“Fuck, sugar. Ride my cock. Goddamn.”
I moved faster, but not because he told me to. Screw that. I did it because I was getting close.
Daz was on his back, his ass right at the edge of the bed, his legs bent over the side. I was standing between them, bent over, rearing back onto his dick. It had started out as a lap dance. Why I thought I’d be able to torture him with a lap dance for long when he was still naked from us going at each other last night before we both crashed, I had no idea.
Or maybe I knew exactly how this was going to play out and that was the whole idea.
He was an asshole, but he really did have a great cock.
Oh, and I might have loved him, asshole or not.
He wrapped his hands around my hips, yanking me back faster against him. Maybe I should have gotten handcuffs. If I had, he wouldn’t have been able to grab me exactly like this and pull me onto his dick.
Of course, if he’d been cuffed, he wouldn’t have been able to pull me onto his dick, which I was enjoying a whole lot right then. So much so, another couple bounces had me biting my bottom lip to keep from crying out way louder than I should have while I came all over him.
“Hell fuckin’ yeah, baby. You squeeze me so fuckin’ good. You…”
His words broke off as he followed me over, pulling me down flush to him even as his hips bucked up against me.
“Fuck, I love you,” he muttered as it left him, and I laughed.
For once, I was mixing batter by hand. It was an oddly novel concept for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made a cake batter without the help of a stand mixer. However, this wasn’t just any cake batter. This was going to be hummingbird cake, and the fruit inside couldn’t stand up to the mixer blade without being pulverized. I’d learned that from experience a few days ago when I’d started trying to perfect this damn recipe.
But this was the batch, I could feel it.
It had been two months since Stone was sentenced to eighteen months in prison for third degree assault, a charge he obviously pled no contest to. That pall of his absence lay heavy over all the Disciples, but particularly over me, Kate, and most especially, Daz.
Even everyday tasks like going to the grocery store would bring to mind the fact that the most basic freedoms weren’t available to Stone because he’d given them up for Daz. That burned, and that burn settled deeper knowing I’d not gotten to know him well before he made that sacrifice.
I wrote him, though. I wrote him twice a week even though he wasn’t allowed letters that often.
I’d been nearly distraught when I’d read up online after Stone’s sentencing hearing about how strict the rules were regarding sending things to inmates. Actually, Daz would have probably said it was worse than that. I’d thrown an all-out shit fit when I’d realized it was against the prison policy to send him baked goods. The only way to send food was from a care package site where they’d send him crappy, mass-produced cookies and crap.
“He deserves better!” I shouted. “I can’t send him fucking packaged cookies! I wouldn’t feed my dog that garbage!”
“Sugar, you need to—”
“Oh no. Don't you tell me to calm down. I am not calming down,” I snapped before he could say it.
“No fucking shit,” he muttered sardonically.
“Daz!” I cried. “After everything he did, I have to send him something better. I have to.” I tried to keep it together, but my voice cracked on the words.
My man came to me, wrapping his arms around me. “Take a breath,” he instructed. “You’re too fuckin’ sweet for your own good.”
“Daz,” I started again, but he shushed me.
“You keep a lock on it for one fucking minute, baby, and I’ll tell you what I’ve been trying to since you started flipping your shit.” I looked up at him mutinously, but I kept my mouth shut. “Those rules you read up about prison mail don’t fuckin’ matter. You want to send him something, we’ll make it happen. Not the first time a brother has been inside,” he teased. Obviously. “We’ve got connections. We can get him anything we damn well want to.”
I’d settled after that. And since he’d been in, I’d sent baked goods to Stone weekly. Daz teased every time that we were going to bankrupt the club with all the money needed to grease palms to get them to him, but I knew it was bullshit. Daz would spend every dollar he had to keep the line open for Stone to get anything he needed from the outside until he was released.
It was the absolute least we could do.
So, this week, it was hummingbird cake.
This was because we’d finally been able to go in and visit. That had also taken a little palm greasing. Apparently, there was a whole screening process to be approved as visitors, and Daz had not been likely to pass. I had no ideas what connections the Disciples had to make that happen, and I didn’t ask. I just went at his side to see the man we owed everything.
During that visit, I’d managed to wear Stone down enough to tell me his favorite dessert was hummingbird cake because his grandmother used to make it.
