Chapter Twenty-Six: Testing Her Commitment
Walking into his room, Mortician headed straight to the shower to clean up and get Ali’s perfume off of him. He’d burn the fuck out of his clothes. He didn’t want Bailey finding them and getting the wrong idea.
He dried himself and headed to his closet to dress, glaring at the safe and cursing his father and brother to hell. Digger more than Sharper. He’d expect betrayal from his father. It was Digger’s actions that was fucking with him.
Back in his bedroom, he found Bailey asleep on his bed, dressed in one of his black T-shirts and thrashing around.
Fuck. She was having another nightmare. Had she had any last night while he’d been watching out for Johnnie? Motherfucker was a grown-ass man. Gross like a motherfucker, too, and should’ve been punched the fuck out. Or, at the least, took into consideration that Mortician had left his pregnant, young wife to deal with his miserable ass.
That shit pissed him the fuck off.
“Wake up, Bailey,” he growled, dropping next to her and shaking her.
Her lashes fluttered and Mortician’s heart turned over. She looked so sweet and vulnerable. Her bruises were healing, but still visible, a testimony to all she’d gone through. How dare Digger choose to hurt Bailey? He could’ve just as easily contacted Mortician and told him what was going down, so Mortician could deal with it. Moreover, he would’ve had the support of the entire club. Now, even if Mortician thought to give Digger a pass for helping Bailey at the end, Prez expected Mort to put him down.
Clutching Bailey against his chest, he stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.
“Lucas,” Bailey murmured sleepily, unlike a few nights ago when she hadn’t known who he was. She struggled to a sitting position and got to her feet. She turned to face him, her look going from happiness to narrow-eyed displeasure.
He knew why, too. He’d been gone over twenty-four hours and had ignored her phone calls and messages. He’d be pissed, too.
“I don’t need you all up in my fucking grill, Bailey. I just got fucking back after a long fucking night and I’m tired.”
She bristled. “Tough,” she snapped. “You were gone for a day. You didn’t even give me the courtesy of responding to my calls.”
“I was busy.”
Snatching the pillow from the bed, she hurled it against his head. “I told you I’m not accepting you screwing other women.”
“I didn’t fuck another bitch,” he snarled.
“Then what were you doing?”
Looking after a motherfucker brought low. Motherfucker fell the fuck from grace in a big way. Crying like a girl. Fucking around with cum filled dick bags.
In all the years he’d known Johnnie, Mortician had never seen him fall to pieces. He’d been like an ancient god tumbling from Mount Olympus with the shit he’d done yesterday.
Still, he didn’t want to embarrass John Boy. He intended to tease the fuck out of him, but that was between them. And Outlaw. And Val. And Dig…
No, not Digger. Never again would Mortician be able to share his life with his little brother.
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“You’re being an idiot and a coward,” Bailey accused, snatching his attention. “You want to reject me because of what she did to you. I never thought you’d wimp out. I understand she hurt you. What she did was wrong, but she’s winning because you’re ruining us over her. If you don’t want to talk about her, we could at least discuss your son. But you’re too busy fucking other women.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw at her accusations. She was right, though. It just amazed him how unafraid she was to show her vulnerability to him, which took strength and courage considering his fucked-up behavior. His treatment of Bailey would come back to bite him in the nuts. He just couldn’t seem to stop himself from lashing out at her. He couldn’t stop himself from testing her, pushing her, baiting her, to show him how much she’d take from him and how firmly committed she was in standing by him.
It was brutal and fucked-up, but, no more so than Prez wanting him to kill his own fucking brother. His brother had taken Bailey, so he deserved to be hurt. Bad. Same for leaving Meggie to be killed.
Mortician understood why Prez had issued the orders. Yet…yet…Mortician had to kill his own brother. He still remembered him as the annoying fifteen-year-old he’d left behind in LA for the summer. Over the past few months something had happened to Digger.
He was secretive now. Before he’d loved the club.
Outlaw was adamant that Mortician be the one to bury Digger to prove his loyalty to the club.
