CREED

 

“It ain’t gonna suck itself, sweetheart,” I stated with a predatory regard, eyeing the busty blonde up and down.

She was a new club whore with a banging body, huge tits, heart-shaped ass, and way too much fucking makeup on her mousy face. She'd been eye-fucking the shit out of me since she showed up at the clubhouse a few days ago. I was never much for dabbling in the club bunnies that bounced from one cock to another, but that didn’t stop me from letting them suck my cock. After the day I’d had, I fucking earned it.

“Here? On your bike?” she coyly asked, gazing all around her. Trying to pretend like she’d never done this before.

We were tucked behind a row of trees on the club's property. My go-to spot for quickies, and the only place I could ride to on my bike. My pops gave me a sleek Harley Davidson Sportster for my sixteenth birthday almost two years ago. I’m pretty sure he didn’t pay for it, but who was I to complain, it was a sick-looking bike. It had all matte black components, custom fenders, seat, and gas tank with the club logo painted on it. Not to mention the killer engine and exhaust system, visible on the sides. A set of shortened handlebars, and a massive front headlight that completed the badass machine.

The clubhouse was barely visible in the distance, making it impossible for anyone to see us. Not that I gave a flying fuck.

“You said you wanted to hang out.”

“No, sweetheart,” I chuckled. “What I said was I had somethin’ hangin’ for you.” Gesturing to my cock.  

Her eyes widened. Dark and dilated. Biting her pouty red lip that I couldn't wait to have wrapped around my dick.

“Can see how you would confuse that, though,” I sarcastically added, grabbing a strand of her fake platinum blonde hair.

Women’s place in an MC’s life was always in the fucking background. The club came first no matter what. We all carried the same principles—honor, respect, and brotherhood. A family made up of ruthless motherfuckers right down to their goddamn bones. All led by the shadiest son of a bitch known to man.

My pops.

He was the president of the mother chapter, Devil’s Rejects, in South Port, North Carolina. The first chapter established, making him the top fucking dog of the MC. Even though every chapter below had a president of their own, they couldn’t make executive decisions without his final approval. Getting a visit from him only ended in death. He would only step in if he was fucking crossed or shit hit the fan in a catastrophic way.

Other than that, the chapters did whatever the fuck they wanted, it was a fucking free-for-all. My old man could do no wrong in everyone's eyes, when in reality that was all he ever fucking did. Cops’ pockets were greased with dirty money to turn a blind eye to all our illegal activities. Everywhere we went, people looked the opposite direction and moved the fuck out of our way. Devil's Rejects were known to all, spread out all over the community, the state, even nation fucking wide.

Everywhere.

The only enemy we had was the law.

She smirked, cocking her head to the side, slowly licking her luscious lips as she casually reached for the front of my vest. Teasingly skimming her long red fingernails down the front of it, never taking her sinful eyes off mine.

“Creed,” I murmured, wanting to hear my name fall from her lips.

“I know your name, Creed. Mine’s—”

“Not fuckin’ important, yeah?”

She arched an eyebrow, looking down at the rugged fabric of my cut.

Our black leather vests or cuts as we called them, were the MC's brand, our signature trademark recognized by everyone, especially women and civilians. They were each chapter’s identification, who we were and what we stood for. On the back of our cuts were the club’s colors, a badass looking tattooed pin-up girl with huge fucking tits sporting devil ears and a tail. Straddling a custom chopper, holding a skull with flames beating out of its eyes in one hand and an AK47 rifle in the other. Above the logo was a crescent-shaped red patch that read “Devil’s Rejects” in black acidy lettering. Below the logo was another crescent-shaped patch with Southport, NC stitched on it.

On the front left of our cut was a “one-percent” patch that was worn with fucking pride, indicating we were outlaws. There were no rules to follow unless it came to the club or our brothers, fucking laws became obsolete. Devil’s Rejects had been around since the forties and had more than proven their loyalty to the MC world. Quickly becoming one of the most feared clubs in society. One of the select few that was branded as a “one-percent” club. We were diehard bikers who would stop at nothing, even murder, to prove ourselves worthy.

