“Now, call Logan, bugfuck. Don’t give him no reason not to help you right now cuz he a mean motherfucker and he’ll see you locked away himself if you fuckin’ cross him.”
A frown creased Johnnie’s brow. “I’ll just be further indebted to him.”
“Just make the fuckin’ call and stop bein’ a whiny motherfucker. All we gotta do is get that motherfucker to set things straight tonight. Once Big Joe get in it, Logan ain’t gonna do shit. I don’t know what the fuck Boss got over Logan’s head, but that’s one motherfucker he don’t fuck with. He ain’t even had him killed to get him the fuck out the way. Whatever it is, I wish the fuck I knew cuz Logan would eat twenty yards of donkey shit if Boss told him to. What I wouldn’t fuckin’ give to have that power over that evil bastard.”
Chapter 23
Lucas “Mortician” Banks stared at the second-floor door of the four-level condominium building, knowing he shouldn’t fucking be here, but unable to stay away. One day until Outlaw and Meggie returned home, which meant they had one motherfucking day to get Lowman the fuck away. Personally, Mortician preferred to blow him the fuck away, but he doubted John Boy would go for it. No matter what the motherfucker said, he had some fucked-up loyalty to the deranged old fucker. Otherwise, John Boy would’ve taken care of him years ago and this fucking ghoul from the past wouldn’t be haunting the fuck out of them right now.
Mortician leaned his head against the door. Bailey was the last fucking person on the face of the earth he should be seeking out. But, fuck, it was mid-morning and he just needed…a break. When things were good, they were very good. But goodness went to fucking shit so quick. And, when shit was bad, it was fucking ferocious. Being fucking blindsided from every which way.
It didn’t fucking help Outlaw was gone. That motherfucker had no filter for anything. By now, the meat shack would be stacked with the corpses of dumb fucks from the Torpedoes. With Lowman, though…Mortician didn’t like the thought of continuing the lie. He understood why it had to be done, but, if Outlaw ever accidentally found out Lowman was alive and…and all the other fucky shit associated with that fucking demon…he’d be devastated. Outlaw thought they all had his back and that meant honesty. He trusted them with everything—his life and his family.
On the other hand, Mortician had his own bullshit that hurt him to his bones and he wished he’d had motherfuckers who cared enough about him to protect him. It wasn’t until he met Outlaw that he’d had somebody who gave a fuck whether he lived or died.
Hearing movement on the other side of the thin door, Mortician pressed his ear against the wood. Bailey.
He understood why Outlaw worshipped Meggie so much. When all the bullshit was going on, girls not in the life offered normalcy. And young bitches had a sweet innocence that had the ability to wash away the dirty fucking lifestyles Mortician, and men like him, lived. After meeting Bailey at Meggie’s wedding shower, he’d thought he’d forget her if he just fucked enough bitches and had his dick sucked enough times. No matter what—or who—he did, though, her gorgeous eyes and wealth of black hair haunted him.
After a while, he’d just said fuck it and made peace with the fact he’d pretend every bitch who put her mouth, pussy, hand, or ass on his dick was Bailey. Then it was just his fucked-up luck to have bodyguard duties with Meggie on the day she and Bailey were hanging out.
He’d gotten over his shock long enough to pretend he didn’t remember her name. He’d ignored the slight hurt in her eyes when he’d told her that bullshit. But, then, she’d called him the next day and admitted she’d borrowed his number from his phone.
Logic told him to brush her off. Humiliate her. Tell her he didn’t need a bitch sweating his dick. He just hadn’t been able to do it. For a while, shit had gotten out of hand. She’d started calling him every damn day, until he’d snapped to his senses. Somewhat.
He’d started not answering her calls instead of telling her straight-up not to call. That shit lasted a week, before he’d given in and answered her. Until several days ago, the night of the fight with K-P, they’d spoken several times a week but he’d never made arrangements to visit her.
