Page 52 of Marx

He pauses for so long that I decide to coax him. “What happened?”

A smile plays on his lips. “Rhodie was in his crib beside her, and she held her arms open for me. Dad put me on the bed and told me to be careful. I was a big kid so I made sure to be extra gentle. She didn’t care, she pulled me in, wrapped me tight in her arms and told me that she knew I was going to be the best big brother in the whole world and that she loved me so much. She made dad lift Rhodie out of the crib and I held him, with my Mom’s help. I have a photo of that moment on my desk.”

This man, this gruff, grumpy man just turned my heart to mush. The harsh words he directed at me weren’t in anger or dismissal, but as he said, out of fear. The thoughts and feelings of a little Johnny reveal more than his words ever could. This is a man who feels deep and is afraid of never being enough. For his men, for his family, for me. Well, no more. I’m going to show him that he deserves everything and more.

Marx

Most people outside of my own family don’t know anything about my shit egg donor. The older members of the MC before they retired and became snowbirds, or died of old age, they knew. But my men and their ol ladies don’t know that Rhodie and I are half brothers. As far as I’m concerned we’re not. I clear my throat and shake off the sadness that always lingers when I talk about my mom, the one who raised me. Molly, my mom, wasthe first woman I ever loved, and I know for a fact, with the way I burn for her, Lovely will be the last woman I will ever love.

“OK, um, the food I hate most in the world is corn, and my superpower would be mind control.” I smile at Lovely, trying to lighten the mood.

She beams in the candlelight and I still can’t believe I’m the lucky son of a bitch that gets to date this woman. Even if I don’t fully trust what the kids and Rider have planned.

“Your turn, Buttercup.” Her cheeks blush at the nickname and I make a note to call her that more often.

“Well, my favourite childhood memory would have to be any time I spend with my mom. So, my mom was Blanche’s mom’s sister, way younger than her though. She went to the Keep to find her and ended up married to my dad. Anyway, the Keep was always a busy place. With so many people everyone had to work together to get things done. My mom worked in the laundry, but every Sunday, after Church, we had a rest day. Those days were always my favourite. One time, just me and her, we went for a walk along the border of the Keep and found this amazing meadow full of beautiful flowers. My mom showed me how to make a daisy chain. I made one for me and one for her and we wore them like crowns and danced in the meadow. I remember lying on my back and pointing out the different shapes in the clouds. My mom pulled me into her arms and kissed my head, and gave me a gift, wrapped up in brown paper with a little bow. At the Keep we didn’t celebrate birthdays, but my mom would sneak me a gift every year. That year it was a little set of coloring pencils and a pad. I did my first drawings that day.” She beams at me, the happiness radiating off her. I make a note to make sure to not only find out her date of birth, but to throw her the biggest fucking birthday party ever. She never had birthdays at the Keep? Well, for the rest of our lives we will be celebrating the day Lovely Landry graced this earth.

“Your meals are served!” Cove booms, clapping to get our attention, as if her fog horn voice wasn’t enough.

Jovie places two plates of spaghetti bolognese in front of us. Lovely claps her hands and wriggles in her seat. “I love spaghetti bolognese! It’s my favourite,” she sing songs.

My eyes meet Pops over Lovely’s shoulder and he flicks me a wink. Well played old man, well played. Lovely dances in her seat out of pure joy and I commit this to memory. The whole thing is perfect. Absolutely perfect. We eat our meal in companionable silence, murmuring things here and there, little snippets of conversation, then returning to the flavors bursting across our tongues.

“That concludes our service for tonight. There is no dessert because grown ups don’t need it.” Cove announces, and like a well oiled machine the kids come bustling out to clear the tables.

I’m surprised to see Judge and Kaia’s twins, Jackson and Annie-Bella helping out, although I have a feeling it’s so Jackson can keep an eye on Judge. I’ll have to have a word with the brother to see how he’s doing in the near future. I’ll table that for after the hit.

Lovely thanks the kids and I notice she has a spot of sauce sitting on that fucking glorious cleavage that’s on show. I want to lick it off her pale skin. Fuck, I want to lick more than the sauce from her cleavage. I want to suck the cream straight from her pussy. Fuck it! I need to calm down. My zipper is digging into my cock and if I dont get him under control he’ll have a permanent zipper print on him. Although, would that heighten Lovely’s pleasure maybe?

“Ladies and gentleman, allow me to introduce Baaaad - wait, what’s the name again?” Cove semi whispers the last part to someone hiding behind the curtain that is blocking the kitchen from the main area. “Really? That’s the name you chose? I mean it’s not bad, but it’s not great either. You sure that’s the nameyou want to go with?” Cove loudly whisper argues with who I can only guess is Rider.

“Baaad Bikers Club!” Rider yells from behind the curtain before throwing an arm out and flinging back the curtain. Savage, Tank and Flack step out in front of our tables, all holding instruments.

“Oh, fuck me,” I murmur under my breath. I try to ignore Lovely’s giggling and clapping and enthusiasm, but I’m not sure I can.

“Hey daters! Let’s dance off that spaghetti!” Rider announces, before sitting down at a drum kit that has materialized out of nowhere.

He lays down a couple of slightly out of rhythm beats, while Savage and Flack play their guitars. They’re trying to keep beat with Rider, and they find it momentarily before Tank starts singing. Or at least tries to. I have no idea why Tank got the gig, especially when we have fucking Chef who has the voice of a goddamn angel. Rider mean mugs Tank, almost drumming harder to drown him out, but that doesn’t seem to do anything to dissuade him. He’s right in the throes of singing “I wanna dance with somebody,” which is a sight to behold in itself. Tank, the big, blonde bastard is singing and dancing like his life depended on it. Knowing how Rider rode the brothers in the run up to Pops’ Christmas surprise, it probably does.

“Would you do me the honor of allowing me this dance?” I ask Lovely, standing in a fluid movement, holding my hand out.

She blushes beautifully before taking my hand and letting me lead her to the makeshift dance area. The band, Bad Whatever the Hell they called themselves, change up the tempo, playing something a little slower. The kids rush out from wherever the hell they’re hiding, shoving tables and chairs out of the way to make more room for everyone else.

“Whatisthis place?” Lovely asks, eyes wide at the commotion.

“Would you believe it’s the kids’ secret clubhouse?”

She stares up at me like I’ve lost my mind, before blinking twice. “Pops?”

“Who the fuck else?”

She opens her mouth to say more but she’s drowned out by Rider’s drum solo. The fucker is playing like he’s on a god damn spiritual journey, eyes closed, head swaying from side to side. What started out as vaguely sounding like “I can’t help falling in love” now sounds like three campfire songs got into a fight. Tank, the poor bastard is doing his best trying to keep a semblance of rhythm, but they’re failing miserably.

“I, ah, requested this version. It’s their experimental phase,” I say, trying to cover for them.

Lovely throws her head back and laughs, the movement mashing her glorious tits to my chest. I can feel her hard nipples poking me through the thin cotton of her dress and my shirt. Her head snaps up and she stares at me in shock, before pressing her pelvis forward a little more, trapping my hard cock between our bodies.

“Is that-”

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