Devil's Disciples MC Series- The Complete Boxed Set

by Scott Hildreth

  Her face contorted with confusion. “Just like that? You want to fuck?”

  “I sure do.”

  She kicked off her shoes and took a few long strides in that direction. I stood firm, admiring her ass as she untucked her shirt.

  Mid-stride, she paused. She glanced over her shoulder. “Are we doing this, or not?”

  I fought to hide my excitement.

  We sure are.

  223

  Reggie

  Just inside the threshold of the door, Tito unlaced his boots. Excited beyond comprehension, I was a few steps ahead of him, at the foot of the bed. One of my shoes was in the kitchen. One was in the hallway. My shirt was on the floor at my side.

  I reached to unclasp my bra.

  He calmly set his boots aside and looked up. Under the scrutiny of his watchful eyes, my shaking hands fumbled with the clasp like a seventh-grade boy beneath the bleachers at a football game. Eventually, my fingertips won the battle and I dropped the black undergarment to the floor.

  Upon seeing me bare-chested, his eyes widened.

  I wasn’t ashamed of my boobs, but they weren’t a strength by any stretch of the imagination. I crossed my forearms over my chest. “What?”

  “You look.” He swallowed heavily. “Fantastic.”

  “I’d say the same.” I unbuttoned my jeans. “But you’re still dressed.”

  Frozen in place, he smirked. “I waited until we got in the bedroom.”

  I pushed my jeans to mid-thigh. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Manners?”

  I paused. “Is there such a thing as sexual manners?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well,” I said with a laugh. “Don’t use them. Not tonight, anyway.”

  He took off his jeans, folded them, and set them beside his boots. Pant-less and perplexed at what seemed to be OCD tendencies, I stood in my panties and watched him continue.

  Now wearing nothing more than boxer shorts, socks, and tee shirt, he lifted his shirt over his head. While I stared in admiration of his athletic build, he bent down to fold the shirt. It was then that I noticed a large tattoo on his back.

  The tattoo spanned from shoulder blade to shoulder blade and covered his entire lower back. The artwork was expertly done. A grim reaper with a bag of money in one hand and a pistol in the other was the centerpiece. Inscribed over the top of the bandito of death were the words Devil’s Disciples. Beneath the reaper, there were three Latin words.

  Familia Ante Omnia.

  Reading them sent a chill down my spine.

  Translated to English, the three-word phrase was one of my father’s firmly established beliefs. He’d pounded it into my head since childhood.

  Family over all.

  I suspected Devil’s Disciples was the moniker of his MC. In studying the tattoo, I began to wonder if my father was correct about his car wash assumptions.

  Lost in a sea of intrigue regarding the possibilities of who he really was, I didn’t even notice him finish getting undressed. The sound of him clearing his throat caused me to blink my eyes into focus. I glanced at his neatly stacked clothes and then at him.

  “What?” I asked.

  Naked, he took a step in my direction and nodded toward my hand. “What are you doing?”

  I realized my jeans were still in my hand. I dropped then in a pile at my feet. I hooked my thumbs beneath the elastic band of my panties. “I’m not as neat as you.”

  “Not that,” he said with a laugh. “You were just standing there glassy-eyed with your mouth open, staring.”

  “I faded away for a second.” I tossed my panties at him. “Sorry.”

  There wasn’t a mad dash for the bed, nor did he shove me against the wall and make me his sex slave until sunrise. As if we were a married couple that had returned from a night out, he draped his arm over my shoulder, and pulled me against him.

  Chest to chest, we kissed.

  The first time we kissed will always be the first kiss. The one I’d certainly never forget. But that kiss? The one at the foot of the bed? The one where my entire naked body was pressed against his entirely naked body?

  Yeah.

  It was the kiss that songs were written about. It was the kiss that inspired movies to be made. The kiss that was the predecessor to conceiving children. The kiss that undoubtedly gets the blood moving in a manner that can only lead to one thing.

  He lifted me from my feet and carried me to the foot of the bed. Carefully, he lowered me onto to the blanket.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  His brown eyes were still as gorgeous as the first time I saw them, but they were no longer intimidating. If anything, they were comforting. He may have been a martial arts expert and a street-fighting biker, but in the end, he wasn’t going to hurt me.

  My reassurance was sprinkled throughout his deep golden orbs. With my feet dangling over the edge of the bed, I gazed into his eyes and grinned at my newfound observation. “I won’t.”

  Standing at the foot of the bed, he had a complete and uncluttered view of my naked body. He looked me over, slowly. It wasn’t a critical observation. It seemed more to be a matter of processing my curves in an admiring fashion.

  One inch at a time, he scanned my entire body. By the time he satisfied himself, he wore an undeniable grin of guilty pleasure.

  I liked it that he didn’t have to tell me how he felt. I simply knew.

  He knelt at the foot of the bed and lowered his chest between my thighs. “Like I said—”

  I closed my eyes.

  “Don’t move,” I whispered.

  He kissed his way up my inner thighs, alternating from one to the other. With a fistful of blanket clutched in each hand, I allowed him to continue without interruption.