Honorable fucking killers.

I’ve seen the brutality firsthand. It’s not a pretty sight. Fucking Neanderthals, not to be fucked with, or else. Nothing happened in Southport without our knowledge or control.

Not one damn thing.

Our cuts were our holy grail.

Her fingers skimmed the right front panel of my cut, over my “MC” patch that only true motorcycle clubs sported. You’d never see this on a HOGS vest because let's face it, they were just a bunch of pussy-ass wannabe riders on expensive bikes, never willing to get their fucking hands dirty.

“Where are the rest of your patches, Creed?” she purred. “All the other bikers have years lined up under this MC patch, here. Haven’t served much time, huh?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, growing more annoyed and irritated as the seconds passed. I was never one for fucking chit chat.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

I pointed to the name “Prospect” stitched on the right of my cut, where my name and rank would be as soon as I turned eighteen. The black leather was a blank canvas for now, but eventually, it would be filled with random duty patches scattered around. All representing what I had done and what I’d fucking do for the club and the brothers.

For now, I was at the bottom of the fucking chain, itching for my day to come. I couldn’t really complain much, though, having my old man as Prez definitely had its fucking perks. Respect was one of them. Anyone fucking crossed me, they’d be crossing Pops, too. A fucking death wish you didn’t want to sign up for.

I spent the last seventeen years of my life watching him rule with an iron fist, annihilating what so many Jameson men built before him. My future was sealed the day my parents found out I had a cock. I would follow in the long line of men in my family, taking over as MC Prez one day.

As of right now, I was just another fucking prospect doing the shit jobs that they didn’t want to do. Making myself available at all hours, whether it was to dig a fucking grave, getting my hands dirty in more ways than one, or going on a fucking food run for the lazy bastards. I’d seen and done more shit than any mother would ever be proud of, but that never mattered. I was thrown in with the wolves too many goddamn times to count, just to see if I would come out alive. I did every fucking time, with a fat ass smile on my motherfucking face, just as ruthless as the rest of the brotherhood.

Always proving myself worthy to the club, but mostly to my father. He wouldn't just let me sign my life away. He wanted my fucking blood on it. Holding the shit I had done for the club over my head. Reminding me, if I ever stepped out of line, just how easy it would be for him to use the leverage he had to make me march right back in line where I belong. Following him, the Prez; his rules, his authority, his final word, once again. One day soon, I would patch in as a brother, whether I wanted to or not.

It wasn’t a lifestyle. It was a way of life.

The only one I’d ever known.

I slipped my hand behind her neck, gripping tight and tugging her toward me not moving from the place I sat on my bike. Causing a gasp to escape from her lips at the sudden change in my demeanor. Patience was never one of my fucking virtues. It was a Jameson trait that ran deep in my blood. I determined the who, what, when, and where in life.

Anyone who didn't approve could go fuck themselves.

Bottom line, I lived and breathed for my mother and my baby brothers—Luke, who was fourteen years old, and Noah, who was eleven. Everything else was just a means to an end for me.

“I—”

“Shhh…” Silencing her with my index finger, I brought my mouth inches away from her lips. Her breathing hitched the closer I got, my warm breath assaulting her senses. “Only thing I want from this mouth,” I paused, pecking her lips, “is for it to be wrapped around my cock,” I rasped, emphasizing the last word as I guided my thumb into her pouty mouth.

She sucked it like a goddamn pro, eagerly reaching for my belt and unbuckling it.

“Good girl,” I praised, removing my thumb with a pop. Guiding her closer to me by the nook of her neck. “Now pull out my cock,” I groaned into her ear, causing her skin to immediately warm under my touch. She did as she was told with unsteady hands, never taking her eyes off mine.

I didn’t know her fucking name. I didn’t care to learn it either. None of these girls mattered. Besides, I was never any fucking good with names.  

“Stroke it. Harder,” I ordered as I continued to kiss down her neck to her tits that were on full display.