He glared at Bailey. “Why should I fucking tell you about Tyler when I’ve never fucking set eyes on him in my fucking life? You wanting to know about a fucking bitch I can’t fucking stand not happening. Char not getting in bed with you and me.” He hated that he’d ever felt anything for Charlemagne and hated that Bailey wanted to know about her. But Bailey wasn’t going to drop the subject. She’d just keep bringing it up. “You once asked if I’ve ever been in love. Yeah. With her. Shit you already seem to fucking know. If your nosy fucking ass want to know the rest, listen the fuck up.” He ignored the way her face crumpled at his words. She wanted to hear about Char? Then, he’d tell her.
Beginning with the day he’d met Charlemagne Williams at a church musical as a twelve-year-old, he finished the story with the last time he’d fucked her as a senior in college.
“You wanted to know,” he snarled in an unforgiving tone, seeing the tears in Bailey’s eyes. “You couldn’t fucking leave it alone. I blew her the fuck away to save your life. That shit not enough for you?”
Testing her commitment to him showed him how deeply rooted his hostility and resentment was. He’d like to say it was for women, but it was just love in general. But what had Bailey done to deserve his shitty treatment? Her only crime was loving him and making him love her.
“I…fuck, Bailey. I’m saying this shit for the hundredth time, I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“But you are.”
One thing about her, she never lied about her feelings. She kept them right in the open, determined to get through to him. The more she pushed, the more he resisted. The part of him that refused to believe her commitment to him obliterated the small hope that accepted her feelings as real.
“I know and I’m sorry that I fuck up with you all the time.”
“The bet, right?” she asked with heartbreaking uncertainty when he didn’t answer.
Mortician forced himself to shrug, his head all over the place. Killing Digger. Losing Bailey. Loving Bailey. “That’s one thing.”
“The other? You don’t love me?”
Driving home his lack of love for her would be the easiest way to get her to back off. “I do.” Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. He wasn’t supposed to say that shit. “Just not enough.”
She tensed and raised her chin. “I see.”
No, she didn’t. She made a sound. The kind of noise that hinted at stubbornly holding a sob in. Her nostrils flared and her throat moved. It took a moment for her to wrestle her emotions back into neutrality. When she did, she braved a sad smile.
“I’ve picked out a name for the baby. Harley.”
He couldn’t stop his grin. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “You like it?”
Her hand fluttered to her belly, but she dropped it away before she bowed her head. He didn’t know what to say, but he needed to touch her, so he stepped closer to her. Laying his own hand on her stomach, he tucked strands of her silky hair behind her ears and dropped to his knees. He lifted her shirt and kissed the round bump of his baby. “Hey, Harley,” he whispered. “This your daddy. Hear me, baby girl?”
He met Bailey’s gaze, awed by her. The look on her face always weakened him. Care. Adoration. Love. Patience. More than he deserved.
Holding her stare, he kissed her belly again, unable to bear it when tears slipped down her cheeks. He was already on the floor, close to her pussy,
so he should eat her. Take her sadness away. Besides, the scent of her skin and of her pussy drove him crazy.
“I didn’t cheat on you, Bailey,” he swore.
Not waiting for her response, he widened her thighs and pulled her over his mouth, opening her pussy lips and licking her clit. She rested her little foot on his arm and rocked to the rhythm of his tongue. He wrapped an arm around her to keep her steady, kissing her, licking her, nosing her clit and her delicate lips, until she finished against his tongue.
Bailey was still gasping when Mortician got to his feet and kissed her, deep, open-mouthed and long, backwalking her to the bed, only removing his lips from her sweet mouth so she could scoot onto the bed. While she took off the shirt she wore, he removed his boots and the rest of his clothes, teasing him by pressing her hand against her swollen pussy and groaning.
Climbing over her, he braced himself on one arm, bent, and suckled her nipple into his mouth. He moved her hand away and ran his dick along her pussy slit, sucking in a harsh breath at the sensitivity of his cock head.
Her hands gripped his shoulders. “I want you inside of me.”
“You want on top? I don’t want to hurt Harley.”
