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“You’re welcome,” I yell back, my hips never stopping as they dance, taking on a mind all their own.
Debbie stands beside me resuming her own odd way of dancing, but her eyes widen in a mix of interest and fear as she anxiously grins, looking over my shoulder. I turn and look where her eyes are directed. Then I spot him, a tall handsome man, messy blonde hair, green eyes, tatted arms, and a leather cut over his Harley shirt. I’d recognize him anywhere.
With a naughty smile, I turn and saunter toward him, swaying my hips sexily to the beat of the song. Stopping toe-to-toe, I grin up and grab both sides of his cut, tugging him into to a hug.
“Hey, hot stuff.” I tease, wrapping my arms around his neck.
Bending down to meet my height, his hands find the low curve of my back. He holds me there, as I feel his nose stuff into my hair, scenting me. A shiver of something I shouldn’t be feeling shoots straight to my core as my fingers tangle in the loose hairs at the nape of his neck. Deke smells delicious.
Why is he here?
I turn my head and speak into his ear to ask him as much. His hot sensuous breath is strangely coming out in quick bursts bathing my neck. As the sudden wetness of his thick tongue licks from my collarbone to my ear, I suppress a groan. Nobody has touched me this erotically in what feels like a lifetime. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispers, kissing the sensitive flesh under my ear.
Dear God he’s giving me just what I need when I need it. How did he know?
“Okay,” I shakily gulp.
Before I can process what’s happening, Deke grabs hold of my hand and tugs me through the throng of gyrating bodies toward the back of the club. Kicking the exit door open with his boot, a blast of chilly air smacks me in the face. I shiver, turning the corner to walk up the deserted alley, high on excitement. I open my mouth to speak just when he shoves me against the brick wall, and his hard body instantly presses to mine, knocking the wanton breath from my lungs, as his hard cock brushes my belly through his jeans.
“Whh—why—” I stutter.
“Why am I here?” he bends down, taking what he wants from me. His mouth latches onto my neck, ravenously kissing and licking it. My toes curl in my shoes as my hands instinctively thread into the back of his hair, holding him to my needy skin.
“Yes,” I moan, as his hand glides over my hip and grabs a handful of my ass.
“Yes… more? Or yes, you want to know why I’m here?” he teases, never breaking his hot mouth from my neck.
“Yes to both.” My breasts thrust on their own accord, and my nipples turn hard as stone, eager to be sucked.
Oh, it’s been so long since they’ve actually been sucked.
Deke pecks my neck, then brushes the shell of my ear with his bottom lip, “Gunz called to check on you, and he said your GPS was at some bar, so I came to check it out. Then we got to talkin’ on my drive here, and I found out more about this man you’re seein’. I decided he’s a tool, just like Gunz said he was. Then I came in and saw you dancing, wearing this hot as hell dress.” His hand grips my ass harder. “Got stiff and decided what the hell. What’s the worst you could do? Tell me no?”
“The worst?” I taunt with a dark grin, forcefully tugging his hair to get my point across. He grunts from the sharp pain. “Would be to get you kicked out of the club for touching the president’s baby’s mama. But I could just turn around and let you fuck me.”
Holy fucking shit! Did I just say that? I swear I haven’t touched alcohol all night.
“Fuck! You ain’t gotta tell me twice.” Deke kisses my neck once more, and pushes off me. Standing up straight, he tugs his wallet from his pocket, retrieves a condom and rips off the wrapper with his teeth, spitting the trash on the gravel. Unzipping his fly, he pulls out his cock and slides on the condom. I watch in fascination and internal shock for what is about to happen, as the alley lights and moon illuminate us, casting a soft glow.
I am going to fuck Deke. A real biker. That is a Sacred Sinner and not Big.
I swallow hard, staring straight at the thick veiny cock in his hand.
“You like it?” he winks, stepping forward and boxing me in.
What am I doing? I am dating vanilla Marshall. I like Marshall. But fuck… I lick my lips, watching that dick. I want a dick like that. Saliva pools in my mouth. Not Marshall’s average thing. I want one like Deke’s.
