Butch (Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation Book 3)

by Kylie Hillman

  “Stop it,” Carly, my brother’s sort of girlfriend, requests in a quiet voice. She lays her hand over mine and gives me a quick pat on the back of my hand when I let my cutlery drop onto my plate. “You know Serge wouldn’t ask you to do this if he wasn’t sure it was safe and necessary.”

  “Yeah,” I deadpan in response. “A little background wouldn’t go astray, though. I mean, since he’s asking me to change school and befriend the daughters of the Black Shamrocks MC, the least he can do is tell me why…”

  I let my words trail off. My blunt assessment of the situation hangs in the air like a bad smell; noxious and potentially poisonous. Carly pulls away from me, the loss of her comforting touch having an immediate effect on me, and she pushes her own dinner plate away from herself before she rises to her feet. Censure invades the atmosphere when Carly gives my brother’s shoulder a squeeze on her way out of the kitchen.

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I chance a look at Sergio. He’s barely moved. The only sign that I’m pushing his buttons is the extra pronouncement of the muscle in his jaw.

  “Serge,” I venture in a soft tone. “I didn’t mean to upset Carly, but I don’t want to leave my friends. Maybe there’s another way?”

  He slaps his hand down on the table. Our plates jolt and the cutlery clatters.

  “Anita!”

  Straightening my shoulders, I press my lips together, sit back in my chair, and pray that he will speak again. I need a better explanation than the one currently on offer.

  We regard each other in silence while I wait to see which way he’ll go.

  Passive aggressive or just plain aggressive?

  While my brother is a man of few words, he has the ability to say more than most. He doesn’t scare me per se, but he definitely knows how to intimidate me into cooperating whenever I push too hard for something outside his carefully laid plans.

  Sergio DiAmore. Big hearted brother. Badass biker. Quiet thinker. Quick to anger. He’s a conundrum, and the closest thing I have to a parent after our father refused to acknowledge me when my mother—an ex-Club whore—left me at the front bar of the Ugly Bastards MC and took off when I was barely a year old. Raised by the absentminded benevolence of the women in the MC and a barely verbal brother who was nineteen years older than me, it would be an understatement to say that my upbringing has been a little unconventional.

  Not that I would know any different. The Ugly Bastards have been the only constant in my life for as long as I can remember.

  “I don’t ask you for much.”

  “I know,” I answer at a volume barely above a whisper.

  “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s settled then?” Sergio phrases his words like a question, but we both knows it’s a statement.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good,” he replies softly. Inclining his head, he stares down at his hand where it remains on the table after he slapped it until he snatches his limb away like it temporarily went rogue and pushes to his feet. “Finish your dinner, munchkin.”

  Sergio flips my pony tail then leaves without another word. In his head, the matter is settled so it’s time for him to move onto more important matters. And, I know exactly where he’s headed.

  Straight to Carly. Ever since she arrived at the Clubhouse one night, battered and bruised, and offering information about the Black Shamrocks MC in exchange for asylum, my brother has been welded to her side. She is his priority, even over me.

  I don’t breathe again until the door shuts behind him. Peering down at my dinner plate, my appetite having deserted me, I try to understand how I ended up in this position. Leaving my small rural high school in Year Ten to start over at one in the heart of Brisbane is not something I want to do. Leaving my school to attend one on Black Shamrocks turf is even less appealing. Leaving the only educational facility I’ve ever known with strict instructions to befriend Alanah Kelly and Grace O’Brien, the daughters of the Black Shamrocks President and Vice President, is beyond anything I ever imagined being asked to do for my brother and his club.

  It all comes back to the woman who shares our home with us. Carly Miller. Overnight, he became her lover and protector and she proved to be the only person to ever worm their way completely under the hard shell my brother wears like a shield. If Sergio is a conundrum, Carly is an enigma. Tall, pretty, and commanding, she is also the most fragile person I’ve ever met.

