CHAPTER TEN

“I’m just saying. If Preacher eye-fucked her any harder we all would have been knocked up.” - Snake.

 

 

 

“Mujeres are just like motorcycles.” Announced Capone. His coarse native Puerto Rican accent only enriched to a warmer timber when he was amused, about to educate everyone on the similarities between women and machines. Guffaws followed so that even Preacher twisted his neck away from his work to eyeball his brother. “Go ahead, smartass. This I have to hear.”

It was a normal day and he was glad of that. He needed the normal and the average of his club, for months he’d had days when he couldn’t wait to get back here, away from the animosity and disruption of trying to drag another chapter out of the shitter it had gotten itself into, that had been a task in itself, but when he’d left Nebraska he felt he could deliver good news to Rider. Not that he minded pitching in, as road captain he planned the trips religiously tight when it was time to ride, usually it was not months on end like the Nebraska trip had been, add in the fucking face-to-face hate from Red Light most days, it hadn’t been a pleasant vacation at all.

Good to be back with his club.

Even if one of his buddies was talking utter crap from his Spanish speaking tongue.

“Isn’t it obvious, hermanos?” Capone strutted in that big bastard kind of way of his. “She might grumble and sputter down the road, and give you mucho trouble and expense until you're on your knees broke, but you shift her in just the right gear at the right time and she gives you the smoothest fucking ride that will blow your brains out.”

That was Capone. Preacher laughed at the smugness on his face, tugging one of his ear gauges he sauntered across the shop to grab the tool he needed laughing all the way.

“That’s the biggest load of shit I think you’ve ever come out with, Cap. Even worse than when you said women were like a bottle of Morgan Spice; what was it, because she was wet and lethal if you drank it for too long. I mean really, I think we have to deport this guy back to the land of the burrito.”

And that was Snake, if there was a stereotype to stomp an ism all over, he was doing it in his size fourteens.  Preacher counted to three, the amount of time it would take ... Yep and there it was, Capone fired a finger salute and told Snake to go fuck his mom in Spanish.

“Nah, too busy fucking yo-----”

“Snake!” Hissed Preacher in warning, his head rearing up so fast the moment the words fell like a bomb from his stupid mouth, of all the things to say mentioning family to Capone was a no-no for good reason. Snake realized his fucking mouth vomit mistake instantly, his face shaded and he scrubbed a dirty hand down it before he beat feet over to Capone, laying a hand on his shoulder. His face deathly still beneath his stubble. “My man. Fuck. Goddamn me to Satan's asshole. I got shit for brains you know that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Forget it, papi.”

“I’m a fuckhead, do you wanna smack me around?”

“Fuck. Say no, Capone, run, run fast, that pervert will enjoy it, and I only just ate lunch.” Guffawed Grinder to break the tension.

Snake may be a comedian, mused Preacher, watching the two men kiss and makeup, thankfully not literally, just a lot of back slapping and fist bumping, but he didn’t have a mean bone where the club brothers were concerned. He’d probably work over time now for the rest of the day to make it up to Capone.

Yeah, he thought, so good to be home.

 

 

An hour had gone by since that ruckus when Preacher heard a shrill wolf whistle. Ordinarily, it wasn’t the norm to hear in the bike shop, not unless Pretty-boy was stripping off again and Preacher just didn’t need to go blind today with all the milky skin on show. So, he reared his head up warily, saw all the boys gaping out into the forecourt. The hell was going on out there? Curious, he tried to see around Snake. If those clowns were ogling Zara, Rider was gonna crack skulls and dig graves. He’d never seen a guy more possessive over his old lady before, and Preacher ought to know since he was the biggest fool to rag on the prez for his newly in love Facebook status.

Nah, it wasn’t Zara strutting around. It was a familiar car he’d recently worked his balls off to fix pulling in.

“Well. Well. Well. Lookie who it is.”

It wasn’t a gentle rousing when he spotted who stepped herself out of the car. The moment his brain realized he was seeing Ruby it sent out an alert faster than a social media notification to his body. High alert. Every neuron woke rushing blood down to his dick, drying his mouth before he got with the program and made his feet move.

