No Saint (Blood Legion MC Book 3)

by Rie Warren

  “It’s all squishy like putty.” He managed to pop the sharp end of the hook through the worm without piercing his own skin, much to my relief.

  “Just the way the fish like ’em.” Getting beside him on the end of the silvery dock, I reeled in my lax line up to the bobber, watched him do the same, then cast off.

  When Caleb tried to cast his line, it reeled out all of a foot before stopping.

  “Aww, I can’t do it.”

  “’Course you can.” I set my pole in the metal rod holder on the corner of the dock then stepped behind him. “It’s like swinging a baseball bat but overhead.”

  I gripped my hands around his, making sure my head was well out of the way of the soon-to-be-swinging hook. “One, two, three!”

  When the line sunk into the bayou four feet from the dock, Caleb jumped up and down. “I did it!”

  “Told you.”

  I picked up my pole again, and we stood side by side waiting for a bite.

  “How long’s it take?” he asked, his white-blond hair almost blinding in the sunlight, just like his mom’s halo.

  “Depends on if the gators get it first.”

  “You’re messing with me.” Caleb banged his shoulder against my thigh. Then he looked up at me with such innocent freshness he knocked another hole in my heart. “You’re a lot nicer than my dad.”

  I was glad I was wearing my aviators, because something strange and damp happened to my eyes.

  Staring out at the water instead of the little boy who made me smile for no damn reason at all, I braved asking, “Oh yeah? What’s his name?”

  “Reggie.” His bottom lip pouted out. “He’s a biker too.” His narrow shoulders slumped. “Mommy doesn’t want me to talk about ’im with you.”

  That made sense. Honoré didn’t seem to want me to know much about the man in question, and I had no right interrogating Caleb anyway.

  “Well, I sure don’t wanna get on Mommy’s bad side again.” I grinned at Caleb, and his sudden somber mood immediately lightened.

  Right then his pole jerked almost out of his hands.

  “Saint! Saint! I got something!”

  Slamming my rod into the holder, I kneeled beside him. “Sure hope it’s not an alligator.”

  He laughed excitedly, cheeks pink and arms straining to keep hold of the pole. “What do I do?”

  “Reel it in. It’s your first catch.”

  That tongue went right back to the corner of his mouth, and he huffed and puffed and slowly spooled in the line.

  When the fish thumped and flopped and flipped up onto the dock right at his feet, he plopped to his knees.

  Wearing a huge smile, he held his fist out for me. “I did it!”

  I tapped him. “Darn right you did.”

  “What is it?”

  “A nice big bass.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Uhm. Usually this is when we kill it.”

  “To eat it?” Caleb peered at me.

  “Or we can toss it back in. Your first catch so it’s your decision.”

  “I like fish,” he offered, so I quickly thumped the bass onto the wood slat of the dock, hoping it wouldn’t be a big deal.

  I mean it was a fish, right? Not like we were bashing a man’s brains in or anything.

  Deed done, I wiped my palms on my pants. Then I noticed Caleb fidgeting from side to side.

  “Dang, dude. Don’t you ever stand still?”

  “I gotta go pee!” he exclaimed.

  “Now that you mention it, I could use a slash too. Let’s go pick a tree.” I strode down the dock to the shore.

  He hurried after me. “A tree?”

  “Dudes don’t need to use bathrooms, not out in a place like this. Just make sure the ladies don’t see you.”

  Scanning the area—with Honoré and the rest sat around the pig spit and picnic table—I pointed to a thick stand of live oaks.

  Nodding and holding his crotch, Caleb dashed in front of me. No sooner than we’d been hidden from sight than he yanked at his zipper and pulled out to let a yellow stream fly with way better aim than he had with his reel.

  I started pissing too, eyes straight ahead, until he said, “It’s like our worms.”

  “What?”

  He waved his little penis around. “Yours is a lot bigger.”

  “Guess that’s because I’m older is all.” Sure as hell wasn’t used to talking about dick size with a little kid.

  Then, with his nose wrinkled, he pointed at my PA piercing. “Is that a lure in your pecker?”

