Blood & Bones: Whip (Blood Fury MC 11)

The opportunities she found with Whip’s brothers made the sadist happy. It also made some of his brothers happy once they stopped crying when she was done with them.

Once she was no longer a regular in Whip’s bed, he stopped hooking up with her. He realized what he wasn’t into and discovered he preferred the more accommodating ways of some of the softer sweet butts. The ones who wouldn’t leave bruises, welts and brush burns.

Whenever he could and she was available, he had hooked up with Lizzy. But only when Ozzy wouldn’t be breathing down his neck about it.

He understood why Oz got so bent when Liz left to be with the Dirty Angel named Crash. The older brother had let a good thing slip through his fingers. However, in the end the Original won the lottery with Shay. The introvert balanced the outspoken Ozzy perfectly.

Liz had been the only sweet butt older than Whip. That was when he found he preferred a woman on the more mature side, too. Unlike Saylor, Syn, Reilly, Tessa or any of the remaining sweet butts.

Fuck, now the women he preferred were more like Chelle and Reese. Even Cassie and Shay.

Those were the women he had fantasies about. But he’d take that shit to his grave. He wasn’t a dumb fuck with a death wish.

He liked a woman who had experience but wouldn’t leave a hurting on him after they were done. There’d been times after spending the night with Billie, he could barely walk. The woman didn’t know how to be or do soft.

Whip wanted soft, but he also didn’t want spineless.

Even Red and Syn exuded power under their quiet exterior. Survivors. Both of them. And they weren’t the only two in the sisterhood.

Quiet power turned him on, but he didn’t like to be overpowered. Like Jet and Reese could probably do to their men.

Though, Whip had seen some of the power exchanges between Jet and Rook. Neither were submissive and he could imagine how hot the sex was between them. The bed probably combusted.

Whip wanted that type of fire, but not for it to leave scars.

For fuck’s sake, he needed to fucking concentrate and stop his drifting thoughts. The topic was important.

“We take their kids, it’ll also put all of ours at risk again. We wanna gamble with that?” Judge asked, standing tall next to Trip.

Sig paused in front of the club’s sergeant at arms and he swore the rest of the room took a step back when the VP screamed in Judge’s face, “You’re the goddamn enforcer! When the fuck you gonna act like it?”

Judge wasn’t having any of that bullshit. “You want those kids out, we’ll get those fuckin’ kids out, Sig. Why the fuck d’you think Trip called this goddamn meetin’?”

Sig was lucky the Grumpy Green Giant didn’t just haul off and pop him in the mouth.

Trip clapped his hands sharply. “Christ almighty! We start fightin’ amongst ourselves then we’re no better than the fuckin’ Originals. Yeah?” He glanced around. “Am I right?”

A bunch of yeahs rose up.

“Then let’s put our goddamn thinkin’ caps on instead of snappin’ at each other like we’re Cujo.”

Whip wondered where that little shit was. Maybe Rook had left the three-pound hairy crocodile with Jet since both Jury and Justice, Deacon and Judge’s American bulldogs, were present.

The Chihuahua mistakenly thought he could kick those bulldogs’ asses.

He was wrong.

The little fucker was lucky that both Jury and Justice were well-trained and would release the bastard on command every time they had enough of Cujo’s shit.

One good shake and the squeaky toy would be a goner.

Truthfully, Whip would not miss him.

“We need to put an end to this—to them—once and for all. Tired of talkin’ about it. Now’s the time for action,” Deacon spoke up. Deke not only had his ol’ lady Reese to protect but now his baby boy, Dane.

“It’s been months and the feds haven’t come out of the woodwork. Even Jet’s said nothin’s been mentioned in the Bryson household about Hillbilly Hill. That means it’s up to us to get the job done,” Rook said. “Deke’s right, time to put a period on the end of their sentence.”

“Speakin’ of sentences, don’t want any of us catchin’ one,” Trip reminded them all. “That’s my goal. To keep everyone upright, breathin’ and also out of the joint.”

“We talked about blowin’ up that fuckin’ mountain. Think we seriously need to consider that,” Ozzy said from where he sat on a stool at the end of the bar.

Sig stepped in front of Trip and faced his brother. “Agreed. That’s our best option.”

“And how the fuck we gonna blow up a goddamn mountain?” Trip shouted. “Anybody? Does anybody in this goddamn room know how to do that? I sure as fuck don’t. And, news fuckin’ flash, I’m the only one in this damn room with any military experience.”