by V. Theia
Fuck love. Love hurt and controlled. But chemistry? That she could deal with. And she was feeling a whole lot of that sweet smell between them.
“Look, it was just a stupid kiss, no need to make a big deal out of it. You enjoyed it, and so did I.”
His fingers tightened on her waist then, dug in, she almost whimpered.
******
Was she for real right now? Preacher’s eyes narrowed to green slits, unsure if her facial expression was fucking with him. It had not been just a kiss. For fuck's sake, he meant it when he’d told her something shifted in him when they touched.
He caught her arm. “I'm not letting you walk away thinking I didn’t enjoy kissing you, Ruby. You liked it too, like a lot of tongue, don’t you? My tongue. Deny it. I can still feel your beautiful ass cupped in my hands. I should have stuck around, I hate not knowing how you taste,“ he didn’t mean her mouth. “I wanted it more than anything. I want you to know that. Your exquisite body needed more than a fast five minutes for me to worship it, Ruby. Come to the party.”
He had a pretty healthy sexual appetite, he could land sex anywhere on any given night if the fancy took him, and he always knew when he needed it for his mental health, but this right here with Ruby looking at him with those wide tawny colored eyes and her lip furiously nibbled, feeling that air pulse between them, it was different. Not just to get his dick buried, or a mood stabilizer.
The chase was an aphrodisiac.
She was the aphrodisiac, had she been easier maybe he would have backed off sooner.
He felt like a tool pressing her, only because he could see it, feel it, her fucking hunger was right there on her surface, she was a locked vault behind a wall.
And fuck him, he wanted to unlock her need. To see she was fed well with the kind of sex they could have between them.
The chase only took him so far.
Preacher was a simple man in a lot of respects, he didn’t need much in life, he’d traveled around the country for more than four years with just what his saddlebags could hold and what was in his bank account, but there was nothing simple about just how badly he wanted Ruby.
He was fast learning that. It was a constant physical ache. He should be worried, but he was both boots in and damn the consequences.
This woman had the power to hurt him.
Fuck. She did. And still, he was all in. To see where this took them.
What a way to go. Fucked by perfection. He smirked and stepped deeper into her space, barely a sliver of the sunshine between them now.
He’d fuck her right here if that’s what she wanted, just pull her down to the ground and mount her from behind. Show her just how serious he was about it not being just a stupid kiss.
Stupid kiss. He’d had plenty of those in the past. None registered to him like theirs did.
Hell, he could still feel the hot stroke of her tongue testing out over his teeth.
He reached out and grasped her around the back of her neck, paying close attention to her reactions, those gorgeous bare tits under her shirt heaving like she was running, teasing him with her nipples poking out wanting to say hello to his mouth.
“I could show you what a liar you are right here right now, Ruby. You liked my lips on yours, my tongue in your mouth, you sucked it hard enough.”
“Preacher.”
“Call me Asher, beautiful, when you want me, when you have sex in your voice box, use my name. I’ll hear you screaming it soon enough. I want you to fucking deafen me. I have a hunger digging its way out of my gut to hear you say it in that sexy as hell voice of yours. Did you know how hard you made me when I called you? Knowing you were in your bed soft from sleep? Fuck, Ruby. If I could have climbed through my cell I would have been on top of you in seconds.” He brushed the last of that against the shell of her ear, she’d reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt.
“Preacher. God.”
“Babe. Say it,” growling he nipped her ear, slipped a hand around her back and down to palm the swell of her ass, taking it easy or he’d squeeze her up against his hard-on and it’d be game over with the verbal fucking and he was enjoying her rapid breathing warming his chest.
“Asher. You’re messing with my fucking head.”
“Just your body, beautiful. Do you want me as much as I want you right now? Do you want me to carry you inside your apartment and fuck you against whatever surface I come at first? Tell me your dirty secrets, I’ll make them happen.”
