Page 17 of Kissin Irish by Morgan
Reluctantly, I held the dong in front of her.
Clutching it, she ran her hands up and down the length of it, sucking her lips. It was a sight to behold. My thoughts turned pure carnal.
As soon as she figured out what it was, she burst out laughing. “Jason. Oh, hell. I thought I lost him.”
“You named your dildo?”
“No. Jass named it when she bought it for me.”
As she giggled, I touched her cheek with it. She stopped laughing. I ran it along to her lips, picturing my dick against them. Cece gasped but opened her mouth to let it slide in. Watching the cock creep between her teeth, about did me in. I glided it in and out of her mouth, wishing it was me. Her lips swathed the fake dong as she gave me a show. Fuck, she looked so sexy, her mouth full of dick.
My hand swept back her long hair as I slunk it further in until she gagged. She snatched her head away, gasping for air. I tossed Jason onto the floor and went for the button on my jeans. Cece panted still, but she reached out to me, looping her finger into my pants pocket. She tugged me forward. Fuck, she wanted me too.
It was my lucky day.
“Cece,” a voice sounded through the house, a female voice. Bollocks, her nurse Jassica was back.
“Sis,” Pagan yelled.
Fecking Jaysus. I buttoned my pants.
“Go out the window,” Cece whispered, as she got up to shut her bedroom door.
I limped back to Cousin’s place sporting a stiffy to rival all others. I was sure Payday wouldn’t appreciate me choking the chicken in his bed, so I took a shower. Before I stepped in, I held her knickers from the night before up to my nose. Sweet as candy.
When I woke it was time for Church. All members of the Royal Bastards MC attended our weekly meeting unless they were out on a run or otherwise indisposed. Every Saturday at eight p.m. on the dot, Kingpin held Church in his Throne Room. Right off the main bar and casino, next to the right-hand stage, a padded door led to a soundproof banquet hall. Inside sat the bleeding velvet covered perch for our leader. Leviathan and Goliath, our two enforcers would set up tables and chairs for the officers. The rest of us stood at attention, waiting to be addressed. We’d be dismissed first. Then the officers would continue their private meeting with our President. All of us underlings would wait out in the club in case there’d been anything new to be relayed to us. It being Saturday, most of us would be here all night anyway. If not doing our duties, partying.
Why they called it church, I hadn’t the slighted. We never confessed our sins. We were all hiding them as long as we could, praying none of the officers found us out. Pagan walked by me not knowing all the corrupt thoughts I had about his sister just this morning. What I imagined doing to her when I pulled one off in the shower. What I planned to do to the wee pretty thing as soon as I got the chance.
Crossing my arms like the rest of them, I listened to Kingpin tell us about next week’s fight.
“Irish will be going against Pagan.”
My brothers grumbled, effin’ and blindin’ about the club going broke when I lost.
“Who says I’ll lose? We can resolve this right now.” I put up my dukes, challenging any of them.
Kingpin tried to settle them, “If Pagan knows what’s good for him. He’ll take it easy on our star.”
“You askin’ me to throw a fight, Pres?” Pagan pushed his chair back and stood, puffing out his chest.
“Nah, Pagan. You want to be our next golden boy, go ahead and win. Be ready to beat the next dozen opponents. Or just let the house go broke. You decide.”
Pagan sat down with a plop, cursing under his breath.
Kingpin was onto other business about a rival gang in Arkansas sniffing around his city. That had been the run Riff left on this morning. He took a handful of men with him to track the Asphalt Gods down. Then our President talked about Mr. Fond, the richest man in Nashville outbidding him for a piece of land close to Royal Road. He wanted revenge. Opry knew of some women he thought could get close to the man, figure out his next move. Next, Kingpin talked about the MCS, the Music City Syndicate and its head honcho. Alexander Getty had become a regular at Royal Road, originally only because Kingpin wanted to keep a close eye on him. But as time went by, Royal Road had morphed into more of a club within a club for the mob. Kingpin thought it best to keep going in that direction.
Riff disagreed, but being Road Captain, he was gone on a run and couldn’t protest. Kingpin felt it protected our club to have men even more ruthless than him in his pocket. He had too many enemies if you asked me, but no one did. Instead, our President started on his famous brother and the music video he planned to shoot here soon. I didn’t want to be around to see that gobshite. Anything to do with Kingpin’s brother, brought out the worst of him. They both were bleeding eejits around each other.
After Church, Pagan met me at one of the tables where I watched Payday play blackjack with some of our brothers from out of town.
He warned me, “Don’t waste your time drinking, Irish. You ought to be in the gym getting ready to take the ass whupping I’m handing out on Friday.”
“You throwing shapes? Stop the lights. Do you think I came down the lagan in a bubble? There’s no way you’ll let Kingpin lose fifty grand on a fight. Can’t ya see he’s testing you, aye? You’ll have to let me win. Only way around it.”
“You think I’m afraid of Kingpin? I pissed on his Harley, remember.”
“Aye, Kingpin loves his hog.” He had a fierce one-kicker, a custom bike more expensive than all of ours put together. “But piss washes away. No way to wash off losing fifty grand because your Vice President wants to play daddy to his sister.”
