Page 48 of Renascence
CHAPTER 9
***Venom***
I ride into the clubhouse in a fucking fantastic mood. Being with Emily last night surpassed anything I ever imagined. The woman is sexual crack. Her body is perfection, and I could get lost in it for days with no wish to be found or make my way out. Just thinking about the way she submits to me gets me hard. Fucking hell. I can’t wait to see her tonight.
We have church today, so the guys are gathered in the bar, hanging out before we head into the chapel. I make a beeline for the couch where most of them are gathered.
“What’s up, mybrothas?” I throw out to everyone, dropping down on the couch.
“What the fuck are you so happy about?” Motor asks, his shaggy hair shaking with the movement of his head.
“I bet I know,” Razor says to my left, winking.
“Me, too,” Crow chimes in.
“It seems Miss Emily showed her gratitude for them papers, huh?” Razor nudges my arm.
Einstein stares at me with that goddamn “I told you so” smirk. I can’t even find the energy to care. They can tease me all they want; nothing can get me down today.
Reaching into the inner pocket of my cut, I pull out a cigar and lighter, lighting up without a word.
“Who’s Emily?” Gage asks.
“The reason we rode to Atlanta yesterday to shake down some asshole,” Razor answers.
My prez’s brows draw together as he scrutinizes me. “Shit. You got the look, brother.”
Blowing a puff of smoke in the air, I ask, “What look?”
“The ‘I got some good pussy’ look. Welcome to the club, motherfucker!”
They all laugh while I sit back savoring my cigar, the sound drawing everyone else close. “Good pussy” is an understatement. Emily has that diamond-coated, voodoo pussy that would make a lesser man lose his mind. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with James, but his loss is my gain.
And I hit the motherfucking jackpot.
“Come on, man. What was it like?” Razor asks.
I take another puff of my cigar, making them wait. The men who are seated lean forward, impatient for my answer.
“Look, all I’m going to say is that I exploded like a fucking block of C4.”
Laughter booms around the room, punctuated by the odd word of encouragement. I meet Einstein’s eyes, daring him to say something. Using his middle finger to push his black-rimmed glasses up his nose, he accepts the challenge.
“When are we going to meet her?”
“You’re not.”
“Why the fuck not?” Gage asks.
“It’s not that kind of deal.”
“Fuck that shit. Bring her to the Christmas party. The girls will love having another woman around.”
“She’s not my woman. I bring her around here and your old ladies”—I motion to Gage and Einstein—“will put ideas in her head. We’re good.”
“What kind of ideas?” Einstein raises a brow.
“Are you kidding me?” I give my full attention to the prez. “You’re married, and your woman is pregnant withtwins. And you.” I point to Einstein. “Your woman is knocked up, too, and I’m pretty sure you bought the ring already. Like I said, we’re good.”