Strung out on lust, it was a miracle he was still upright, his cock was a heavy boulder behind his zipper, possibly cutting off oxygen to his brain because he didn’t hear his own goddamn bike roar up seconds later until he caught sight of it. Tag jumped off. Preacher, keeping Ruby within his arm, turned and held up his free hand and caught his keys. “Get lost, prospect,” he issued on a nasty growl and saw the guy grin, wink at Ruby, and do just that, jogging across the main road, he began the hike back to the compound.
“Aren’t you going to give him a ride back?”
“The day I put a guy on the bitch seat is never, Ruby. He can walk back to the compound, it’ll give him character.”
“Do you bully all your prospects?” She was smiling when she asked so he went with it.
“If the cocky shits deserve it. They want to be in the club, they earn it, babe. The hard way. We don’t patch in pussies.”
“Poor kid. Maybe I should offer to drive him----”
Preacher growled and nipped her throat, then licked over her pulse. Ruby seemed to burrow his ribs like she was Eve reincarnated. The sensation was amazing. She fit just right.
“Don’t even think it, or I will run the kid over, problem solved. Now, where were we?”
“Tell me something, Preacher man.” Shit, they were back to Preacher man. He cocked a brow and waited. “Am I a challenge to you?”
“Right now, fucking A. I can’t get laid no matter what I do.” He teased, voice thick in his throat, he wanted to rub on her, anything to quieten the ache in his groin. It was her next words out of that gorgeous mouth that floored him and nearly ruptured his cock. She nodded accepting his honesty, all kinds of silent conversations going on in her eyes.
“I’m going to fuck you, Asher,” a charge shot right through him. Oh, shit, yeah, his name sounded as good as he’d wanted it to. Soft, sultry, a goddamn turn on. Her seductive claim wrung a groan from his lips, he tried to swoop in for a kiss; game on.
Her hand on his chest stopped him mid-air, eyes fired up. “We’ll fuck, because that’s my choice. I want to fuck you, because I decided to. But not today. You can’t have everything your own way. I’m not a challenge, we’ll have each other and that’ll be it. A fast burn and sizzle.”
That’ll be it.
Preacher was hauling in cold oxygen like that shit was about to expire from his lungs, even took a step back to better look at her smiling up at him. Nimble fingers grabbed his shirt, pulled him back in, arched her lovely long neck exposing all the places he wanted to suck on, eyes never wavered from his and now she was smiling, like she had some of her power back.
Fucks sake, his cock grew stiffer.
“Not today? Beautiful, I can smell your arousal.”
“Then I will take care of it myself.” Motherfucker. Was that his brains exploding? Maybe just his cock. He grasped her face in his two larger hands, made her get up on her toes and kissed the ever-loving fuck out of her, the tongue action was out of the goddamn stratosphere. Right there on the sidewalk, he tongue-fucked the hell out of Ruby until she was left panting.
When they pulled apart he saw they were on the same page, her gaze opaque, full of sex, it would take nothing to skim a hand between them and get her off with a few strokes over her sweats, make the material all wet with her pleasure.
“We’ll fuck. But not today. Thanks for my car, Asher,” she husked and stepped back onto the sidewalk, headed towards her apartment, leaving him standing there like a chump with a huge erection between his legs. He co
uld sue. He could so fucking sue.
Ruby; game set and match.
If he had any Xanax he’d be popping that shit like tic tac's.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“There was a stillness inside him as he watched the loud talk around the church table. Brothers. And yet ... not." - Reaper.
I’m going to fuck you.
He must have replayed that a million times in the last twenty-four hours.
Goddamn, the little tease.
He was still boiling hot about it. Making his morning shower more entertaining than usual, stroking one out before eight AM was a good start to the day, especially since when he came all over the shower wall and his own stomach his teeth were clamped together as he hissed her name making the climax burn out in hard spurts.
“Earth to Preacher. Don’t let us interrupt you,” he heard. Blinking hard he looked up to see all the men around the church table gawking at him.
“Say what?”
“Oh, nothing.” Glared Rider at the head of the table. Fingers tapping, meaning he was pissed off at something and since he was fixing a stare only at Preacher he could hazard a running guess it was him. “Just talked shit for ten minutes, asked your opinion and got the space cadet reply. The fuck, Preach, I don’t talk to hear myself you know.”
