Page 88 of Pumpkin
Pumpkin stared at her phone in disbelief. True to her word, there was a fuckingpumpkintattooed behind his ear. What the fuck?! It wasmaybe the size of his fingernail and in the small gap of skin between where his beard ended and his hairline began.
“Those fuckers!” Pumpkin shouted.
“Wait, you didn’t know about this?”
“No!” Pumpkin struggled to get to his feet. “They tattooed a fucking pumpkin on me!”
The club had donea lotto Pumpkin over the years. Once, they broke into his apartment in the clubhouse and replaced all the contents in his fridge with pumpkin pies, put dozens of pumpkin rolls on his kitchen counter, and stuffed his freezer with pumpkin ice cream pints. Every fall, it was a trial to get anything at the club’s barDemon on the Rocksthat wasn’t a pumpkin-flavored beer. Regardless of what he ordered, he was always given a pumpkin beer.
But to tattoo a fucking pumpkin on him? That was a new low.
“Is it new?” Maybe they’d done it while he was in his coma?
Dosia shrugged, “No idea. How do you tell?”
This many months later, they really couldn’t. “Fuckers,” he muttered, not really sure what else to say.
“They tattooed you without your permission?” Dosia looked shocked and concerned.
Thinking better of it and knowing his club brothers, they wouldn’t take advantage of him in such a vulnerable state. Plus, based on the condition he’d been in during his coma, adding a tattoo to him could have complicated his healing. So, definitely not.
However, they were assholes enough to do so when Pumpkin was passed out drunk. Which had been a good number of times following a club party. No doubt Angel was the tattooing culprit, but he wouldn’t put the idea past Cage or Demo as being the mastermind.
He pulled out his phone and opened the message app to the club’s adults-only group text. After adding Dosia to it, he started typing.
Pumpkin: You fuckers!
A number of laughing emojis were quickly replied.
Pumpkin: @Angel, I demand a tattoo removal!
Angel: I’m sorry. Angel’s Tattoo Removal Services are closed for the foreseeable future. For alternate services, please call 1-800-SUCK-IT!
Pumpkin: Asshole! Fine but you’re keeping my kids for the night!
Demo: I’ll get the wheelchair ready.
Pumpkin growled and put his phone away.
Dosia stared at him in concern. “So, on a scale from one to ten, how pissed are you about this?”
Standing, Pumpkin offered her his arm with the beer and grabbed for his cane. “Honestly, probably around a one. I can’t see it, so I really don’t care. But let’s not tell them that. I plan on milking this for all it’s worth.”
Dosia snickered. “Including free babysitting services?”
“It’s not common knowledge but Angel and Cage are trying for another baby. Angel had a miscarriage last year and she wasn’t ready until recently to try again. I don’t mind lending my kids out for parent practice so I can get their mother alone for a night.”
They left Bulldog’s house, not seeing a single club member or kid in sight.
“Wow, they run fast,” Dosia commented as Pumpkin turned them down the walking path towards his house.
“I’ll get them back,” he vowed. “Does Calliope offer curses? I’ll pay.”
“Fuck,baby, that’s it. Ride me, ride harder…” Pumpkin let out a loud, masculine groan, throwing his head back on the pillow.
Dosia rolled her hips. She had her hands on his hard pecs for balance with her legs spread wide over his pelvis. His thick cock was hitting all the right places inside her. As fire wracked her body, herrhythm started to falter. Pumpkin placed his hands on her hips to help steady her.
His dark eyes seemed almost black as they bore up into hers. After Pumpkin had assured her that enough of the club had baby supplies, and Darrin also had the spare key to their SUV to get the kids’ bags from their trunk, they headed inside his house. Dosia honestly couldn’t remember his hasty tour in their rush to get to his bedroom.
