by Zoey Parker
With the vote over, Joe grinned wide and smacked the gavel back down. “So, it’s done! Now, get out of here and get some time in the clubhouse. All prospects are on duty tonight so drink it up. If you can’t walk to your bike, you crash here. No excuses!” There wouldn’t be any. Joe’s little sister was killed by a drunk driver almost a decade ago, and not a single biker in the club had gotten on a bike after having too much to drink ever since. Joe would have had their balls mounted on the fucking wall.
“Hey, Lucas.” A warm, slim hand pressed against his chest as he walked out of church and into the main lounge area. He didn’t even need to look down to see who the hand belonged to. Only one of the sugar bites, a nickname the brothers used for the club whores, would be bold enough to hang outside the door waiting for Lucas to exit.
“Cherry.” He nodded, then moved her hand back to her side. Stepping to the side to let the other brothers head toward the bar, where he wanted to be, he tried to give her a hard glare. “You know you aren’t supposed to be hanging by this door.”
She had enough sense to blush. “I know, but I didn’t want to miss you. I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her hand was back on his chest, inching its way beneath his kutte. The rest of her pressed up against his side, large tits pushed against his arm, and if he moved just a bit more, her leg would wrap itself around his waist.
“I’ve been busy.” He noticed Cutter waving to him from the bar, signaling a shot was lined up for him. “And I’m busy tonight, too. Why don’t you help someone else out for the night?”
The rejection didn’t deflate her. No, not Cherry. She’d been itching to get her claws into him for nearly a year. She had too many aspirations of becoming his old lady, even when he told her he didn’t want or need one. Sticking his dick in whatever woman he wanted to, that was the way he was going to keep on living. Women just complicated shit, and he didn’t need that. He had a club to take care of. Joe wasn’t getting any younger or healthier, and Forrest, the VP, hadn’t been healthy enough to attend a church meeting in months.
“Maybe I could stop by later?” She still hadn’t let him go; in fact, her hand traveled downward, past his belt, and lower still until she was rubbing his cock. As much as he didn’t want her at that moment, his cock reacted anyway. A woman stroking the length of him wasn’t something he could completely ignore. “Maybe I could help you release some of that stress you’re carrying around.” She yanked on him and turned them so she was pressed against the wall, and began to unbuckle his belt. Her fingers were nimble, and she had his button undone and her hand wrapped around his fully erect cock.
He leaned forward, pressing one hand against the wall to balance himself as she sank to her knees, her eyes still locked on his. A little stress reliever never hurt anyone.
Men behind him laughed hard, the music pumped up and the liquor was flowing with ease. His cock was sliding easily between Cherry’s lips. Fuck, she had a nice mouth. He dug one hand into her hair, and pushed her faster and harder down on him, not giving a shit when she gagged or coughed. She wanted this; she could have it. When he came, it was hard, but not unlike every other time he shot down her throat. Yanking out, he put himself together. She got back to her feet, wiping her mouth with the tip of her thumb, looking more pleased with herself than she probably should have.
“Thanks, Cherry.” He gave her a quick glance, making sure not to smile so as not to give her any wrong ideas. He shouldn’t let her do stuff like that. She was trying to label herself as his girl. The club knew better, but still, he didn’t need anyone thinking Cherry was his. If he ever did take an old lady, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be someone who prowled the MC looking for a member to take her on. And no way would he let his old lady act the slut in front of the guys. In private, yeah, she’d be his little whore, his plaything, and she’d get as much reward as him for the fact, but no one would share in that. Not one fucking man would put his eyes on his woman.
“Lucas…” It was the softness of her voice that stilled him for a moment. “I…well, do you think maybe we could have dinner? I mean, I’ll cook, I’ll cook your dinner.”
He’d let her act go on too long. “Cherry, look, it’s not going to work. If you really want to be an old lady, you have to stop blowing members in the damn bar.” He turned and walked away, but heard her little gasp as he did. Was she pissed or upset? Either way, he hoped she got the idea, finally.
Lucas made his way through the members and stepped up to the bar, lifting the shot Cutter had poured for him. Pouring the liquid heat down his throat, he grimaced and then slammed the shot glass down on the bar. “Fuck, I needed that.”
“I don’t know, brother, looked like you were getting what you needed over there in the corner.” Cutter took a pull on his beer. The bald-headed bastard stood a head shorter than Lucas and was nearly five years younger, but he had a steel set of balls on him, calling Lucas out whenever given the chance. It was for that reason he was one of his closer friends.
“Fuck you.” Lucas grabbed the open beer in front of him. “You need to set her up with one of the prospects or something. She’s just not getting the hint.”
“Hint? I’ve heard you turn her down over and over again, but then you stick your dick in her mouth and she gets all her hopes up again.” Cutter looked around the bar, turning and leaning back on his elbows. “Which prospect hasn’t had a shot yet?”
Lucas laughed. “I don’t mean find someone for her wrap her legs around. I mean find someone that will keep her. She needs to find someone permanent.”