“Like this?” she breathed out.

I groaned, cupping her breasts and burying my face in them. “Yeah, babe. Just like that,” I groaned, into her breasts. Jerking her head back by her hair, lowering her to the ground. Not letting go until she was on her fucking knees in front of me. She suddenly released my cock when I placed my own hand around my shaft, stroking myself up and down in front of her face.

She looked up at me with hooded eyes, craving to taste me. I continued to jerk myself off until she sucked the head of my cock into her greedy mouth. Moving down toward the base of my shaft, taking me in, inch by inch.

“Deeper,” I demanded, gripping onto a fist full of her hair. She gagged as soon as I felt the back of her throat, but her hand never stopped working me over. Making it easy to quickly find a rhythm that had my head slightly leaning back, and my mouth parting.

My eyes remained focused on her as she sucked my cock like she had something to prove. Her hand followed the movements of her mouth, while her other hand tugged at my balls simultaneously. My breathing became erratic, fueling my need to rock my hips in the opposite direction of her heady movements. Wanting nothing more than to take full control and fuck her face.

“Gonna come,” I growled.

I wasn’t a complete asshole. I at least gave her a fucking warning.

She tried to remove her lips off my cock, but I gripped onto the back of her head, shoving it deeper. Moving my hips forward one last time and coming hard in the back of her throat. Shaking out my release, I pulled my dick from her mouth with a pop. “Swallow,” I sternly ordered.

She peeked up at me through her lashes, immediately doing as she was told. Wiping the corners of her mouth, trying to fix her red lipstick that was now painted all over my cock. I tucked myself back into my pants and buckled my belt when she seductively glided her way up my body, going right for my mouth.

I jerked back. “If I wanted to taste my come I’d lick it off your face, sweetheart. Ya got a little somethin’ right here.” I gestured to the corner of my lip.

She pulled away, snarling, “Fuck you!”

I grinned, scoffing out, “No, thanks. Got requirements for that position, and you obviously don’t fuckin’ qualify, darlin’.”

“You ass—”

“Creed!” I heard Luke’s voice echo through the trees. “Ya out there?”

I revved my bike a few times, getting ready to take off.

“What the hell? You’re just going to leave me out here?” She stomped her foot like a three-year-old, reminding me exactly why I never stayed around after my balls were empty.

“Use those legs for somethin’ other than just spreadin’ them open,” I crudely mocked, riding off, hearing her scream something or another behind me. I sped up the path into the clearing, making my way over to Luke, who had a shit-eating grin on his face when he came into sight.

He shook his head. “Another one? That’s number three and it's only Friday,” he called out over the rumbling noise of my bike.

“Mind your business, little brother.”

He rolled his eyes, kicking some gravel beneath his shoes.

“What are you doin’ here? Just get out of school? Where’s Ma?” I questioned, pulling up right in front of him. Using the toe of my black combat boot to flip out the kickstand.

I should have been in school, too, instead, I was riding around all fucking day, getting everything in order for the club meeting. I was already falling behind in most of my classes from skipping all the damn time. I refused to sit in that hellhole and be told what to do by a bunch of teachers who didn’t give a flying fuck about me. Not like I needed an education for my future.

“She’s inside takin’ care of business with Dad.”

I chuckled, pointing to the clubhouse. “Christa is in there. He ain’t gonna be happy she came uninvited, again.”

“Is he ever happy?”

I laughed, knowing he was right.

Christa was one of Pops’ main fucks. She was another whore barely off her momma’s tit. I had witnessed my old man fucking club whores more times than I cared to fucking count. The bastard never bothered hiding the fact that he stuck his cock in every slut that spread her legs for him. I couldn’t pinpoint a time when he wasn’t cheating on my mother, and she wasn’t crying herself to sleep over his infidelities. You’d think after so many acts of betrayals, she would wake the fuck up and leave him. Instead, she stuck right by his side, acting like nothing was wrong, giving him more sons. Probably hoping that was enough to prove her loyalty to him and the club.