A strange pain that takes my breath away shoots to my heart, and I groan in discomfort rubbing my chest. I don’t want Deke’s dick. I want Big’s big dick.
My daughter kicks, as if she knows what I am feeling. I put my hand to Deke’s chest and frown as I meet his heavy lidded eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t.”
“Because of that tool?” I can sense the hint of anger and disappointment in Deke’s voice, masked by his level expression.
I shake my head, “No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I…”
How do I explain this? Do I tell him because I have feelings for Big, and he should be the only true biker I ever sleep with? I never thought of it that way before, but I guess that’s the truth. Even though Big and I only had sex that one time, it changed me forever. I can’t taint that memory of my family, my biker family, with another man’s cock. Marshall’s is different. I can’t say why, it just is. He’s not a biker; he’s safe, and unable to taint that memory because he is so different. Deke was born and bred from the same cloth as Big, Gunz, and the rest of my beloved family. This is wrong.
“Because you’re in love with my president,” Deke states. It’s not a question.
Deke removes the condom and buttons back up. “It’s okay if you are,” he says with a sweet smile, tossing the trash on the ground and grabbing hold of my hand. Threading his fingers through mine, he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I promise I won’t tell,” he winks.
His genuine kindness cracks the tiniest fraction of a smile from my lips. “I don’t know what I am. But I do know that I can’t have sex with you. Not that you aren’t handsome,” he kisses my knuckles again, “or that I don’t want to.” He shyly grins and kisses them again. “I just know from experience that if any of them found out that you slept with me, in particular Gunz or Big, you would probably be castrated on the spot. Viper, one of your new brothers… well… he flirted with me, and Big had him apologizing on his knees.”
“Seriously?” He perks up a curious brow, part of his face hidden behind our combined hands, lips brushing my knuckles.
I chuckle and nod. “Yes, seriously. In front of the entire club.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“That man does love you.”
Wildly, I shake my head. “No, no he doesn’t. He just likes to have order and hold control over everything and everyone. He’s got a woman now anyhow.”
I hope I sound as dismissive as I think I do. I don’t want Deke thinking I’m all heart broken and shit. Because I’m not. I’m the one that left to be replaced by a blonde that looks just like me. Fuck! There goes that knot of pain in my chest again. Inhaling deeply, I wash the feeling away.
“That don’t mean shit. I have a bitch of an old lady, and here I am standing in an alley wanting to fuck a hot pregnant woman, who happens to work for me, and is the unofficial queen of the chapter I am movin’ to patch into.”
“Who told you I was the queen?”
“Gunz.”
“So Gunz is also the one who asked you to keep an eye on me too? He tapped my phone.”
This doesn’t really surprise me. It is Gunz after all.
“He didn’t tap it; he applied a tracker. And I wasn’t ordered to keep an eye on you, I offered. That’s why I followed you here,” he shifts, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels.
“I thought you said Gunz told you where I was so you came.”
“I was already in town. I drove in after you left this mornin’, just in case you needed me
. Gunz called and told me you were goin’ out with the sisters, and I told him where I was. This club here,” he points to the building at my back, “I’ve heard has gang activity, and I didn’t want ya gettin’ into something without protection.”
What the hell ever. “Seriously? I carry a gun in my purse. And I am fairly certain I am a better shot than almost all the men I know.”
Deke scowls, “Yes, but you are also pregnant with my president’s baby. We might be the only people who know—”
“That baby is Big’s!!??” The sound of Candy Cane screeching has me jumping out of my skin as she jogs up the deserted, dimly lit alley toward us, alone, wearing her jeans and sparkling boob shirt. “The baby isn’t Marshall’s?”
“No,” Deke confirms, side stepping to make room for Candy Cane in our circle. “It’s Big’s, but no one knows besides us.”
“Does Marshall know?” she excitedly asks.
“Know what?” I inquire.
“That your daughter isn’t his.”
You have got to be kidding me!? Did she seriously just ask that?
“Yeah! What kind of woman do you take me for?” In agitation, I run my hands through my hair. “He knew I was pregnant when we started dating. He’s the one who knew I was pregnant before I did.” A flash of that night and the following morning comes flooding back. Bathroom. Hysterical crying. The world crashing around me. A supportive man to hold my hand through it all…What a crazy day.