  Most days, I don’t know whether to love her or hate her for her obvious weakness and the hold it has over my only family member. Usually, I settle on the former, but lately, with this request to befriend the daughters of the Black Shamrocks MC, I find myself drifting more toward the latter.

  But love Carly or hate her, I will do as Serge asks.

  He’s never floundered in his love and loyalty to me, even when it would have made his life easier.

  I will give him the same in return, no matter the consequences.

  Because that’s what family does.

  THREE

  Brian

  “Want another bump?” Shari stops dancing and leans closer to me. “I don’t wanna lose my buzz.”

  The Clubhouse is full of Black Shamrocks celebrating our patching in. They’re toasting us as the first generation to join—the sons of the founding members. We’re the future of the club. It’s elating, yet disturbing at the same time, considering Paddy’s brother, Lenny was the first son to join. Watching him be overlooked, time and time again, is beginning to sit funny with me. The inequality is going to create a division in our ranks if it’s not nipped in the bud as soon as possible.

  “Brian,” Shari whines directly in my ear.

  When I stiffen at her tone, she presses her lips against my cheek then embraces me by wrapping her arms around my neck. Her small tits push against my chest and she takes hold of my face and kisses me. I open my mouth to allow her prodding tongue entry, deepening our connection when she rubs herself over the bulge that starts growing immediately in my pants.

  As distractions go, Shari’s is perfect.

  Pulling away to put some space between her, I look down at her with hunger in my gaze. Shari grins up at me, her pretty, fine boned face dominated by big chocolate brown eyes that are filled with matching desire.

  “Outside or bedroom?”

  She licks her lips. “Outside.”

  The main bar in the Black Shamrocks clubhouse has had the floor cleared to create a makeshift dance floor. Most people at our patch-in ceremony are utilising the space as intended, but a few have found dark corners to hide in for some privacy. I glance around the room, searching for my best friends. Their disapproval over my little coke habit is becoming a bit of an issue so I want to make sure they don’t see me and Shari slip outside to imbibe.

  Paddy’s busy grinding on his cousin, Angela. Cole’s celebrating his engagement to Colleen. Vic’s nowhere to be seen. Shit. Seeking out Alanah, the momentary worry that he’s with her is alleviated quickly when I discover that she’s playing pool with Paddy’s little sister, Grace, and our dad.

  Happy that the coast is as clear as it can be, I grab Shari’s hand and pull her through the dancing throng toward the main exit. We’re stopped a few times, members of the Shamrocks offering back slaps and congratulations on my top rocker. I accept their well wishes while making it clear that I’m on a mission. The knowing gleam in a few of the older members eyes tells me that they think we’re heading outside for some alone time. My coke use has stayed firmly within my own circles—exactly where it should remain.

  “Geez, your club is intense,” Shari complains, flipping her hair over her shoulder when the wind messes it up.

  Ignoring her, I shut the double doors behind us and check around the parking lot for anyone who might see what we’re about to do. A couple of people are smoking near the front gate—either waiting for rides home or fulfilling sentry duty—and the lot is a bit emptier than it was when I arrived earlier.
Vic’s bike is one that’s missing.

  Seems he’s left the party early. I can’t decide whether I’m happy about that or not.

  “I don’t get it. What’s so special about being part of a biker club? It’s not like they pay you or anything.”

  Shari’s continual belittling of the Black Shamrocks MC annoys the shit out of me. I bite down on my tongue, trying my hardest to resist the temptation to tell her how wrong she is. The Black Shamrocks are everything to me but explaining the inner workings of the club would go against the number one rule that every member has to follow.

  Brotherhood before blood.

  It doesn’t matter how important a person is to a member, unless they’ve patched into the Shamrocks themselves, they are not privy to information beyond the bare necessities. Technically, anyway. I know that my father tells my mother more than he should and I’m sure that Paddy’s dad does the same thing. I’m also certain that those women are in this life for the right reasons. They’d never spill on the Club because it’s their life as well and they’d never do anything to jeopardise that.

