Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(153)

Fuck.

I got up and started to dress. Yesterday, I hit the Jennings' place, mostly to check in with the crew and see if they were any closer to moving her asshole cousin to safety before the cartel hacked him to bloody bits.

He was a stubborn bastard. Honorable, but rigid as a goddamned mule.

Brass was there, looking pissed as all hell. He told me Stryker and Asphalt chased a suspicious truck outta the fields after midnight. They would've caught up to the fuckers too, if only Beam hadn't taken a wrong turn, and crashed his damned bike through a ratty old farm fence.

I didn't like that sonofabitch, and not just because he'd tried to muscle in on my girl. He wasn't battle hardened. His whole attitude sucked, and I couldn't tell if him or Stryker were more wet behind the ears, too damned new at this for their own good.

Too bad I had to get used to it. I had to deal with their fuckups, their disrespect, their rookie errors while they shared the patch. I thought of it as practice. Long as Blackjack needed manpower, the club was gonna have a lot more greenhorns patched in who really needed more time to learn the ropes.

Their voting rights bothered me more. The club's charter gave the vote to every full patch member. That might be a problem when these kids had to take the grenade between their teeth, and make a damned decision that would affect the whole club.

I sighed, brushed a hand over my sleeping son's forehead, and headed for the bathroom.

I showered quick, fighting like hell to ignore the raging wood between my legs. My dick was gonna fuck a hole through the wall and take me with it some night if I didn't get between her legs soon.

I walked out shirtless, toweling off. Sally stood on the landing, quirking an eyebrow when I stopped and stared at her.

“You know, this really isn't fair,” she said, frustration in her voice.

“What the hell you talking about?”

“Yesterday. You told me not to tease you unless we're going all the way...well, I want the same thing. You could put on your clothes before walking through the house.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “No fucking way, babe. There's a difference between teasing and giving up the chase. Long as I've got a pair of balls between my legs, I'll never stop showing off the goods, making you fucking want this.”

She threw her hands out and shook her head, trying not to crack a smile. “Whatever, Travis. Just bring Caleb down for breakfast.”

Before she could turn and get a step away, I ripped off the towel, showing her the mean, throbbing dick that hadn't gone away all morning. “That's what you get for using my real name, babe. Take a good look. I don't wanna hear that shit unless you're moaning it in bed. Preferably later tonight. I'm Roman every second I'm not in you.”

She watched me, shock glimmering in her eyes. I wrapped one fist around my dick and gave it a quick pump, smiling as her jaw dropped.

Yeah. You'd better fucking want this, I thought. I'm turning into a maniac every second I'm not blowing my load inside you, woman.

Let those worries go. Let's fuck tonight.

Fuck me like my old lady. Ride my dick like you missed it for two goddamned years. Fuck me and don't look back.

I'll bite your little lip 'til you come on my cock. We'll fuck it all out 'til you can't remember how to breathe.

Her hand trembled a little as she hit the staircase and started down, desperate to get away.

“I'll have the kid downstairs as soon as I'm dressed!” I growled after her, reluctantly throwing the towel back around my waist. Fuck, this sexual tension shit was killing me, minute by minute.

Probably for the best she beat a retreat. I would've come like a young buck getting his first taste of a woman's touch if her hand wrapped around my cock just then – let alone anything else.

I had to eat and get the day started. Blackjack wanted me at the clubhouse to debrief with some Prairie Devils dudes coming down from Montana. They were covering our northern flank, making sure the cartel assholes didn't slip past and start fucking up supplies.

They'd always be Prairie Pussies to me, but I guess the bastards hadn't been half bad since we buried the hatchet between the clubs to fight the Mexicans. They'd helped us take down that destructive fucking psycho, Fang, and put Blackjack in as President with me as Enforcer.

A man couldn't argue with results.



It was just four of us in the meeting room. The Prez, the Veep, me, and the Devils' own giant, a big boy almost as tall and wide as me named Tank.

“You sure you can trust all your guys to collect the heavy arms?” Tank asked, staring at the Prez and then looking down at Brass and me.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Blackjack stubbed out his smoke in the ash tray and flattened his hands on the table, giving our guest the evil eye.

“Lotta rumors about rats in your club. Don't know how the hell the cartel could embed any fuckers in an MC. That's what Blaze thinks, and the Prez knows the lay of the land better than I do here.”