“I didn’t think you’d lead a man on, but ya never know. Desperate times and all.” She tries to sound indifferent, it doesn’t work.
“Are you tryin’ to insult me?” I tilt my head to the side with attitude, surveying her like she’s gone and lost her damn mind. “I like Marshall, but I don’t love him. If I loved someone, maybe I would act differently. And you can’t tell anyone. Not Jez, not Pix, not Deb, not Tripper, not a soul. We clear?”
She nods without argument and crosses her finger of her heart. “Promise. But you need to tell Big eventually.” She enunciates like it’s going to will me into giving up the goods. Fat chance.
“Big has a replacement Bink, you said so yourself. As long as my daughter is healthy, who her father is irrelevant. I’m her mother, and I will be the one to protect and care for her for the rest of my life.” My hand reaches down to rub my tummy. I’ve said my peace. I won’t open this up for discussion.
Maneuvering around Deke and Candy Cane, I wave, “Come on,” and walk ahead of them up the alley. “Let’s get back inside. I’m fucking cold.”
My rampant hormones have simmered to a dull ache instead of a fiery inferno of hot molten lust. Deke is a sexy man, and I’m a horny woman. Oh the naughty things I could do to that hot biker. Fucking him against a brick wall in a back alley…yeah, that would have been a highlight of my life. Too bad.
Slumping through the front doors of the club, I meet up with the girls, who have made their way back to our booth.
“I think it’s time for us to head.” I stand at the edge of the table and thumb point toward the door, with Deke standing at my back.
“Aww, already?” A drunken Jezebel whines.
I nod, “Yup, I’m tired, too tired to stay, and this dance club shit ain’t really my thing.”
My Sacred Sisters slide out of the booth and say our goodbyes with warm hugs and they offer a friendly wave to Deke. Just before our departure, I give Candy Cane one last look to make sure she’s sworn to secrecy. The finger she crosses over her heart again, confirms my trust. At least I know she won’t spill the baby beans.
Too tired to drive the Hawk all the way back to Chicago tonight, I follow Deke in his Jeep to a nearby motel and send him into the shithole to get us a place to crash. Exiting the small lobby, Deke holds up the metal key and points to our door. Sliding out of the car, I trudge my tired feet down the cracked concrete and patiently wait behind him as he unlocks the paint chipped door.
Swinging the door wide, Deke walks across the threshold, and I have to take in a deep breath of fresh air before I step into the musty outdated room.
“Home sweet home,” I say, stepping into the room and searching for a peep hole, cockroaches, or something even less pleasing. Much to my luck, it’s fairly clean.
“That was a strange night,” Deke comments as he tosses himself fully clothed onto his bed, and sighs.
Slipping off my shoes by the door, I go to sit on my own bed. The stiffness of the comforter flexes unnaturally under my weight. Gross….
“Yeah, tell me about it. I just hope Candy Cane doesn’t tell,” I comment.
Resting back on his elbows, he shakes his head. “I don’t think she would.”
Yeah, I guess he’s right. I don’t think Candy Cane would ever betray me. It’s not in her blood.
Sliding up the bed, I lay on my back, cross my ankles, and stare up at the tar stained ceiling. This hotel room must have been a smoking room, before the laws changed, restricting people from smoking in pretty much any establishment. You don’t hear me complaining. I hate cigarette smoke. Cigar smoke isn’t as bad, but they all stink.
Deke’s bed creaks as he sits up in the bed beside me. Taking off his cut, he lays it on the nightstand that separates our beds, and unlaces his boots before setting them on the floor in front of the battered nightstand.
“So,” he lays back onto the comforter, mimicking my exact position. “What did the women say about Cherry and Ginger?”
Crap, I forgot to tell him.
Turning onto my side to face him, I prop my head up with my hand and use my other to cradle my daughter. “They said they’d have no problem keeping an eye on the girls. Jezebel’s daughter is almost seven so she offered to baby-sit, and Candy Cane would be the one to actually keep them. She doesn’t have any kids herself, but I don’t think it’s because she’s never wanted them.”