And now this. A drop in after he hadn’t talked to her since that night.
Mortician scratched his chin, hesitating to knock but still needing that break. He knew things were about to amp up to make it seem like there’d been nothing but good fucking times and happy fucking smiles while Outlaw was gone.
Mortician wouldn’t pressure John Boy to get things in place. Motherfucker knew his shit. Besides, Mortician was grateful that red-haired bitch had come back. Despite the bullshit she brought with her. John Boy needed a good woman at his side. Brother had had his dick aimed at Meggie’s pussy for so long, he hadn’t even been as outraged as Mortician thought he would be—should be—when he’d suggested John Boy take Meggie somewhere and fuck her when she and Outlaw got back.
So let John Boy fuck Kendall as much as he needed, spend as much time as he needed with her and have a chance to heal from his feelings for Meggie…move on. With motherfuckers seeping out of their pasts like fucking Poltergeist, the club didn’t need a fucking love triangle added to the mix.
A phone rang on the other side of the door and curiosity knocked through him. He wondered how many other motherfuckers called Bailey. Not that it mattered, of course.
Mortician sighed. Fuck, he was there now. He might as well go inside, see what was up. She hadn’t been calling him—just as he’d ordered her—and he wanted to know who the fuck she had been talking to. Raising his hand, he knocked on her door, hearing a faint, “hold on a sec,” a moment later.
The sound of her voice made his heart speed up and his dick harden.
A moment later, she swung the door open. Her eyes widened when she saw him, then her pretty pink lips broke into a smile. She wore a short robe, the sash tight around her small waist. Her hair hung around her and her face looked fresh and clean.
“Lucas?” she breathed, stepping aside, a silent invitation to walk into her house.
Get into her bed.
Color swept into her cheeks as if she’d read his mind. He needed to turn his ass around and get the fuck away from her before he did something really, really stupid. It was too early in the fucking morning to stir the pot a little more than it already was.
“You just getting up?”
“About twenty minutes. Long enough to brush my teeth and comb my hair.”
His gaze swept her body, fastening on her slim calves. They’d feel so fucking good wrapped around his waist.
Bailey’s nostrils flared. “Come in,” she whispered, licking her lips and staring at his mouth.
Sarcasm was his best defense and he opened his mouth to speak, but she outmaneuvered him and enclosed her slender fingers around his hand and tugged. He felt like a giant next to her, so he remained right where he was, his observation granting him another reason to leave. He needed a woman the size of Kendall. A beautiful, fine chick who—
Bailey drew in a deep breath. “We’ve talked about everything over the past weeks. You even told me your real name,” she said in a rush, her fingers tightening on him.
He pulled his hand free of hers and narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean, girl?”
Her color deepened and she looked at her toes, the nails painted orange. She ducked next to him and glanced up and down the hallway. It was as empty as it had been when he’d first arrived.
She stepped back in front of him and untied her robe, allowing it to fall open to reveal her naked body. Her berry colored nipples greeted him along with the landing strip she’d fashioned from her pussy hair.
He swept her body with a scowl. Fuck. How’d they go from his surprising her with a visit to her stripping in front of him and damn near in the fucking hallway.
Fucking little bitch.
“You still a virgin?” It was about time his fucking brain started working. He needed to close her robe up and hide her body from his dick.
Guiding his hand lower, to her pussy, she dropped her fingers leaving it up to him on his next move. But Mortician was just a fucking man and his dick would never forgive him if he let his conscience fuck up getting inside of Bailey.
He cupped her pussy and pushed her back, stepping into her apartment and slamming the door shut behind him. He pressed the heel of his hand against her clit and she sucked in a breath. He lifted her in his other arm, still massaging her cunt, and planted his mouth over hers, her sweetness exploding in his brain, the taste of her tongue in his mouth pushing a little pre-cum from his cock.