  Fucking hell. I hoped to Christ Honoré never found out about this particular conversation.

  Quickly shaking off, I shoved my dick back in my pants. “Something like that.”

  “What’s it bait for?”

  “You’ll find that out when you get older too.”

  “I don’t think I want a lure in my tallywhacker.”

  I coughed against my fist. “And that’s cool too.”

  “Do girls like it?” he persisted even while I hustled him back to the dock.

  I shrugged.

  “Does my mom like it?”

  “And now it’s time to gut the fish.” I closed the door on any more questions regarding my piercing and his mom or anything else related to tallywhackers.

  Back at the bass, I unhooked the line from its gills and pulled out my bowie knife.

  “That’s big.” Caleb squatted beside me, admiring the sharp blade.

  At least this time we weren’t talking about my . . . endowment.

  I demonstrated scaling the fish and had Caleb keep a firm grasp on the tailfin while I did both sides.

  “What next?” He ran his hand up over the fish, the removed scales iridescent on the dock beside it.

  “Gutting.” I slid the tip of my knife into the bass right at the gills and opened its belly all the way to the tail.

  “Gross!”

  “Good eating though.” After cleaning my knife, I sheathed the blade away.

  Then I started scooping out the innards, tossing them into the bayou for other fish . . . and gators.

  “Can I try?” Caleb asked.

  “Be my guest.” I held open the cavity, and he timidly swept his hand inside.

  Grasping a bunch of entrails, he pulled his hand out and threw them into the water.

  “Squishy. Like the worms.”

  “And putty?”

  “Slime.” He waved his messy hands in front of my grinning face.

  After the fish was all cleaned and washed off in the bayou, I packed up the gear, and Caleb carried the bass like a pro with his finger tucked in through a gill.

  “All right. Let’s bring this to Mamere and Sol. They’ll know how to cook him up just right.”

  As soon as the proud little man marched into the circle of adults, he waved the bass around like a victory flag. “Mommy! I caught me a fish and we peed on some trees too.”

  I was delivered from any fallout by a sudden commotion on the path, and the husky call of, “Lawdy, lawdy, lawdy. If I’d known I’d have to tromp a damn mile into this jungle, I’d have brought my own personal chariot.”

  “Same thing I said,” Honoré grumbled, giving me the side-eye.

  Mistress Bunny—or a less glammed-up version of her usual drag—pranced into the open, fan in one hand, parasol in the other. She had on a frilly blouse and high heels, which were caked in mud.

  “Who’s that?” Caleb stared with his classic wide-eyed awe.

  I was so glad he’d asked his mom. No way was I touching the subject of homosexuality and drag queens with him . . . not after the whole dick thing.

  “Well, my goodness. Another young-un? Guess once you start breeding you never look back.” Bunny presented her hand to Caleb. “Right now you can call me Bunny, young sir, but sometimes you’ll know me as Paul.”

  “Like an alter ego?”

  “Exactly so.” She pressed one finger to the tip of his nose. “And you are?”

&nbs
p; “Caleb. My mommy’s Honoré.”

  “I think this Blood Legion of y’all’s is almost more interesting than my burlesque.”

  “What’s a burlesque?” Caleb breathed out the question.

  I watched, smirking, as Honoré shot him an I’ll explain later look.

  “I brought you a goody bag, and you, and you, and you. Just call me the gay Oprah.” Bunny passed out giftbags to Mamere, Honoré, Grace, and Mercy. “I’m starting my own skincare line called Shantay Bunny’s Sick’ning Skincare, and you’re my guinea pigs. Introducing my very first batches of Dusted Bunny setting powder and Bunny Batter facial cream.”

  If I’d had beer in my mouth, I’d have frigging choked on it. I wasn’t the only one staring at Mistress Bunny, trying not to snort at the off-color names of her new products.

  Thank god Caleb got none of it. He just looked thoroughly confused while Bunny appeared ever so pleased with herself.

  Then she snapped her fingers together before pulling a pouty sad face. “Got nothing for you fellas, unless you want me to give you a show?”

