Page 81 of Deserter

It didn’t matter how late he was out with the club; I woke up almost every morning to him trailing kisses down my belly before settling between my legs.

Maybe all men were like this. Unfortunately, there was absolutely no one I could ask. My mother still avoided my calls and was off-limits for obvious reasons, Lucy was tight-lipped when it came to that sort of thing, and Molly had never had children. I hadn’t seen Betsy since she took me to see Viktor, which left me to come to my own conclusions.

Whatever the reason, Jamie and I hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other.

“I’d be scared shitless if I were you. One dick, for the rest of my life? Wait a minute, what’s that look?”

Two bright spots of color appeared on my cheeks and I looked back down at the small vanity table in front of me. A vanity table my groom had delivered to the clubhouse just for today. “What’s what look?” I mumbled.

“Holy shit, he’s giving you so much dick you can’t even think of any others! Tell me what it’s like screwing the big boss. Does he slap your ass and tell you to call him ‘Pres?’ I bet he does—”

“Molly,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Drop it.”

Minus the ‘Pres’ part, her assumptions were fairly accurate. A lady didn’t kiss and tell though—even if said lady had spent the early morning hours down on her knees in the shower with a certain biker’s appendage in her mouth.

I exhaled and shivered at the memory while Molly watched me suspiciously.

“I see what this is—some weird pregnancy fetish going on. I guess you better enjoy it now before that kid blows out your vagina. You won’t be able to feel a thing after.”

Wait—what?

With a frown, I added another bobby pin. “I don’t think that’s accurate—”

“Well, well. Speak of the devil.” Molly turned back toward the door. “You know it’s bad luck to see her before the wedding, right?”

“Don’t give a fuck,” Jamie growled. “Get out.”

Instead of slinking away, Molly threw her head back and laughed as she passed him on the way to the door. “I see what this is, you two! ‘Girl, you know it's true…ooh, ooh, ooh I love you. Yes, you know it's true—’”

Jamie slammed the door, cutting her off mid-chorus. “Jesus, she’s obnoxious.”

His intense stare met mine in the mirror and I shivered. Sometimes it felt as if those blue eyes could see my every thought. He was wearing his trademark dark jeans, along with his leather vest over a long-sleeve white t-shirt.

“You’re not wearing a tux?”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “I look like the type of guy who’s putting on a fuckin’ suit? Told you that you didn’t need a dress either; I got your kutte right here.”

He held up a matching leather vest with the charming phrase,Property of Grey,emblazoned across the back.

Hell would freeze over before I put it on.

I preferred my ivory empire-waisted gown with satin laurel leaves sewn onto the shoulders. I’d found it in the most unlikely of places, along with a long-buried family secret.

Apparently, I took after Yiayia in more ways than one because the dress had been custom-made but fit me like a glove. It appeared as if I hadn’t been the only one to bring a baby to their wedding ceremony. To me, it was a sign that she was still with me and today, of all days, I needed that.

If she were here, she’d be flitting about the room, unable to sit still from excitement. She would’ve pinned the flower crown to my hair while proclaiming that I put all the other goddesses to shame.

And a Greek goddess wouldn’t be caught dead in a leather vest; especially not one that stated she was nothing more than property.

I stood up and twirled in a small circle, blinking away the tears. “Don’t you like my dress?”

He lowered the vest a few inches and took me in. “You’re a fuckin’ knockout, Celia—with, or without the dress.” He paused before adding, “Makes your tits look nice though.”

“So, I can wear it?”

He shook his head. “You need to wear this; sends a message to every man out there. They need to know who you belong to.”

Ah, the fragile ego of bikers.

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