Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)
Truthfully, if I want my brothers to take a vote, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to patch her. The few days here and there she’s spent around my club won’t be enough for them to decide if they trust her or not. The fact that she’s a public person who has a lot of eyes on her and will continue to do so in the future won’t exactly count in her favor for a club that prefers to stay under the radar. Lots of old ladies get real wrapped up in whether or not they get a patch.
Maybe it’s a blessing that Shelby doesn’t seem to care.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Shelby
This is the most relaxed I’ve been in days. In fact, I want to take this moment and tuck it in my pocket to remember the next time I’m stressed out. Sitting on Rooster’s lap, the way he can’t stop touching me, the possessive way he keeps one big hand clasped on my thigh like some sort of warning to every other man—and woman—in the room is a jolt of queen energy straight to my head.
I snuggle my head against his shoulder, stopping to kiss his cheek. He crooks his neck to peer down at me. “You all right?”
“Perfectly content.” I stroke my hand over his beard and he dips closer to kiss the inside of my wrist. Laughter trills out of me. “That tickles.”
He kisses his way up my arm and I twine my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until our lips crash together in a hot, wet mashing of lips.
The heat from before we were interrupted in Ice’s office returns with a vengeance. We’re tucked into the corner, Rooster’s arm trapped between my back and the chair’s cushions. Doesn’t slow him down. He slides his free hand from my thigh to my hip and up my side. I’m panting and really close to throwing the rest of my fucks away and begging him to relieve the pressure between my thighs here and now by any means necessary.
He pulls away and studies me for a second. “Let’s go to our room.”
In my eagerness to scoot off his lap and sprint down the hallway, I elbow him in the chin. “Shoot! I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine.” He grabs my hips and sets me upright on his thighs. I slide back against his hardness and slowly twitch my hips from side to side.
“Careful.” He groans against my ear and slides his hand over my shoulders to grip my chin and turn my face toward him for another kiss. We’re not making it to our room. Nope. I loop my arms around his neck and arch my back, twisting to get better access to his mouth. He slides his hands over my ribs and gently cups my breasts. “You don’t want to do this here, chickadee,” he whispers.
I drag my eyelids open. What we’re doing is pretty innocent compared to the surrounding activity. At least four girls are laid out on the pool table with brothers’ heads nestled between their thighs. Across from us, a girl’s kneeling on the back of the couch straddling another brother’s face while he clutches her ass cheeks, pulling her closer to his greedy mouth.
“Uh, your brothers sure are in a giving mood tonight.” I mean, fair is fair. Last time, it was mostly girls on their knees servicing the guys or straight up screwin’ on every piece of furniture. Who knew equality could be found in a biker clubhouse?
Rooster groans, but not in the sexy way he did earlier.
Shonda bounces over to us in nothing but a fabulous red satin bra and panty set with her hand outstretched. “Here, Shelby! I have a feeling you’ll need one of these!” She thrusts what looks like a small metal clamp with pink rubber grips in my hand. “Rooster, you get your card from Boots?”
“No. It’s—”
“Be right back!” she shouts over her shoulder, disappearing into the crowd again.
I inspect the object in my hand. “Why am I holding a,” I peer closer, not sure I’m seeing correctly in the weak lighting, “heart-shaped hole puncher?”
“Fuck.” He scrubs his hands over his face. The movement jostles me forward. I stand and turn to face him.
“What’s wrong?”
He crooks a finger. “Come here.”
I shuffle closer and he clamps a hand around my thigh, dragging me into his lap again.
“Here ya go!” Shonda thrusts what looks like a pink index card with a calendar printed on one side into Rooster’s hands.
Pussy Patch 30 Day Challenge is printed above the calendar.
“Good luck,” Shonda coos in a knowing way, patting me on the shoulder before taking off again.
“What…what is that?”
“Nothing.” He folds the card and tucks it in his pocket.
“What’s a pussy patch?”
He briefly closes his eyes. “Something stupid they came up with in church.”
I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for some details. Around us, more shrieks, moans, and orgasm roars explode.