“You sure?”
“Yes.”
That was way overstating it. If she pushed hard enough, I’d fold and fuck her. I couldn’t fucking believe I was admitting that. I was Satan, for fuck’s sake; I folded tono one.But here I was, confessing to myself that I couldn’t hold out from her body for too long.
Certainly, when things slowed down, I’d have her back over here and I’d go over to her place and we’d be like rabbits going at it. Certainly, when I got the chance, I’d be burying my dick inside of her—and if we talked about it first, I couldn’t wait to go raw dog in her. Certainly, I’d fantasize about her every fucking chance I got.
Of all the things I found myself stunned to admit, the fact that I couldn’t think of a single woman I’d prefer to fuck said it all. We had a joke in the club that the girl we wanted to fuck the most was the next one, for none of us ever believed in the c-word. Not cunt—commitment.
And yet…
Just like I had in the bedroom, I tore myself away from Hailey before the temptation grew too strong and headed downstairs.
“Come down when you’re ready!” I shouted, well away from the visual of her naked body, far away from any sort of temptation to do things that would distract me from the club’s purpose.
Eventually, she came down, looking somewhat disappointed but on the whole still riding the high of the night before. I stood up, nodded, and led her to the bike. She looked like she was expecting a kiss, but these were the terms of engagement.
For now.
I drove her back to her car in silence. Her grip was just as tight as before, but the lack of physical intimacy had dulled her a bit. Nevertheless, when she got off the bike at the clubhouse, she pulled me in for a kiss.
“Keep giving me what I want,” she said, “and I’ll be more than happy to give you more of whatwewant.”
I caught what she was saying.
“That’s a good girl. Now get out of here.”
I smacked her on the ass and pushed her on her way. If anyone in the clubhouse saw, they didn’t say a fucking word.
* * *
Nearly twelve hours later, I was at my wit’s end. I’d sent Spawn out to find the Black Reapers and had then sent Sonny and a club member with him, but apparently, they only wanted to be found when they wanted to be found. Neither Spawn nor Sonny had any update as of five in the afternoon, and I was damn near ready to give up.
In fact, I had already begun walking back to one of the bedrooms in the clubhouse for a nap when Sonny finally called me.
“They’ll come,” he said. “They want to meet—”
“Bring ‘em to church,” I said.
I knew what I was doing. It would raise eyebrows, but fuck it. I wasn’t in the eyebrow-lowering business; quite the opposite, if anything.
“You sure?”
“You questioning me, boy?” I said, more from exhaustion than actual annoyance.
“No. I’ll have them over in fifteen.”
Damn. It wasn’t enough time to indulge in a nap.
Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Sonny, Spawn, and our club members showed up with the Black Reapers behind them.
“I don’t remember names because I had no reason to before, so you’ll have to remind me.”
“I’m Cole,” the midget said. “This is Butch, that’s Connor.”
Now it was coming back to me. I’d referred to them by, if memory served me right, Midget, Mountain Man, and Tats. If my memory was wrong, fuck it, it didn’t matter.
“Cole, Butch, Connor,” I said, repeating it despite knowing I’d forget it all within a matter of minutes. “Follow me. I need to know everything you know about the King’s Men.”