“Looks like Preacher has a visitor. It’s always the big and ugly beasts the pretty girls come to see, fucking tragic. Can’t understand it. I mean we’ve all seen the gerbil dick he’s carrying around.” Smirked Snake. Preacher rolled his eyes and fired a finger at him, but made sure to fix his gaze all over Ruby a second later.

Her skirt rode up a little around perfect curvy hips as she strutted forward, just a slight nervous twitch in her fingers as she tried to pull it down, belated she turned and hit the motion sensor on the car, giving him a wicked look at her ass, and fuck him, don't get him started on that ass, holy fuck, she was business in front but all party in the back, his mouth turned to cotton.  J-Lo was jealous, he had to avoid the ass altogether because he would sport wood instantly, all Preacher could think was rolling that soft red material up her legs to see what delights she hid beneath.

He bet it was lace. He just bet.

He was a simple man, really, with simple hungry tastes.

From the look on her face, it told him she wouldn't be agreeable to that. Oh well, shit. He smiled some megawatt charming smile most times than not it won over a woman, pushing himself forward past the nosy-asses he called friends. 

His smile didn't work. She stayed stony-faced. Ruby was gonna make him work for it.

His eyelids were hooded, his stare fixed to her hips. She had the most incredible swish. if Preacher was in any way a poet or man of words he could have written verses about how he wanted to bump his belly up against that ass day and night as he rode her into oblivion. As it was he sucked at words of any kind, fucking dyslexia could suck a dick, so he was stuck to staring and admiring.

"Another meeting, beautiful, must be my birthday. What can I do for you?"

Seeing her visibly inhaling she took all three seconds before she replied.

"You haven't billed me for my car. I'm here to collect it in person.”

"Told you there's nothing to pay, it was simple enough, didn't take long, not worth making up a bill for."

"Preacher, I want to pay, my car was fucked, I know it was fucked, I was the one it fucked up on, you fixed it, that is not a simple it was nothing."

"Ruby, really, it was nothing." He pushed off the oil drum he’d stationed himself at when he’d caught her climbing out of the scrap heap he’d performed some wicked magic on to get it working again.

Swerving around her, making sure to brush her shoulder to hear her inhale. Wrench in hand he went down on his haunches in front of the bike he had taken half apart to find the oil leak. A look over his shoulder real quick had him grinning to himself. Her eyes were all over him.

The bad girl liked him dirty covered in oil, did she?

Her brow bunched in the middle, damn, she was cute. He wanted to do something stupid like reach out and cup her face drawing her in for a kiss as he brushed back the hair from her face. She'd tried to tame it today with some sort of clip at the back but riots of curls still escaped. He wished she’d let it go free...her body with it in his direction.  Stop being so bottled-up, baby.

Her arms folded, stretching the material over her tits. Good god. Preacher wasn't blind, he looked and admired like a dying man in the desert seeing water. He wanted to suck and worship. He wanted to make those tits ache for his mouth. He wanted to make her beg for it. 

"Hey, fella, eyes up here, thanks," she clicked her fingers at him. Preacher grinned unashamed. He could hear her aroused inhales. Quick and short.

"Sorry, my eyes got lost for a second. In my defense, they like what they see."

"Right." Her tone said she didn't believe bullshit. "So, about this bill. I'm broke as a bitch can be, but I get paid at the end of the month and I want to set up a payment plan."

"Babe."

"I mean it. I'll go to Rider if I must. He won't be happy you're giving away free mechanical services. I don’t need charity."

Preacher narrowed his eyes, tossed aside the wrench and wiped his hands on a rag he kept in his back pocket, before rising to stalk forward, a slow prowl, his head cranked down towering over her, she had to crane her neck back, a stalement in her eyes but otherwise she didn't move, holding her ground. She meant it, did she?

"I know you're a proud woman, I admire that, Ruby. There’s nothing wrong with one friend helping another. But get me when I say you don't owe me or the shop jack shit, it was on my own time, using my own tools, so Rider will tell you the same. Buy me a drink next time I'm at the bar if you wanna wipe a non-existent debt. Or you could just gimme a kiss right now." She was a hard nut to crack, buried beneath layers of hard exterior he wanted to penetrate right to the soft of her. He could practically see her weighing up his words looking for the double meaning.

She gave him the sexiest brown-eyed scowl.

