by V. Theia
“Just a few jobs I was considering and I have to go into work in a while.” Whittling her lip, she hated relying on anyone and here she was about to let Preacher step in and help her. “Look, it’s fine, thanks for stopping but---”
“Yo, G. Call into the shop and get a pick up here asap. You got the keys, Ruby?”
He was wearing a bandana under his helmet, his black leather jacket zipped right to the chin, he looked like the proverbial bad boy. As always, his beard was styled in a tight point. No frizz for him, bastard. She reached up and ran a hand down her wet hair, the rain only spitting finely now. He smiled and her brows fell. She needed to tell him she had no money for a repair job.
“I don’t need it fixed, Preacher. Thanks.”
“What, you’re going to drive a broken car?” His gorgeous mouth split in a devastating smile that affected every corner of her body.
“It's not how you stand by your car, it's how you race your car.” She huffed. He was a guy, she waited for him to get the connection. She only saw his eyebrow flick up. “Huh? Wasn’t thinking of racing it.“
Ruby laughed, feeling her spine relax.
“Fast and the fucking Furious, right?” Laughed Grinder chiming in.
“See, this one knows his good movies.” She sent the man sat leaning into his handlebars with his beanie hat in exchange of his bike helmet a killer watt grin. She liked people who could get movie quotes, her kind of people.
“I can give you a ride to wherever you need to be.” He offered, sweeping the smile right off her cheeks. Get on the back of his bike … with him? Having to hold his waist? Ruby scoffed internally. Not unless she wanted to play ‘tease my vagina’ by being all up on that. Which she did not.
“I got it, thanks.” She went around to the driver's side, locked up and handed him the keys. “When will I know the time of death?”
He snickered showing full even white teeth. “Give me your number and I’ll let you know the verdict in a couple hours once I’ve had time to get under her.”
The way he said it. Under her. Had Ruby shivering and thinking not very polite things. All sex things. Dirty naughty sex things.
“Ruby? Number.”
Oh yeah. She took a minute to program his into her phone and sent him an emoji as a test text. Preacher laughed. “An eggplant? Now, babe, if you wanted my dick you only had to say.” His chest brushed up against her shoulder as he held out his phone for her to see she had sent him the fucking dick emoji. Not her fault it was the first one in her most recently used. She shrugged. “You look like an eggplant kind of guy, Preacher man.”
“I can be, depending on who is asking. Are you asking, beautiful?” That mouth came down to her ear, a voice thick as syrup rasped causing her to shiver. “Ask me.”
Had she really got herself caught up in flirting about an emoji dick? Jeez. Desperate times and all that. Preacher hummed and for a wild second she was going to ask him for the dick.
Just to borrow it for an hour, maybe two. Three tops.
The trundle noise of the Renegade Souls pickup truck stopped that conversation dead, thank god. She moved out from under his arm, crossed her own over her chest and watched while her car was loaded up on the bed of the truck.
What she took from this whole shitty last hour was; she now had Preacher’s phone number in her cell. And he had hers.
She would … most probably … not send any sexts.
CHAPTER FOUR
“A prez rules. Until it comes to his old lady, then he worships." - Rider.
“Roll over onto your belly, Icy.” Rider issued in his sex roughened voice. The president of the Renegade Souls MC was used to having his orders followed instantly, but for his old lady, he would cajole and seduce dirtily. He felt her shiver in anticipation, moving languidly like he hadn’t been fucking her for the best part of two hours already.
Could never get enough of his old lady.
Fucking obsessed.
Addicted.
Strung out on getting her sweetness down his throat, embedded in his skin.
“Aren’t you tired, honey?” He only caught half of that, what with her face smashed into the pillow. Rider paused to watch her raise up her ass, just stuck it there in the air. Fucking beautiful. He got two nice handfuls. Plump little thing now, his girl was putting on the weight she had lost, had an appetite to rival his and he fucking loved seeing her eat. If he allowed himself to think about all the days and months she’d gone hungry with her belly gnawing in on itself Rider would lose it and end up on the therapy couch alongside his girl.
