After spending all late afternoon, and early evening playing pool and hanging out at the bar we decide to go home. Prescott follows behind me on his motorcycle. I realize as soon as I pull into the driveway that I’m starving. Not just a little peaked, I’m like gnaw on my arm starving. I slip out of the Jeep, and hurry toward the door, my main goal—food.

I shove my head in the refrigerator, in search for—anything. I hear Prescott walk into the house, but I’m a woman on a mission. I reach for a fruit bowl that I made earlier in the week, knowing it’s what I should eat. Then my fingers graze what I know is a plate with cake covered in foil.

“Get the cake, peaches,” Prescott’s voice murmurs from behind me.

I stand and turn to face him. “I don’t need the cake, Pres,” I practically whisper.

“Oh fuck yeah, you do,” he grunts. “Don’t worry, peaches, I’ll be working that cake off in a little bit. Eat it while I grill us up some dinner.”

“You’re going to cook?” I practically breathe.

He shakes his head, “Take your cake, sit down, relax. I got dinner,” I nod, reaching back into the fridge and taking the cake.

Prescott holds out a fork for me and I grab it as I walk past him. His hand taps my ass as I make my way over to the sofa.

Sinking down into the cushions I unwrap the foil and inhale the sweet scent of chocolate and buttercream. It’s probably as close to heaven as I could be right now.

No, that’s a lie.

If Pres were between my legs and I was eating this cake—now, that would be heaven. I giggle to myself, imagining what that would be like. Then I turn on the television and flip through the channels for something to watch.

“You got that doctor’s appointment tomorrow, right?” Prescott calls out from the kitchen.

I turn my head slightly and nod, as I try to swallow my bite of cake. “Yeah, why?”

“I got church in the morning. I might be late, if I make it at all.”

It takes everything, every single thing, inside of me not to freak the fuck out on my man. It’s the most important appointment, at least to me it is. This is the one where we get to find out the sex of the baby. I want him there, no, I need him there. My eyes suddenly fill with tears and the craving for cake is all but gone.

Placing my plate down on the coffee table, I stand. Instead of going into the kitchen where Prescott is, I decide to go upstairs. I can’t be around him right now. I feel vulnerable. I feel like I’m on the edge of breaking down, and a downright unstable mess. I sit on the edge of the bed and I do the girliest thing ever, I cry.

“Are you crying?” Prescott asks, sounding dumbfounded.

I sniffle and dash the tears away from my eyes. “I can’t believe you aren’t going to the doctor. Don’t you want to know what the baby is?” I whimper. Good lord, I sound weak as hell.

His head nods up and down, then he tips it to the side. “Peaches, it’s a doctor’s appointment. You’ll tell me everything right? I’ve been to them all up until now. I won’t miss it if I can help it.”

“It’s one of the most important ones,” I blubber as tears continue to fall down my cheeks.

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Okay, yeah. How about I meet you there? I won’t let church go over, and I’ll drive right over?”

I give him a trembling smile, pleased enough with his answer, even if it isn’t exactly what I wanted to hear. “Now, stop with the waterworks, yeah?” he asks walking over to me. I nod, standing up and making my way toward him, as well.

His lips touch mine and my eyes immediately dry. His tongue sweeps into my mouth with a groan. “You taste so fucking sweet, Ginger,” he mutters against my mouth.

His feet begin to move as he backs me up, my legs hitting the bed. He doesn’t stop though he forces me to sit and I’m eye level with his zipper.

“Nope,” he states, his hand pressing against my chest to lay me down on my back.

Then without another word, he yanks my leggings and panties down my legs. His hands wrap around the backs of my knees as he spreads my thighs apart and then his mouth is on me.

With a long sigh, I close my eyes. His tongue feels so good as it slides through my center. I reach down and slip my fingers through the soft strands of his hair, gripping him, and moving against his face.

Prescott’s beard tickles my thighs, and when he moves his attention to my clit, his beard tickles my slick center as well—it feels amazing.

I moan, lifting my hips, searching for more—for everything. His hands wrap around the inside of my thighs and he presses them wider, opening me. I let out a long groan, my fingers gripping his hair tighter, assuredly hurting his scalp.

