Booster
I don’t know what the fuck has happened at the clubhouse, but I’m damn sure not happy about it. It’s fine—whatever. I’ll take care of this, and then soon … Soon, I’ll get back to Lena.
I’m distracted on my drive. All I can think about is having my tongue on and in Lena, tasting her and pleasuring her. My cock still feels the hot cavern of her mouth wrapped tightly around it, and I swear I could get hard with just that thought alone.
I’m so fucked. I’ve found a woman too perfect.
Someone would probably call me crazy for thinking like that, but I don’t really give a fuck. Lena was so receptive to me tonight; I was certain that I would need to show her more of what I had to offer before she gave me what I wanted. But our time together was obviously the catalyst needed in getting Lena in my bed. If it weren’t for duty? I’d turn right the fuck around and consummate our little arrangement right here and now.
As it is, I have shit I have to do.
Going as fast as I am, I get to the clubhouse in record time.
Some sort of fight broke out at the clubhouse, according to Happy when he called me ... The Wylde Ones are a rowdy bunch, and I’m the only one that’s able to keep them in line—when I’m around. It’s Happy’s job to hold down the fort when I’m gone, but Happy doesn’t command the kind of respect that I do, and that’s obviously a problem.
I pull up to the clubhouse. Almost all the bikes are out front, and there’s a large group. It doesn’t look like too much has died down since Happy called me, but at least there are no cops around and no dead bodies. Still … shit like this shouldn’t happen in the first place.
All the more reason for me to have a child, and quick; Happy’s not fit to lead.
I get off my bike and walk over to the crowd. There’s shouting and scuffling still going on. I roll my eyes because, really? Honestly? Is this fucking necessary from grown-ass men? I push through the first layer and when people realize that it’s me, they part like the Red Sea to let me through. Good. I don’t intend to be here for long, getting through a bunch of insubordination.
In the center, there are a few of the boys, swinging and cursing up drunken storms. It’s kind of pathetic, when you think about it. Pathetic and highly unnecessary. I roll my eyes, watching for a moment, before I raise my voice.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
The boys start upon hearing my voice, and those who were about to swing instantly lower their arms. It’s a response that I like; they know my voice without having to look at me, and they heed my commands when I give them—without question. It might be a bit of a power trip, in all honesty, but I don’t really think too much on that. I’m the president. Their leader. They better damn well listen to me.
“I said, what the fuck is going on here?”
“Oh, um …” The guy closest to me, Freddy, speaks up, rubbing his hand behind his head. He’s got a blooming black eye and blood coming out of his nose. The others don’t look much better, but since he was the one that spoke up, I keep my attention on him and make it unwavering so he can’t weasel out of giving me an explanation.
“Oh, um, what?”
“It was just a misunderstanding, Booster. Sorry.”
“A misunderstanding that has the whole club out here in the front, acting like a bunch of animals instead of grown men that know how to handle their shit?” I get no answer. “But that’s all right. I don’t blame you.”
I look over to where Happy is standing, for some reason seeming pleased with himself. However, when his eyes catch mine, the expression falters, and he knows that he’s in trouble—I can tell by the look on his face.
“Happy. Come here.”
He swallows and walks over, apprehensive as a child that’s about to be scolded by their parent. It’s a pretty close comparison.
He doesn’t seem very happy when he comes to step in front of me, something that I relish in.
“Can you tell me why you weren’t able to handle a small, tiny little misunderstanding, Happy?” I ask him. “Can you tell me why, despite being my vice president, you apparently can’t get one simple little thing done without having to call on me?” Before Happy can respond to that, I look out to everyone.
“If I’m not here, chances are, I’m doing something important, or getting some much-needed time to myself. I would like it if I didn’t have to have shit that needs to get done interrupted over bullshit. That being said, there’s only one reason why I had to be called here today, and that’s because someone wasn’t able to do their job. So I don’t blame most of you here.” I look back to Happy. “Don’t let it happen again.”
Happy nods, looking pissed as hell, but he doesn’t say anything extra. That doesn’t surprise me, and it almost amuses me how little a spine he tends to have when the cards are properly down.
The boys disperse around us, calmed and subdued in the presence of their leader. I stay and keep watching, just to make sure things look like they’re going to stay that way. I talk to a couple of the boys; shoot the shit. Not all of them are infantile if they don’t have someone to hold their hands, but there are enough of them that do that have me wondering how much more of this I can reasonably deal with for the next few years.
When everything looks good, and most of the boys are either in the clubhouse or the ones outside are in good spirits, I decide that I’ve had enough time here and wasted enough of it that it’s about time to head back to Lena’s house. I think maybe—though it’s highly unlikely—she’s awake and waiting so we can pick up where we left off.
Well. No matter how unlikely it is, I’m still going to go and see. I’ll just spend the night there otherwise, since she still needs to be watched.
I go to leave, figuring that anything else that happens, either Happy will handle, or he won’t—but it won’t be my problem—except Pixie, a club girl that usually hangs around Happy, comes over.
Pixie’s a fine little piece, and she and I have tangled in the sheets in the past.
Note: in the past.
I haven’t been interested in any of the club girls in a while, especially not after getting eyes, and now hands, on Lena. She’s got these big tits and a nice figure, and she presses it up against me before I can get to my bike properly.
“Hey, Booster,” she says, her voice a little breathy and high-pitched. “You look a little frustrated. It’s been a while. Let me take care of you?”
It would have been a temptation if this were months or even a year ago. But it’s not right now. I have shit to do.
Deciding to be nice instead of being a dick to her, I nudge her away lightly.
“I have things to do, Pixie,” I tell her, ignoring the disappointed, crestfallen look on her face. “Maybe next time.”
I don’t wait around to see her reaction; I don’t really think it’s necessary for me to do so, to be honest. Instead, I get on my bike and ride away.
I get back home in record time, having taken a short cut or two and sped along the road without a care in the world. I find the lights out when I pull up, and I know that Lena’s likely not awake. That’s okay. I head inside, grab myself something to drink, and head upstairs. There’s not a peep in the house, and when I get to my room, I can see why. Just across the way, there’s Lena in my bed, sleeping. I’m tempted to wake her, but she looks so beautiful and peaceful. I don’t dare disturb her when she needs her sleep.
I walk up to her quietly, not wanting to disturb her too much or at all, really. She’s curled under my blankets with her face pressed into my pillow, and a faint sleeping smile on her face. It occurs to me that I’ve never had a woman in my bed like this before. I don’t date, so I don’t have women staying over. We fuck, we cum, and maybe wash up together for another round before it’s popping them on the ass and sending them on their way. Lena and I haven’t even screwed yet, yet she’s all cozy and comfy in my personal space like this.
Oddly enough … I don’t mind it.
The tender thought catches me off guard a bit. I don’t do the whole sentiment thing. I doubt that I ever will. But I chalk it up to caring about her in a practical sense—after all, she’s going to be the mother of my child, and therefore there’s something of a connection there that I’m fostering, right? Whatever the reason, I figure that it’s that, and it doesn’t stop me from undressing and climbing into bed with her, wrapping around her tightly. As though I’m trying to keep her safe.