Page 30 of Preacher Man

That was Capone. Preacher laughed at the smugness on his face, tugging one of his ear gauges he sauntered across the shop to grab the tool he needed laughing all the way.

“That’s the biggest load of shit I think you’ve ever come out with, Cap. Even worse than when you said women were like a bottle of Morgan Spice; what was it, because she was wet and lethal if you drank it for too long. I mean really, I think we have to deport this guy back to the land of the burrito.”

And that was Snake, if there was a stereotype to stomp anismall over, he was doing it in his size fourteens. Preacher counted to three, the amount of time it would take ... Yep and there it was, Capone fired a finger salute and told Snake to go fuck his mom in Spanish.

“Nah, too busy fucking yo-----”

“Snake!” Hissed Preacher in warning, his head rearing up so fast the moment the words fell like a bomb from his stupid mouth, of all the things to say mentioning family to Capone was a no-no for good reason. Snake realized his fucking mouth vomit mistake instantly, his face shaded and he scrubbed a dirty hand down it before he beat feet over to Capone, laying a hand on his shoulder. His face deathly still beneath his stubble. “My man. Fuck. Goddamn me to Satan's asshole. I got shit for brains you know that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Forget it,papi.”

“I’m a fuckhead, do you wanna smack me around?”

“Fuck. Say no, Capone, run, run fast, that pervert will enjoy it, and I only just ate lunch.” Guffawed Grinder to break the tension.

Snake may be a comedian, mused Preacher, watching the two men kiss and makeup, thankfully not literally, just a lot of back slapping and fist bumping, but he didn’t have a mean bone where the club brothers were concerned. He’d probably work over time now for the rest of the day to make it up to Capone.

Yeah, he thought, so good to be home.

An hour had gone by since that ruckus when Preacher heard a shrill wolf whistle. Ordinarily, it wasn’t the norm to hear in the bike shop, not unless Pretty-boy was stripping off again and Preacher just didn’t need to go blind today with all the milky skin on show. So, he reared his head up warily, saw all the boys gaping out into the forecourt. The hell was going on out there? Curious, he tried to see around Snake. If those clowns were ogling Zara, Rider was gonna crack skulls and dig graves. He’d never seen a guy more possessive over his old lady before, and Preacher ought to know since he was the biggest fool to rag on the prez for his newly in love Facebook status.

Nah, it wasn’t Zara strutting around. It was a familiar car he’d recently worked his balls off to fix pulling in.

“Well. Well. Well. Lookie who it is.”

It wasn’t a gentle rousing when he spotted who stepped herself out of the car. The moment his brain realized he was seeing Ruby it sent out an alert faster than a social media notification to his body. High alert. Every neuron woke rushing blood down to his dick, drying his mouth before he got with the program and made his feet move.

“Looks like Preacher has a visitor. It’s always the big and ugly beasts the pretty girls come to see, fucking tragic. Can’t understand it. I mean we’ve all seen the gerbil dick he’s carrying around.” Smirked Snake. Preacher rolled his eyes and fired a finger at him, but made sure to fix his gaze all over Ruby a second later.

Her skirt rode up a little around perfect curvy hips as she strutted forward, just a slight nervous twitch in her fingers as she tried to pull it down, belated she turned and hit the motion sensor on the car, giving him a wicked look at her ass, and fuck him, don't get him started on that ass,holy fuck, she was business in front but all party in the back, his mouth turned to cotton. J-Lo was jealous, he had to avoid the ass altogether because he would sport wood instantly, all Preacher could think was rolling that soft red material up her legs to see what delights she hid beneath.

He bet it was lace. He just bet.

He was a simple man, really, with simple hungry tastes.

From the look on her face, it told him she wouldn't be agreeable to that. Oh well, shit. He smiled some megawatt charming smile most times than not it won over a woman, pushing himself forward past the nosy-asses he called friends.

His smile didn't work. She stayed stony-faced. Ruby was gonna make him work for it.

His eyelids were hooded, his stare fixed to her hips. She had the most incredible swish. if Preacher was in any way a poet or man of words he could have written verses about how he wanted to bump his belly up against that ass day and night as he rode her into oblivion. As it was he sucked at words of any kind, fucking dyslexia could suck a dick, so he was stuck to staring and admiring.

"Another meeting, beautiful, must be my birthday. What can I do for you?"

Seeing her visibly inhaling she took all three seconds before she replied.

"You haven't billed me for my car. I'm here to collect it in person.”

"Told you there's nothing to pay, it was simple enough, didn't take long, not worth making up a bill for."

"Preacher, I want to pay, my car was fucked, I know it was fucked, I was the one it fucked up on, you fixed it, that is not a simple it was nothing."

"Ruby, really, it was nothing." He pushed off the oil drum he’d stationed himself at when he’d caught her climbing out of the scrap heap he’d performed some wicked magic on to get it working again.

Swerving around her, making sure to brush her shoulder to hear her inhale. Wrench in hand he went down on his haunches in front of the bike he had taken half apart to find the oil leak. A look over his shoulder real quick had him grinning to himself. Her eyes were all over him.

The bad girl liked him dirty covered in oil, did she?

Her brow bunched in the middle, damn, she was cute. He wanted to do something stupid like reach out and cup her face drawing her in for a kiss as he brushed back the hair from her face. She'd tried to tame it today with some sort of clip at the back but riots of curls still escaped. He wished she’d let it go free...her body with it in his direction.Stop being so bottled-up, baby.

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