He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but her condo wasn’t big, so he found her bedroom at the first door he tried. It was lavender and white, a real girl’s room. Even the bed looked female, if that shit made any sense, with ruffly bedclothes and a brass headboard and footboard. Not to mention, it looked small, almost too small for him to be comfortable in it.
Their mouths tearing into each other, he settled her onto the bed and she kneeled in front of him while he still stood, leaning down to kiss her. She shrugged out of her robe.
Sssscccrrrreeeeccccchhhhh. Brought the fuck to his senses.
They stared at one another and he could smell the juices dripping from her pussy. Her nipples tempted him like two pieces of candy. Rocking back on her heels, she scooted up higher on her bed, sliding the covers down with her feet, then leaning back and allowing her legs to fall open. Her pussy greeted him like a budding flower.
“Bailey,” he said on a groan.
She arched her back and fingered her clit. “I-I know it’ll only be today with us,” she whispered, grinding against her fingers. “I promise no one will ever find out, especially my dad, and I won’t…I won’t make a pest of myself.”
Free pussy, bro. That didn’t need pointing out. The evidence was there in her glistening juices, clinging to her delicate lips and slicking her fingers. Still, he understood his dick’s point of view, wanting to be sure his brain understood the dynamics.
Not any free pussy, though. Bailey’s.
He got free pussy all the time and Bailey’s pussy wasn’t exactly free. It had a price tag that read fucking = marriage. So that was far from fucking free.
You have 20Gs on the line, too, Mort.
Mortician scowled at the reason entering his brain. More importantly at the figure flashing in big, red fucking numbers. Either 5Gs a piece from Prez, John Boy, Val, and Digger. Or 5Gs to each of them and fuck—
Shut the fuck up, his cock ordered, interrupting his stream of curses.
Okay, having his dick and his brain battle it out was some freaky shit.
His phone started peeling and he jerked it out of his pocket, cursing when he saw the name on the screen. John Boy. They’d gone three days without getting shit rolling. Another few minutes wouldn’t fucking hurt.
He shouldn’t have come to Bailey. This was the quickest way…the quickest way to saddle himself with a bitch who’d want normalcy. He wasn’t pulling that shit from his ass, either. He’d had long conversations with her, so he knew what the fuck she wanted.
Unaware he’d been talking himself out of fucking her as she played with her pussy, her eyes slipped closed and a whimper escaped her.
Maybe, one quick swipe of his tongue over her clit. What would a taste of her pretty little pussy hurt? Not a fucking thing. Just as she shook and made a small noise that was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard, he climbed into her bed, spread her legs wider and buried his face against her juicy cunt. He licked her swollen clit, smelled her desire and closed his eyes, her satiny heat like heaven.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, pushing the hood of her clit back and lapping at the most sensitive part of her.
“Oh God,” she moaned, pulling at his dreads but then pushing and grinding against his mouth. He nipped her clit, suckled, and licked, before covering her slit with his mouth and feasting on her pussy until she came against his lips and tongue.
Until his dick laughed at his conscience.
His cock hurting, he unzipped his pants and pulled it out, not bothering to remove his clothes. He needed to fuck Bailey. Nothing else mattered. Not even the fucking phone ringing again and annoying the fuck out of him.
Her eyes widened briefly when she saw his dick, but Mortician didn’t let her ponder his size too long. After he snatched his phone out of his pocket and turned it off, he guided his cock to her entrance and slid partially into her. She was small, choke holding his dick and he wasn’t even buried in her yet.
He pushed a little further and she blinked, lifting her hips and inviting him into her deeper. He hit her virginal barrier and grunted.
“Lucas?” she asked, her tone scared but trusting.
He smiled down at her. “It’s okay, baby. This gonna hurt. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Closing his eyes because he didn’t want to feel like such a low motherfucker when he stared into her innocent gaze, he surged into her and stilled at her cry of pain. Fuck, but her pussy was tight, clamping around his dick.
Tears rolled down her cheeks but if he didn’t move in a few seconds, he was going to fucking die. All her heat and slippery wetness curled his toes.