  The tip of his tongue flicked against my clit. A jolt of liquid lightning shot through my veins. He continued, repeatedly torturing me with his tongue until I was on the cusp of reaching climax.

  As I hung on the edge of the climactic cliff, he inserted a finger. Then another. I welcomed them by arching my back and giving him free reign to explore me as he wished.

  After working me into a frenzy, he paused. With admiration in his eyes, he studied my face. Soaring in the clouds above, it took me a moment to return to the reality of the room. When I did, he kissed me.

  I kissed him in return. As we shared the passionate moment together, I didn’t know—or care—how much time was passing, or that we weren’t engaged in sex.

  Eventually, our lips parted. I drew a shaking breath and gazed into his eyes for reassurance.

  He smiled and kissed me on the tip of my nose. “I’ll be right back.”

  After gracefully donning a condom, he returned to the bed. Our bodies intertwined. Once again, we kissed. As our tongues danced to a song that only we could hear, he guided himself between my legs. Then, ever so carefully, he pushed himself beyond my wet folds.

  As much as I hate to admit it, sex had always been awkward. Jockeying for position, trying to find the perfect place to be, all the while hoping that whatever it is that I wanted wasn’t uncomfortable or contrary to my partner’s wishes. During the act of engagement, the selfish battle began, with each person seeking their own climactic bliss, giving little thought to the other party’s needs or desires.

  In the end, if an orgasm was reached, the mission—albeit ugly and without much direction—was a success.

  Sex with Tito redefined the act.

  Fluid, and without pause, our bodies merged. In perfect timing, we worked our hips against one another’s. There was no pain. Only pleasure. No wishes, only desires being met. Joined in that sexual union, we continued, kissing and exploring each other’s bodies with our hands the entire while.

  A sexual satisfaction totally new to me grew with each stroke. At the moment I feared I may explode, he kissed me deeply. Then, with the precision of a pendulum’s swing, he continued his journey, each stroke as predictable as the past.

  I closed my eye
s and kissed him in return. After an indiscernible amount of time, my level of euphoria peaked. Breathless and wondering if I’d live through the orgasm that was sure to take my life, I broke our embrace.

  I gazed into his eyes. Once again, they reassured me that all was as it was supposed to be.

  While our eyes were locked, I was overcome with a surge of euphoria. From my toes to my fingertips, it surged through me like a tidal wave. If it was a warning of what was to come, I was in trouble.

  I needed him to kiss me.

  My lips parted ever so slightly. Paralyzed by the liquid ecstasy pulsing through my veins, I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Apparently, I didn’t need to. He lowered his chest to mine and granted my silent wish.

  Lost in the embrace of that passionate kiss, my sexual word exploded into a million little pieces, taking me by complete surprise in the process.

  Fearing that my life was forever changed, and that I was at the mercy of the man who loomed over me, I gazed into his eyes once again.

  In them was all the proof I needed.

  My life was as it was supposed to be.

  224

  Tito

  Reggie peered into the oven. “Do you like sweet things?” she shouted. “Not stupid sweet, but kind of sweet?”

  She was wearing sweatpants that were grossly oversized and a white ribbed tank top that fit her like a glove. Her hair was twisted into a bun. She looked adorable.

  “I’m right here,” I said. “Yes, I do. To both.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Cool. I made some banana bread. No nuts. I would have. I’m out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She nodded toward my bare legs. “You look cute in your little shorts.”

  I’d retrieved a pair of shorts and a tee from the saddlebag on my motorcycle. The shorts were nothing more than a cut-off pair of sweats, and the tee was from a poker run many years in the past.

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “We can have the banana bread after breakfast,” she said. “Are you okay with scrambled eggs?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She opened the fridge. “I’m a breakfast person. Always have been. You’ll have to settle for ham, I’m out of bacon. Not sure what you like for toast, but your options are whole wheat, or whole wheat.”

  “I prefer whole wheat.”

  She set the ham and eggs on the countertop and glanced over her shoulder. “Perfect.”

  I wasn’t sure what protocol was for the post-sex breakfast. In many respects, I felt like Reggie and I were in a relationship, but I fully realized we weren’t. At that moment in time, we were nothing more than two people who had a hell of a lot in common and had shared a night of sex with one another.

  Sad, but true.

  I stepped beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned to face me, I kissed her.

  “That was nice,” she said with a smile.

  “I like your lips,” I said.

  Her face went flush. “I like yours, too.”

  The remark sounded juvenile. Nevertheless, it was true. When we kissed, I filled with reassurance that Reggie was special for reasons far beyond her intelligence.

  She placed the ham in one skillet, and the eggs in another. “Are you always like this, or is this what you do the day after sex to impress the woman?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Simple question,” she said. “Is what I’m seeing the real you?”

  “There’s only one me,” I said. “This is it.”

  “Tell me about the tattoo on your back. Is the person who wears that tattoo the same person that’s standing here?”