“What, you’re playing matchmaker now?”
“She’s not a bad chick, just fucked up logic. She just needs someone stable.”
Cutter laughed and ran his hand over the large tattoo covering his bald head. “If stable is what she needs, she should probably go somewhere else.”
“Just do your best to steer the good ones her way. Maybe we should put her to work in the back.”
“Let her get paid for being a whore?”
“If she wants.” Lucas nodded. “And it’s not being a whore, it’s being an escort. Show some fucking respect. Our girls aren’t street-walking, discount pussy.” Lucas shoved him and downed his beer. The night had taken its toll on him. He knew the vote would go the right way with the garage, but there was still the matter of getting the Iron Rebels off their backs.
“Fine.” Cutter sighed. “I’ll talk with her tomorrow.”
Lucas nodded, intending to head up to his room. The main floor of the clubhouse held the bar area, church, and the business offices. The second floor was made up of apartments. Any unmarried member with high ranking was offered an apartment upstairs. Other, lower ranking members were offered rooms in one of the three houses on the compound.
The doors burst open, and two members ran in screaming. Lucas couldn’t understand what the fuck they were carrying on about. Pushing his way forward, he finally got to them. Two prospects held up bloody hands.
“Nickolas!” one said between gulps of air. “Shot. Those fucking Iron Rebels assholes cut us off on 5th and Main. Nickolas flipped them off, and they fucking shot him!”
“Where is he?” I grabbed the one able to talk by the neck of his shirt, nearly lifting his thin frame off the ground.
“Hospital.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you call someone!” I shoved him to the ground.
“We went after the fuckers but couldn’t catch up to them. Someone else called the ambulance; they were loading him in when we got back.”
“You two idiots chased after them yourselves?” It was Cutter’s turn to growl at them. Fucking idiots. Been prospects for two months. Those Iron Rebels would have torn them to shreds.
“Next time, you call for help. Right away. Got me?” Lucas pointed a finger at them. They both nodded. “You should have called the ambulance first, not some fucking bystander. You never leave your brother lying on the ground bleeding like that!”
They both nodded, looking pitiful and shake
n. “He’s okay, the bullet hit his shoulder,” one of them finally said.
“Cutter, take care of these idiots. I’m going to go find Joe and head over to the hospital. And someone call his fucking wife. She’s gonna go batshit when she hears, so someone’s gonna have to drive her to the hospital.”
“I got it man; you go take care of business.” Cutter nodded and grabbed the two prospects, shoving them toward the bathrooms.
Lucas took a deep breath and went to find Joe. More than likely he was going to have get him out from between some soft thighs. What a way to end the fucking night.
Chapter 2
Leaning her head back against the plastic-like material of the armchair, Josephine glanced over at her mother who was still sleeping. The medicine she’d been given kept her exhausted and sick. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was vomiting. They had tried to go home after the first few treatments, but her mother had gotten so dehydrated, she ended back up in the hospital.
Three weeks had flown by since the initial diagnosis. Her mother had cancer. How the hell was she supposed to deal with that? Work was being as accommodating as they could be, but Josephine knew it wouldn’t continue. Besides, she needed the money to help pay the medical bills.
The insurance her mother carried not only sucked, it was mostly useless. They paid for some of the treatments, but there were still going to be a lot of out-of-pocket expenses.
Josephine picked up the pamphlet she’d laid in her lap with a newfound sadness. She’d wanted a baby for so long, and waiting around for Prince Charming wasn’t getting her anywhere. She was already twenty-seven. Before her mother had fallen ill, she’d been contemplating having a baby on her own. Now, seeing her mother so ill and likely to slip away from her, the feeling was stronger than ever. No one was promised tomorrow. If she waited too long, it could be too late.
The procedure would cost almost all of her savings, and with her mom needing so much care, it would be selfish to spend the money on herself like that.
Loud beeping interrupted her pity party of one, and Josephine watched the nurse rush into the room to turn off the machine.
“Just need to change the IV.” The younger woman smiled. “You’ve been in here all morning. She’ll probably be asleep for a few more hours; that medicine really wipes her out. Why don’t you go down to the café and get some lunch, or at least some coffee? It’s better than the stuff in the waiting area on the floor.”
Several nurses had already made that suggestion. They were always trying to force food on her or pour caffeine into her. A few offered to let her use the unit shower to freshen up. Did she really look that awful? Sure, she’d been at her mother’s side every second she wasn’t at work, but she’d showered and even managed to brush her teeth.
“You know, coffee actually sounds good.” Josephine pushed off from the chair and leaned over her mother, brushing a loose lock of hair away from her face. “She looks better today.” Josephine repeated the lie every day.
The nurse gave a polite nod, like they were sharing the same secret. “Cafeteria is down on the first floor. Take the hall to the right, then just follow the smells. They put in a Starbucks a few months ago. You can’t miss it.” The nurse finished changing the IV bag and patted her mother’s hand before heading out of the room.
