The Filthy Few (Iron Disciples MC) (22 page)

“Yeah, you definitely had some of that shit.”

He comes around the bar and pulls out a stool for me. “Here
you should sit here and I’ll pour you a club soda.”

“Club fucking soda? Are you for real Prospect?”

Heads turn. I do believe I may have shouted that last bit.

“Okay here, here, have a beer.”

“A beer? I want that op…opium Thai…joint…What the fuck did
you call that shit?”

“Having a good time Morgan?”

I turn around and there is my old man… my biker boyfriend Cade…Cade…something.
It just occurs to me that I don’t even know his last name. Or maybe I do and
just forgot it. At this point anything is possible.

“Yes as a fatter of mact…am I a good…This shit is real
fucking strong darling.”

Cade turns on the cute prospect. “What the fuck did you give
her?”

“I ain’t given her shit. She was way fucked up before she
came over here. That’s why I sent Corky over to find you.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“Take me to bed President.” I say. All of a sudden I am
fucking hoooorrrrny!

“Oh I’ll take you to bed but not for the reason you’re
looking for babe.”

“To bed with you!” I exclaim.

Cade’s strong hands take mine and he leads me to the far
side of the clubhouse and to a side door. We go through and down a long narrow
hall past a number of doors with strange names on them. When we get to the last
one he opens it. It’s a small bedroom with a neatly made bed along the far
wall.

“You’ll be safe here babe,” Cade says, patting the bed for
me to take a seat.

I sit down and he kneels in front of me and proceeds to take
off my boots while I fumble with my top. Trouble starts when my fingers fail to
navigate the clasp on my bra. Frustrated I start pulling and tearing at the
lacy material until Cade’s strong hands take over. But instead of taking it off
he just puts my hands at my side and grabs my legs to swing them over onto the
middle of the bed. It appears we have different ideas about what is going to
happen next. My pussy’s saying fuck me and my brain is saying…well; fuck me,
with an altogether different emphasis.

“Just go to sleep baby. Close your eyes and let sleep take
you. I’ll come join you soon as I can, but don’t wait up.”

“There are whores out there old man…fucking whores…”

“And there are there for brothers who don’t have an old
lady. Those of us who are lucky enough to have someone like you, we don’t need
whores. You’re all I need baby, I promise.”

“Yeah…wait till one starts rubbing her smelly gash on your
crotch and you’ll forget that promise you just made.”

“And you’re high as a kite. You’re not gonna remember a
thing in the morning babe.”

I think we talked more but I have no memory of it. When I
closed my eyes the room just started spinning round and round and kept at it
until I woke up with the sun in the morning.

I stretch out my hand to cuddle with Cade but I just come up
with air. I roll over and it seems that he hasn’t even been to bed. The covers
on his side aren’t even ruffled. I glance over at the clock on the nightstand; it’s
almost noon!

I was sure I’d be totally hung over this morning but I
actually feel fine except for my leg which aches. I get out of bed and slowly
get dressed. I am so fucking tired of this clunky cast and I still have four
more weeks to wear it. At least I can ride on the back of Cade’s bike otherwise
I’d be back at the clubhouse board as shit. It was a great party last night and
for a while I even forgot I’m still a gimp. In fact I believe I may have been
using more of my leg than my crutches, especially after I smoked that weird
bud. My whole body kind got all warm and numb. I really don’t have a sense of
what happened last night either. It’s all a big blur.

The next couple days are rough on the back of Cade’s bike.
The only saving grace is that I get to be with my man. Stacy seems awfully cozy
with Cade’s Sargent at Arms, Shooter. I never figured her to be the type that’s
into bad boys. All in all, it was a six day road trip and when we finally get
back to the clubhouse I am totally exhausted and ready to sleep in a nice bed
with Cade. Too many of the last 5 nights I went to bed alone and woke up alone.
Cade’s priority was securing his club’s future which meant he had to patch over
as many guys as he could. When we got back our ranks had swelled sizably.

We get back around ten in the morning and as usual Cade has
meeting in the inner sanctum. It’s his version of a war party. I almost forgot
during the patch over road trip that we may be having a war with the Outkasts.
I don’t see him again that day until late.

I know that look! Cade and his inner circle of brothers have
just come out of a long-ass meeting and are headed for the bar; not my man
though. He walks up to Stacy and me and takes me hand in his.

“Walk with me.” He says softly.

Something is up and I know better than to question him right
here so I get up, give Stacy an apologetic smile and follow my man out of the
clubhouse. We walk across the yard and to the apartment that Stacy and I
cleaned up in after the shootout. This is serious. My heart starts to pick up
as Cade leads me to one of the back bedrooms. In other circumstances I would
have been excited about being in this room with him but today is different. I
don’t know what’s going down but I’m pretty damn sure I’m not gonna like it.

He leads me to the bed and sits down. He pats the bed next
to him, indicating I should take a seat beside him. When I do he takes both of
my hands in his and breaks the news.

“We have come up with a way to avoid an all-out war with my
brother and the Outkasts.”

My heart skips a beat. “Well that’s great!” I exclaim. “For
a second there I thought you had bad news or something. You’re acting all
serious.”

“It’s not good news Morgan. You’re not gonna like what we
have resolved to do, but it’s the only way we can stop this war before it
happens and save the most lives in the process.”

“Stop trying to rationalize it. Just tell me what the fuck you’re
going to do!”

“I’m going to meet my brother in a fight to the death.”

Before I even know what I’m doing I jump up off the bed and
whirl around to face him. My heart is pounding in my chest, my fists are
clenched, and if I had a club I’d smack him across his fool head!

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

I advance on him, drawing my fist back, fully intending to
deck him.

