Bitter Sweet Deception (The Kingsmen M.C Book 4) Page 4

  Clink hasn’t mentioned it or even asked me about my work schedule this weekend, though luckily enough… I’m off. I’ve pulled plenty of double shifts these last few months while we’ve been shorthanded down at the hospital, and the HR department is finally catching up to my ass about it, mandating me to start using some of the banked time I’ve been accumulating.

  “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, Lil’s. Clink never asks me to go on a run,” I camouflage my hidden knowledge quite well, I think.

  Lil’s gets up to clean off the table. “You know damn well it’s not a run, Charlie. He hasn’t asked you yet?”

  I toss the wrung-out sponge back into its canister and turn to face my interrogator, “Nope. We’re not really…there, yet.”

  Lil’s eyes me suspiciously. “Oh, you’re there already, you’re both too fucking stubborn to admit it, though.”

  I reach forward to give her a little peck on the cheek, and then bend down to pat her belly, “Bye, Tate.”

  I raise my eyes to its momma, silently questioning her reception to the name choice.

  “Uh, uh.”

  Damn.

  ******

  Clink’s text comes through as I leave Jay and Lil’s house.

  MEET ME AT THE HOUSE AT 4:30 BABE

  AND GET THE STEAKS FROM THE BUTCHER

  THE GOOD ONES

  I hit the supermarket first, stocking up on the staples and necessities, as Clink has absolutely nothing in his cupboards. Seeing as the supplies are for his own place, I convince myself to use the money he gave me, although it’s way too much. I even feel awkward walking around with this much cash in my bag, clutching it to me like a nervous tourist. I must look like a paranoid freak right now.

  My car is filling up fast, with all the grocery bags spilling out in the back seat, the trunk already full with others. My overnight bag of clothes and personal things sits next to me in the front. I don’t know for sure if I’ll be staying the night at his place again, but I don’t want to be caught unprepared like last night.

  With one more stop at the butcher on Main Street to make, I check my watch to make sure I’m running on time. Force of habit. If there’s one thing a nurse who’s just worked a twelve hour shift hates, it’s waiting on another nurse to show her ass up to work to relieve her. We’re notoriously prompt because of it. I’ve got about twenty minutes to kill. Plenty of time to get the steaks and stop for a good bottle of wine to go with it.

  Clink’s not much of a wine drinker. He prefers anything brown. Beer, whisky, bourbon…but I’m sure he’ll have some if I do. The liquid store is off of Ginger Road, near Main. I pull into the small parking lot near the rear and make a quick trip to grab a bottle of Merlot. The line is a bit of a wait, so I grab a bottle of Jack in passing, just in case Clink’s not feeling refined enough for the more mature drink.

  The butcher shop has an even longer line, with all the customers trying to grab some quick things for dinner. I get my steaks and quickly pay the cashier before noticing that I’m running on ten minutes late now. I roll my eyes at my imaginary tardiness.

  Whatever.

  By the time I get to Clink’s house, the place is crawling with bikes and a moving van. Okay…so much for a quiet dinner for two. The driveway is left clear for me, so I pull in behind Clink’s Escalade. He never drives the thing. I’m pretty sure I’ve only been in it once, when his bike was getting some repairs done.

  As soon as I kill the engine, several of the bikers come over to help me unload the groceries, even taking the bags that I carry from my arms.

  “Damn, maybe you can come stock my place next, Charlie?” T.J. admires the food choices from his bag.

  “Get your own ol’lady, kid,” Blue laughs as he passes us, walking double time with a paper sack in each hand.

  T.J.’s sweet. I haven’t gotten to know him as well as some of the other brothers, but so far…he’s one of my favorites. I came in, just in time to see him go through that mess with Lil’s friend that was killed. It broke my heart. Ever since then, I just want to treat him like a wounded little kitten. Well, a wounded little kitten covered in leather and who swears like a sailor.

  I laugh at the mental image. “I’ll see what I can do,” I tell T.J.