  The woman I’m currently pulling into the shadows at the back of the clubhouse? Not so much. Shari’s so bloody secretive about her own family plus she’s too vocal about her condemnation of the Black Shamrocks MC’s way of life for me to consider her anything more than a temporary girlfriend. She’s a way to pass the time—the perfect way to get my rocks off without messing with the club sluts—until the woman I’m destined to fall in love with and marry enters my life.

  Not that I’d tell her that teeny fact. She’d be liable to cut me off all together, and I don’t fancy slinging my sausage down the same hallway as the rest of my brother’s unless I absolutely have to.

  “Where are we going?” Shari asks in a high-pitched voice.

  Mentally shaking myself when I realise that I’ve slipped right inside my head and become mute, I squeeze her hand and turn to look at her. I paste a shit-eating smirk on my face and give her the full force of the bad boy, devil-may-care attitude that I know turns her on.

  “Somewhere I can show you how much I appreciate your sexy body,” I quip.

  As predicted, Shari melts. I let go of her hand and lift my arm. She curls herself into my side, laying a hand on my stomach, and following me to the back of the building without another word.

  I’d feel bad about using her like this if I didn’t know that she’s doing the same thing to me. After Shari was injured while babysitting Colleen’s little sister, her dream of becoming a professional ballerina was ruined and she kind of latched onto me during the fall out. Since Vic is dating Bonnie, and Cole’s now engaged to Colleen, it made sense for me and Shari to pair off and complete the trio. The girls are a bit at odds right now, but I don’t stick my nose in their business.

  Shari will leave me once she’s as healed as she can be—the limp she has as a result of the incident is getting better every day. There will be no hard feelings on either side, and I’m sure we’ll remain friendly whenever we cross paths.

  Until then, I haven’t an iota of guilt at taking what’s so freely offered. Good sex. Cheap drugs. Fun times.

  “Where’d you put it?” I ask.

  She pulls a baggie from her bra and shakes it in front of my face.

  “Bonnie took it off me,” she tells me with a laugh. “But I lifted it back off her when she wasn’t looking.”

  Opening the bag, I tip a little bit of my bent knuckle and hold it out to Shari. Without delay, she sniffs it. I repeat my actions, loading myself up with a slightly bigger dose, and follow suit. Together, we lean back against the cinder block wall, intertwining our fingers, and waiting in silence while the coke does its thing.

  Almost instantly my body begins to heat, and my pulse starts racing in my chest. The euphoria comes next—the best part in my mind—then startling clarity hits and everything in my life loses the pale, disappointing cast that usually coats it. Finally, all my worries evaporate to be replaced by supreme confidence that I can handle anything that could possibly come my way.

  “Love this feeling,” Shari murmurs next to me. “It’s better than dancing.”

  Her words sum up our situation effortlessly. Coke is our outlet. Shari gets to escape whatever demons she’s running from, she can forget that the career she had been working toward since she was six is now over, and I can face the problems in my life head on. When I’m high, it doesn’t matter that my dad puts my mother before mine and Alanah’s wellbeing. My mother’s bi-polar disease can’t touch me. I’m not letting my little sister down with my inability to keep her from feeling the fallout of our parents’ decisions. I can also forget what I saw tonight between her and Vic.

  Everything is going to be okay.

  I will make sure of it.

  “Wanna fuck?” I ask the beautiful blonde next to me.

  “Of course,” Shari replies with a giggle. “I didn’t come all the way out here for some fresh air.”

  I step in front of her, caging her between my body and the wall when I lay my palms against the bricks on either side of her head. She’s so small. Short and skinny. Almost bird-like. I love how fucking big she makes me feel, as if I could break her in half without much effort. Her fragile exterior completely contradicts what’s inside her, though.

  The girl can fuck. Her flexibility and her innate rhythm blow my mind regularly. And while her conversational skills aren’t all that scintillating, as a package she’s pretty bloody amazing.

  “Are you gonna stare at me all night?”

