Page 9 of Roughstock
The almost growl I heard from him said I was right on the money with what he needed. He never asked for this, but I always knew when he needed it.
And from the way he’d just snatched his shirt off over his head, I was in for a night of pleasure.
Chapter 5
Roughstock
Seeing her on her knees in her lacy bra and panties was exactly what I needed at that moment. For the last few hours, I sat down with each of the brothers and didn’t feel like I got any new information about what my Pops was up to that seemed to have gotten him killed. Watching Cheyenne behind the bar, I wished we could run away from it all, but knew I had too much responsibility to do that.
I watched her speak with Warhol and then she slip upstairs, and as soon as I finished speaking with Raven, my Road Captain, I followed her. Warhol stopped me just as I was about to climb the stairs, telling me Cheyenne knew where the receipt I’d discovered came from and that she offered to speak with them. I wouldn’t allow her to do anything that could put her in harm’s way.
Besides, this was club business and she would be stepping outside her role as my ol’ lady by doing that.
I gave her my hand, helping her from her knees before backing her up to the bed, and for the next hour, I showed her how much I cherished her by giving her countless orgasms. When I knew she was wrung dry from pleasure, I finally allowed myself to climax, feeling her perfect pussy clamp down on my cock as I filled her with my seed.
I knew she was still on birth control, so I wasn’t worried about her getting pregnant. When the time was right, we’d start trying, but we were both in our late twenties, and there was no rush to have kids.
Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, we walked down the stairs and returned to the growing crowd at the clubhouse bar. She and I took our seats and one of the prospects immediately brought us drinks. She thanked him before he scurried away in fear.
“You have to stop scowling. You scared that poor kid half to death,” she joked before taking a healthy swallow from her glass.
“He needs to be scared if he’s going to become a Bastard,” I heard someone say and turned to see two of the old timers enjoying their drinks.
Whistler was sitting with Blur, who had the same pissed-off look on his face he had the day my father restricted his patch over a decade ago, when I was still a prospect. I’d never seen or even heard of that happening before, and to this day, no one besides my father and Blur knows why. All I know is Blur isn’t allowed on club rides, he isn’t allowed to wear his colors outside of the clubhouse, and he’s not allowed to vote on anything club-related.
Basically, he’s a patched member without the rights the patch gives him, and for as long as I’ve known him, he’s been angry.
I turned and motioned with my head for them to join us. Blur and Whistler both grabbed their beers and took seats at my table. Whistler nodded to Cheyenne, but Blur, as usual, turned his nose up at her. If it wasn’t for the Bastards creed of putting brothers above all else, I’d punch him in the mouth for his rudeness.
She was my ol’ lady and deserved respect.
“How’s Miss Connie?” Cheyenne asked Whistler, and he smiled across at her.
“She’s doing pretty good. Not looking forward to the cold weather they say we’re going to get this weekend, but that’s normal for her,” he responded, and Cheyenne smiled back at him.
She looked at me and said softly, “I’ll grab more drinks and give you a few minutes.”
Cheyenne knew when it was time for her to become scarce, and now was that time. Just as she approached the bar, I leaned forward and lowered my voice as I spoke. “Do either of you know why Nitro was going up to the reservation a few times a month for the entire year before his death?”
Whistler’s forehead crinkled and he glanced sideways, like he was trying to remember something. Blur shrugged and took another swallow of his beer while averting his gaze. It was normal for him, but his lack of caring was pissing me off.
I was about to say something to Blur when Whistler interjected. “I know after your mom split, he used to go for long rides, but I didn’t know he was going up to the reservation. Do you think it has anything to do with what happened to him?”
Exhaling deeply, I admitted honestly, “I have no fucking clue. At this point, I’m grasping at straws.”
“Maybe it’s time to let it go,” Blur said, and I gave him a confused look.
I was about to respond with something snarky and mean when Cheyenne walked up and placed three cold bottles of beer onto the table, then she turned and sauntered off to the pool tables near the side of the bar.
Refusing to let that miserable bastard get to me, I stood from my seat and picked up a bottle of beer. His eyes leveledwith mine as I took a healthy swallow of the icy beverage before shaking my head and walking away. I could hear Whistler say something to Blur as I moved across the room to my ol’ lady, but I couldn’t make out what he said.
Cheyenne was leaned over the table, lining up a shot, when I stepped up behind her and leaned over, pressing my thickening cock into the seam of her ass. She turned her head and smiled before looking back and striking the cue ball, sending it rolling across the felt into the solid red number three ball. The three ball fell into the pocket and she stood up, pressing her back to my front as she put blue chalk onto the tip of her pool stick.
“Are you about ready to go?” I whispered into her ear before licking the edge.
She shivered against me as she replied, “Let me finish this game and we can go.”
I smacked her on the ass, knowing she was about to run the table on the prospect, before I walked over to Phantom, who was sitting at the end of the bar, watching the goings-on in the clubhouse. There were about fifteen to twenty brothers in the bar, along with a few locals who enjoyed the cheap beer and isolated back roads.
