Death Lords Motorcycle Club: Chelsea and Wrecker (The Motorcycle Clubs Series) (10 page)

“Shit, you’re a fucking good lay, Chels.”

“I take back my compliment about you being awesome,” she jokes, trying to catch her breath.

I kiss her lips and stroke my hand down her back over her still-red ass. “You like that, sweetness?”

“You know I did,” she murmurs and then buries her head in my chest as if she’s embarrassed about something. With my toe, I flip up a blanket from the end of the bed and cover us.

“I’ve got other things I want to do,” I whisper. “A whole list.”

She snorts. “I’m sure you do.”

“Is it too much to hope that you’ve got a list too?”

“Maybe, but…” She pauses. “What happened tonight?”

I sigh and flop onto my back. “I’m not stupid, Chels. I took him out to the quarry and he’s still breathing, but he’s scared as piss and he’s not going to talk to anyone. But here’s the deal—I’m tired of hiding. I’ll leave the club and we’ll go somewhere else where no one knows us if that’s what you want. Or we tell everyone here that we love each other and we’re together. Those are our choices but hiding is not an option anymore. Someone else is going to find out and you’ll never have enough money to pay all those blackmail threats.”

She thrusts an agitated hand through her hair. “God, I know. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, except Judge.”

“I think you’d be surprised at how supportive he’d be.” I think back on all the cues and hints he’s given to both of us but that neither of us picked up on because we were too focused on keeping our little secret.

She glances at me sharply. “Have you said something?”

“No. I haven’t. But give him a little credit. He loves you and wants you to be happy. You tell him getting my cock shoved inside your wet pussy every night makes you deliriously happy and it’s all good.”

She throws a pillow at me. “Fine. We’ll tell him tomorrow.”

T
he next morning
, I wake up to an empty bed and cool sheets. Frustrated, I hit the pillow where Chels’s head lay last night. This is going to be the last time. Upstairs I find Chels frying bacon and making blueberry pancakes—Dad’s favorite. At my raised eyebrows, she flushes.

“Trying to butter him up?”

“Can’t hurt.”

I lean down for a morning kiss. She hesitates and then gives in. The kiss in the morning light in the middle of the kitchen with my dad somewhere in the house is the sweetest I’ve tasted in a long while. I want to strip her down and take her right there on the table between the glasses of juice and stack of pancakes. Her pussy’d taste real good covered in maple syrup.

“Stop it,” she says when I get a little too frisky with my hands.

With reluctance I drop my hand from her tits and pull my other out from her loose-fitting shorts. The backdoor opens and Judge comes in. I might not be touching her intimately but I’m standing far too close to be considered brotherly. I raise my head and look at him in challenge.

Chels tenses and starts to pull away but I put a hand on her shoulder and draw her back.

“Chels and I have something to tell you,” I start.

“About goddamned time,” he mutters and pulls out a chair. “I’m getting tired of spending my nights at the club so you guys can continue your charade of not fucking every spare minute.” He drops down and starts forking pancakes onto his plate. Neither of us move until he kicks out the chair opposite from him. I take the spatula from Chelsea and push her toward the chair. Dad smirks as she settles in, a little shell-shocked. “I might be forty-two but I still know when people are having sex.”

“You’re not mad?” she says softly.

“That you’re going to be Wrecker’s old lady?”

She nods slightly.

“I was mad that you felt like you had to keep it a secret but I figured, given the hell your mom put you through when you were a kid, you felt like you had reason to be cautious.”

“Sorry,” she says. Her lower lip is trembling and Dad throws me a look of panic. He can’t stand to see her cry. Me neither, although I think I have a little more backbone when it comes to Chels than he does.

“At least it ain’t drugs,” I say cheerfully and turn the pancakes.

T
he welcome home
party goes off without a hitch. Dad was right to have it catered. Chelsea isn’t running around the club making sure that everyone has enough food. Instead she’s sitting on my lap inside near the fireplace.

When we first walked in with her wearing my cut, there was a lot of silence and some shocked faces. But Judge came up and kissed Chels on the crown and slapped me on the back showing his seal of approval. Anyone who had objections after that knew better than to voice them. At least here inside the club, no censure would be thrown her way.

We ate, joked around and I kept my hands off her as best I could so she could settle in. Oh, there were times I’d squeeze her neck or slap her juicy ass or kiss her temple but for the most part, I felt like I was doing a good job of not attacking her. But as the night wore on and people were pairing off, I dragged her over to one of the sofas and sat her down on my lap.

Chelsea didn’t protest much. I knew she got off on watching and there was plenty to get her wet and squirmy tonight. Some guests were partaking of local women. A few guys were timing each other to see who could lick their girls to orgasm the fastest. The current winner looked to be our secretary, Pretty Boy, and some chick I didn’t know. She might have been an out-of-towner.

“Judge needs an old lady,” she says. Her attention isn’t fixed on the floor show but beyond where Helen and another old lady were arguing about something. Chels is right. The club needs an old lady who can corral all the other women so that Chels isn’t handling stuff she doesn’t feel comfortable with, like doling out the petty cash and telling women twice her age what to do.

“I don’t want to talk about Judge,” I say low. She shifts and presses her ass against my already hard cock. “I want to know if I slid my hand up this criminally short skirt whether you’d be wet.”

It’s an invitation and I hold my breath as she considers it. She told me no public sex and I’m down with that but we could definitely mess around.

“You might have to find out for yourself,” she answers. I lift her up and carry her into a dark corner of the granary where she can still see the action but where few could see her.

I sit her between my legs and run my hand up her thighs. The moisture I find painting the tops of her inner thighs makes my mouth water. I’ll finger fuck her until she comes and then we’re finding a room upstairs where I can eat her out until she’s clawing at my shoulders and screaming my name.

“This remind you of something?” I whisper. “Like that first time out at Thomas Eddy’s place. He was fucking his girlfriend and you were so turned on, I thought you’d explode before I touched you.”

She squirms against me, getting aroused by the memory, by my words, by the decadent scene in front of us. I slip my hand under her panties and pet her softness. “I couldn’t wait to touch you. I couldn’t wait to get my hard-as-fuck dick inside your hot little cunt. You liked teasing me, didn’t you.”

“You deserved it. I’d been waiting for you.” She pants.

I slide two fingers inside her and she hitches up a bit to allow me better access.

“First time I laid my mouth on you I knew I’d never be able to taste another. You were made for me. I love everything about you. Your shape, your smell, your taste. The fucking feel of your tight pussy squeezing me like you can’t get enough.” I pump my fingers in and out, curling them forward to find that spongy bit of flesh that sets her off like a rocket. When she jumps in my lap, I know I’ve found it.

“I want you too much,” she moans. Her hands bite into my thighs as she uses me as leverage to grind down on my hand.

“No such thing, sweetness. No such thing.” I bite her neck and she goes off. My hand covers her scream, protecting her from unwanted attention. She pulses against me and coats my hand with her orgasm. I hold her as she comes down from her high.

When she’s done shuddering and shaking I pull my fingers out and lift her in my arms.

“Where we going?”

“Do you care?” I grin.

“Not as long as we’re together.” She wraps her arms around me and ignores the hoots of encouragement that follow us up to the second floor of the granary. Down the corridor I walk until I find an empty room. And then I lay her down and begin our own private party.

T
here’s more
Wrecker and Chelsea in
His Mad Passion
available now at
Amazon.com
.