  “How the fuck should I know where it goes? Ask the woman.” I hear Clink bellow out to one of the young prospects unloading groceries in the kitchen. He’s on his knees, bent over, fiddling with some wires behind the giant TV stand. The brand new TV stand with a matching over-sized TV on top, that was definitely not there this morning.

  “The woman?” I ask out to the small crowd of bikers gathered around the TV, waiting for it to come to life.

  Their respective “oooohs” call out like children taunting another who’s gotten in trouble. Clink sits up quickly, hitting his head on the nearby table corner. His brothers now begin to howl at his expense. He silences them with deadly stares, not liking the attention.

  “Last time I checked, you had all the parts of a woman. But, if something’s changed, Sugar, I can take a look under the hood,” he winks at me.

  “Pig.” I roll my eyes and shake my head.

  The room comes to life as it fills with cheers from the men as the ginormous screen fills with a picture. Sound follows, from the speakers strategically placed around the room. I cover my ears until someone has the good sense to grab the remote and lower the volume, before we all suffer permanent nerve damage from the loudness of it.

  Clink withdraws himself from his work area and admires his accomplishment.

  “Fucking sharp! Look at that picture. Even better than in the showroom.”

  Jay steps back, tilting his head. “You need to adjust the settings.”

  Clink walks past him, shoeing off his comments, “I do not need to adjust the fucking settings. I don’t want it to look like that thing you got in your house. Gives me a headache every time I see it.”

  Jay sticks up his middle finger to his friend in passing, before Clink reaches me.

  “Whad’ya think?” He watches me, waiting for my approval. What the hell is it with men and electronics.

  “Um…it’s…big?”

  Laughter breaks out, before I even realized the connotation to my words.

  “Damn right it is, Sugar. But I meant the TV. What do you think of that?”

  Smartass.

  “I like it?” I raise my eyebrow. Not sure what he’s looking for here. It’s a TV.

  He kisses me, before slipping his arm over my shoulders so he can watch me admire the new device.

  Crunch, crunch, crunch.“Oh, you got it working?” Tiny walks in the room, elbow deep in a bag of potato chips.

  I take a second look at the near empty bag. I just bought that. I can see the movement through the plastic as his fingers search the bottom for hidden pieces. I eye him curiously. Damn, that man can eat. Sunny must spend a fucking fortune at the market.

  “All right. Prospect!” he calls out to the two of them hanging back from the main group. “Pick up all this shit, and get out,”he uses his eyes to sweep over the pile of cardboard and bubble wrap strewn over the floor.

  They obey, and the rooms are picked up and polished clean in mere moments, with the fully-patched brothers watching, offering no assistance other than pointers.

  I hear the crumpling of the plastic as Tiny smashes the emptied bag in on itself, before belching loudly. “It’s been fun, but I gotta get home. Sunny’s making dinner.”

  I widen my eyes.

  “Yes…you must be famished,” I joke, shifting to the empty bag of carbs.

  He slams his hand to his belly and rubs furiously, “Always.”

  Jay walks up to his best friend, slapping him on his back, “You’re just a growin’boy, now get goin’and get out of their hair.”

  Jay kisses me on my cheek before moving on, pushing Tiny with him. Man after man files out, stopping to say goodbye on their way.

  “Go check out the bedroom furniture I bought while I
go talk to Jay. I’ll be back in a minute.”Clink squeezes my ass.

  New furniture…?

  Left alone in the empty house, I search to see what other changes have been made. I don’t know this place well, but I see a few new things, mostly expensive and of the plug-in variety. I bend to pick up a small scrap of packing paper left in the hallway as I make my way down its length, past the bedroom we spent the last night in. I peek inside. It looks the same, so I move on. The next has a closed door, which I open and quickly close after seeing that it’s a little boy’s room. I felt wrong, dirty, like a trespasser looking inside it. That room’s not for me.

  I catch my bearings and move on, eager to forget the sadness of an empty child’s room. There is one final door at the end of the hallway, left open. A double door, actually. It must be the master bedroom.