  No one said a peep. Not that we didn’t appreciate her talents. But . . . kids.

  Not bothered a single bit, Bunny settled herself on a chair beside Grace and commandeered the baby immediately.

  She was honorary hunty after all that she and Grace had been through under Roark Finnegan’s thumb.

  And so the feast began.

  Pulled pork and the grilled bass. Wine and beer and . . . soda pop. Greens with bacon and baked beans with molasses.

  I sat with Honoré on one side of me, Caleb on the other.

  There were congratulations and felicitations and lots of bottles clinked together.

  Laughter, joking around, throwing shade at Chase as usual.

  Evening eventually turned the sky to orange then pale purple, and stars began popping out of the looming darkness. Honoré strummed her acoustic, and Mistress Bunny sang with her. Old Cajun ballads passed down from generation to generation. Mamere joined in too . . . and it wasn’t long before the tune changed to a reel.

  Caleb leaned heavily against me.

  The sky turned black as velvet.

  Honoré came back from singing, her cheeks lovely and flushed. She kissed me on the lips and Caleb on the forehead.

  Not long later, a line of us wound our way through the trees back to the road and our cars and bikes.

  Mamere would brook no arguments when she demanded Slade and Grace stay the night in her cabin what with the late hour and the new baby and all.

  Sol stayed behind too, to clean up and keep guard, not that we expected anything bad to happen. In fact, I wondered if he had a hankering for Mamere. Time would tell.

  Angel and Mercy led the way out. Flashlight beams bounced along, and moonlight shafted down through the canopy of trees.

  I carried Caleb and Honoré’s guitar.

  Revenge helped Bunny hop over tree roots.

  Lennox and Chase brought up the rear.

  It was a much different sojourn than the last time we’d been out here.

  At my Chevy, I parted way with the others. A few miles down the road, Caleb murmured my name from the backseat.

  “Yeah?”

  “If’n you and mommy have another one of those adult sleepovers tonight, you can borrow my sleeping bag.”

  I lifted my brow in Honoré’s direction, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Thanks, dude.”

  Judging from the fact he went immediately quiet afterward, I figured he was dead asleep again.

  Honoré rested her head on my shoulder and her hand on my thigh. The rest of the ride was the best kind of quiet, no talking necessary.

  At her house, I carried Caleb inside and to his room. I set him on his bed after Honoré tugged down the blankets. She worked off his sneakers, and he flopped like the fish on the dock before smacking his lips and dragging a ragged teddy bear to his chest.

  The whole day was a roaring success, and I was beginning to forget about the threat of Ripper looming over my head.

  With Caleb kissed and tucked in, I followed Honoré to the hallway where she dimmed the lights.

  I pushed her against the opposite wall, and she gasped.

  “Can I stay?” One hand in her hair, I grasped the loose strands of her braids. “It’s been almost a week. I need to be inside you again.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  HONORÉ

  SAINT’S DESPERATION TRIGGERD MINE.

  I didn’t have the heart to send him away. Not anymore.

  Saint was persistent and patient and . . . kind. He’d proven he wasn’t just some booty call. After today—seeing him winning Caleb over—he just somehow fit. Like a space in our lives had opened up for him—a Saint-sized hole had been filled.

  Not to mention he was so freaking hot in bed, the mere thought of him made me tremble.

  I leaned into the hand he had grasped in my hair.

  “You can stay.” I breathlessly pulled him down for a kiss.

  A mighty groan rumbled from his chest, and he rocked his body against mine. Our mouths twisted in a slippery dance, the kiss rapidly growing out of control.

  I panted when he pulled back, still barged up against the wall only a few steps from Caleb’s bedroom.

  His fingers tickled against the backs of my thighs before he hoisted me up into his arms. “Promised to fuck you in your music room next.”

  “We can’t!”

  “Oh yeah. Because MJ and Caleb are here, and you’re a screamer.”

  I punched him on the shoulder, but he only snickered. Mouths sealed back together, he carried me to my bedroom then softly shut the door.

  I bit the thick sinew at the crux of his shoulder and neck, smiling when he sucked in a harsh breath.