He’d fuck her again and then bring her some food.
“Callin’ me old ain’t gonna get you the good shit, Icy. Didn’t you learn your lesson last time when I didn’t give you my cock?” He swiped a long finger through her juices making her shudder. A lesson in how to be patient.
He had the stamina of a bull in stud season where his girl was concerned.
Zara turned her face to the side to glare up at him. Icicles pinned and seduced. Rider only smirked noticing she didn’t return him any more of her gorgeous sassy-tongue.
His girl wanted fucking.
She was a savage for his cock and insatiable, once was never enough unless once was all they could have and he’d do her fast and hard and let it carry her through until he could really dig into her sweet pussy and stay there for hours.
His cock crawled up his abs, pulsed harder than ever as if he hadn’t been overworking it this past week. Hands stroked her from thigh to her nape and back again just to hear her moan, she was a tactile thing and loved his hands, that’s why he'd taken to giving her massages of an evening. More often than not, ten minutes later she’d end up on her back or riding the fuck out of him.
Raw and assertive, he prowled up over her body. They were on his twin bed in the clubhouse, he’d taken an hour off to spend some time with her, worried that she wasn’t feeling well the past few days, whatever virus she caught it was hitting her at odd hours, she’d wake feeling good but around mid-afternoon his girl would become tired and nauseous and need to lie down until it passed. With her aversion to anything medical, apart from their own Butcher, and even then, she’d only been under his care once and that was when she was unconscious, he couldn’t get her to agree to see the local doctor in town. I'm fine, Ambrosio. She said more than once, whilst she puked her insides out. He’d intended to push some food into her and talk her into going to see the doctor. Only when he’d walked her into their room for quiet downtime, she’d attacked, literally started ripping at his jeans until she’d broken the zipper, she was on her knees and sucking him off in the next minute and all thoughts of doctors had rightly fucked off out of his mind.
When his Zara gave him the best head of his life he was fully focused on her and her pink lips licking him in.
“You feelin’ okay, baby?” He asked against her nape, dropping kisses there and around her throat, his weight held off her though he ground her ass a little to get her going, she didn’t disappoint and moaned.
“Mmm, yes, biker-man. Don’t wait. I’m a sure thing.”
He laughed sliding a hand up underneath her, palming a perfect tit, tweaking the nipple. She split her legs and he growled. He could feel her sopping wet core, he ground some more with the tip of his cock, feeding the swollen head into heaven just a way in and no more.
“Rider!” She was all breathy.
“Yeah, baby?” He positioned. Braced a hand ready to slam home.
“I love you.”
“Fuck, baby. Love you, too. Hold on. Gonna go in deep.”
Her garbled groan was drowned out by the blankets again and Rider fucked his girl as god intended. Until she screamed his name.
He found Preacher out by the sheds glaring at his cell phone. “Trouble?” He inquired. Letting his road captain know he was there. He’d seen Preacher in mid-PTSD attack a few times and he never wanted to be the idiot who set him off.
“Nah, Prez.” He shoved the phone into his
pocket, swept a hand up and down his beard, that tic he had of doing when he was uneasy. The last time being when he thought the club had a infiltrator when they were knee deep in Hades' shit, thankfully there was no spy and Hawk had killed that motherfucker so absolutely dead. Only a shame his best friend and VP was still lying low in different chapters around the country until the manhunt for Hades died down.
They were never going to find him, Hades, that was.
Not with the asshole burned to ashes and drained away in the sewers where all the shit went.
“You got a job for me?” Preacher pulled Rider’s mind from that cunt who had hurt his old lady, his jaw un-clenching one molar at a time.
“Sort of. H wants you back in Nebraska, just for a couple days. I said I’d check it with you.”
“Fuck. My ass only just got back. When?”
“Whenever you want, after the party, or early next week. See Texas for whatever seed money you’ll need for the trip.”
“Has the contact for the green gone tits up? I told him it wasn’t gonna be a big earner right away and to stick to the two auto-repair we got going. Steady money is better than drips.”