I’d known of it. I knew it had pineapple, banana, pecans, and cinnamon in it and it usually was topped with cream cheese frosting. What I didn’t have was an exact recipe I trusted to make it, but that didn’t matter much. I’d researched various recipes online for hours until I got a good sense of what I wanted, then the experimenting had begun.
Stone was going to get the best damn hummingbird cake he’d had since he was a kid. I didn’t care how many times I had to tweak my method.
“You think this is the one?” Daz asked, having come down now that he was out of the shower.
I didn’t look at him. I stayed focused on the bowl in front of me, looking for just the right consistency before I kept going.
“This is it,” I said, all bravado I was trying to sell myself on. I wanted this one to be it. I didn’t care about having to try again, but tomorrow was my day to send another package to Stone. I was determined this one would have some damn hummingbird cupcakes in it.
“Still have to put them in the oven?” he asked, and there was something off about his tone that made me turn around and face him.
He was standing in the middle of the room, and in his hands was a giant, industrial sized cupcake pan.
I smiled, trying not to laugh. “Honey, that’s too big to use in the oven.”
What I expected in return was a quip about his dick—I generally tried to avoid using the word “big” at all with him—but that wasn’t what I got. Instead, he said, “Well, we’ll have to get you a bigger one.”
“Um...I don’t think we can put a bigger oven in here,” I said, looking at the average four-burner range situated a few feet away.
He chuckled then. “Not here.”
I didn’t think an oven big enough for that tray was going to fit in my kitchen either, and he read my confusion. He put the huge pan down on the table and came to me.
“I’m thinking an industrial oven. Maybe some giant mixers and shit. Then a nice area in the front with display cases and maybe a couple tables for people to sit and eat.”
Wait. Was he talking about a bakery? He couldn’t be.
“I don’t have the money,” I whispered.
“But you do.”
What?
I just gaped at him, so he said, “Why don’t you check your savings?”
With fumbling hands, I set down the bowl of batter and pulled out my phone. It took three tries to type in my login information for my bank correctly. Then, I saw the balance for my savings.
Ninety thousand dollars.
That was seventy-five thousand too much.
Seventy-five thousand.
“Oh my god.”
“You’ve got the money,” Daz said. “Time to make that dream real.”
But I couldn’t have that money. It was gone. Aaron had taken it.
And now Daz was trying to replace it.
“I can’t take this,” I said in horror.
Daz shook his head, looking amused. “Sugar, I love you. But I don’t have that kind of money just sitting around to hand you easily. I also know you wouldn’t take it if I did. That money is yours.”
It couldn’t be.
“What are you talking about?”
“Took some time,” he started. “Had to do shit carefully with the charges against Stone. But Jager got into that fuckwad’s accounts. He had what he’d taken from you and more. No way to know where it all came from. Probably all from innocent people he fucked over like he did you. Jager’s still trying to find a connection to get some of them their cash back, but he got that out. Can’t say with certainty it’s the same money he took. Might be he already spent a lot of that, but it’s money he had no fucking right to. Now, it’s yours again.”
I didn’t have words. He’d gotten it back. All of that money. But it was so much more than that. It wasn't about dollars. It was about that dream I’d only given up on when that money was stolen from me.
I’m finally going to do it, Gran.
“One caveat,” Daz added.
“Anything,” I whispered, my throat clogged with impending tears.
“Disciples get a discount.”
I burst out laughing. He always managed to make me laugh, even when I should have been overcome with emotion.
He leaned down right then, kissing me. He did that a lot, kissed me when I laughed. He told me it was his way of enjoying the fruits of his labors. I thought he was full of shit, but I liked it, so I didn’t say anything.
“Love you, sugar,” he said against my lips.
“I love you too.”
He placed one more kiss there, then stated, “Finish up those cupcakes for Stone, then you’re meeting me upstairs to show me how much.”
Well, that sounded like a plan to me.
I watched him walk out of the kitchen, but called after him before he left.
He turned back to face me, and I appreciated for a second about how damn hot he was. His hair that seriously needed a cut from the way it curled over his shoulders was still wet. His white shirt left little of his muscled torso to the imagination under his cut. And his face, as always, looked like he was up to no good. I’d tried to resist that man, and it was probably the dumbest thing I’d ever done.
Or maybe not. That build up made it all the better when the explosion happened.
“Yeah?”
“Disciples eat free.”
He grinned at me, and it was salacious.
He could do with that what he wanted.
I had cupcakes to make.