The wind always howled a little louder through the compact compound, she wrapped her thin jacket around her. Such a thin little skirt wouldn’t keep the tiny dancer warm at all. But he wished she wouldn’t hide her tits from him. Come here, baby, I'll keep you warm.

"Do you ask for kisses from everyone, Bob? Derek? Bubba?"

"Nah, babe, they're really not my type, they have too many bristles and Bubba is a fucker for biting."

But you are so my type.

My fucking type. And I didn't even know.

"Well, keep dreaming. I'd rather pay in cash."

"You're crushing my heart."

She snorted the cutest little noise and he saw the twitch of a real smile edging around her bare lips. Lips, he wanted to suck on for a long dirty month, wanted more of her strawberry taste in his mouth. Fuck, he’d never tasted a woman so incredible before.

"Have you heard of St Jude?" Expressive eyes, deep pools that had no end and when she really trained her gaze on him, really looking without that shy glance away, he felt it.

Preacher jerked a brow confused at the direction of her swift mind. Now, where was this going? He’d bite.  She kept him on his toes if nothing else. "The lost causes guy?"

"That's him. Even he wouldn't take you on, Preacher man, why do you think I would?"

Little teasing minx.

He barked a rough laugh rubbed a hand down his growing beard until it was perfectly pointed.

"Beautiful, all this complimenting will go right to only one place and I don’t think you’d appreciate being fucked over an oil drum, because between that mouth of yours and the tiny little skirt that I want to get under and what you said to me the other day, we’re seconds away from that." And god help him her eyes followed until she was looking at his crotch as well.

Instead of thinking, which was what he should have been doing, he took two steps right into her space, her scent was sweet, fruity, a little spicy. It suited her and added into the full package that was Ruby and just how much he was desiring this one woman. Tipping up her chin, he saw the stubborn tilt of her jaw, she didn't like being surprised.

Get used to it, baby.

"Have lunch with me."

Nudging his hand away so gently he got the impression she didn’t want to offend, but absolutely couldn't have him touching her, her shiver contradicted, but he left his hand down by his side.  Ruby took a step back taking her sexy smell with her. Preacher let her evade him. This was just a little flirt, to get her heated up. She'd decided she was going to fuck him on her own time, he wanted her boiling for it, aching to climb onto his cock.  Her gaze was so damn intense he couldn’t get a read on the way her thoughts were going.

"The legendary manwhore wants to date? Since when do you feed your victims? Did the world end and I slept through it?" She was entertained.

And avoiding his serious offer. He wanted to date her, go for food and fuck for days. Watch her down a plate of something and then drag her to his bed and do deviant things she'd feel shame for days even as she hungered for more. 

She was incredible. Jesus, Preacher practically howled at the sky, he could smell the chase and he wanted it. He really fucking wanted it. Usually, it bored him, he was never that interested.

Oh, Ruby. He smirked leaning his spine up against the steel drum they kept outside for old oil and grease.

"Legendary ... I like how you think of me, baby. If it's the end of the world maybe we should get to repopulating soon as possible, our duty, you know," he winked and watched her eyes roll even as they lit up with a smile. “Are you scared? You don’t have to be. I’ll be gentle. We’ll start with an entree first,” he smiled slowly, rocking forward on his boots.

"I'm Teflon, Preacher. No amount of flirting will work on me, you're wasting your best material, keep it for the bar girls. Really. I know you types like the chase and this is probably whetting your tongue like a wolf scenting raw meat, but I’m just not interested in dating."

It was just a second and he might have missed it had he looked away, but she gave him an up and down glance, that sexual checking out kinda look. Turning on her heels giving him the best view of that fan-fucking-tastic ass his mouth went bone-dry the same time his dick hardened in his overalls and she called out over her shoulder striding to her car. "Let me know about that bill and payment plan. Later, Preacher man."

“The liar really brings out the color in your eyes, tiny dancer.” He called out after her.

Damn. He just got his ass handed to him by the tiny dancer.

And he'd fucking loved it.

This woman was about as straight talking as they came.

Now she'd done it. Preacher could resist a lot of things, being put in his place, that was new. He fucking liked it.

Something like an unfettered feeling streaked through his body, not just the usual blast of lust, this was different, hotter, spreading to his fucking chest and beyond, owning him, taking over every vein and air way as he watched and hungered after her.