  It’s light, airy, as I enter. The carpet has tracks of freshly moved furniture across its weave, leading to the current position of each piece of furniture. The shiny, dark cherry wood of the bureau and dressers is new, untouched, unused.

  I touch it, the surface is clean under my fingertips. The loud roaring of motorcycles outside begins to fill the space, and I peek through the window at the exiting bikes as they line themselves up, preparing to leave. With Jay as the most senior rider here, they wait for him to lead.

  He’s busy with Clink, talking back and forth, patting him on the back and grinning. Clink says something to the effect of “fuck you,” which only makes Jay laugh hard before leaving, bikes following. I hear the front door open and close.

  “Sugar?” he calls, walking down the hallway from which I just came.

  “Hey…you’ve been busy” I look around at the furnishings.

  His eyebrow cocks itself as he nears. My breath hitches with his closeness. My consciousness swoons. Being near this man and a bed is more than enough to get the juices flowing, so to speak.

  He moves his lips onto mine, his tongue dancing on my softness. “Yup.” Another kiss. “You get the steaks?” another swipe of his tongue.

  “Mmm hmm,” I answer.

  He grabs my ass, hard, “Good. I’m gonna cook you dinner, then I’m gonna fuck you long and slow, so you can tell me if you like the new mattress.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CLINK

  Wine. This woman has me drinking wine. What the fuck am I? A pussy? I won’t lie, though. It was all right. I’ve dragged things out as long as I can. Hell, I even had a second glass of wine to keep me busy.

  I throw some stupid movie channel on the new giant screen to wind-down to. Sugar lays down on the sofa, throwing her feet on my lap, her red polished toenails lay dangerously close to my dick, teasing it every time they move. I scan over her, her loose, golden-brown hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Her plump, juicy lips curling in a smile as she laughs at the comedy playing on the TV. Her perfect tits rising with every breath her chest takes in, her stunning body, her luscious hips that help outline that hot-as-sin ass of hers. Her curvy thighs and impeccable legs sprawling over my lap.

  God, she’s perfect. She’s fucking perfect.

  “You’re staring at me,” she finally notices.

  I smile. Moving her legs to the floor, I let her know we’re done watching TV.

  “Come on,” I hold out my hand.

  We lock up, turn off the TV, and I guide her down to the bedroom, walking closely behind her. As we approach, I work my hands around her waist, pulling the material free and up, over her head, her arms assisting in the removal of her shirt. I drop it on the floor as we press on, her shoulder blades twitching from a chill. I kiss each one as I undo the clasps of her bra.

  I reach around to cup her boobs, her flesh spilling out into my fingers, soft and supple. Pulling her back into my chest, I bite her neck, moaning into it. She rolls her head, opening her neck up further for me, her hands gliding up to reach back and run her hands through my hair, pulling me in closer.

  “So, about that dessert…” she groans.

  Once inside the bedroom, I don’t bother to turn on the wall switch. The light from the hallway is enough for me to see her. I leave her topless, standing at the foot of the bed while I lie down on the new bedding, arms behind my head, propping it to watch.

  “Check the closet,” I chin my head over in the direction of the white door on the nearest wall.

  She eyes the closed closet, warily, “Why?”

  “No questions, Sugar.” She wants to look, I can tell. “It ain’t gonna bite.”

  A moment passes with her second guessing herself, and me. But…she gives in and looks. If there’s one thing I know about my baby, she’s damn curious. More curious than is good for her, probably. Her chest is perked, at full attention. She disappears into the walk-in closet, and I wait.

  Her gasp is low but I can still hear it.

  “Try it on. I want to see you wear it, your gorgeous tits covered in my leather.”

  I can’t even see her yet, but my cock is aching, picturing her in it. It lays in confined agony. I unbuckle my belt and lower my jeans, relieving the discomfort, bringing my dick one step closer to the place it begs to be.

  She steps slowly out of the closet, her hands touching the leather vest that drapes over her bare, silky, porcelain skin.

  “Clink…” she whispers as she plays with the stitching.

  “Turn around,” I instruct her, “I want to see it.”