Josephine slipped her purse over her shoulder and headed in the direction of the elevators. Real coffee. Why hadn’t the nurses told her about the damn Starbucks? It would have made the decision to caffeinate much easier.
She could smell the coffee brewing the moment the elevators opened. This section of the hospital was new to her. She always went in through the front doors and straight to her mom’s room. It looked as though the whole wing had been rebuilt. Beautiful artwork lined the halls, and new tiling had been put in. Way classier than she thought a hospital should look.
Only a short line of people stood between herself and the caffeine boost she’d been denying herself all afternoon. Stepping behind the fourth person in line, she realized she still had the artificial insemination pamphlet in her hands and tucked it into the front pocket of her purse.
“Fuck.” A whispered curse came from behind her. It wasn’t the word, but rather the deep voice that uttered it that drew her attention. With a slight glance over her shoulder, she saw him—the man who’d spoken. The man who took up the whole room with his presence.
He was an entire head taller than her. Large chest, that looked hard as nails, to go with the muscular arms he possessed. The leather vest he wore over a tight black t-shirt showed off all his strength. And his legs…men shouldn’t wear tight jeans in her opinion, but his legs were so damn built she doubted any pair he put on wouldn’t cling to him in such a way. When she finally made her way up to his face, she sucked in her breath. She’d heard of chiseled features, read about them in novels, but never had she seen the model for such descriptions. And there he was, with chin length, dirty blond hair, a light covering of stubble over his firm jaw, and green eyes. No, not just green, muddy, swampy-green, unlike anything she’d seen before.
He swept his gaze over the line and came to her. Their eyes met, but only for a split second before she looked away, facing back to the front. Her cheeks heated enough to know she was blushing. Blushing! A grown woman blushing over some guy just because he looked hot. If hot was really a strong enough word to describe him.
She felt him step in line behind her, and the heat of his body rolled over her. Sticking her thumbnail between her teeth, she began to nibble—a nervous habit from a long time ago.
The scent of leather and aftershave enveloped her from behind, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet smell of it. Manly—he smelled manly. Much different from the men she dated. Even those a few years older than her all seemed so young, unworldly, and boyish.
“The line moved, darlin’.” A strong finger tapped her shoulder.
She jumped and stepped forward, mumbling an apology but not looking back. He’d see how red her face was if she looked back at him, and that wouldn’t do. Let him stand behind her oblivious to what he was doing to her, because she doubted she was the first girl to react in such a way. The man was probably used to having women faint at his feet. He looked more like a Viking than an ordinary man. But he was just a man, she reminded herself.
“You okay? You seem jumpy.” He leaned forward and she could smell his breath. Mint. Damn him.
“Uh, yeah.” She chanced a glance over her shoulder; his face was near to resting on her. “I’m, uh, fine. Thanks.” She scooted up when the line moved again. She heard his low chuckle. Was he laughing at her? What the fuck was so funny?
“I wouldn’t really say fine,” he said from behind her but hadn’t moved closer. She tried to ignore him. She couldn’t talk with him; that would only encourage her body to continue reacting to him so damn much. Hell, her nipples were starting to tighten just from the brief exchange they’d already had.
She tried to ignore him as the woman in front of her gave her order, but his gaze was burning into her back. She made a quick glance, just to assure herself he wasn’t staring at her. Nope. He was completely fixated on her, and when he caught her little peek back at him, he grinned. A wide grin that deepened the creases around his mouth and made his eyes look much lighter.
“I’ll have a grande caramel latte, please.” If the caffeine didn’t wake her up, maybe the sugar high would. She pulled her wallet out of her purse only to be pushed aside.
“And I’ll have a plain coffee. You do that, right? Just black coffee?” The guy behind her had moved her out of the way and thrust a twenty-dollar bill at the girl at the register.
The girl, who, once she looked up from pressing the buttons on the machine, dropped her jaw. As much as Josephine understood the reaction, she found herself not liking it. Not one bit.
“Um, of course. Black coffee. What size?”
“Small.” She took the money from him, and he turned to Josephine with a large grin.
Fi
nally finding her vocal cords, she spoke up. “You don’t have to do that. I can pay for my own coffee.” She tried to shove past him to hand over a credit card, but he wasn’t moving. The stone build of his remained right where it was as he plucked the plastic from her hand and tucked it into the back of her jeans. His fingers brushed her rounded ass when he did so, sending a current of heat through her body. Dammit, she was going to blush again.
“Wasn’t a matter of if you could, was a matter of me wanting to pay.” His answer didn’t help her irritation, but did at least wash away some of her shyness.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I didn’t either. I think your drink is ready. Go grab it, and we’ll find a table.” He took his change from the girl behind the counter and picked up his coffee without another word. He just expected her to listen to him, to do as he said? That wasn’t something she regularly did. Yet, when he raised an eyebrow and pointed to her drink still sitting on the ledge waiting to be claimed, she moved to do exactly that.