Page 2 of Room One Hundred and Four: Shock and Awe

Maybe I just need to get a few more drinks in me and it’ll go away.

Still, I find myself forcing the words past my lips, “Both of you?”

“Of course,” Tiff twirls her hair like she’s a fucking schoolgirl even though she’s far from it, “Spark. We have to keep our Prez happy.”

I know I should, but I don’t bother correcting her about me not being the angel’s Prez. Not really. I lead my brothers and while the angels are an important extension of the club, none of them will ever wear a cut.

While I’ve heard about one of the angels out of the New Orlean’s chapter being claimed as an old lady, that shit doesn’t normally happen. And we all know why—there’s something disingenuous about claiming a woman who has had all your brother’s dicks in at least one of her holes.

From what I’ve heard the old lady in NOLA is a different story. She had exclusively been with three Prospects and was more like a sister to the rest of the brothers. They all claimed her the moment they all had their cuts.

But she had already run off. When they tracked her down, she was very fucking pregnant. They took her back home from the small town that they found her, claimed her, and she gave birth to their little girl not long ago. I’m not one to judge someone, but I’m not sure if I’d be down to share my woman with anyone like that.

Not fucking long term.

That’s not the same thing as spit roasting an angel. Ya know?

My dick isn’t taking much notice in the women in front of me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be down later. There’s no reason to turn down the offer without a second thought. Not yet at least.

“That’s quite the offer, ladies. I might just have to take you up on it.” I flash them a smirk and they light up like fireworks.

Internally I roll my eyes at their reaction. Since everything went down with Heather and her men, the angels have this renewed notion that they might end up wearing a property patch and cut one day. I don’t see that shit happening anytime soon in this chapter. Honestly, not in any of the chapters.

That was an anomaly.

“We’ll be waiting for you,” Brianna leans toward me, putting her tits, which are barely covered by the top she’s wearing, right in my line of sight.

Do I glance at them? You bet your fucking ass I do. She does have a great pair of tits and I’ve always been a boob man.

Don’t get me wrong, I like a nice juicy ass on a woman as well, but there’s something about burying my head between some breasts or watching them jiggle as a woman rides me.

That shit is hot, and no one can tell me otherwise. Too bad my cock doesn’t even twitch at what she’s offering.

Before I can say anything else to Brianna or cop a feel of what she’s clearing offering—she wouldn’t mind if I did it in the middle of the clubhouse at all—Rites and Crucify saunter up to me at the bar. I glance their way while grabbing my glass and taking a sip.

“Prez,” Crucify’s voice has an edge of excitement in it that I haven’t heard in a long fucking time from him. He’s been off for a while, and I’ve suspected it’s because his sister up and left Seattle without any fucking warning to be married to some guy she barely fucking knew in the mountains. I’m a little bit afraid that his moodiness runs a lot deeper than Lake running off.

When Crucify found out where she was and that she was getting married, he immediately went after her. I thought for sure he would come back to Seattle with his sister, but he was alone.

Of course, I asked him about it, and he told me, “She’s happy.” He ran a hand over his face. “Gannon’s a good man and will look after her. I don’t know how it’s possible, but she left and found right where she’s supposed to be. Can’t fault her for that,” his words rung true, but there was a wistful quality in his voice that had me on edge and worried.

I’m still on edge and worried months later.

But tonight he seems to be in better spirits, and I almost breathe a sigh of relief because of it. I’ve been missing my best friend. I knew I couldn’t force him to stop being listless and to focus on the club. It wouldn’t have fucking worked.

The angels step away from me and the bar, their heads bent together like they’re making plans as they giggle. It makes my hackles raise slightly, but hopefully they’re just talking about how they’re going to show me a good time for my birthday later.

If they’re plotting anything more than that, I’ll find out about it eventually. If it’s anything that puts the club in danger, I won’t hesitate to take care of the threat. I don’t give a single fuck if I’ve dipped my cock in them or not.

The club comes first. Always has, always fucking will.

“We’ve got a surprise for you,” Rites tells me with a small smile.

“A fucking surprise,” I groan. “You know I don’t like surprises.”

And I don’t. Not when club business and life can blindside you and give you surprises every fucking day. Those surprises fall on my shoulders, and I have to be the one to take on the burden without complaint, without even fucking blinking.

I like knowing what is about to happen. I like solid plans. I like looking forward and being able to anticipate problems.

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