Misled. Part 24

Val cleared his throat. "Before we get to that, I have a favor to ask you, Prez?"

Christopher tapped his fingers on the table, noticing a flicker of remorse in Val's face before the f.u.c.ker smiled.

"You left her there with John Boy so you know he's f.u.c.king her by now."

"Aww man," Mortician complained, "you actually f.u.c.king went there."

Yes, this motherf.u.c.ker actually f.u.c.king went there. Red spots flirted on the edges of Christopher's vision, matching the steam of fury rising in him.

"Can I have some p.u.s.s.y from her, too? I a.s.sume since you letting Johnnie get some a.s.s from her, we can, too. We all dying to tap that."

"f.u.c.k you," Digger snarled. "I ain't dying to tap nothing on Megan's body. Your dumb a.s.s ain't about to get me f.u.c.king killed."

"Outlaw understands, brother," Val went on. "I wanna find out if her a.s.s is as hot as it looks. That b.i.t.c.h is one hot piece."

The room fell silent. Not a peep. No one moved a muscle, waiting for Christopher's reaction. Thing was if Christopher reacted he'd pull his nine and blow Val the f.u.c.k away. And he really didn't want to do that.

Val, the f.u.c.king moron, must've thought Christopher stayed silent because he was "pretending" to consider Val's request. Had to be the reason he opened his f.u.c.king trap again.

"Rack, I ever tell you about the time we walked in on Megan naked?" He indicated himself, Digger, and Mortician with a finger point.

"f.u.c.k off," Mortician ordered. "Don't put me in the middle of your I-want-a-bullet-in-my-d.i.c.k speech."

"Shut up, Mort," Rack growled. "I wanna hear this. I wanna know if her p.u.s.s.y is shaved or if-"

"Nope, her p.u.s.s.y hairs are blo-"

That was f.u.c.king it. Christopher couldn't take it anymore. He moved fast, backhanding Val out of his seat and pounding his face. "I'm gonna f.u.c.kin' kill you," he snarled, wrapping his hands around Val's neck.

"Outlaw! Prez!" Mortician yelled at the same time he and Digger started trying to pry his fingers from Val's throat before dragging him off the man.

Christopher struggled against the hold of the two brothers while Val was looking at him as if he'd never seen Christopher before. He didn't know if Val's fury was an act or not. Christopher's rage sure the f.u.c.k wasn't.

"n.o.body...nof.u.c.kinbody," he repeated through clenched teeth, "ever talk about Megan like that. n.o.body ever think about touchin' her. You crossed the f.u.c.kin' line, motherf.u.c.ker." He jerked out of Mortician's and Digger's grasps and pounded Val again. "I owed you that from the night in question, f.u.c.khead."

"See what your b.i.t.c.h a.s.s done?" Digger snapped, glaring at Val when Christopher swung his gaze to him and Mortician. Digger knew what was coming since they'd seen Megan naked, too.

Christopher didn't waste any time, everything combining and ending up right here and now. He punched the two brothers, then indicated the door. "All of you, get the f.u.c.k outta my face. Meetin' cancelled due to a f.u.c.kin' epidemic of a.s.sholes. And, Val, if you know what's f.u.c.kin' good for you, stay the f.u.c.k outta my face."

As Val led the way, limping out, Digger smacked the back of Val's head.

Alone, Christopher kicked the chair Val had sat in and sent it cras.h.i.+ng against the wall. Val had f.u.c.ked up by bringing up Megan and he'd f.u.c.ked up by losing his s.h.i.+t and forgetting the greater goal of bagging Rack and Snake.

d.a.m.n f.u.c.king Megan.

Because of her he'd gone from bada.s.s, p.u.s.s.y-loving biker to one p.u.s.s.y-whipped motherf.u.c.ker.

Later that evening, he pulled to a stop in front of his mother's house. The road had cleared his head of the rage, leaving only antic.i.p.ation of seeing Megan. When he saw Johnnie's Navigator parked in his driveway, however, he balled his fists. f.u.c.k him, he was going to garrote f.u.c.king Johnnie. He hit as many b.i.t.c.hes as possible, then cut them loose. Not that Christopher cared, any-f.u.c.king-way. The motherf.u.c.ker could've been a one woman man and he'd still f.u.c.k him up if Christopher found Johnnie too close to Meggie.

He paused at the front door, wondering what he'd find inside. He and Johnnie had shared more b.i.t.c.hes over the years than Christopher wanted to admit. He couldn't have identified most of them in a photo lineup if they'd had fingers pointing at them and signs hanging on their a.s.ses proclaiming I f.u.c.ked Christopher and Johnnie.

Bracing himself, Christopher walked inside, realizing how cool the overcast day was when the warmth of the house hit him. Faint music came from the direction of the media room. As he drew closer, he heard Megan talking, no singing. Johnnie's guffaws mixed with Megan's caterwauling and the song?

Santa Is A Fat b.i.t.c.h.

What the f.u.c.k? Megan was listening to Insane Clown Posse? Since f.u.c.king when? The song ended but Johnnie whooped and clapped while Megan giggled and offered Johnnie a grand bow. She wore one of Christopher's b.u.t.ton down s.h.i.+rts, a pair of her own pajama pants and socks, her hair blanketing her shoulders and back.

She didn't even notice him while she was preening for Johnnie, too focused on him, he thought sourly. His cousin noticed him first. Christopher's jaw clenched. She followed the line of Johnnie's attention and her smile faded.

She looked at him with accusation and hurt. And guilt. A whole f.u.c.king s.h.i.+tload of guilt.

He glared at Megan. "Interruptin' some s.h.i.+t?"

Johnnie stood. "Christopher."

"John Boy."

