Page 18 of Preacher Man

“Why don’t you concentrate on your own pussy, Law, and keep your nose out of what I’m getting. Better yet, if you wanna donate your Mustang, I won't have to fix this heap.”

Chance would be a fine thing. From all the messages Ruby wasnotsending him it pointed to hernotbeing affected by their out-of-this-world kiss. But then contradictory evidence If not for the way she’d shoved her tongue into his mouth sucking on his like she wanted to drain him dry he would absolutely believe that.

Nah, the tiny dancer was playing hard to get. Only it was Preacher who was hard and hard-up waiting to get into her.

“My Mustang is not to be touched by human hands, shithead. All I'm saying is, you’re working hard for some gash, albeit it, she’s a striking beauty, but pussy is pussy, man, get it anywhere, no need to break your back fixing something that’s dead.”

Hm. there was a metaphor in that somewhere, he just knew it, cryptic motherfucker giving him the knowing glare. Preacher absorbed his meaning and shook his head. “Prospect!” He yelled clean across the shop and Slider strutted over. “Yes, sir?”

Loved this kid for calling him sir. Eager shits always wanted to please a club member. “Coffee, and make sure it’s hot this time, a man could die of thirst. And bring some of those cookies Z-girl made yesterday.”

“I think Texas had the last. I’ll check.” Grinder’s boy was keen as mustard, no doubt if he kept on the way he was going he’d be patched into the club one day. Preacher loved having prospects to boss around, to have them fetching, carrying, cleaning shit that didn’t need cleaning, It was like having his own little brother around, pushing them to limits the younger men didn’t even know they had, testing their patience and endurance, for his first year the club didn’t have prospects while Rider was building the club back up, then Tiny, poor fucker, and Pretty boy came along, man it was fun to rag on those knuckleheads, both became brothers, now only one remained.

But the MC had three new prospects, good kids from what he could see.

Loyalty was key in an MC, and next to that was doing what needed doing, no matter what. Hands had to get dirty sometimes, you weathered it or you didn't get the patch. And he fucking loved his patch.

Taking a load off, he parked himself in a lawn chair, the sun was beating down, that spring transitional weather, just as long as it wasn’t snowing Preacher was good. He spread out his legs, accepted the mug of coffee when the prospect got back and resisted looking at his phone again. Or doing something worse, texting and asking why the shitting hell she hadn’t contacted him.

All women wanted Preacher, he wasn’t boastful, he didn’t have a huge ego, no more than the average guy anyway, it was just a fact of life, ever since he grew two feet over the summer he turned thirteen chicks had flocked to him, wanted him to teach them kissing and more and he had, had been happy to experiment. Shane would joke that one day his Lothario days would come to an end when a woman knocked him on his ass.

Preacher would always laugh and tell his older brother that he could keep the picket fence, that he was doing a service to the women of the world by sharing his dick around. Just you wait, little brother.Shane had had a steady girl when he’d died, guilt tore at Preacher’s gut knowing he’d avoided her all these years, only ever checked in with her once and that was briefly after the funeral. The type of guy Shane had been, constant and reliable, he probably would have been married to that sweet girl now with a mini-van load of screaming kids.

Some guys were meant for that. Preacher always knew he wasn’t. Kids were fine, from a distance, besides which, he always knew he’d make a shitty dad, he had the fear he would up and leave one day, no questions no reason, and he’d bethatdeadbeat dad. Nah, he’d stick to fucking around without the ties. His own dad for most of his young life had been a shitty dad, never abusive. Maxwell Priest was never a drunk, druggie or wife beater, and always provided, rather than, he had a wandering eye and an even wilder dick. Whole entire weeks would go by when his dad disappeared, then he’d rock up as if nothing had happened, it took years for Preacher and Shane to work out he was fucking around on their mom, which came as a blow because his parents never argued, never had a bad word between them, to the outsider, their marriage was rock solid, happy even. You just could never know what goes down behind someone's closed door, he supposed.

Preacher always reckoned he’d inherited his dad's DNA in that respect, only he would just never do to a woman what their dad did to their mom. Some huge showdown happened right after Tyler was born, their mom packed up everything and left Maxwell for a whole year. And much, to everyone's surprise, Maxwell had turned his life around, won his wife back, built his business up, the happy family life ensued thereafter. But Preacher never forgot that time. Some lessons just stay with you. As a reminder in what not to do.

Forgive and forget wasn’t his to give, he lived with a lot of his own guilt that could never be forgiven, why should he judge against someone else’s proclivities, and his dad was a great guy now.

For the rest of the afternoon he worked on Ruby’s car, took jibes from the boys on being pussy-whipped and when it came to closing the shop for the day he waited until everyone cleared out, he didn’t need an audience doing the kissy face at him while he made a call. Shoving his overalls down his torso, he left it around his waist, listened to the ringing in his ear go on and on and on. Where was she?

“Hel’o?” The sleepiest fucking sexy voice. Preacher’s dick got hard instantly. Jesus. Imagining her asleep with her husky smoky voice first thing in a morning, even before the sun came up when she was still warm buried under the sheets, he could envision reaching out and grabbing her in, turning her over to give her the type of good morning he’d never------ fuck. Shut that noise. He shook his head, dragged fingers over the shaved part of his skull.

“Hey, tiny dancer, it’s Preacher. Did I wake you?” Every thought he was having was far more criminal than he’d ever had before. Downright wicked. It hovered on the tip of his tongue to ask what she was wearing, but she more than likely would disconnect and he wanted to go on listening to her voice. Picturing her in her girlie bed, her skin warm and supple, maybe she was wet between her thighs from naughty little dreams she’d been having. Maybe about him. Hey, a pervert could hope.

“Yeah. It’s okay. Just taking a nap. Is it about my car?”

All Preacher heard was sweet smoke in his ears and he swallowed back a groan. She had a voice made for one of those high-end chat lines, the kind that cost 4.99 a minute, better still, his own personal sex line.Talk dirty to me, baby.

Ears like a bat, he caught the shift of noise down the line, his hand gripped his iPhone so hard he could have quite easily broken it in two. Was she moving in bed? Sitting up? Pulling the sheet up to tuck around her gorgeous tits?

Jesus.Get your head from the gutter, jackass.But he couldn’t. He was deep in fantasy now.

“Yeah, I got it running again.”

“Really? Oh, god really? Thank you, Preacher! I can’t believe it. I was sure it was done for.” It was the most animated he’d ever heard her, damn if he didn’t like that he’d caused it. His mouth twitched at the corner, his butt rested on the workbench he watched a few bikes ride out of the compound, but his focus was all on the phone call, wanting to keep her talking, he added. “You’re welcome. I can drop it over, I’m done working for the day.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I can catch a ride to your estate.”

“Babe. I’ll bring it.” It had a little something to do with wanting to see where Ruby lived. And that bed she was currently in.

“Thank you, Preacher. It was good of you to see to my car so quickly, I know you guys get busy there, Jim is always talking about it at the bar, just about being busy, nothing else, he’s not like giving away secrets or anything.” She rushed on. Was tiny dancer rambling? Fucking cute.

“Relax, beautiful, I got what you meant. Jim loves chatting to the pretty girls, I bet he talks your ear off, doesn’t he?”

“Well…” he could hear her smile.

“Yeah, he does. I would, too. I intend to.”

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