“It’s not going to be long and we won’t be far.” She places her hands on her hips and looks around the room. There’s not much here since we just moved in. The bed, a mirror on the wall, two nightstands that BangBang’s wife gave us. We just moved in and now we’re leaving. “What will Judge do with the apartment?”
“It’s ours. We don’t know how long this will take. Could be a month. Could be longer. No point in renting this out to someone if we’re going to be back in a short time.” I repeat the words that Judge said earlier. As she shoulders her large purse and takes another long look around the room, I wonder if I had been close to losing her. Whether the urge to move out of Fortune would have taken her away from me forever. A chill sets into my spine that has nothing to do with the cold outside.
“What’re you thinking about?” She cocks her head to the side, her attention pinned on me instead of the beige walls. I walk over and tug her case off the bed and pick up my own duffel bag.
“I’m thinking that I love you.” Because when it comes down to it, she didn’t leave. She stayed true to me all three years I was in prison. I hurt her by turning away from her during that time. I didn’t want her to see me caged. I didn’t want her to have memories of me being in a jumpsuit with my hands and feet shackled together. And if I’d said that I wanted to stay in Fortune forever, she’d have been beside me the whole way.
A smile touches her lips, curves those plush pillows up. She saunters forward and wraps her arms around me.
“Just thinking that you do?” she teases and nips at my lips. I close my arms around her frame, one suitcase in each hand. “Because I know I love you.”
“You’re a brat sometimes,” I scold laughingly. “And if Abel wasn’t cooling his heels out in the living room, I’d drop the cases and throw you on the bed.”
“He can listen,” she says and drops her hand between my legs to cup my half hard erection.
The ceiling needs painting, I think when I drop my head back to enjoy the caress. “How about I just invite him in?” I joke but when the breath at my neck hitches, I dip down to look at Chels’ face. “What’s this? Didn’t know you were into that.” I have to force her chin up with my finger because she tries to hide a blush.
“I’m not.” She wiggles and I let her go. Shouldering her bag again, she stomps to the door. Once she reaches it, she turns back. “I don’t want anyone but you. It’s just sometimes I look at Annie, Michigan, and Easy and wonder but that’s all it is. Just a thought.”
This is interesting. We’ve had sex in a lot of places and in a lot of positions, but we aren’t very kinky—not threesome kinky or serious BDSM kinky although I’ve enjoyed binding her wrists and spanking her ass a few times. She’s just never expressed an interest in a threesome. “I’m pretty possessive. Not sure I’d want to see you have another dick inside you—not your mouth or your pussy.”
She makes a face. “I wouldn’t want that either.”
“Then what are you thinking about?”
Her chin drops to her chest and she mumbles a little. “Stuff.”
I wait and I swear the air between us turns pink with her embarrassment. Finally she lifts her face and rosy cheeked admits to her little dirty fantasy. “It’s just I wonder what it’d be like if some guy licked me while you were inside of me or if I was riding you in reverse what it’d feel like if he sucked my breasts. Just stupid stuff.”
I stride over and this time I do drop the cases so I can fully embrace her. “That’s not stupid and it might just be within my comfort zone.” Because I’d still be owning her with my cock. That other dude would just be like an add-on.
“I wouldn’t want it with any of your brothers though,” She cautions as if I’m about to open my mouth and call Abel in right now.
“Why not?”
“Dunno. I just don’t feel comfortable looking them in the face afterward and so it’s not going to happen because we don’t want to bring a stranger into a room with us. Besides, it’s just… pillow talk. Nothing serious.” She pushes up on her toes and presses a kiss between my lips.
“Well, it’s turned me on thinking about it and I bet you’re a little wet between the legs.” I grab her ass and lift her flush against my full-blooded hard on. “So you can whisper your fantasy to me tonight when we’re fucking and I’ll make it real good.”
14
CHELSEA
The Misery clubhouse looks like a rundown old lady. There’s a rickety exterior set of stairs leading up to the second floor of the house and the porch that runs along the entire front of the house is slanted to the left. I make a mental note to stay away from that end of the house. It might sink into the ground with a wrong step.