Which was a crock of shit if you asked me.

Or maybe she just wanted to remind everyone that she was still his old lady. Except old ladies weren’t allowed on the property unless invited, usually during big parties, when they were needed in the kitchen where they belonged, cooking for the members. On those days, it was a free for all. The rule allowed the brothers freedom to not worry about catfights that would break out due to their dicks getting wet by a pussy that wasn't their wives’. If the old ladies thought their men were keeping their cocks tucked in their pants, they deserved to be cheated on for being so fucking stupid. Ma already knew what Pops was up to, it wasn't a secret. He didn't give a fuck how it made her feel, he knew she had too much to lose by leaving him.  

Leaning back, I killed the engine on my bike and grabbed the pack of smokes from the front of my cut. Placing the nicotine-fueled stick between my lips, lighting it up, and blowing the smoke into the air, away from Luke. He hated the smell of cigarettes, giving me shit for years on how I was killing myself slowly with every puff or some bullshit like that. He finally gave up recently, knowing I was a lost cause. Smoking was my vice, quickly becoming addicted to the nicotine that calmed me.

My refuge from the shit storm I lived in.

I was exposed to it all my life, everyone around me smoked like fucking fiends, one cigarette after another. I took my first drag when I was eleven, and shortly after that, I smoked my first joint with the brothers. It wasn’t all that bad, I could’ve gotten into much worse shit. Drugs and booze were prevalent in my daily life, just as much as the women were. My body was already covered in ink.

Just another one of my vices.

“What’s up?” I asked, setting the cigarette on the corner of my lips.

“Well… I kind of… I mean…” he stumbled over his words, shuffling his feet around. Looking everywhere but at me.

“Out with it, Luke.”

He visibly took a deep breath, finally locking eyes with me and blurted, “I need some advice.”

I cocked my head, curious.

“On… you know... life and stuff…”

“Pussy?” I stated with raised eyebrows, cutting to the chase.  

“Never mind. Forget it.” He abruptly turned to walk away from me, but I wasn’t going to let him get away that easy. I got off my bike and grabbed him by the arm.

“Not so fast. Spill.”

He turned back around to face me. “How do you know I want to talk about a girl?”

I grinned, letting go. “It’s always about a girl. You hittin’ it or you wanna hit it?”

“I got a girl, Creed.”

“You got a dick, Luke. That’s what you got. So stop pussyfootin’ around and tell me what I can advise you on, other than whether or not you’re gonna put it in. You sure as fuck better put it on,” I reminded, referring to him wrapping it up.

“Yeah… yeah… I know.”

“Gonna be fifteen soon. Balls got to drop any day now.”

“I mean… when did you—”

“Eleven. Woke up in the middle of the night with my dick in her mouth. Lasted about twenty seconds once she started ridin’ me,” I laughed, remembering how much of a one-pump chump I was.

“Was she—”

“Couldn’t tell you what she looked like in the dark. Pops needed to make sure his firstborn son loved pussy as much as he does and he wasn’t raisin’ a homo.”

He jerked back, surprised by my revelation. Those were the exact words my father used the next morning. I reminded him that I was only eleven, which earned me a backhand to the face. Telling me I should be thanking him for what he provided, not mouthing off.

I shook off the memory. “It’s okay, Luke. Can’t rape the willin’.” I smirked. “I’ll always be honest with you. Not gonna sugarcoat shit, ain’t got the time or patience for that. Had to learn things the hard way, don’t want that for you. Everythin’ I do is for Ma, you and Noah and don’t you ever fuckin’ forget it.”

We were all in this life for the long run, left to deal with our shitty luck. It wasn’t Luke or Noah’s fault. They didn’t ask to be born in this fucked up world any more than I did. I would die for my baby brothers and a part of me still held on to the hope that they wouldn’t have to live this life forever. Deep down I knew I was a goddamn fool, just like my mother. She was holding onto the notion of a better husband and father while I was holding onto the notion of a better life.