  I let out an inadvertent sigh. “Four of my friends and I moved here from Montana when we were eighteen, right after high school. I applied and was accepted to MIT but decided to forego an education to be with my friends. We started a motorcycle club that included only the five of us, and later added another man who was likeminded and a military veteran. The six of us wear this tattoo.”

  “What kind of a club is it?”

  “I can’t divulge much,” I said, hoping she’d change the subject.

  “Sworn to secrecy?” she asked, her tone thick with sarcasm. After a moment of silence on my part, she glanced over her shoulder. “I guess so.”

  “It’s just. It’s a private club. As silly as it might sound, we don’t discuss the club’s business outside the clubhouse.”

  “Awwe,” she said in a soft voice. “You and your friends have a clubhouse. Do you have a special handshake?”

  I glared.

  “I’m kidding,” she said. “It just sounds, I don’t know. Like something a twenty-year-old would be doing, not a forty-year-old.”

  “Believe me, I often wonder if I should be doing something different. When I was eighteen, it seemed like a great idea. Now? It seems like it’s time for a change.”

  “Do you guys ride together?”

  “We do everything together. The club has been my life since I was eighteen. I see the same men every day and have since we were in school. We even work together.”

  “At the carwash?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, that’s a real thing? The carwash?” She glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with me. “Not a front to launder money?”

  It was a front to launder money. Shocked by her boldness, I attempted to hide my surprise that she mentioned it. “The car wash is a legitimate business. There are several carwashes, from here to Oceanside. Five of us work there, full-time.”

  “Oh.” She turned to face the stove. “Sounds fun.”

  I stood silently while she finished cooking the eggs, wondering just what it was that I hoped to get out of the time I spent with her. If I wanted anything beyond the night we already had together, I had to be totally honest with her.

  The other men were honest with their women. I saw no reason why I couldn’t be so with Reggie. What it got down to, however, was whether I could trust her when it came to maintaining silence in any and all matters pertaining to the club and the club’s business.

  She placed the food-filled plates at the breakfast table. “C’mon,” she said, tilting her head toward the table. “This stuff isn’t going to eat itself.”

  Feeling slightly uneasy about the entire situation with the club, I joined her at the table.

  “Tell me about the hat.” She poked a piece of egg and lifted it to her mouth. “Why is it so important to you?”

  “I met someone—a woman—who I found intriguing, and kind. For what it’s worth, I only saw her once, and we weren’t sexual at all. We just talked. At any rate, she picked out the hat. It’s been special to me, because that was a special day. For many reasons.”

  “You haven’t seen her since?” she asked.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “That’s cool that you hung onto the hat for that long.”

  “I suppose. It’s not as important to me today as it was a few weeks ago.”

  “Why is that?”

  I swallowed my eggs and took a bite of toast. While I chewed the food, I thought about her question. In all honesty, Reggie filled the void left by the hat, and of the memory of Shelley’s death.

  “Because,” I said. “I found you.”

  She lowered her fork and gave me a blank look. “That makes no sense.”

  “I had that hat for ten years. When I lost it, I freaked out. Since then, I’ve talked to a friend about it, realized losing it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I met you. Meeting you allowed me to understand the hat wasn’t holding as special of a place as I thought it was. I’d been clinging to the memories of one fun-filled day with a friend. Now, I can make as many fun-filled days as I want—with you.”

  Her gaze lowered to her plate. She poked at her eggs and then glanced up. “I like you.”

  I smiled. “I like you, too.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’d hate for this to be one-sided.”

  We exchanged glances with one
another as we ate, smiling the entire time. I fully realized Reggie wasn’t my girlfriend by any means, but she was as close to a girlfriend as I’d had since high school.

  I hoped my future with her was long-lived, and without the problems that many of the men in the club had had in the past.

  As we finished our food, the sound of my phone ringing caught my attention.

  Reggie looked up. “Do you need to get that?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It can wait.”

  “How do you know it can wait?”

  “It’s someone I don’t want to talk to.”

  “Your other girlfriend.” Her face washed with an embarrassed look. “I’m not saying that I’m your—”

  “I know what you’re saying, and no is the answer. It’s one of the guys in the club.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Ring tone,” I responded. “They each have a special ring tone.”

  “Five different ring tones?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that particular guy doesn’t have a Sunday morning emergency?”

  It was Cash. He might have thought he had an emergency, but I doubted it was anything that required my undivided attention. It certainly wasn’t more important than what was in front of me.

  I pierced my last piece of ham with the tines of my fork. “I’ll call him back when we’re done.”

  She stood. “I’ll get the dishes. See what he wants. Last thing I need is your friends mad at me because I’m keeping you from your routine. Eventually it’ll probably come to that, but right now it’s a bit early.” She grinned. “Go call your friend.”

  I finished my ham, handed her my plate, and went to the bedroom. A voicemail message from Cash was waiting for me to listen to it. I pressed play and raised the phone to my ear.

  Hey midget, this is Cash. I know why you’re all fucked up in the head about the hat. The chick with the spikey hair that offed herself. Drop that shit, brother, you two weren’t even banging. Get over it and get your shit together. We need to get this job figured out, and you’re the hold up. Pull your head out of your ass and do your fucking job.