  “Put me down, Saint.” I wriggled right against his groin, heady with the feel of his undeniable hardness, with the ultimate pressure pushed right against my pussy.

  He put me on my feet but kept me locked against his incredible body until I shoved him back.

  I swayed away a few paces, voice throaty when I said, “I’m in charge tonight.”

  A half smile climbed up one corner of his lips, setting a deep dimple in his cheek.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered, my gaze raking from the full hard form of his torso packing his T-shirt tight to the full hard form of his cock packing the juncture of his jeans.

  Swiveling my hips, I turned my back to him and started toying with the ties holding my halter top in place. I glanced over my shoulder to find his hooded eyes rising from my ass to my teasing hands.

  I kept undulating as I left my top tied to find and release all the pins keeping my braids in place. Smiling at Saint, I let my hair free ’til it fell loose to my shoulders. Still turned away from him, I undid my halter, and the satiny material drooped to my waist.

  Spinning halfway, I gave him a side view of my bare breasts. I stuck my ass out in the tight jean shorts, pulling my hands from my hips to cup my tits. I threw my head back, intoxicated by the sound of Saint’s deep groan.

  Pinching my nipples with one hand, I popped my shorts open. With a shimmy, shimmy, shimmy, I skimmed them along with my panties down my legs followed by my halter. Sandals removed, I gyrated around to face Saint fully.

  Heat seared into his eyes until his gaze branded me with lust, and I swelled for him—my breasts ripe, my pussy wet and tight.

  “Goddamn, woman.” He passed a hand across his mouth as if wiping saliva away.

  I crooked a finger at him, and he prowled to me.

  “Stop right there.” I halted him a step away.

  Tucking my hands beneath his shirt, I ran my fingers over his washboard abs then up to his chest. Pushing the T-shirt up, up, up, I waited for him to bend over so I could reach far enough to tug it off. My fingertips wandered over his hard flesh and the many tattoos.

  His muscles tensed and flexed with each of my ghosting caresses.

  Slipping to my knees in front of him, I bent over to get
at his boots.

  “Damn, baby. That’s one fine view.”

  I undulated my ass back and forth for him, listening to him swear beneath his breath.

  His boots and socks came off, and I kneeled up to reach the fly of his jeans. His cock created a solid impression inside the faded denim, a long thick rod stretching out to the side.

  God, I could even see the imprint of his piercing.

  His fists clenched at his waist while I popped the buttons to reveal he was naked beneath. Then his erection sprung free, already glinting with slippery trails of precum.

  Touching his rampant cock with nothing but my breath, I worked his jeans down until they too lay crumpled on the floor.

  Standing, I brushed all the way against him before turning and leading him to the bed.

  I stacked the pillows against the headboard then bade him, “Sit.”

  The mattress rustled behind me as I sashayed to my dresser. Through the mirror I saw his eyes pinned to my bottom. But when I opened the top drawer to retrieve my black stockings, his head lifted.

  A grin spread across his lips.

  I spun around, and he placed his hands up against the bedposts without even being asked.

  “Good boy.”

  One of his wicked eyebrows rose when I said boy.

  I tied him nice and tight so thick blue veins stood out on the undersides of his wrists just like the thick blue veins running up and down his raging hard-on.

  “You know I can get out of this, right?”

  “But you won’t.” Leaning over him so my nipples brushed his shoulder, I bit his earlobe. “Because you’re all mine.”

  He twisted with a grunt. He swallowed roughly with a curse.

  All laid out, all that huge naked maleness taking up most of my bed . . . he was a sight to behold.

  From the bottom of the mattress—where I left his legs free—I climbed between his thighs. I admired his stiff cock and the sinister piercing and his deep Adonis belt. My breasts brushed his legs then settled along his thighs, the sprinkling of golden hair tickling and pebbling my areolae.

  I dipped my head, face to face with his heavy sac, and he lifted his legs out even wider.

  With a hungry moan, I licked his balls, hot for his scent and his seed.

  He jerked at the first lap of my tongue, his rod towering above me.