“I’m glad I brought clean sheets with me,” I whisper to Grant as we walk up the wooden stairs. Two of the four steps are rotting and I can see the snow and dirt on the ground beneath them. We’re staying at the Misery clubhouse for just tonight and then I’m in charge of finding a small house for us to rent. It’ll have to have two bedrooms because Abel is staying with us.
He’s been silent as a mouse since we arrived. Grant, despite being younger, is in charge because he’s been a patch longer. Plus, he knows more about what it means to be in a club than anyone, given that Judge is his father and Grant grew up running around bikers and the granary and the club itself.
“Looks like a shithouse, don’t it,” Grant mutters in a low voice.
“This can’t have all happened in the last year,” I answer. The house has years of neglect on her and from what little I’ve heard, the former president has only been gone for a year.
“Nope. Says a lot about the club though.”
If the clubhouse is in this state of disrepair, the club itself isn’t going to be in much better shape. Wrecker presses the doorbell and then steps to the side, pulling me behind him. Abel takes the other side of the door, neither standing in front of it. Their actions tell me all I need to know. Walk lightly around the Misery club and don’t trust anyone.
The door opens and a solid fellow, no more than a few inches taller than my own five foot four, steps out. He looks to the right and left and frowns. “You the guys from Death Lords?”
“Wrecker.” Grant holds out his hand and the shorter man shakes it. “This is Abel and my old lady Chelsea.”
“I’m Mutt. Good to meet you.” He holds open the door. “Come on in. It’s fucking cold out. I hear you’re staying with us?” His words are directed toward Grant, but his eyes flick to me with dismay. The no girls in the boys’ club attitude is written all over his stiff frame. I guess girls are only allowed inside at night?
“Just for the night.”
Junior’s inside the door waiting for us—or at least Grant and Abel. “Hey, man, nice to see you.”
The two give each other a restrained fist bump and thumps on the back. Abel and Junior just shake hands.
“Judge give you a call?” Grant asks.
“Yeah, he was vague on the details.” Junior wants to talk but no one is going to do that in front of me. Other people might be offended by that but I'm not a member of either club and club business belongs between the guys wearing the cuts. No outsiders. Anything Wrecker can share, he’ll do it after. It has a lot less to do with me having a vagina and everything to do with me not bein
g a member of the club. That’s not to say that I think Death Lords are going to open their membership up to women. I’ve only seen one female member of an outlaw MC group. She’s a member of the Hellfire Riders. She’s an Amazon—a literal wonder woman. Tall, beautiful, and deadly enough to take out a man with her fists. I admired the hell out of her and my guess is that if someone of her caliber wanted in on the Death Lords, they’d accept her.
Me? I never aspired to that. I’m happy being an old lady. All I ever wanted was to wear the leather that said “Property of Death Lords” and Grant’s patch. That’s not a super modern ideal but it fit me.
“This is my girl Chelsea. Once we get her settled, we’ll be able to talk.”
“No problem,” Junior says and leads us up the stairs to the left. “We’ve got five guys living here now. Two of them will bunk together tonight. You and Chelsea can have this room and Abel, I have a room down here at the end of the hall.”
Intentionally or not, Junior has us separated. Neither Abel nor Wrecker likes it and both hesitate from moving on.
“Is there a problem?” Junior asks. There’s no obvious challenge in his voice only genuine confusion. That’s enough to have Grant give the go ahead.
“No problem.” I push inside the room and despite the exterior being in a state of disrepair, I’m not fully prepared for the wreck I see. The bed is just a mattress on the floor and it looks like about a dozen orgies have taken place on it. There’s a sheet duct taped around the window and a couple of ashtrays on the floor.
“The fuck?” Grant curses under his breath.
“One night,” I tell him and point to the end of the bed. “Put the bags there and go do your stuff.”
“You going to be okay?” He looks dubious.