Pops would give his last dying breath for his sons to follow in his footsteps. Come Hell or high water, we had no say in our destiny. It was already mapped out for us.

Especially mine.

“I know. I just… I really like her, you know? I don’t want to mess it up.”

“So, you’re sayin’ this isn’t about pussy? It’s about love?” I chuckled uncomfortably.

He nodded, placing his hands in his pockets, waiting for what, I wasn’t sure.

I walked past him to sit on the top of the old wooden picnic table in the far back of the clubhouse. Resting my elbows on my knees, flicking the ashes from my cigarette down to the grass.

Trying like hell, to come up with some genuine advice for him. Thinking back to all the chick flicks my mother would watch with envy. The same shit over and over, boy meets girl, boy asks girl to marry him, and they live happily ever after with three kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. A bunch of fucking bullshit that wasn’t real life, but there had to be something I could pull out of my ass to tell him.

“Look, Luke… don’t think I’m the best person to be askin’ love advice from. Love is… well, love is fuckin’…” I shrugged, taking another drag of my cigarette, not knowing what to say.

The sounds of motorcycle engines revving suddenly filled the air around us from the front of the clubhouse. Soon this place would be crawling with the elite of the fucking elite, and I was due inside at any second.

“It’s fine, just go. I know you have obligations with Pops and the club,” he sighed, disappointed. Watching me twist my watch around my wrist.

I ignored him. “You like her? Like, wanna date her and see where it goes, yeah?”

“Yes,” he simply stated, hopping up onto the table next to me. “She’s different, Creed. Not like the girls from around here, that’s for sure,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Trying to act like a man, when he was still such a kid.

I don’t think I would ever be able to see my baby brothers for anything other than my responsibility. It had been that way since the day they were born. My mother wasn’t a bad mom, she just had too much of her own shit to worry about. At the end of the day, she just didn’t know any better. Raising three boys wasn’t easy, and my dad was no help. All she did was fall for a guy from the wrong side of the tracks, getting knocked up young, with me. Trying to grow up ever since. She did love us, though, and tried to show us affection often, making up for my father’s lack of.

He didn’t give a shit about anything but the MC.  

“She’s just moved here from Dallas, Texas,” Luke informed, pulling me away from my thoughts. I took another drag of my cigarette, flicking it out in front of me.

“Her daddy is in some kinda sales. Makes good money that’s for sure. She wears nice clothes every day, has long brown hair, blue eyes, and smells so fuckin’ good.”

I smiled, glancing over at him, watching his face light up as he talked about his girl. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me proud that he wanted to do right by her. That our upbringing hadn’t jaded his thoughts about women and love like it had me.

“Anyway, we’ve been hangin’ out at school. I haven’t even kissed her yet. So, I just figured you have a lot of experience with girls… maybe you could give me some advice. I even wanted to ask you if maybe you could pick her up tomorrow night and drop us off at the movies? I’d ask Ma but…”

“She’d embarrass the shit out of you.” We both laughed, knowing it was the truth. “Tell me if I’m followin’. You don’t wanna just fuck her, but you want to play fuckin’ house, yeah?”

He leaned forward, cocking his head to the side, and nodded.

“Feelin’ okay?” I reached over, trying to feel his forehead. He jumped down from the table, out of my reach. “You know you’re a Jameson, right?” I laughed.

“Fuck you! Forget about it. Forget I ever said anything. I’ll figure this out on my own, douche bag.” He shoved my shoulder and I immediately groaned in pain. Grabbing onto it, trying to deter the throbbing ache.

“Ah, hell, can’t take a joke now, little brother? Man up,” I let out, laughing it off.

“What happened to you?” he instantly asked, reaching over. Pulling my hand, cut, and shirt away from my shoulder. “Why is your shoulder all bandaged up?”

“Luke, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. Did you get shot at? Where is Dad sending—”

I pushed him away. “Don’t need babyin’, Luke. I’m fine. Promise,” I reassured, holding three fingers in the air. “Scouts’ honor.”

“Since when are you a boy scout?”