  Leaning down, laughing as I go, I nip at her bottom lip with my teeth. It spurs her into immediate action. Shari climbs me, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. Kissing me fiercely, she pulls at my shirt, quickly unbuttoning it and yanking it from the waist of my denim. I push her skirt up until its bunched under her tits then I unbutton my jeans and tug them down far enough to release my hard cock.

  “Make it hurt,” Shari demands when I press the head against her warm entrance.

  I oblige without question. Thrusting inside her in one swift pump, I grit my teeth and think about anything other than her hot heat gripping me. Shari latches onto my neck, sucking the skin at my throat and biting with her teeth. With quick movements, I wind her long hair around my wrist and pull. She arches, her head glancing off the cinder blocks behind her, and I twist until my back is pressed against the wall.

  Supporting her weight with my arms, I lift her up and down over my dick. Filling her to the hilt before I pull almost all the way out. She gives into my domination. Riding me with her head thrown back, Shari’s moans fill the night air. She pulls the front of her top down, exposing her perky breasts. The pink tips are hard, demanding my attention. I give into the temptation. Sucking her left nipple into my mouth, I lave it with my tongue, stopping occasionally to nibble on it with my teeth.

  Every time I bite her, the walls of her pussy tighten around me. Pumping harder inside her, I fuck all of the frustrations and cares and worries out of my tightly wound body. The coke has hold of my brain, reminding me that everything is under my control, but one tiny little niggle at the back of my mind keeps taunting me. It warns that nothing is as it seems, and every time I think I’ve got my life sorted something bad happens to ruin it all.

  “Fuck,” I mutter against Shari’s tit. “Fuck everything.”

  She mistakes my frustration for passion and digs her fingernails into my scalp. Scratching at my head, she makes sure it hurts. I let out a hiss, and she scrapes harder. My scalp screams. I bite her nipple, this time with vicious intent, and Shari’s cunt grips my dick like a fist. Balancing her with one arm under her arse, I jam a hand between our heaving bodies and mash my thumb against her clit.

  Shari comes straightaway and I follow hot on her heels. My cum fills her, already running out of her before my orgasm has finished, and she shudders around me when I lazily pump into her a few more times as I ride the final wave to the end.

  My legs are wob
bly. I drop down the wall, landing on my arse. Small stones bite into the flesh of my backside, but I barely feel them. The racing of my heart in my ears and the feeling of Shari holding my still-hard cock inside her body is everything. It’s the most realest sensation I feel in any aspect of my life.

  Sex. Coke. Shari.

  As vices go, they’re the best.

  As a launching pad for my future, it’s the worst.

  Doesn’t matter right now, though. I deal with the fall out as it comes.

  FOUR

  Anita

  The day I’ve been dreading is finally here. My new school dress sits funny, despite Carly’s best efforts to take off the excess material at the hem to accommodate my shortness. A blue school bag mocks me from the kitchen floor; it’s different colour and brand-newness a blatant reminder that everything’s changed.

  “You look beautiful.” Carly compliments me when she enters the kitchen where I’m eating my breakfast. “Are you excited?”

  I don’t know why she’s treating this like an adventure. I’ve tried to make it clear that I’m not enthusiastic about changing schools; that I’m only doing it for Serge. No one is listening. Everyone is caught up in whatever this means for the Ugly Bastards plan for the Black Shamrocks MC.

  “Thanks,” I mutter in response, totally ignoring her question.

  Ducking my head, I pretend that I can’t see Serge kissing her good morning when he joins us. The muesli I shovel into my mouth is hard to swallow and I take a hasty sip of my coffee when my brother comes to stand next to me and places his hand on my shoulder.

  When I catch his eye, I take another gulp of coffee to buy myself enough time to gather my wits. He’s looking at me funny. “What?”

  “I want to go over a few things.” Serge plonks himself in the dining chair next to me. Steepling his fingers, he rests his chin on his hand and his elbows on the table. “This is very important to me. I need you to make these girls be your friend. They need to feel comfortable discussing the Shamrocks with you. If you fail, the Ugly Bastards will pay the price.”