Devil's Disciples MC Series- The Complete Boxed Set

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Devil's Disciples MC Series- The Complete Boxed Set Page 38

by Scott Hildreth


  “I’m not willing to risk losing him permanently. Because of him beating up the wrong person. You have no idea how much pain I’m in. I can’t go through this again.”

  “Believe me, I know the pain you’re in. I’ve been in it myself,” she said. “He beat up two people who he felt were threatening you. Because he loves you. You don’t love him enough to forgive him for it?”

  “Does he know you’re here?”

  She shook her head. “He does not.”

  “Why did you come?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I don’t want you to walk away from what is probably a once-in-a-lifetime chance at love. And, I need some company. When they’re out doing their biker thing, I get lonely. I could use a good friend, and I think you’re awesome.”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s just. I’m afraid I can’t handle another loss. I lost my parents and losing him would kill me. I care too much for him already. You might know about pain, but you have no idea how bad it hurts when something like that happens. The pain’s intolerable.”

  “Wanna bet?” she asked.

  I was confused. “Wanna bet, what?”

  “My father cheated on my mother. My mother shot him. She died in prison.” She arched an eyebrow. “What else you got to talk about?”

  I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “You uhhm. Seriously? Your parents?”

  “It’s true. She shot him, he died, and she went to prison. I went and lived with my aunt.” She gestured toward the living room. “How long you going to sleep on the couch? What? Does the bed smell like him? Can’t stand to sleep in it? Yeah, been there, done that, too.”

  I stared back at her with an open mouth.

  “You and I are a lot alike,” she said. “Wanna tell me stories about the kids at school that called you names because you’re biracial? Well, guess what? Me, too. My mother was Brazilian. They called me a ‘Spic, a nigger, a Puerto Rican, and some of them called me a Gook. Hell, you and I have a lot we can talk about.”

  It wasn’t any one thing that she said. It was everything, combined. Cash, my money, my parents, her parents, losing Cash, loving Cash. It just became all too much. I pressed my back against the counter and lowered myself to the floor.

  Within a few seconds, I was crying.

  “I love him so much,” I blubbered.

  She sat down at my side and put her arm around me. After crying on her shoulder for a while, the tears subsided.

  “How about this?” she asked. “When they go out and do things we’re not allowed to know anything about, you can hold me, and I can hold you. Together, we’ll get through it. Just like military wives.”

  I wiped my face on my forearm and then looked at her. “Are you afraid that one day Baker might not come home?”

  “It gnaws at me every day,” she said. “Here are my choices: I can either be miserable, or I can be with him. There isn’t another option. He’s the one, and he’s the only. Maybe you should ask yourself the question.”

  “What question?”

  “What are you willing to do for love?”

  74

  Cash

  I twisted the throttle tight and veered into the lane that didn’t exist. Splitting traffic on the freeways of Southern California required a keen eye, a steady set of hands, and a tremendous amount of balls.

  With one lane of cars six inches from my left hand, and the other lane six inches from my right, I blew through the traffic jam at eighty miles an hour, splitting the two lanes in the middle. Most states didn’t allow splitting traffic, as it was too dangerous. It was legal in California, of all places, which made no sense whatsoever – their freeways were far more congested than any other state.

  One wrong move on anyone’s part, and I’d have to be scooped up with a shovel.

  I didn’t care. I had places to be, people to see, and problems to resolve.

  Since Kimberly asked me to leave, it seemed I’d thrown caution to the wind. I wasn’t suicidal by any means, but I placed little value on my life. That much was certain.

  With my eyes fixed on the vehicles positioned a quarter of a mile ahead, I shot through the non-existent lane hoping that whoever was at my side didn’t toss one of their doors open to get a breath of fresh air or spit the saliva from their chewing tobacco out onto the freeway.

  In fifteen minutes I’d traveled the twenty miles without incident and had only five to go. With flashing lights ahead, I released the throttle and coasted to the end of the line of stationary traffic.

  Two police motorcycles, an ambulance, and a wrecker marked the spot of the accident. As I crept past, I noticed a plastic sheet covering a body, a sure sign that someone’s clock had ticked its last tock. Beside the body, the remnants of a motorcycle were scattered beneath a tractor trailer.

  May God be with you, my brother.

  As I cleared the accident, I twisted the throttle as tight as I could. In and out of traffic I weaved, making the last five miles pass in the blink of an eye. One exit later, and I was entering La Mesa.

  The mile of access road passed in seconds, leaving me with nothing but two blocks to travel.

  My heart began to race.

  Nervously, I crept the remaining distance at a speed so slow I was surprised I didn’t tip over. Before I could see the house out of my left eye’s peripheral, the familiar smell of the flowers caused my nostrils to flare. I grinned to myself, drew a long breath, and closed my eyes – but only for a second.

  I killed the engine long before I pulled into the drive and coasted to a stop in silence.

  I hoped she’d agree with my terms. If not, I’d live with a life of pain. If she did, I wondered if things would be the way we left them, start back from the very beginning, or somewhere in between. Whichever it might be, I was willing to accept it, if she accepted my terms.