“Since I ate a fuckin’ brownie. Now get your skinny ass back over here and finish what you were sayin’.”

He chuckled even though he was still worried, sitting back down next to me.

“She know how ya feel?” I questioned, changing the subject.

“I think so.”

“Then go for her, Luke. You like her, you show her. Treat her with respect. Simple as that. Think and act with your brain and heart.” I rested my hand on his chest. “Instead of your cock.” Nudging his shoulder. “Ya feel me?”

He took a deep breath, contemplating what to say next. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I also want to give her this. What do you think?” He reached up, unhooking the chain from around his neck.

I knew exactly what he was referring to before he even showed me. Pops had given all us boys a St. Columbanus, the patron saint of motorcyclists when we were born. A medallion on a silver chain. It was supposed to keep us safe, protected, and signify the life we were born into.

The MC life.

The back of each medallion had the time we were born engraved on it with the words “Ride or Die.” When we were babies, Ma would pin the medallion to our onesies, but as we got older, we wore it around our necks.

“Luke, I don’t think—”    

“There you are, you piece of shit,” Pops’ voice bellowed from the back screen door, interrupting me. “You fuckin’ deaf? You not hear the bikes pullin’ up? Get your ass inside right now, before I think twice on lettin’ you attend.”

“Pops, it was my fault,” Luke interfered.

“Don’t.” I put my hand up, silencing him.

“Did I tell ya to speak? You are just like your fuckin’ ma, always speakin’ when not spoken to. You’re weak, and worthless like her too.” He came through the door, down the three steps. Grabbing Luke by his shirt and pulling him from the table. Knocking his necklace out of his hand, making it fall to the dirt below me. “Do I need to teach you another lesson, boy?”

I could see Luke’s hands working into fists, his face flushed and his jaw clenched like he was about to say something he’d surely fucking regret.

“You’re a Dick,” Luke muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Pops tugged him closer to his face.

I got up, stubbing my cigarette out on the wood. Immediately grabbing Luke by his arm, yanking him out of Dad’s grasp. I stepped up, placing Luke securely behind me.

“Ain’t his fault. My fuck up. Won’t happen again,” I gritted out, trying to remain calm. “Luke, walk away.” I spun, shoving him back.

“Come on, boy, don’t be a pussy. Spit it out, what did you say?” Dad antagonized further, needing to take out his aggression on someone.

Usually me.

I gave Luke a stern look, warning him to keep his goddamn mouth shut. The last thing I wanted was to go hand and fist with our father, but I would if he put his hands on my brothers or mother in front of me. I think a part of him knew not to cross that line with me. Which was why he never hit them in my presence, but that never stopped him from unleashing his wrath through his fists, nonetheless.  

“Nothin’, Sir,” Luke replied, understanding my silent warning.

“Now run along, the real men have important business to take care of. When you grow a pair of fuckin’ balls, you’ll be able to play, too,” he provoked, wanting to have the last word.

Pops watched Luke walk in the direction of Ma’s car, where she was standing with nothing but pain and regret in her eyes. It was always worse when she tried to defend us, his anger would just turn to her. Furious that she was trying to raise us into a bunch of pussies, when all he was trying to do was make us into men.

I reached down, grabbing Luke’s necklace. Shoving it in my pocket before Dad saw. Making a mental note to give it back to my brother later.

He nodded to me. “Get your ass inside.” With that, he turned and walked up the back steps.

“Thanks, baby,” Mom called out when he was back inside, bringing my attention to her.

I smiled, waving her off. Looking at Noah who was sitting in the passenger seat just shaking his head. She kissed Luke’s cheek and whispered something in his ear I couldn't make out.

I took a long, deep, reassuring breath. Looking at the only thing that was ever truly important to me.

My family.

After I watched them drive off, my eyes went back to the clubhouse. The Prez had called in Church and I wasn’t talking about the one where you sat in a chapel, praying to the lord above, asking forgiveness for your sins.

Because God didn’t want us.

And Hell would spit us the fuck out.