  Her eyes are wide, and I can see her swallow hard, her perfect throat constricting with the movement. Her body obeys, turning from me so that her back is in clear view. The embroidered letters sewn into place are bold, strong, just like the meaning behind them.

  Mine.

  Property. It may not be politically correct, but it turns me on something fierce knowing that she’s marked, taken, mine.

  “Clink…I don’t know what to say,” she speaks in a hushed tone.

  I shimmy my pants down past my hips, my legs. Boxers lowered, too. I grab myself, my growing shaft throbbing as I look at her, reading the words on her back.

  “You don’t have to say anything, Sugar. That’s not how this works. I could ask you, sure, but it would only be words to ease your conscience. It wouldn’t mean anything. I choose. I decide. If I put my tag on you, I take on all responsibility for you. You’re mine. I will lay down my life to protect you and make it my life’s mission to earn the right to have those letters on your back, every single fucking day.”

  I can see her body shivering at the sound of my words, of their impact for her.

  “Now take those pants off. I want to see that fucking gorgeous ass, wearing my rag, riding me over and over again while I watch you come, and then fall asleep from exhaustion in my arms… where you belong.”

  ******

  CHARLIE

  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

  It’s like the first day of school, knowing that you’re walking in to a new setup, not knowing how your friends have changed over the summer, how they’ll react to you, accept you now that your different.

  It’s only been a handful of days, but I haven’t seen any of the club since before I’d been claimed. That’s what I call it. Who the hell knows if it’s what they call it, but the term seems to fit, so I use it.

  “Sugar, most of them knew about it before you did. It had to pass a club vote,” Clink calls back before the light changes and we speed off again, engine drowning out any sounds our voices would make.

  They took a vote on it? A group of men, of his sworn brothers, sat around a glorified picnic table and took a fucking vote on how my life was going to play out? That thought sits heavy. Should I be grateful that I’ve been deemed worthy, vetted, to join them? Or should I be pissed that my happiness or lack of it was left up to a group of over-sexed, drunken adrenaline junkies?

  Yeah. I’m fucking pissed.

  The ten or so minutes left of our ride only serves to deepen my rage. By the time we reach the clubhouse, I’m seething. The bike is barely stopped and the
engine’s not yet cut, but it doesn’t stop me as I hop from the Harley.

  “Whoa! Sugar! You wait until the fuckin’bike is parked before you get off. You wanna broken leg? What’s the fucking rush?” Clink chastises me as I unlatch my headgear.

  I throw it at him, but his surprised arms manage to catch it.

  “I am not a fucking vote!” I hiss through clenched teeth before spinning on my heel.

  There are a few others hanging around the yard of the clubhouse, packing up their bikes, getting ready for the ride. They watch our exchange with interest. Clink tosses the thrown helmet to the ground before double stepping to catch up with me, grabbing my arm and stalking us off to some corner of the nearest empty car bay in the nearby repair shop. He swings me around once we’re out of earshot from the others.

  “Yes, you are a fucking vote. Just like Lil’s, Jean, Sunny, and every other goddamned ol' lady out there. No different. You’re a direct extension of me, and those men have just as much on the line trusting you and letting you into the fold as they do me. You’re damn right it was a vote. Any one of us has enough on the rest to put them away for a fucking long time, Sugar. We don’t just let anyone in.”

  I shake my head, ”Oh yeah?! Well, what if they voted no, smart-ass?”

  Clink laughs, “It was never a possibility.” He swipes his thumb across my heated cheek. “I never would have brought it up for vote if I didn’t already know the answer.”

  My heaving chest slows, the thickness around us thins. He tilts his head and lifts his brow. “Now, you done having a fucking tantrum? You really want those women to see you like a spoiled bitch the first time they lay eyes on you in your rag?”

  I think on it. The vote was cast, it’s done. No matter how archaic and sexist these rules are, they’re in place and not likely to change anytime soon. I can fight them, or suck it up and accept it. Like Lil’s has, like Jean has…like Sunny has.