“Pres, oh shit,” I cry.

My hips jerk, my eyes pop open as I cry out with my release. I didn’t even know I was so close, it rolls through me at a frightening speed and by the time I finally relax, I don’t feel satisfied, not even close.

Pres stands, and I sit up, reaching for his pants. I tug the button open, and the zipper down before I push them off of his hips. Wrapping my hand around his hard, thick cock, I give it a gentle stroke.

“Fuck,” he groans.

He doesn’t say anything else, his hand wraps around my wrist before he slams it down above my head on the bed. I fall back with it, waiting with rabid anticipation for him to fill me. His cock slides along my center, the head teasing my clit with each stroke.

“Shit, peaches, this pussy is so hot and wet,” he groans.

When he fills me, it’s slowly. I suck in a breath, feeling every single inch that slips inside of me. His fingers flex against my wrist and he begins to thrust in and out of me.

I want it hard, and fast, but he doesn’t give that to me. He’s drawing it all out, building me back up again. The gleam in his eyes tells me that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

My breath hitches when he grinds his pelvis against my clit. “Will you come for me again?” he grinds out.

“If you fuck me instead of treating me like a china doll, I might,” I smart off.

His eyes widen and then he laughs, the sound low and rumbly. “Fuck,” he grunts. He pulls out of me suddenly, I whimper at the loss of him, but not for long—he has ideas.

“On all fours,” he grunts.

I quickly scramble to my hands and knees, spreading my thighs wide and tipping my ass the way he likes.

“Christ, this ass,” he groans as he grabs ahold of my cheeks and spreads me apart.

Without any warning he dives right into my core, slamming with such intensity that my hands move forward.

Prescott wraps his hands around my hips and holds me still. Then he fucks me. It’s hard, fast, and unyielding. Each thrust of his hips sends a jolt of pleasure through me. I moan, crying out as my body builds toward my release.

I’m on the edge, so close as he continues to pump his hips behind me, slamming against my ass. Tomorrow I’ll ache, but it will be a delicious ache and I’m almost excited for it. Each step I take, each move I make, I’ll remember this moment.

My pussy clenches and I let out a mewl as I come, it’s hard and overwhelming, causing my entire body to tense. Prescott doesn’t stop behind me, he continues to fuck me, and it draws out my release.

Then he stills, his own body tightening as he shouts with his release. His sweat soaked chest is pressed against my back and his tongue tastes my neck.

“Is that what my girl needed?” he asks on a whisper. I can do nothing but hum as my response. I’m completely sated.

Prescott slips from my body and gently rolls me to my side, climbing up behind me and wrapping his arms around me. His mouth is at my shoulder and then he kisses back up to my neck. My stomach growls and I can’t help but giggle.

“Dinner,” he murmurs against my neck.

I can feel his lips form a smile and mine follow suit. “Dinner,” I agree.

He stands from the bed and I look up, surprised that he’s shirtless. He must have taken his cut and shirt off when I turned around.

I watch as he picks up his pants from his ankles, bringing them up his hips. Then he walks out of the room, shirtless. I can’t help but smile. I love the man, even when he pisses me off—he’s mine.

Free watches me walk into the room and he grins. I already told him church had to be over quickly today because Ginger is going to the doctor.

He called me a pussy and hung up on me.

The fucker.

I am exactly as he claims, but only for Ginger. I sit down at my place, the head of the table and wait for the brothers to gather around, dropping to their seats as well.

Once everyone has arrived, I begin. I tell them the basics of Hayden’s situation and then I explain how Lucifer has gone AWOL. Nobody has heard from him, and if they have, they’re keeping it quiet from the rest of the Devils.

When I’m finished giving a rundown of Lucifer, and warning them to keep their eyes peeled, just in case, I then go over what I expect the rest of the month to look like.

They all grunt with their approval and I inform them that I’ll send out texts with duties for the week. I’m a shitty fucking bookkeeper, and even worse with schedules. It’s a wonder our operation runs at all, let alone as smoothly as it does.

“That shipment of guns coming from Idaho, will it make it in time?” Motorhead asks.

I let out a sigh. We’ve got a big shipment that’s supposed to be headed our way. The brothers in Idaho stopped crossing the border with them a few years back when their president was caught and locked up.

