Devil (Savage MC--Tennessee 1)

Prologue

Devil

I’ve heard most of my life that a man shouldn’t let his dick lead him. I don’t know who the fuck came up with that, but it sounds like a boring life. Leading with my dick has led me to some of the sweetest pussy a man could hope to touch and quite simply, I’m a man who likes to fuck. I’m also a man, not a boy. I’m almost thirty-six years old and I live my life exactly like I want. I don’t have bullshit that holds me back.

I take what I want.

Sanctimonious assholes can look down on me and how I choose to live my life. They won’t be the first and they probably won’t be the last. While they’re doing that I’m usually swimming with pussy in my bed. That’s my life and I make no apologies. The woman—or women—know the score before they climb in and join the party. They get what they want and I get what I want. It’s a beautiful bargain. The only loyalty I have is to my club.

Until her.

I used to look at bastards like my Vice President Crusher and just stop and wonder how one pussy could wind his dick so much that he’d be willing to give up other women. That kind of bullshit confused the hell out of me. The thought of just having one woman for the rest of my life terrified me and my dick.

Until her.

One look at her and it was like I was struck by lightning. Sounds like a fucking cliché, but it’s true all the same.

I’m standing in the pharmacy aisle at the local K-Mart stocking up on condoms. I might like sticking my cock in a lot of different holes, but I do that shit smart. One, I’m partial to my dick and I’m not sticking it in any snatch where it’s going to come out looking like it’s been stuck into a beehive. Women can look smoking hot on the outside, their pussy can smell like fucking lilacs in the spring—but inside it can be deadly. I will never be caught without a condom and that’s the fucking truth.

I usually order the damn things in bulk, but there’s been hurricanes everywhere and I’m not risking my dick because of a delayed shipment.

I wheel my cart around—only having a cart because I’m a lazy ass motherfucker who wants to lean on it, but also because the boss told me to pick up some beer and shit for the club. Other chapters have open bars and crap. Our group is smaller. There’s a room, there’s a fucking wall of refrigerators and a bar where the alcohol goes. There’s no bartender and we stock that shit ourselves. We’re trying to convince our Prez, Diesel, to get the prospects to do that shit. But the bastard has been dealing with people trying to steal his kid since day one almost, and he’s very picky about who he trusts. Prospects for the club have guarded access at best until they prove themselves, and there’s very few of those. I can’t say as I blame him.

My usual brand of condom is the “Legend.” I don’t mean to brag, but fuck, the name fits my cock. It’s made for big and wide, both of which—thank God—is me. If I was one of these poor bastards born with a pencil dick I probably would have swallowed a bullet by now. Some men can deal with that blow from Mother Nature—hell, maybe they even compensate by learning to use their tongues to bag their women, fuck if I know. I just know I’m not one of those men. I love my dick and it works out well the women do too.

They don’t sell Legends at K-Mart, and that sucks. I find the extra-large, ribbed for her pleasure and extra strength latex and grab those. I throw about ten boxes in the buggy and they slide down until they’re leaning against the three cartons of beer.

“Planning a party?” a soft voice asks me and that’s when it happens. The moment my dick gets so tangled up in a woman the bastard will never get free—which sucks, because my dick and I are attached.

She’s beautiful. A long, silky-haired brunette with eyes the shade of whiskey. Her skin is a golden tan and so smooth I ache to touch it just looking at her. She’s dressed in a white skirt that hugs her curves—and she’s got a lot of them—and falls just at the edge of the prettiest knees I’ve ever seen. Her legs don’t have stockings on, it’s just them, and they’re as golden as the rest of her. A woman who lays out in the sun and lets the rays worship her body. That’s the image that comes to mind and I fight down the urge to adjust myself—evidence my dick has the same image.