Desire glazed her eyes, mesmerizing him. “You won’t. I like you on top.”
“Yeah?” he whispered, guiding his dick into her hot, tight pussy. Carefully, so he wouldn’t put any weight on her or their baby, he buried himself inside of her. Goose bumps rode his skin at the clamp down of her cunt, the pleasure increasing with each glide into her. “Oh, baby. Your pussy feels so good.”
She tightened her fingers on his shoulders and nodded. “Yes,” she breathed, lifting her hips and gyrating beneath him. Their moans blended together as she met each thrust with a pussy-push and roll.
“Why you like being under me? Having your pussy stretched with my dick while you at my mercy.”
“Even if I was over you, your dick would be stretching my pussy,” she retorted, pinning him with a hot look.
He worked into her and kissed her hairline. “Tell me what I want to hear,” he ordered.
“I like submitting to you,” she said, not dropping her gaze from his.
Inch by inch, he slid out of her, thumbing her clit as he did so, before he sank back into her. She whimpered, opening her mouth but not speaking. He repeated his slow in-and-out strokes, continued to rub her pussy, covering her rising cries with his mouth when she came. He grunted and shot off inside of her, then rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms.
“I think I found the letters,” she said a few minutes later.
“The letters?” Mortician asked slowly. She couldn’t be talking about the letters his father had kidnapped her for. Could she?
“Yeah.”
“What letters?” he asked for clarification. He’d been fucking her when he could’ve been reading the letters and discovering exactly why they’d fucking put their hands on her and expected to live.
“Those letters.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I first came in?” He released her, got to his feet, and put his jeans on.
Bailey sat up. “Because we were talking about us.”
Talking about them when he needed to figure out why Digger had gotten out bad.
She grabbed the shirt she’d been wearing. After just fucking her and watching her put on his shirt, seeing the faintest hint of her round belly as the rest of her was swallowed up in the cotton, Mortician’s overwhelming sense of possession toward her made him grit his teeth.
“No one was here when I found them, and I just got so tired.”
“My brother life in the balance and all you can do is sleep and get your pussy off.”
“I’m sleeping because the baby is making me tired and you decided to get my pussy off. I didn’t ask you.”
“You didn’t stop me. You could’ve said, before you eat my cunt, I need to tell you, I found the fucking letters.”
Bailey stomped toward the door. “Fuck you.”
Her door slam halted his words and Mortician stared at the door in shock. “What the fuck just happened?” he asked out loud, only then realizing that Bailey had left the room wearing just his T-shirt.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: You Fuckin’ Lost
Her thoughts racing over her husband’s latest bad mood, Bailey hurried to Outlaw’s and Meggie’s room, knocking frantically. Giggles and grunts told her they were in there. If she’d been in her right frame of mind, she might’ve recognized exactly what the sounds meant.
A minute went by. Two. Her knocks became pounds and Outlaw finally yanked the door open. She shrank back at his fierce frown and unbuttoned jeans.
“I need to talk to you,” she managed, determined to ignore his glower.
“Come in, Bailey,” Meggie called from inside the room, which only made Outlaw’s frown intensify.
He moved to the side. “This better be fucking Red-Phone-at-the-White-House important. You fuckin’ hear me?”
Bailey hurried past him and halted at Meggie’s appearance. Flushed and clutching the sheet around her obviously naked body.
A muscle ticked in Outlaw’s jaw as he grabbed his cigarette and lit one, releasing the smoke. He’d buttoned his jeans, but she still didn’t know where to look. She had every right to stare at the magnificence of Lucas. Outlaw belonged to Meggie, though, and it didn’t seem right to gape at his arrogant beauty.
“What the fuck you want?”
Narrowing his eyes, Outlaw let the cigarette hang from the corner of his mouth, turning her into a bundle of nerves beneath the cold scrutiny of the club president. She wasn’t sure how Meggie challenged him on anything. He seemed positively lethal.
A sheet wrapped around her, Meggie got out of bed and went to him, standing on her tiptoes to hug him. His look softened and he heaved in a breath. Just like that, he turned approachable.