“Sorry, Prez. You got my attention now. What did you say?”
“Good thing it wasn’t to do anal, or Preacher would be in for a helluva surprise right about now,” guffawed Snake stuffing his mouth with a pizza pocket he was addicted to. Preacher side-eyed him but otherwise said nothing.
“I asked if you wanted any of the boys to go with you back to Lincoln.“ The way Rider worded it, all careful like, and the way the table became quiet, eyes on him like he was a damn dancing queen showing off her titties. He shook his head. The prez was asking if he needed a chaperone. Rider had heard of the aggravation he’d gone through with Red Light. Fucking H was a gossip.
“Nah. I’m good, Prez. It’ll be an in and out job I'm hoping, just a fast talk with Genty, I called him but you know paranoid Polly insists on face-to-faces for business.”
"That’s what your momma said the night you were made,” smirked Snake. Preacher popped up to his feet, his face turning nasty with a hard glare and a long accusing pointed finger. “The fuck you just say?”
“Damn. I think we done found Preach’s kryptonite.” Snickered Pretty-boy, well out of range for a smack around the face, but Preacher would take the walk around the table, no problem whatsoever. He sat his ass down. Glared some more at Snake.
“I was joking, fucker. I like your mom!”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” he warned quietly.
“Well now, before I drown in testosterone poisoning, how about we get back to the meeting. I have ledgers to balance,” offered Texas as a mediator. “Over to you, Prez.”
“As I was saying. Preach is in Lincoln again next week, so one of you ladies will have to pick up his slack in the shop.”
“I can.” Offered Snake immediately. Little shit with his apology. Preacher reached across the table and the two brothers slapped hands.
“Aww, they made up. Now I’m all warm and tickly inside again.” Laughed Grinder, dark slate gray eyes twinkling. Quit as a flea Snake fired back “Nah, man, that’s just your venereal disease festering. Hey, Butcher, whatcha got for dick rot in your black bag?”
Their medical man snickered, silver rings on each finger, he had his hands crossed on the table, head to toe leather, wouldn’t think to look at him, Preacher pondered, the death this man had seen in his path. It took all sorts. Now he patched the brothers up and stayed on the fringes of the MC. A good man. Quiet man. Secretive man.
But then they all had those.
He was currently thinking of a woman. Like nine deep in sexual fantasies. He’d already gone down on her, tongued her until she passed out. Now he was stroking her with his fingers, swirling her sweet cream from clit to ass.
Knuckles rapped on the table brought his head up on a hard inhale.
“Now you’re back with us. Do the rounds today at the shops. See if they need anything.“ Informed Rider as he doled out the day’s jobs to the brothers around the table. Preacher nodded. That meant to collect the profits from the gambling, and loans, and later Texas would skilfully clean all that lovely RS money.
They made a lot. He wasn’t complaining about the share of his cut. It was so much more than he earned legally in the army. Kill an enemy, get paid a pittance, fuel underground loans and rake in the profits. No wonder there was so many professional criminals nowadays.
And there was no better than an outlaw.
“Sure. I’ll take that cocky little shit prospect with me, show the kid the ropes, see how quick he barfs when he catches a load of Marcel’s crooked teeth.”
Everyone laughed.
Marcel ran the gambling side of things for a small cut of the takings. It kept it away from the RS stamp, no one knew they were involved, but damn did the man need a toothbrush or his own personal dentist on call.
“Halitosis city. Make sure you send the prospect real close. He’ll die on the spot. “
“It’s like being hit in the face with a stink bomb.”
“It’ll put hairs on the prospects chest. If he lives.”
“Reaper. I want you to pay a visit to Brex. He’s due to collect his package.” Rider spoke over the chatter.
Preacher kicked his gaze down the long table, on the far right at the end sat Reaper in his usual spot. He never deviated from that chair, if a brother was sat there when Reaper sauntered in he'd just look until the guy moved. It was Reaper's seat, the motherfucker had some OCD shit going on with where he parked his ass.
