and confusion over how a man such as Dex can do the things he does. It’s difficult to reconcile the beautiful man who has a compassionate heart, and tender soul underneath it all with the biker whose moral code and penchant for retribution is proven by his body count.
Fear has never been a word I’ve associated with Dex, and that held true today. Strange, I know – considering the depths of his depravity, and I only know the half of what he’s capable of – but nevertheless true.
I’ll put it to you this way. How can you be frightened of the man who owns the other half of your heart and soul? How scared can you be when you know with certainty he will protect you with his life, cherish and worship the ground you walk on and keep you safe from harm? And lastly, how do you separate the two halves of one man; the SAA for an MC, and the man you loved at first sight?
The answer to all those questions is, you can’t. Dex is a piece of an important puzzle, not only to me but his club as well. What he does, how much of himself he sacrifices, and his dedication to the men he calls his family is commendable, not to be looked at with scorn and ire. As unbelievable as it sounds, it only makes me love him more to see him in his element, finally comfortable with who he is. It’s been a long road for him to get here, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be responsible for derailing him.
Just as that thought passes through my mind, leaving a new level of peace in its wake, the man of the hour walks into the clubhouse with purposeful strides. When he reaches my side, he pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my neck, taking deep, ragged breaths as if he’s just run a marathon.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I ask, pushing the unruly hair that’s fallen over his eyes away.
Tortured blue eyes stare back at me, giving nothing away but the pain lurking in their depths.
“We’ve gotta talk, beautiful. Have you eaten yet?”
That’s my Dex, always looking out for everyone but himself, but not this time.
“No, I was waiting for you,” I say between kisses to the hinge of his jaw. “Why don’t you go and take a shower while I make you something, and I’ll meet you in your room?” I want to take care of him, and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll let me.
A fierce wave of possession washes over me as Dex wraps both arms around my back, his hands sliding to my ass, cupping it in his big hands, forcing my legs up and around his waist. Laying a deep, wet, not for public kiss on me, he pulls back and growls,
“Our room. Not mine. Not yours. Ours.”
“Okay, then. Take a shower, I’ll feed you in our room, and then we can talk,” I say, exaggerating the ‘our’ for his benefit.
“Ade and Steel will be here within the hour,” Reaper interjects. “You think you’ll be done with her by then, or am I gonna need to come bust her out?”
“Wait and you’ll find out,” Dex replies, squeezing my ass hard enough to make me squeal like a girl. “You’re needed elsewhere anyway. Saved some for you,” he adds, clearly underestimating my powers of deduction.
Flexing my thighs around his hips, Dex returns his attention to me, blocking out everyone else in the room.
“As cryptic as your attempt at communicating is, honey bunches of love, it’s going down in the record books as an epic fail. And at this juncture, I’d just like to point out, I don’t want to know. Keep all details of decapitation and dismemberment to yourselves, please; my fragile constitution can’t cope with that kind of knowledge.”
In a rare display, Dex snorts then throws his head back and laughs. A full-belly laugh at that, which is a gift in and of itself. Too few people have had the pleasure of hearing the deep, rich baritone of Dexter Peters laugh, and let me tell you, you’re missing out.
“Dully noted,” Dex manages to get out after he gets his hilarity under control. “Hate to break it to you, baby, but even before you said that, you weren’t getting told shit. Plausible deniability and all that. With your red hair, I don’t think orange is your color.”
Nodding sagely at his wisdom, I mutter,
“And you’d be right. I’m a spring palette, not an autumn.”
“I don’t know what the fuck that means, and I don’t want to. Do the boys need me to send cleanup their way yet?” Sarge inquires.
“No, got time yet,” Dex smirks. “They’re waiting on Reaper, then Cash will round up some of the prospects and Jump, and Gunner will take them for a ride.”
“Good, good. There’s a damn fine woman cooking up a storm in there,” he says, gesturing to where Emily is still standing sentry over the stove. “And I plan on sampling her wares, so if you’ll excuse me,” he smiles, hefting his considerable bulk off the couch.
“I hope you know what you’re doing old man,” Dex says, warning evident in his tone. “Boss will lose his fucking mind if you hurt her.”
Sarge scowls menacingly at my man, a look I didn’t think he was capable of – one that promises all sorts of pain for daring to question his chivalry where Emily is concerned.
“Careful, boy. I like you, so I’ll let it go just this once, but if you ever even think about hinting at that shit again, I won’t be so forgiving.”
He doesn’t stop to listen to Dex’s mumbled apology or see the look of shock on Reaper’s face. No, Sarge stomps across the room and swings the doors open, letting them crash closed with so much force I’m surprised they remain on their hinges.
“Jesus, fuck me,” Reaper huffs. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
In the days to come there are a lot of things we don’t see coming, and not all of them are good. In fact, two events, in particular, will leave lasting marks on both mine and Dex’s hearts.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
~ Gage ~
“I hope you live long enough to scare small children. Oh, wait…”
- Gage to Cash
“If you don’t get up here, baby, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” I tell Aislinn, seconds off blowing my load for the fifth time this morning.
Aislinn peers up at me through heavily lidded eyes, her red hair splayed across my abs, with her hand working the base of my cock,
“But you said it’s my turn to play,” she complains.
My woman has to be the only female in existence to complain while her mouth is full, not that I give a shit as long as she keeps doing that thing I love with her tongue. Actually, I welcome her bitching. The vibrations travel the length of my shaft like a shock wave, and the way her throat constricts as she speaks has me seeing stars.
With a strength of will I didn’t know I possess, I catch her under her arms and drag her perfect, naked body up the length of mine until she’s straddling my thighs. Her pussy wets the underside of my cock as Aislinn grinds herself against it searching for relief.
“Yeah, it was, and now it isn’t. Deal with it,” I groan, impaling her on my cock as I drive it deep inside her tight, little body.
Lost for words and complaint now, Aislinn undulates on top of me as if she’s riding a prize bull, and I love it. The depths of her sexuality, the way she lets go when we’re together – giving all of herself to me – and her willingness to experiment makes her my perfect match.
Even if it was missionary position every day for the rest of our lives, Aislinn is far and away the most sensational lay I’ve ever had. There were women I fucked who were up for anything; bondage, anal, threesomes, sex with an audience, but none of them hold a candle to the woman in my arms now.
It isn’t only Aislinn’s body that
does it for me, although her tits are my second favorite playground, second only to her pussy. It’s the way she trusts me, the size of her heart, and the feeling of coming home each and every time I slide inside her that has me tied up in knots for her.
Over the last few weeks, we haven’t spent more than a few hours apart, and those weren’t by my choice. Aislinn told me come hell or high water she has a job to do for Custom Chrome, and regardless of my protests, she was going to do it.
I won’t say I was happy about it, but with Cash, Boss, Gunner, and Jump all at the garage with her, my argument that it wasn’t safe was summarily dismissed. The little vixen kissed me, slapped my ass, told me to get over it that the guys had her, and she’d see me later. Little did she know, that later would be a whole lot fucking sooner than she’d anticipated.
*****
Training prospects isn’t fun on the best of days unless they’re gifted with a firearm like Gunner is, but it’s my job to make sure the dipshits can load, fire, and clean all of the seventeen different guns Vengeance stocks in our armory. The last thing we need is a green as fuck prospect having premature firing issues when it counts. And unfortunately, as part of my responsibilities it falls on me to ensure that doesn’t happen.
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 2: Gage ~ Cash ~ Knight (Vengeance MC series Book 8) Page 18