Page 163 of Misrule
Cocking his head to the side, he narrowed his eyes at her. “For fuckin’ real, Megan?”
“Yes! Why would I lie about that?”
He could think of a few reasons. For instance, she always worried about his fucking soul. Ignoring the fact that he’d fucked up so many motherfuckers he’d lost count, she thought stopping him from continuing his fucking-up of assfucks that fucking deserved it, would save him from hell. He didn’t want to burst her fucking bubble, but he’d gotten his fucking invitation from that pitch-fork motherfucker years ago.
“My cock a-fuckin-mazin’, huh, baby? Motherfucker knocked you the fuck up already.”
She nodded, hard and fast, enough to snap her fucking neck. Now, Christopher understood where his boy got those exaggerated head fucking movements.
“When you found out?”
“Today,” she answered. “I…yeah…I went to Dr. Will. I haven’t been feeling well the past several weeks and—”
“Past several fuckin’ weeks?” he said, seizing on her slip.
Her eyes rounded and her face crumpled. “Uh, the past several days.”
Folding his arms, he glared at her. “You about two, three weeks?”
She swallowed, rung her hands together, and averted her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.
“If a lil’ motherfucker happen to fall outta your pussy in the next…eight and a half months, that just fuckin’ mean you deliverin’ early, huh, baby?”
“Yes.”
“That mean I ain’t got to go fuck up no motherfucker cuz I got fuckin’ unneeded cock trauma, yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
“If this lil’ motherfucker arrive a fuckin’daybe-fuckin-fore you reach nine months, my killin’ drought fuckin’ over. Hear me, Megan?”
Tears rushing to her eyes, she sniffled. “I thought you’d be happy.”
Vulnerability shone in her blue eyes, stealing Christopher’s anger. He drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he said gruffly. “I ain’t meanin’ to act like a mean fuckhead. Of-fuckin-course, my ass happy.”
“I am, too.”
“That’s what the fuck important.” While that was true, he didn’t appreciate a motherfucker fucking over his dick when it wasn’t fucking necessary.
Oh, yeah. There was also the fucking money.
She kissed his chin. “I need to check on CJ, Rule, and Rory.”
Helping her off his lap, Christopher nodded. “Okay, baby. Ima go check in on Diesel, then meet you in our fuckin’ room.”
“Okay.”
Once Megan left him alone, he glowered in the direction of the door. Now that he thought on it, he believed she’d last had her period about six or seven weeks ago, which meant one fucking thing.
Christopher was going to hack off that urologist’s cock, then torture him, and fucking see to it that he was deader than dead.
Case fuckin’ closed.
Chapter Forty
Two days after Knox almost ended up in the meatshack, Roxy walked into the quiet clubhouse in early dawn. Knox and Johnnie were still in their respective rooms, for which she was grateful. After Mortician assisted Knox to the clubhouse, he’d stumbled and staggered like the drunk motherfucker he was. He fell onto the bed, gave her a goofy grin, and fell asleep…passed the fuck out.