  I had no intention of lying to her. Shielding her from the truth, however, would do us both tremendous good, so that was my plan. Eager to begin our future, I took my helmet off, hung it on the handlebars, and checked myself in the mirror.

  A tiger may not be able to change his stripes, but he could sure make them less noticeable.

  75

  Kimberly

  I’d gone from hoping he’d never show up to wanting him so much the desire had made me sick to my stomach. I paced the floor, praying I could find a way to say all the right things, and none of what was wrong.

  A distant motorcycle caused my heart to race, but the sound faded, leaving me with nothing but a reminder of Cash’s absence and of my foolish decision. I wanted to flip the clock back to the night of the barbeque, tell him thank you – and that I was scared.

  While I formulated the words in my head that I hoped to have the courage to say, a knock came at the door.

  My heart jumped into my throat.

  Certain it wasn’t him, and trembling with anticipation of his impending arrival, I pulled the door open.

  My mouth fell open.

  All the things I’d prepared to say didn’t come to mind. In fact, nothing came to mind. I stared at him in sheer disbelief.

  He stood before me a slightly different man. His once long locks had been cut, leaving him with only enough hair for me to run my fingers through. His beard was trimmed to nothing more than stubble and was neatly sculped along his jaw and neck.

  I scanned him from head to toe, and then dragged my eyes back up his muscular frame until my gaze met his.

  His intensity was undeniable. His stark white tee shirt fit him as if it were custom-tailored. His jeans were dark, with slight whiskers of fading at his hips. He seemed wider in the chest, and narrower in the waist.

  I wondered if he’d been eating well and wanted desperately to feed him. Instead, I broke his intense stare and gazed down at his boots. Without his intense eyes intimidating me, everything I’d hoped to say came to mind.

  “I uhhm. I was scared.” I bit against my trembling lower lip and looked up. “Scared of the pain I
’d feel if I lost you in a fight. I’ve come to realize that one day of loving you would be worth a lifetime of pain. I’m sorry. I’m not mad, I’m not angry, and I want you to know I’m flattered that you stuck up for my honor at the barbeque. I hope you can forgive me.”

  He wiped his palms on the thighs of his jeans, and then pushed them into his pockets. “There’s been some changes made. I cut my hair. Went to the barber and got a professional job done on my beard. Tito’s the new club muscle, and I’m the official Sergeant-at-Arms. That’ll reduce my chances of doing something dumb, but it won’t completely eliminate the possibility that I’ll bust a man in the jaw if that’s what he deserves. I’m not here to bullshit you, or to tell you lies. If we’re moving forward, there’s a few rules you’re going to need to agree to.”

  “Okay.”

  “My first love was the club. It’s not my only love, but it’s my first.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and folded his arms over his chest. “No questions when I’m on the road.”

  “I won’t ask a word. Club business is club business.”

  “Know if a motherfucker disrespects you, I’ll knock his ass out. That’s just how it’s going to be.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  He widened his eyes slightly. “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “I want to live together. Not tonight, or even tomorrow, but soon. Found out I ain’t too keen on sleeping alone. Not after sleeping here for damned near a month. So, that’s something I want.”

  My heart raced. “You can move in tomorrow.”

  “That ain’t how it works,” he said, his tone dry and coarse. “The woman moves in with the man.”

  “Okay. I’m fine with that as long as I can plant flowers.”

  He nodded. “Flowers are fine.”

  “I’m good with moving in with you. Whenever you’re ready. Is that all?”

  “You got a problem with me, you come to me. I’ll do the same with you. We don’t sleep angry, and we don’t hold things in. Any problems we have are resolved before we go to bed.”

  “I like that. Anything else?”

  “Wednesday’s church.”

  “That’s fine, too.”

  “I think that’s it.” He pursed his lips and looked me in the eyes. “Are you in, or are you out?”

  I nodded eagerly. “I’m in.”

  “If you’re in, you’ve got to be all in. It’s all or nothing.”

  “I’m all in.”

  “One last thing,” he said. “I almost forgot.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Somewhere between beating up your ex-husband and when I pulled in the drive a minute ago, I fell in love with you. I ain’t sure when it happened, and I don’t know that it matters, but it happened. Just thought I’d tell you.”

  I grinned. “The same thing happened to me.”

  He leaned forward and kissed me. It was a passionate kiss, but it wasn’t wild. It was a good thing, because at that moment, I couldn’t have handled much more than he gave me. When our lips finally parted, he leaned back and studied me.

  He smiled. “Wanna fuck?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I wanna fuck.”

  76

  Cash

  She was wearing a burnt orange dress that accentuated her every curve, left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and complimented her skin tone perfectly. With a plunging neckline and a hem that hit her mid-thigh, the dress looked exquisite.

  She looked even better in it.

  I shrugged off the desire to grudge fuck her on the living room floor. Instead, I played the part of a civilized man and walked by her side while my stiff cock throbbed with each step I took.