Deke stares at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Does she work?”
“Pixie and Debbie, do. Jezebel and Candy Cane, do not. They only help around the compound. Debbie and Dallas do the dog thing. He trains ‘em, and she grooms and bathes ‘em. It’s kind of a tag team thing. Pixie owns a tattoo shop that she just opened in town. Candy Cane is Tripper’s old lady. She was the redhead in the alley tonight. She’s really nice, and I feel like I’ve known the woman forever. Nearly half my life, at least.”
Candy Cane would be perfect to watch Deke’s girls. They have the room in their four-bedroom house. Knowing the Sacred Sisters, they will furnish Deke’s house to make it a warm welcome. That’s what we do.
I remember like it was yesterday when Mickey moved into the compound. At first he’d been given a room at the clubhouse, which he still has. I was younger at the time, but I was well versed in the traditions of the club. When the time came and Big had granted Mickey a shared house with Gypsy, the women went all out. I made cookies and helped set up his room, and we made a huge dinner for the entire club. There’s always a reason to celebrate around the compound, and the men never seem to tire of a home cooked meal, booze by the truckload, and whores. It’s like those elements are cemented into their DNA. When Deke finally moves to the compound himself, I will make sure the girls do just the same for him, giving him a warm welcome.
Flipping onto my back, I leave Deke to stew in his deep thoughts. He’s one helluva thinker. Closing my eyes, I relax my body and feel the world slowly melt away.
Chapter Six
Thursday: March 6, 2014
Life is finally returning to some semblance of normal. It’s been nearly two weeks since I’ve settled back in at Marshall’s. Somehow he seems freer and less stressed than I’ve ever seen him. My work is flying by, and his work is less stressful. He’s a tax attorney, by the way. Luckily we’ve turned over a new leaf, falling into a stress-free routine without sex, but things could be worse.
Last weekend we spent a night on the town, dinner and dancing. Dinner at a well-known bistro. Dancing at a fancy uptown club. I wore a black flowy dress that brushed the tops of my feet, and
Marshall donned his usual black suit and tie. His eyes lit up as he realized for a fat pregnant lady I’m quite light on my feet. One of the many talents I picked up from the brothers. Who knew bikers can actually dance? Big and Gunz both can. They taught me, and we all taught my brothers, Jizz and Brew. It scored big time with the ladies. Probably got those two horn dogs laid a time or two.
Posh couples humbly commented throughout the night how beautiful of a couple Marshall and I made and often raved about how radiant I looked, with my glowing skin and high baby bump. I was polite and courteous, offering all the gentlemen and ladies smiles, even if it killed me. It wasn’t like the club my Sacred Sisters had dragged me to. This one was classy, refined, and what I’d call, stuffy. I sipped mineral water, and Marshall drank an entire three hundred dollar bottle of wine, as we flitted about the room socializing with many people Marshall knew.
“So you’re the woman who’s been keeping Marshall from staying late,” a tall, slender, regal woman, with a flawless complexion and high cheekbones said. Her hand slid over Marshall’s shoulder in a strange display of dominance… ownership. I could see straight through her fake façade of pleasantries.
“Margret, this is Eva Cummings. Eva, this is Margret Eisenhower, a colleague of mine” Marshall introduced, gesturing his hand between us, stupidly unaware of her interest. Men are idiots.
She fake laughed like a school girl with a crush feigning innocence, and batted her very fake eyelashes whilst smacking him playfully on the shoulder, “Oh, Marshall,” she gushed, “Just colleagues, nonsense.” Her French manicured hand tightened on his shoulder. “We’re great friends,” Margret spoke looking directly at me. I nodded along, politely smiling, all the while knowing she was a complete catty bitch underneath that royal blue designer dress. A truly backstabbing social climber, if I ever did see one. She made my skin crawl.
They talked business for a while, and her eyes dazzled when she spoke to him. Even though I often found her seething in my direction out of the corner of her eye, it didn’t bother me one bit. I kept my own fake smile until she stepped in front of me and pressed her hand to his chest, laughing and flirting like an idiot. I knew he was coming home with me. I didn’t worry about that in the least, but I needed to prove a point.