Isa giggled and pretended to be embarrassed, but Rock knew she was loving every peck Charlie was bestowing upon her. "She's telling us you want a Harley, dude."
A big grin broke over his face. "I've been thinking about getting a motorcycle." He kissed her neck again when her brow furrowed. "Not sure about a Harley."
"What the fuck? A Harley's the only bike to get. Man, if you get a fuckin' rice burner, I'm going to have to act like I don't know you." Rock laughed when concern crossed Charlie's face. "Dude, I'm just shittin' you. But Harleys are the best machines. When my brothers come over later, you can check them out. Some of them are beyond wicked. They're the best on the market."
"If you ever need to supplement your income, you could get a job at the Harley-Davidson showroom," Clotille said, a smirk on her lips.
"You little vixen, I outta spank your ass for that." He threw her a lascivious grin, and her eyes darted to Isa and Charlie. He glanced over and saw their discomfort as they fidgeted in place, pretending to be busy wiping imaginary crumbs off the counters. He guffawed and then rose from the table. "I'll put the pots on the propane burners." He swaggered out the door.
A few hours later, the crawfish boil was in full swing as the Insurgent brothers stuffed their faces with the star of the event, along with boiled potatoes, spicy sausages, boiled corn on the cob, mushrooms, and crusty toasted French bread slathered in butter. The multi-colored paper lanterns Rock had hung up earlier under the eaves of the patio's roof swung in the night breeze, casting a warm glow on the lawn. Cajun music interspersed with Zydeco and hard rock as everyone enjoyed the chance to eat good food, share stories and memories, and guzzle a bunch of beer.
"I can't fuckin' believe I'm eating mudbugs," Axe said as he popped another piece of crawfish in his mouth.
"We're eating bugs? What the fuck do you serve in the south?" Chas laughed and Rock joined him when Isa's face fell.
"Biggest damn bugs I've ever seen. But they're tasty as hell," Wheelie joined in. "Throw me another can of beer so I can wash them down."
"Actually, they're not really bugs." Isa stood with her arms wrapped around her. "They're freshwater crustaceans."
The men stared at her, then burst out laughing. "Well, that fuckin' cleared everything up," Bear said.
"They're like small lobsters." Isa, red-faced, looked at Rock, who was smiling at her. "Roche. Help me out here."
"They're freshwater lobsters, so you fuckers are eating high-class grub." He looked at Dogface and the other officers of the Devil's Legions MC. "Am I right?"
"Fuck yeah. These fuckers are the best." Dogface slurped the meat out of the shell, the buttery juices running down his chin. The other Devil's Legions bikers grunted their approval.
"Ma'am," Catfish, the VP of the Devil's Legions, said to Isa, "this is one of the best fucking crawfish boils I've ever tasted." The rest of his brothers voiced their agreement.
A big grin spread over Isa's face. "Well, thank you. I didn't do it all alone. Clotille helped me. You can taste how delicious her spicy blend is."
Dogface winked at the women. "You both did a kickass job. We appreciate being invited over."
The Insurgents agreed that the crawfish, mudbugs, freshwater lobster, or whatever the hell they were called, were lip-smacking good. And they ate a ton of food. Rock hadn't seen his brothers eat that much since the charity poker run they'd done six months before. It gave him a warm feeling to see his brothers gathered at his sister's house sharing in his heritage. It made everything come full circle: being with Isa, his niece and nephew, Clotille, and his brothers.
The talk turned to a biker's favorite topic, motorcycles. An excited loudness hovered over the backyard as anything related to Harleys and riding was discussed. Rock noticed Charlie had pulled his lawn chair closer to the group, his eyes shining. Poor bastard's got the bug. Isa's going to kill him. But he knew Charlie would get a bike. He had to. When the need to ride grabbed ahold of a person, there was no letting go.
As the men talked, Rock watched Clotille go into the kitchen, and he jumped up and followed her. When he walked in, she was rolling her hips and swinging her arms to one of the songs playing outside as she kicked one of the cupboard doors shut. He caught her in his arms and whirled her around as he danced with her in the kitchen and family room. She felt so light in his arms, and she smelled of vanilla, cayenne pepper, and sweet paprika. He pressed her closer as they two-stepped around the room.
Clotille laughed breathlessly and he put his hand behind her head, holding it while he covered his mouth over hers, kissing her deep and hard. Then they were all lips, teeth, tongue, and hands as they groped each other fiercely like it was their last time together.
"You've been driving me wild since you started cooking, chérie," he breathed against her shoulder as he licked, sucked, and bit it. "Every fuckin' time I see you, or even think about you, I get so hard. What're you doing to me, woman?" He sucked on her lower lip and she moaned, melding her body into his until there was no space between them.
She caressed his face and locked her gaze with his. Her green eyes shimmered with desire, love, and fire, pulling him in deeply. It was as though he were inside her, feeling everything she was, and they were one. It was damn mind-blowing, and it was something he'd never felt with any other woman. She did things to him with her eyes that most women couldn't do with their entire body.
With an intensity burning through him like an inferno, he filled her mouth with his tongue, pushing in as deep as he could. It was as though he wanted her to swallow him whole. She whimpered and he swallowed it, their breaths passing through each other. "Je t'aime, ma chérie," he murmured against her lips. "I really love you." And he did. He always had. It'd been pushed down and buried by bitterness, cynicism, and hatred, but it'd still been there, just waiting to be revitalized.
"I love you too. I never stopped loving you. Ever." She peppered kisses across his face, murmuring, "Je t'aime, cher," over and over. "I want to tell you something special even if it makes you mad."
"Ssh … chérie. We've got time to talk. Tonight is for love only." He cupped her ass and squeezed it, his hardness rubbing against her as he grunted and pushed his fingers into her flesh.
"Is this the entertainment?" Henri's voice boomed from behind them.
Rock looked over Clotille's shoulder. "Only if you watch." He then kissed his red-faced woman. "Don't let him bother you, chouchou," he whispered. "He's always been an asshole."
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your lady, or is it just a one-night thing?"
Rock growled deeply from his throat and the veins in his throat pulsed. "Shut the fuck up! Why the fuck are you still standing there? You aren't getting enough action from your woman?" He heard a woman's gasp and looked more closely at his brother. Behind him stood a blonde woman with a long face that was heavily made up. Her false eyelashes made her look like Lamb Chop, and if he didn't know better, he'd have mistaken her pink, silicone lips for a toilet plunger.
"Henri, Suzette, I didn't think you were going to make it. Lille went back to the Hamptons with her new guy. Come on back, there's still plenty of food." Isa rushed over to them.
"I'm guessing you got a bunch of bikers out there. I saw all the motorcycles lined up and some creepy-looking guy watching them." He bent over and kissed Isa on both cheeks. "Whatever possessed you to have that type of people over to your home?" He curled his lip while shaking his head. "I suspect Rock's had a bad influence on you."
"Don't be talkin' shit about my bro," Bones's voice bounced off the walls. Henri stepped back and the terrified look on his face made Rock feel it was almost worth having Henri and his plastic surgery pinup show up.
"Bones, this is my older brother, Henri. He never caught on to the whole respect thing." Rock walked into the kitchen, his arms snug around Clotille.
"That's no fuckin' good." Bones glared at Henri who seemed to shrink a little more, especially when the back screen slammed and Puck walked in.
Puck was tall, muscled, and tatted over every inch of skin except for his face, and with a face that rarely smiled, he was an intimidating figure. "Hawk wants a bottled water," he said. Rock laughed, opened the refrigerator, and tossed him the bottle. Puck caught it in one hand. "Everything good in here?"