  Once inside the bedroom, I buried my fingers into the flesh of her ass and pressed my lips to hers. Be it on purpose, or from the magic of that kiss, she stumbled toward the foot of the bed. Passionately embraced in each other’s arms, we fell onto the mattress together.

  I slipped my hand beneath her dress, then traced my index finger along the length of her inner thigh. She moaned in response as I slipped it beneath the crotch of her panties. I ground my body against hers and rubbed her swollen clit until neither of us could take it any longer. I pulled my mouth away from hers and pressed my lips to her ear.

  “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk,” I warned. “Just so you know who’s in charge of this operation.”

  “I know it’s you,” she breathed.

  I extended my index finger and pushed it halfway into her wet mound.

  A breath shot from her lungs.

  I pressed my mouth against her ear. “You can own me by sucking my cock.” I added another finger and pushed them both deep into her wetness. “But, I can own you with these two fingers.”

  “Oh fuck,” she whispered in return.

  I curled my fingertips upward, into the sensitive flesh of her g-spot. As the tips of the two digits met the irregular flesh, she arched her back and let out a breath. I continued curling them repeatedly until she was squirming to get away.

  I pressed my chest against hers and held her in place. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until I’m done.”

  “I can’t…”

  I looked her in the eyes. “You can. And, you will.”

  After three successive strokes, her hips convulsed. Then, her pussy contracted around the base of my fingers. I pushed as deeply into her as I could, curling the tips rhythmically against her g-spot the entire while.

  “Jesus.” Her eyes shot wide. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Making things clear,” I responded.

  I continued to pin her to the bed while I tickled the inside of her pussy. She reached for my wrist, gripping it firmly with both hands. Pulling against me with one hand while the other held me in place, it seemed she was at war with herself – uncertain if she wanted to allow herself to experience the pleasure I sought to deliver.

  She eventually caved in, pulled my forearm tight against her skin. While I continued to finger fuck her mercilessly, the orgasms rushed through her, one after the other. As she wiggled and writhed beneath me, she cried out her satisfaction, warning me of each climactic peak at the instant she reached it.

  When it was over, her muscles relaxed and she collapsed beneath me.

  I lifted my weight from her chest.

  “Jesus,” she whispered. “That was intense.”

  My cock ached for her. I stood and tore at my belt, anxious to feel her warmth surround my entire length. While I rid myself of my jeans, she wiggled free of her dress.

  A man’s cock has three levels of hardness: hard enough to be noticed, hard enough to fuck, and so hard it hurts.

  I was in agony.

  I wrestled my cock free of the tent it created of my boxers and glanced in her direction. Now completely naked, she looked back at me with eyes that glistened with desire. I turned toward the bed and took an admiring survey of her from head to toe. Her figure was a true hourglass, having curves exactly where curves needed to be.

  Curves that I needed to sink my fingertips into.

  With my cock in my fist and my heart racing with anticipation of feeling her warmth once again, I climbed onto the bed.

  I had big plans. Plans that were going to last all night, if not longer. Plans that included me starting by fucking her from behind, and finished with me on top of her, looking deep into her eyes. Between the beginning and then ending, there wouldn’t be a room in the house that didn’t get christened by our love.

  “On your hands and knees,” I said, trying to sound demanding with my tone. “I’m going to pound that little pussy of yours like a drum.”

  She rolled onto her stomach and glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t wait.”

  I gripped her waist in my hands and lifted her weight from the bed, positioning her perfectly-shaped ass directly in front of my throbbing cock. Using my thumbs, I spread her wide. I guided the tip between her wet folds, and then paused.

 
I gave one last admiring look before I began step one of what was certain to be an all-night affair. After satisfying my senses of her undeniable beauty, I slid my hands up her torso and cupped her breasts.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yes, everything’s oh-fucking-kay,” I barked. “I’m getting ready.”

  “Okay. Well, just in case you didn’t know, I am ready,” she said, her tone sprinkled with sarcasm.

  Without warning, I pushed myself into her. Each inch of depth grew tighter, making me question if I could get my entire length into her. My eyes fell closed at the feeling of her tightness encompassing me.

  “What happened to this motherfucker?” I asked. “It’s tight as fuck.”

  “It’s out of practice,” she said.

  “You haven’t been keeping it in shape?” I asked.

  “I haven’t touched it since you left.”

  I hadn’t stroked my cock since the day of the barbeque, either, but I wasn’t going to advertise the fact.

  “Well, I guess I’ll need to whip it into shape, then.”

  I gripped her boobs firmly and buried myself into her fully. After a short pause, I withdrew myself until the head was exposed.

  I gazed down at the glistening shaft, amazed that it could fit inside her.

  She cleared her throat. “Cash?”

  I kept my eyes fixed on my dick. “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “God damn it, I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing?”

  I glanced up. “Looking at my dick.”

  “Is there something wrong with it?”

  “No,” I snapped back. “There ain’t anything fuckin’ wrong with it.”

  “Why are you looking at it?”

  “It looks cool when it’s covered in your twat juice.”

  She flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked back at me. “How about you look at it when we’re done?”

  “Oh, you wanna fuck, do you?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.

 

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