Preacher whistled a jaunty tune for the rest of the day looking forward to the next time they came together. In more ways than one.

 

 

******

 

 

Damn that man. He'd gripped her chin like he had the possessive right to with no sense of body boundaries. His touch had been warm and nice she'd almost leaned in and asked for more, for him to go on touching her, to run his gentle calloused fingers down the slope of her neck and maybe further still. Before she remembered she was the one in control here. His laugh had been low and explicit. How did a biker outlaw look sexy furling his eyebrows? The man was too much … everything.

Maybe she’d wanted him to take the decision from her and kiss the breath out of her. Maybe she was a little disappointed he hadn’t.

A thought couldn't muscle its way in without her thinking of how good his fingers had felt, or the sweet breath in her face when he'd got almost nose to nose like he'd been eating hard candy moments before she'd showed up.

Why couldn't he just take her damn money she didn't have and let it be the end of it? He wanted a date. Pah.

Well, that isn't happening Preacher.

Not because she’d punked out telling him she wanted to fuck him right now. Absolutely punked out. She’d seen the gawking crowd behind him, then zeroed in on how he’d watched her walk towards him and every inch of confidence dripped out of her until she was a shaking mess, it was a wonder she got a sensible word out at all. Instead, she'd cocked her hip, snarked and been utterly entranced by his show of flirting. The touching, the husky depths his voice had fallen to. Everything.

She wanted him. And still, she’d hesitated. Changed her mind five times.

It’s just sex.

His reputation was disreputable, and not just hearsay, though there was plenty of that with the girls at work swooning their panties off over how good he was in the sack --or up against a car door--- but she'd seen the proof herself. Why did he want a date if he was all about the fucking? That had thrown her right off her game.

Long game? He sensed Ruby wasn't a booty call kind of girl? She totally was. She wanted to fuck him and fuck him. Dating the Preacher man? No, thank you.

She’d stopped by to remind him of the bill and to let him know she wanted him. Punked out big time, her glands hated her.

Halfway to her apartment, her phone chimed. Her heart leaped into her throat.

P: 2:32 - dinner then?

Oh, Preacher. So, persistent. A small part of her smiled. Images of him banging that woman against her car, those deep sharp movements of his body, god, he looked like he was going to war when he fucked. Rough and hard. She continued to drive, clenching her thighs together the whole way. Rather than being turned off knowing what kind of man he was as any sane woman would be, those imagines were arousing, needing to feel the hard churn of his muscles, to know how he moved when it was her he was inside, how hard would he grab her, how rough would he thrust?

She replied bluntly.

R: 2:35 - NO. Sorry not sorry.

And still hoped he’d respond.

She was crazy. A lost cause. Wanting to get laid, obviously.

Ruby had to fuck him or risk losing her mind and she needed that to focus on the rest of her life, at least to just get through this month while she ate ramen and avoided her landlord.

The party. She decided. It was neutral ground. Perfect for a fast hit and run screw.

Get in. Get off and get out. And it worked out better it was at his place, there was no awkward waiting for someone to get out of her bed, she could leave at any time. Yes, it would be perfect, she mused.

She was good with casual sex, her enjoyable recreational sport most weekends in the past when life was just that little bit shit, she could at least have an orgasm or four. One psychopathic dickhead had ruined it for Ruby. But Preacher had awoken her libido again. It would be a shame to waste her throbbing glands on an average joe. Nah, if she was re-joining the sexual population it had to be with someone who knew what he was doing.

And that tickling low in her abdomen said she had a sneaky suspicious Preacher would fuck her in all the dark ways she craved.

The party. She breathed, sucking in the air now it was settled, for sure this time.

She couldn’t tell a man like Preacher she was going to fuck one minute and then punk out the next. She was no cock tease.

Well, she was or used to be. But for all good reasons, and only when she intended to follow through.

“The party,” she said aloud, to cement it in sexual stone. Taking the right turn heading home. She had to get ready for it. For him.

Her nerve endings buzzed beneath her skin. Anticipating just what a man like Asher Priest would be like.

I know every dirty inch of you. His eyes always seemed to be saying to her. Impossible.

But she wanted him to.

God help her. She wanted him to explore every filthy crevice of her underused desires.