Sometimes Preacher even forgot the man existed, he rarely talked even when spoken to. For six months Preacher had thought he was mute until one day Reaper had asked Preacher for the time. Scared the bejesus out of him, and only then did he realize the man had a New Zealand accent. Now though, he knew the guy only talked when he had something to say. If Preacher judged his brothers for all their defects, for a better word, they wouldn’t get along as they did. None of the club members were perfect, but they were dependable, which counted in his book.
So, what if one was a self-imposed mute, Snake talked enough for all of em. As he knew, like clockwork Reaper nodded, but didn’t acknowledge his directive with any noise. He gulped on his coffee and brushed the hair out of his amber eyes. The wedding band on his left hand no one knew why he wore glinted under the luminous bulb up above.
Brex was the current mayor, going strong with his third term. Crooked as a paperclip. He regularly took advantage of the bunkers to store sensitive documents he wouldn’t want his office to lay eyes on. Hey, for a price, Preacher would let that bent politician keep his granny down there. When you joined ranks with outlaws you knew everything had its price.
Everything.
Why was it everyone from the Russians to the Mexicans and neighboring rival MC’s wanted a piece of Armado Springs? That was easy. It was prime real estate for the likes of the criminals they all were. It sat in the heart of the mountains, away from CCTV and prying city eyes, with only a skeleton crew of law enforcers who were more prone to deal with a missing dog than anything else. Plus, it had the back roads leading to and from the mountains, those roads and those mountains that Rider and their MC ran were what everyone and their fucking mother wanted a piece of. It was like guarding Willy Wonka's chocolate kingdom at times.
Now that Hades had gone right to hell, the deals he had going with the Russians were null and void, making those bratva dickheads a little-pissed off. It was why they were trying to put the pressure on Rider to accept a new deal with them. The underground bunkers, all hush-hush as fuck, surrounded by forest were a high commodity, it had been there since the first president had the good business mind to dig that bunker himself and rent it out to the highest bidder.
The MC knew some shady people. And profited from that association. Cha
-ching, you crooked shitheads.
The door to the church burst open, it was automatic for each of them to pop to their feet and reach for their guns. Curses blistered the air, adrenaline flooded through like a tidal wave. Realistically the MC was hard to penetrate, and the boys would have had some notice had it been a raid, but habits were hard pressed to think about logically when danger came through the door like a damn tornado.
Or not.
Arson, that dickhead, raised his hands in the air striding in one legged gait in front of the other, his swagger on form, grinning like a fool who was almost swiss cheese.
“Goddamn, Arson. You’re late. Again. You either rock up to church on time or you better walk in here dead. Last fuckin’ warnin’.“ Growled Rider.
Butts hit chairs again. Weapons were slid away.
“Sorry, Prez. What happened was---”
“You were under some mujercita.” Guessed Capone.
Arson grinned and took his seat next to Lawless. If Hawk were at his chair next to Rider their fucked-up family would all be here in attendance. If there was ever a poster boy for one percenter outlaws, then Arson had the face. Pretty fucker with the ink, face scruff, flannel and denim, and manly jewelry, he was under more women than Preacher was, and that was a hard record to beat, but Preacher never let his dick run his life, or get in the way of the club. Fucking bonehead was running on fumes with Rider’s patience.
It was Snake's turn to butt in when he added “We can smell the pussy on your face. Use soap for god sake, Arson,” everyone laughed and the tension was gone.
“Now, gentleman. Let’s talk money.” Texas cleared his throat.
And so, church went on for another hour.
I’m going to fuck you. Wasn’t far from his mind. Soon. He hoped soon. He had a hunger and only Ruby could fill it.
Preacher got word later that afternoon that the sheriff was back again at the gates. Since he was the most senior member around able to deal with him, he tossed a wash rag on the workbench and strode outside, nodding to the prospect to open the gate and let the law-man in. A smile pasted on Preacher’s face he met him halfway, didn’t offer to shake his hand.