“Maybe he misses your pretty face,” smirked Rider and Preacher guffawed. “Not the green, he's happy about that. It's some bullshit with Genty. You know he'll only deal with you. Seriously though, if you’d rather not, I know the heat was bad with Red Light, I had hoped after all this time shit would have leveled off for the brother. I could do with him down here.”
“Nah, Prez. I can handle him. I’ll head out next week, see what H needs me for this time. There’s potential of more than just the bike shop, but he might need seed money. That city has riches just waiting for an outlaw to snatch it up for himself. Gotta say though, Ri. His crew … some of ‘em, waste of fucking good spunk. Lazy motherfuckers. Just as well you have Red Light there, when I got there he was doing most of the build shit himself. He might be best kicking around there for a while instead of heading back to Kansas.”
“Yeah, H said much of the same a while back. But it’s up to him to clean his own fuckin’ house. We have the anniversary this summer, I’ll see for myself what jokers he has patched in.” Being the president of the mother chapter meant he not only had the interests of his own club to think about, but every chapter throughout the US that siphoned off his own, slowly, surely, the club as a whole was getting back to its feet after Rex ran it into the ground, and this year was the fiftieth anniversary of its birth. Every chapter was heading to Armado Springs for a blow-out party to end all parties.
“How’s our wandering sociopath, you heard anything from Hawk lately?” joked Preacher.
Rider smirked a little retelling the last time he’d spoke to Hawk a couple days ago. “He was ready to move on, apparently, NOLA is not for him.”
“Tennessee wasn’t for him, either was it? What was it, too many alligators? Fuck, no croc would dare come near that crazy shit. Can’t believe I’m missing his surly ass.”
“He’s gonna run out of chapters to lie low in.”
“The brother needs to get home. We would have heard something from the FEDs if they were looking our way.”
Rider ruminated a low hum in his throat. He thought the same. But still. “Best to keep him away for now. Even if he bitches more than my sister does. I’m gonna head home for a while, see how Zara is.”
“Z-girl still sick?”
“Fuck knows. She’s sick then she’s not sick. She’s puking then she feels great. Eating like a horse, then she can’t stand the smell of my steak.”
Preacher laughed then rubbed his mouth, Rider glared. Bastard thought it was funny his old lady felt ill? He’d punch the beard off his goddamn face. “What?”
“Nothing, Prez,“ the smile grew bigger and wider. “Absolutely nothing. Give a big juicy kiss to the queen from me.”
“Fuck you.” Rider laughed and strode off.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Desire came knocking. And brought Preacher with it. Dammit." – Ruby
Well, wasn’t this just some unbelievable shit? You give a woman your number, she usually blasts day and night with messages and calls. Preacher watched Rider head off in the opposite direction, he finished his bottle of water, ditching the empty into the trash can and followed at a slower pace heading back to the shop, stopping to pull his phone out of his pocket again and glared darkly at the thing. Still no messages from Ruby.
She was fucking brutal on his ego.
Their kiss had been amazing.
Lust and irritation banded together to make the blood boil in his veins.
He still had the taste of her tongue in his mouth from the other night and she was unaffected by their hot kiss. Not one message. Damn, tiny dancer. Brutal.
He’d thought about Ruby and that kiss all day under her car, the piece of shit was serious toast, he was working hard to get it back into some kind of running order, he could see she didn’t even want him to fix it and that usually meant a person didn’t have the funds to pay for a repair job. It stung his chest.
Such an independent little thing Ruby was, he didn’t feel bad steamrolling her into taking the heap of junk into the shop.
In the background of Preacher growling and muttering to himself about crazy bitches he was aware of what was going on around him, he heard Coop, one of the club’s prospects running off to grab some stuff for Snake, that guy always worked the prospects the hardest, then there was Grinder switching radio stations to that rock junk he liked, which started a whole argument with Lawless swearing out a hit on him if he didn’t switch it back.
He slid out from under the rust bucket, stretched his spine until each bone cracked, he’d been under there near an hour and finally could diagnose the problem. Mainly all-of-fucking-it.