Meggie clutched his hand and squeezed. Bailey cringed, but she had no choice at her next words. She gave Meggie an apologetic gaze before focusing on Outlaw. “I need to talk to you alone.”
Outlaw eyed Bailey warily.
“This is important,” she swore.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Meggie said.
Haggard defeat wrinkled his face but he covered it with a glower. “Where the fuck you think you goin’? You already fuckin’ tortured me into takin’ your pussy. I gotta inspect your pussy and make sure it’s okay and the babies still in there.”
Bailey was embarrassed, although Outlaw’s sadness touched her. Meggie stood on tiptoe and, bracing her palms against his chest, kissed his chin.
“I’m fine, Christopher,” she promised, the look in her eyes soft. “I’m just going to Zoann and Val’s room to get CJ.”
“Lay down ‘til I get there. Don’t you fuckin’ dare pick up my boy.”
“Okay,” Meggie agreed without hesitation, before picking up her robe and nightgown, heading to the bathroom and closing the door.
“Will she be mad—?”
“She ain’t but I will be if this over some bull-fuckin-shit, so tell me what the fuck so important.”
“I found the letters,” she blurted, staring at Outlaw, fascinated at how his usual grumpiness turned to quick understanding and sudden tension.
“Where?”
“In Lucas’s safe,” she admitted. “I was curious about him and—”
“Motherfucker said he didn’t know ‘bout them,” he interrupted, halting when the bathroom door opened, and Meggie emerged. He swept her from head to toe. “You okay, baby?”
She smiled, allowing her unabashed adoration to shine from her eyes. “I’m fine, Christopher.”
“Give me a fuckin’ hour,” he called as she headed to the door.
“Stop worrying,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m fine.”
Before he responded, she was gone and Outlaw was already on the move.
“I’m gonna get to the bottom of this fuckin’ shit,” he told her, grabbing his cut and shrugging into it, a
dding the power of his position to the brawn of his body.
Bailey grabbed his wrist and he scowled at her as if she’d committed a crime. She released him, but said, “I think my dad hid the envelope there and hoped Lucas would find it. I don’t think he ever did. After I couldn’t find anyone, I went to my dad’s room.” She hadn’t mentioned the money her dad had been willing to pay for the bet. For one thing, they’d see it for themselves in the letter. Secondly, she wanted to make the offer to Lucas first.
“Get them and bring them to me. Wait, lemme text Mort and tell him to bring them motherfuckers in here when e-fuckin-nuff fuckin’ time pass for him to bring his ass in here to play it off like he ain’t givin’ a fuck you walkin’ ‘round this motherfucker, dressed in only a fuckin’ T-shirt and smellin’ like him.”
Bailey wallowed in silent mortification while Outlaw sent the text.
“I gotta ask you somethin’ else cuz I gotta know how much fuckin’ torture in order for these motherfuckers on your behalf. Shit ain’t even in the book what I’m intendin’ on Megan behalf. They took your pussy?”
Blunt and to the point, Bailey couldn’t help but appreciate Outlaw’s style. She wanted to give a firm no, but, the truth was her dreams tormented her. Lowering her lashes, she shrugged. “I-I don’t know. The doctor said no, but I have all these dreams and—”
“Where you was forced?”
“Not…not with intercourse,” Her cheeks burned and she lowered her lashes. “O-oral sex.”
Shaking his head, Outlaw frowned at her. Before she could question the problem, a single knock came on the door.
“Come in,” Outlaw called, mumbling under his breath, “fuckin’ intercourse. Her and Megan took the same fuckin’ anatomy course.”
He moved around her, without instructing her to stay or to go. She wasn’t part of the club, so the rules the brothers had didn’t apply to her. Did they?
Val, Stretch, and a man she thought was called Ghost walked in and focused on her. She squirmed beneath their scrutiny. She’d walked out of the room in nothing but Lucas’s T-shirt and right after they’d made love. Just as Outlaw pointed out, she did smell of her husband and a lot of thigh and all of her legs were exposed.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 200