While he kept still, she lifted her hips and drew up her knees.
“Keep fucking still,” he growled, staring into her pain-filled, watery green-brown eyes. Her thighs trembled. “Open your legs wider, Bailey. It’ll spread your pussy and make you feel better.”
Her nails bit into his forearms and more tears slipped down her cheeks. She widened her legs in slow degrees, wincing with her movements. Mortician gritted his teeth, somehow managing not to come in her while she tortured him. Every time she moved to spread herself, her pussy clenched around his dick and his balls grew hotter. If she kept it up, the motherfuckers were going to burst into flames and then they’d be fucked.
Frustrated, he gripped her knees and widened her legs. If he came like this, he’d be madder than fuck. He’d never dropped his load without a few pumps.
“It still hurts,” she whimpered.
He gnashed his teeth together. “You want me to stop?”
Tears glistened in her eyes and she blinked, sniffling. “Will it hurt you?”
Like a motherfucker.
“I-I mean will you be mad at me?”
She pulsed and throbbed around him, and fuck, moved again.
Heat and pressure released from his tight balls and cum exploded into her belly. He trembled and shook, moaning her name, his dick jerking inside of her.
Breathing heavy, he rested his chin on her head. Fuck. Him. He’d came. He’d fucking came. Without a proper fuck. Without a condom.
Bailey squirmed beneath him and he pulled out of her, getting to his feet and staring at her, splayed before him, come and blood on her thighs and leaking from her. He swallowed. He was a pussy connoisseur and hers was the prettiest he’d ever seen.
“I didn’t do it right, did I?”
“No right and wrong in this, Bailey,” he told her, tucking himself back into his pants, feeling lower than dirt because she looked so vulnerable and open. He hadn’t even gotten undressed. Just pulled his dick out and stuck it in her.
Closing her legs, she winced and grimaced, and he covered his face with his hands. Fuck. He’d never had a virgin, should never have had her, and would never take her again.
“When’s your period?” he asked her bluntly. “Or are you on the pill?”
He could only hope. She’d wanted his dick. She
had to have—
“No. I’m not on the pill.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And your period?”
“About thirteen days away. Give or take a couple days,” she added. She was staring at him, waiting for him to say or do something.
Whatever it was, she’d be waiting the rest of her days. He had nothing he wanted to give to her.
He turned on his heel to leave, but heard her rustling around in bed. He told his legs to keep moving, but his heart—no, brain—made him pause and turn around. She looked lost and forlorn.
“You okay?” he asked, despite his best intentions to just leave and sweat it out until he called her in eleven days to check on Aunt Flo and keeping checking for the arrival of that bitch until Bailey told him what he wanted to hear. And I’m pregnant certainly wasn’t it.
He felt around for his cigarettes and lit one up. “You in pain or anything?” He touched his phone as he saved his cigarettes and pulled it out to turn it back on.
When Bailey remained silent, Mortician looked up, startled to find her not saying anything. Just looking at him.
Where the fuck had his Bailey gone? She was a fucking chatterbox. The stories she’d told him about K-P. Of course, Mortician couldn’t rub it in the man’s face because he’d rat himself out and let in on the fact that he’d been keeping in contact with Bailey.
Mortician cleared his throat and dragged on his cigarette. “Are you? In pain?”
“A little,” she mumbled, flushing.
Guilt rammed him and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. “Go take a hot bath. Make your pussy feel better.”
She nodded and lowered her lashes. “Okay.”
“I got to get going, girl.”
Her nostrils flared and he knew she was about to cry again. As if he needed more fucking guilt.
“You promised you wouldn’t sweat my dick,” he said in a hard voice. He had to say something, although he knew that was cold-blooded. Bailey trusted him and he’d just abused the fuck out of it.
“I won’t,” she said in a soft, miserable voice. She braced a smile. “You can get going and I’ll see you around.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 79