Now, I send a crew of two down there to pick them up and drive them over. Not my most favorite thing to do in the world, but it’s a necessity.

Gun restrictions are tight as fuck here in Canada, and the demand is heavy. Sometimes I feel as though it’s too heavy. The weight and worry I carry over my men, not only bringing the merchandise back but also delivering it to the buyers is too much at times. I sometimes wish that our club did something else, something other than guns and the occasional dope.

“You okay, Pres?” Crooner asks me once I’ve dismissed everyone.

I lift my chin in response, then change the subject. “How’s Hayden?”

He clears his throat, looking off to the side before he brings his gaze back to me. “She’ll be okay,” he says.

I’m not sure what that means, but I don’t ask him. He’ll tell me if there’s a problem. I stand, clapping him on the shoulder and then I decide to go to my woman. I quickly walk toward my bike, straddling the seat before I start the engine with a roar.

It doesn’t take me long to arrive at Ginger’s doctor’s office, and when I park my bike, I glance at my phone. I’ve just made it; her appointment is scheduled for two minutes from now. I jog toward the door and hurry upstairs.

In the waiting room, my eyes scan the pregnant women until they land on the one pregnant woman I continuously crave. As if she can sense me in the room, her eyes lift from the magazine in her hands and she aims a warm smile in my direction. I walk toward her, sitting down in the empty chair next to her.

“You made it,” she breathes.

I grunt. “Fuck yeah I did. You made it clear I needed to be here, today.” Leaning over, I press my lips to her temple and slide my arm around her shoulders.

“All of the women in here are panting over you,” she points out.

I don’t bother looking around, I could give a fuck if another woman looks at me. I only have one woman on my brain, and that’s her. My only response is to smirk at her, which causes her to roll her eyes.

“Ginger Gordon,” a nurse calls.

Ginger jumps up, and I hear her suck in an audible breath. She’s probably a mixture of nervous and excited, I don’t blame her one bit.

Rising from my seat, I place my hand on the small of her back and gently push her forward. Together we walk up to the nurse, then follow behind her.

I watch as Ginger stands on the scale, averting my eyes when her weight appears. I could give a fuck how much she weighs, and I think she looks perfect, but I know the rising numbers have been bothering her a little lately. Then the nurse shows me to a room and takes Ginger to do some other routine shit, which I assume is pissing in a cup. Why they’re both acting like it’s some big secret, I have no fucking clue.

A few minutes later Ginger walks through the door and I help her up onto the exam table. “The doctor will be right in to see you,” the nurse offers with a smile before she walks out.

“You haven’t said what you’re hoping for.”

I blink, looking over at her, surprised that she’s even mentioned it. I tip my head to the side. What do I want? I don’t know, a boy I suppose, just because I know how to handle boys.

A girl, I can’t imagine how I would even know what to do with one. I don’t tell Ginger that though, she’s talked about a girl once or twice and I have a feeling that’s what she’s hoping to have.

“A healthy baby, and a healthy you,” I offer with a smile.

She narrows her eyes and tips her head to the side. “You lie. You want a boy, I can practically see the wheels turning.”

“Am I that transparent?” I chuckle.

She shakes her head, then bites into the side of her bottom lip. “Will you be disappointed if it’s a girl?” she whispers. She sounds almost worried, as if a girl would change anything between us.

I snort. “Peaches, a girl would be perfect, and a boy would be perfect, as long as you’re all safe, I don’t care. Honest to fuck,” I grunt.

She opens her mouth to respond, but the doctor walks in. “How about we go take a look at that baby today,” he announces with a clap.

We follow behind him and into a small room off to the side. There’s a machine set up and a large monitor. I take a seat against the wall and watch as he puts a bunch of shit on Ginger’s belly then places a wand thing against it.

The lights go down and a sound of quick thumps fills the air. A heartbeat, my baby’s heartbeat. My own heart swells at the sound, then I see the shape of a baby against the screen. Last time it looked like a blob, but right now, staring back at me is the profile of a real fucking baby.

Holy shit.

“Congratulations Mom and Dad, it’s a girl,” the doctor announces.