“What would you have me do? Sacrifice all my brothers just
to save my own skin? What kind of a leader would I be then?”

“A fucking live one!” I shoot back at him. “Do you see
president Obama in Afghanistan with an AK fucking 47? No his soldiers do!”

“They actually use an M16 bu-”

And that’s when I punch him! Right smack in his fucking
nose. His head rocks back and forth like a bobble head doll. I had no idea I
could punch that hard. Apparently he didn’t either. To his credit, he didn’t
strike back. He just blinks his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets his air out.
That’s some fucking composure he’s got!

“Why does it have to be you?” I ask. “Why can’t someone
champion you?”

“I’m no king, and this isn’t Game of Thrones. This is the
biker way Morgan and it’s the only way either club will recognize it.”

“But does it have to be to the death? Why can’t it be like a
boxing match or even one of those cage fighting matches; those are pretty
brutal. No one would doubt your prowess after beating him in a cage fight.”

“Are you kidding me?” He answers, beginning to get pissed
off. “You would equate a match without weapons and referees with a no rules,
knife fight to the death? Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”

“I’m not. You and your fucking testosterone are gonna get
you killed or at least maimed for life!”

“Maimed? You’ve seen my body and you act like a few scars are
something to be afraid of or avoided.”

“I’m not talking about a few benign scars here. You could be
permanently injured and you’re fighting your own brother for fuck’s sake! How
do you justify that?”

“I have to weigh the life of one man, NO MATTER WHO IT IS,
against the lives of dozens of others, maybe even more. It’s no contest!”

“I would never go against family.” I reply.

“You can make that statement
only
because you’ve
never been forced into that situation. You should withhold making statements
about things you don’t know anything about!”

“But I know me! And I know I would find a way out of it. I
would never let myself be put in a situation where I had to kill my family. You
need
to find another answer before you murder your brother! I can’t be
with a man who cares so little about family!”

“Dammit! You have no idea what you ask. You want me to
condemn men who have families of their own; wives…children. Are you sure that’s
what you want? ‘Cause I can beat this guy. I’m not gonna die and I’m not going
to get permanently maimed. Hopefully I’ll come out of it with a nice scar for
my troubles.”

“I can’t believe you’re talking like this. What the fuck is
going on with you?”

“Look Morgan, I don’t have much time here. Do you want to
spend our last hours fighting about something that cannot be changed? If that’s
what you want I’m outta here. I don’t want to spend my time fighting with you.
I’m gonna have to do enough fighting in a few hours from now.”

I open my mouth to bite his head off and stop myself. Do I
have to win this argument? My arguing with him may be taking his focus away
from the things he needs to be concentrating on. As pissed as I am, I do not
want him to die…or even get a new scar. I’ve gotten used to the one’s he’s got.
Those are fine without any new ones fucking up his canvas (skin). So I take a
deep breath and will myself to relax.

“I’m sorry…the last thing you need right now is me clucking
around you like a mother hen. You do what you have to do and I’ll do what I
have to do. But tonight…we both need tonight Cade.”

I go back over to the bed and sit down beside him. He smells
good and my body is already beginning to respond to his. And that’s it. I can’t
even be near him without my body betraying me. And it really is a betrayal.
Here I was prepared to be angry and never talk to him again and now my pussy’s
doing the talking for me. In that I am like a guy thinking with his little head
rather than the big one. I have to give him credit though. He waits for me to
make the first move. He waits to make sure I am okay with what is happening between
us and I respect him for that. But right now I just want his cock inside me. I
decide to take the direct approach and rest my hand on his growing bulge. He
responds immediately; with both heads. It’s such a turn on to see how men react
to me, and specifically how he reacts to me. Two seconds after I make contact
he’s splitting his seams and if I don’t get that cock out soon he’s gonna tear
himself on his zipper.

Our mouths find each other while my hands hurry to unbuckle
his belt and zip down his jeans. This time our passion is laced with an extra
dose of heat due to the anger that’s still in the air. He’s always been a good
kisser, but not a super aggressive one. Tonight he takes me from mouth to
pussy, hard, fast, and completely! And this time I am equally aggressive right
back at him. I’m not interested in making love, and I’m not interested in any
tenderness or soft whisperings in the dark. I’m gonna fuck the shit out of him
(not literally of course). He gets the idea.

The top button of my jeans pings off the mirror over the
dresser. The skin around my neck burns as he rips the tee right off my body.
I’m no weakling either and I leave my mark on his back as I pull his shirt up
over his head. I didn’t mean to do it, but when I finally got his fucking boot
off his left foot I sent it sailing in no particular direction, which ended up
in the middle of the mirror that my button just bounced off of. Someone’s going
to be pissed about that. I take the other boot off and draw my arm back to
throw then catch myself. Do I really need to do this? Fuck yes I do! The steel
toe actually puts a hole in the plaster wall by the front door.

He shreds his own briefs then grabs me by the waist and
throws me down to the floor and somehow keeps my head from hitting the hard
wood surface. I was thinking bed, but this kind of sex needs a hard wood floor
more than it does a soft down comforter and a Posturepedic mattress. I need to
be ridden, fucked, dare I say used and abused and put away wet and fucking
exhausted. In that we are like minded.

He fucks the fear out of my mind. He fucks away the anger I
was feeling towards him and crushes my desire to hurt him. I can taste blood on
my tongue and I’m not sure it’s he who bit me or I bit him. It’s all becoming
one jumbled hot and sexy mess. When I finally cum if fucking rocks my world!
Just when it feels so damn good I can’t stand it he starts all over again.
Where the fuck is the recharge time that men are supposed to need between
blasting off? Apparently no one ever told him about that.