Blood & Bones: Judge (Blood Fury MC 3)

Chapter Two

Judge gave his girl a little gas and cursed himself for riding his sled to work today. The weather could go either way in December and today was definite nutsicle weather. In truth, it was time to park the Softail for the winter. Which sucked. But in northern Pennsylvania, it was reality.

At least all the Fury members could park their sleds inside a huge shed on the farm. It gave him a little comfort to have it nearby in case of an unseasonably warm winter day since he preferred his sled over his Expedition. Unfortunately, he needed his Ford for two reasons. Bad weather and for hauling around the dogs.

Usually their American Bulldogs, Jury and Justice, were with him and Deke at Justice Bail Bonds during the day, so one or the other had to drive a cage to haul their hairy, farting asses. Most of the time, Deke got stuck doing it.

Today was one of those days since he’d had an itch to straddle his big girl even if the weather was as cold as a witch’s tit.

The rumble of his straight pipes rattled the shop windows along the strip mall as he headed through the parking lot toward Walmart at the opposite end of the shopping center. He needed to grab another box of wraps.

Since going up that mountain, he’d been burning through them lately because he’d been burning through sweet butts.

There wasn’t a lot of pussy hanging around The Barn yet. A half dozen or so.

Usually when one showed up and stuck, she told her friends. Which meant soon there’d be more. Until then, unless he searched elsewhere, he was stuck with who they had. And he really didn’t want to search elsewhere.

That could get fucking sticky.

Sweet butts knew the deal. Some hang-arounds did, too, though they held out more hope of sinking their claws into a brother and wearing a “Property of” cut.

If Judge looked for pussy outside of the MC, he’d want to keep it casual and usually women had a problem with casual. Might start off that way, saying they’d be fine with the arrangement. Until they weren’t.

And then it got to the sticky part. The part where it took an industrial strength scraper to scrape them off.

So, for now, if it wasn’t a sweet butt who knew her place within the club, then it was his fist. Or his Fleshlight, which he preferred over his fist, sometimes even over pussy.

No need to kick anyone out of his bed after busting a nut into that. No wraps needed, either. Just a little soap and warm water for cleanup.

But still... He needed wraps because Whip’s ex-girlfriend Billie, who decided to stick around after Whip tossed her cheating ass to the curb, had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse for tonight.

And, fuck it, he jumped on it because Billie wasn’t a clinger. She’d stick around only long enough for them both to get off a couple times, and then she’d jet before even having to be told to get the fuck out. She also kept her pussy clean. That was a big fucking stickler for him and had been ever since he’d been sixteen.

Only problem with Billie was, she wasn’t Judge’s type at all, so she had to work a little harder with her mouth to get him ready. Good thing she sucked dick like a pro.

She had short black hair, loads of crazy makeup to give her that dark, goth look, and her clothing was the same dark style. She had all kinds of piercings—which Judge kind of liked, especially the ones in her tongue, hood and nipples—and she liked it rough.

The last part he didn’t mind. To a point.

He wondered how Whip met her. Because he didn’t seem the type to be into that, either.

Judge mentally shrugged. He was pretty fucking sure some of his brothers had some hidden kinks. He didn’t give a fuck as long as they weren’t directed at him. While he didn’t mind double-tagging a woman, he wasn’t taking dick in his mouth or getting it up the ass himself.

Judge turned his sled down an aisle and spotted an empty parking spot.

That wasn’t all he spotted.

A silver piece of shit CRV with New York plates.

Behind it was a woman who was definitely his type.

He didn’t like little.

He didn’t like petite.

He needed tall and solid—since he was big himself—and lots of flesh to hold onto as he pounded it out. He loved to grab handfuls of tits and ass and to shove his face between thick thighs. If he could still breathe while eating pussy, she was too thin for him.

Fuck. Blondie was what he’d been hankering for. Not someone like Billie.

And though he was there to pick up wraps, he doubted the woman with the overflowing cart of groceries would be willing to share one with him.