This was why he stayed away from the brothers with all their pranks. His bike was his baby. His pride and joy, and now they’d messed with it. It was going to take him some time to get the damn glue off, and they’d tied pink ribbons to his handlebars as well.
Shaking his head, he climbed on the damn thing and revved it up. The purr of the engine helped to calm him. The club didn’t need to arrive at his wedding bloody. Even though it would certainly send a good sign to their enemy.
He had a feeling Abriana would be a laughingstock.
When it came to her, he didn’t even know why he cared about her so much. He was never going to have feelings for her.
One, she was too young, and he was thirty-five years old. For another, he didn’t do relationships, or care about what women wanted.
Having a wife was never on his list of things to do. He rarely knew how to talk to a woman, let alone anything else.
When a whore was in his bed, he used her for his own satisfaction. With his messed-up face, he knew no one wanted him, or even cared to be with him. They only saw his face, and often, women were more interested in making sure they didn’t have to see him when they fucked him.
He’d become quite partial to a nice piece of ass.
They presented their ass to him, and he spread the cheeks wide, and often fucked their anus rather than their pussy.
Besides, most of the club brothers had already used most of the sluts that hung around them.
Smokey came out, climbed on his bike, and they all rounded up in their places. Hunter took his position next to Smokey, while he took the other side, being sure to stay close.
Even though they were heading toward a wedding, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t encounter trouble. The club had many enemies, some justified, some not. For the most part, they ended their enemies. They were not a club to give second chances.
If people fucked with them, they died. Simple as that. Their club was fucking law, and even the cops knew to step aside for them.
Riding out of the clubhouse, Ugly Beast followed Smokey, with the brothers at his back. The children they passed on the street waved at them. A few of their mothers rushed out, covering their eyes as if trying to stop them from seeing sin and hoping they wouldn’t grow up the same.
Assholes.
Most of the time, their daughters were hanging out at the club to see what all the danger was about.
He didn’t mind. It was when their boyfriends or dads thought it was their place to intervene.
Gunning his engine, he picked up speed to keep pace with Smokey. The open road was calling to him, begging for him to ride it.
He fucking loved to ride.
It was the one time he actually felt free. No one here was king. They were all victims to the drug of freedom.
The fire that lit them up from the inside was begging to be unleashed.
He basked in that shit.
At any point they could be killed.
Taken out.
Destroyed.
Ruined.
It was his job to keep them together, to be the one to make sure they were standing. The scars on his face and body each told a story. There were not many scars he held from a single incident.
There was a time he was considered the sexiest member in the MC. Perfect, flawless face, pretty-boy looks. His blue eyes calling to the bitches.
They would seek him out on a Friday night to fuck. He used to have a harem of women, ready and willing.
That had all changed with his face. He saw the true women now, not the faces they liked to pretend to the world.
When Smokey slowed down, part of Ugly Beast wanted to keep on going, to keep on feeling the wind on his face, the freedom spreading through him. Instead, he turned into the driveway of one of the biggest country houses he’d ever seen.
At first, he thought Smokey had gotten the address wrong, but he recognized a few of the guards.
Also, Garofalo was waiting for them on the doorsteps. He’d demanded a meeting before heading to the church.
Church.
The brothers were each going to be forced to sit inside a church for a fucking sermon and wedding.
It pissed him off, but he had a feeling Smokey wanted this.
Either way, his loyalty to his president and the club meant he’d play whatever dance Smokey wanted.
****
“You’ve got to just lay there and let him have his way,” Carina said.
Abriana sat in the bride’s rooms at the church, listening to nonstop sex talk. Only, this wasn’t the kind of sex talk her father’s ex-mistress had told her about.
This was brutal.
“They all want one thing, and that’s what’s between your legs. You’ve got to learn to spread your legs and think about something else. It’s what a lot of women have been doing for a lot of years. You can do it as well.” This came from her Aunt Hilda.