“What’s the verdict?” The corroded voice belonged to Lawless. That maniac rarely worked on the bikes, he preferred to get his hands dirty with blood and death, but he liked the company and noise of the shop he said, so most days he came over and just parked himself somewhere with a book. A straight up no-nonsense-killer who got off on literature and anything digital, go figure, there were layers to Lawless, not even the brothers had seen yet, but Preacher liked the guy. It was better to have him on your side than against you.
Preacher recalled a time when Lawless had been out of control. Bad times.
“Put it this way, if it was a person we’d be at the wake now sinking a bottle of my granddaddy's moonshine.” He took a minute to call through to the parts shop to order what he needed for a patch job. It wouldn’t last Ruby long, but hopefully long enough for her to replace the car. He hung up, not much else he could do until the FEDEX guy came in a couple hours.
“You’re still gonna put it together? Interesting,” simpered Lawless. His blue eyes were kinda fucking creepy as hell when he looked at you in that way. Preacher scowled in return. He turned to grab his coffee, hated drinking it cold but downed it like a shot. “I mean, the car is dead, and you’re still gonna pump life into it. She must be some pussy, Preach. Some real crazy and juicy pussy.”
Preacher rounded and for a second he thought about going toe to toe with Lawless. Sucking in a breath, realizing too late he was being played, he scoffed, letting his tightened shoulders drop from around his ears.
“Why don’t you concentrate on your own pussy, Law, and keep your nose out of what I’m getting. Better yet, if you wanna donate your Mustang, I won't have to fix this heap.”
Chance would be a fine thing. From all the messages Ruby was not sending him it pointed to her not being affected by their out-of-this-world kiss. But then contradictory evidence If not for the way she’d shoved her tongue into his mouth sucking on his like she wanted to drain him dry he would absolutely believe that.
Nah, the tiny dancer was playing hard to get. Only it was Preacher who was hard and hard-up waiting to get into her.
“My Mustang is not to be touched by human hands, shithead. All I'm saying is, you’re working hard fo
r some gash, albeit it, she’s a striking beauty, but pussy is pussy, man, get it anywhere, no need to break your back fixing something that’s dead.”
Hm. there was a metaphor in that somewhere, he just knew it, cryptic motherfucker giving him the knowing glare. Preacher absorbed his meaning and shook his head. “Prospect!” He yelled clean across the shop and Slider strutted over. “Yes, sir?”
Loved this kid for calling him sir. Eager shits always wanted to please a club member. “Coffee, and make sure it’s hot this time, a man could die of thirst. And bring some of those cookies Z-girl made yesterday.”
“I think Texas had the last. I’ll check.” Grinder’s boy was keen as mustard, no doubt if he kept on the way he was going he’d be patched into the club one day. Preacher loved having prospects to boss around, to have them fetching, carrying, cleaning shit that didn’t need cleaning, It was like having his own little brother around, pushing them to limits the younger men didn’t even know they had, testing their patience and endurance, for his first year the club didn’t have prospects while Rider was building the club back up, then Tiny, poor fucker, and Pretty boy came along, man it was fun to rag on those knuckleheads, both became brothers, now only one remained.
But the MC had three new prospects, good kids from what he could see.
Loyalty was key in an MC, and next to that was doing what needed doing, no matter what. Hands had to get dirty sometimes, you weathered it or you didn't get the patch. And he fucking loved his patch.
Taking a load off, he parked himself in a lawn chair, the sun was beating down, that spring transitional weather, just as long as it wasn’t snowing Preacher was good. He spread out his legs, accepted the mug of coffee when the prospect got back and resisted looking at his phone again. Or doing something worse, texting and asking why the shitting hell she hadn’t contacted him.
All women wanted Preacher, he wasn’t boastful, he didn’t have a huge ego, no more than the average guy anyway, it was just a fact of life, ever since he grew two feet over the summer he turned thirteen chicks had flocked to him, wanted him to teach them kissing and more and he had, had been happy to experiment. Shane would joke that one day his Lothario days would come to an end when a woman knocked him on his ass.