Page 84 of Dirty Salvation

As though he guessed exactly what he did to Zara, Rider's expression softened and his neck bent again, dropping a kiss to the tip of her nose. His sharp smile was killer.

"Get ready for our date, baby. I'm ready for you to date my fuckin' brains out. " With that, and a sexy wink tossed her way, he strode out and Zara watched.

The back view of Rider wasn't bad. Wasn't bad at all.

******

Shit. He yanked in a gulp of air on a staggered inhale, scraping a hand to the back of his neck. Strides taking him along one of the corridors heading towards the church and all he could taste was her.

Zara occupying all his mind.

Rider had never felt so stressed out with one light conversation before. Maybe because it meant so fucking much. His Icy-old lady wanted to date him.Funny.

When all he could think about was sinking deep into heaven with his cock, but he’d do this for her ‘cause he could see a future with her, something past a fast fuck when the itch wore off. This had to be the longest time he'd waited to fuck a woman in his history of first wetting his dick. Strung tight, he was gonna have blue balls until he died.

“Why we the first ones at the table these days, Prez, we needta buy you a watch?”

“Bossman has better things to do with his time than spend it looking at your undesirable face, Snake.” Offered Texas in his smooth polished voice.

The others laughed while Rider strode across the church to take his seat at the head of the table. At his right sat, Hawk and at his wrist was the famous Renegade Souls’ dark oak gavel that had been passed down from president to president. A sacred part of church.

“Yeah, he does. “Smirked Snake rubbing his mouth, eyes sparked amusement. Rider arched his brow at him but otherwise stayed silent. His brothers were in a mood, he found when another piped in.

“And she’s so big with blonde hair.” grinned Pretty-boy. "And has a thing for the Prez if her moon-eyes are anything to go by."

"Moon-eyes. Who the fuck are you and what pussy did you just crawl out of?" Snake stuck his tongue into the side of his mouth, goading Pretty-boy who didn't bite.

“Good cook, too,” interjected Tiny. “And she beat me at Sudoku. Smart.”

“That ain’t hard, Tiny. Can you even count to ten?” The quick-fire question came from Snake again, the jester of the hour.

Rider let the conversation slide on by him. Occupied with thoughts of what he'd do on this date with Zara. All he came up with was sex. One track fucking mind and he liked it that way.

“I’m not hung up on numbers, but I do like giving multiple orgasms.”

Barks of laughter peeled, even Rider smiled casting his gaze around the table at each of his men, his brothers, deciding to give them a minute of normal before the meeting got under way. They all needed it, it felt as though they’d been at war for a long fucking time and even though the matter of Hades still loomed, Rider wasn’t worried, they’d track him down and right now harmony was good for his club.

Tiny’s declaration got him a round of guffaws and slurs ofyou fucking wish, bro.

“Are we sure we want him patched in the gang, Prez?” Joked Pretty-boy.

Snake whipped back. "It's not a gang. It's a loose association of rugged outdoorsmen."

“You young-uns with the bragging, while me, I sit here confident in my dick abilities without saying a word, boys.” Announced a cocky Preacher.

Jokes bantered back and forth. It felt right and good. Rider sat back in his chair and observed his club brothers.

The day he’d put his Prez patch on the leather cut, that was it. There was no going back and unless he got dead sometime soon, or a freak vote happened and his brothers ousted him, then Rider had been all in, all the time day one, this was the place he loved and sweated blood for. He led his men, he ruled, he said what went and when.

He’d put his club first before anything many times because it was the right thing to do. When he butted heads with his own father, spending an inordinate amount of time on useless arguments, his father who had so many outdated concepts Rider got fucking sick of talking to him, the man didn’t have a forward-thinking bone in his body.

Unlike Rider. Who didn’t relent. Who didn’t walk away from his club. It wasn’t just a hobby as outsiders saw it to be, something to fuck around with on motorcycles, nah, this was a way of life, he was judge and jury, he was fucking executioner when he had to be.

Did it mean he couldn’t have a life of his own, too? Cause that’s what he’d thought for a long time and he’d been fine with it, until now.

Now he was going to change that, make a slice of his MC life that was just his. Zara.

Thinking about his old man put Rider in a sour mood, happened all the time. He could just hear what he’d say if he knew Zara was in the picture. And that was about as far as he allowed his thoughts to get, because he was his own man, own president and no one was going to get in the way of what he wanted.

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