Megan yawned. "I'm tired," she announced, attempting to scoot past him, "so I'm gonna turn in."

Christopher grabbed her and shook her, his fury exploding. "You f.u.c.ked him."

"I did not!"

He shook her again. "I might not be a f.u.c.kin' genius but I ain't f.u.c.kin' stupid."

Johnnie came up and pushed Christopher back. "Back the f.u.c.k off, Christopher."

His fist connected with Johnnie's jaw, sending his cousin on his a.s.s. Megan screeched and started toward Johnnie. "If you want that f.u.c.ker to continue to breathe, get the f.u.c.k away from him, Megan."

She was staring at him, her eyes wide and frightened. Johnnie got to his feet, holding his jaw.

"What the f.u.c.k is your problem, dude?" he snarled.

"You, f.u.c.khead, and you know that. You ain't touchin' her now, but I ain't been here in almost three f.u.c.kin' weeks. I'm sure you touched her durin' that time."

"You're seriously f.u.c.ked in the head." Johnnie started for Meggie but stopped at Christopher's growl. "I'll talk to you later, Megs."

"The f.u.c.k you will," Christopher shouted as Johnnie stormed pa.s.sed, slamming the door behind him.

"I'm not staying here with you. You're nothing but a bully," Meggie cried, running toward the stairway as Patricia came rus.h.i.+ng into the room.

"Megan?" she called but Megan kept going. "What's going on in here, son?"

Christopher rubbed his face, then glared at his mother. "I can't believe that b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Movin' in on my Meggie."

"Is she? You left her behind to go frolic with your..." she waved her hands in the air. "Biker girls."

"Yes, she's my Meggie and if Johnnie has taken her to bed, I'm goin' to f.u.c.kin' choke him with..." He caught the words his own d.i.c.k before they fell from his lips. He was talking to his mother. He huffed out a breath. "I did what I thought I needed to do after you and me talked. I had to tell her somethin'."

Patricia gave him a sad look. She reached up and gripped his cheeks between her hands. "I'm so sorry, my beautiful boy. I never should've said anything to you. I not only hurt you but Megan got hurt. I just hope you can undo all the damage."

"Me, too."

The murder of Boss aside, Christopher had never practiced monogamy a day in his life and had no desire to. Girls threw themselves at him, like he was a f.u.c.king rock star or some s.h.i.+t. He got as much p.u.s.s.y as possible from as many women as possible. He also practiced safe s.e.x. With Megan, however, he wanted to own her in every way possible. He wanted to fill her with his kid and give her a reason to stay at his side. And the thought of Megan laying with another man almost f.u.c.king killed him. That was some hypocritical bulls.h.i.+t but it was what it was and he couldn't deny it.

"Do you love her?"

"Ma, c'mon. What kinda question is that?"

"A legitimate one."

Love failed motherf.u.c.kers all the time. Love broke your heart and crippled you with grief. He'd seen it with his mother and he'd seen it with his sisters when their loser boyfriends f.u.c.ked over them.

He clenched his jaw. "No. I don't," he insisted.

"Then you're going to lose her. She's young. She has the idea of the fairytale in her head."

He frowned. "You mean like Cinderella or some s.h.i.+t? How's that got to do with anythin' about love?"

"Christopher!" his mother snapped in exasperation. "It's metaphorical. Stop pulling straws. You get the gist of what I'm saying."

He did, he thought sourly. That didn't mean he had to like it. "What am I supposed to do with her? I ain't exactly date material."

"You are, Christopher," his mother insisted as mothers do. "Johnnie ate dinner with her and watched movies with her and took her out to eat-"

"You ain't helpin' his cause, Ma. I need to go kick his a.s.s right now."

"You told him to watch over her. Or have you forgotten?"

"No, but-"

"Spend this time with her to show her she's more important than that club."

"Ain't nothin' more important than my club," he growled, then regretted his stout conviction at the hurt in his mother's eyes. "See what I mean? I ain't son material, so, as you can see, I really ain't date material."

"To me you are," a sweet little voice murmured.

Christopher sucked in a breath and ignored his mother's satisfied smile. He glanced in the doorway where Meggie stood, clutching her bag in front of her like a Medieval s.h.i.+eld. She'd changed and now wore a pink s.h.i.+rt and a form hugging skirt that reached her knees. Did she really think she was leaving? To go f.u.c.king where? A rush of color stained her cheeks and a combustible mix of emotions brightened her beautiful eyes. He was vaguely aware of his mother excusing herself.

He moved toward Megan with singular purpose, although he couldn't imagine the mutual embarra.s.sment they'd endure if Patricia returned while he drove into Meggie. But, f.u.c.k him, if he could convince his d.i.c.k of that.

He reached her and lifted her in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He shoved her skirt up and pushed aside the seat of her panties. He unfastened his fly and shoved his c.o.c.k into her, capturing her small cry in his mouth. He grunted, her delicate flesh stretching to accommodate his thick d.i.c.k. She whimpered, such a soft sound compared to his harsh groan. It made him harder, more frantic.

His eyes bored into hers. "Johnnie f.u.c.k you?" He braced her against the wall and slammed into her. She was vulnerable now, her body filled with him, quivering around him. He curled his lip, thrust harder. "Did he?"

"No," she said with a gasp, gripping his biceps, not dropping her gaze.

"I'm the only one who's f.u.c.ked this sweet p.u.s.s.y?"

"Yes," she breathed, coating his d.i.c.k with her juices, his rough talk exciting her.

"Keep it that way, Megan. Don't have me kill some poor f.u.c.k because you gave him some p.u.s.s.y."

Another whimper and she threw her head back. Unable to resist, he sucked the tender skin of her neck, sinking his teeth in, then blowing on the bite once he had left his mark. He twisted his hips and she s.h.i.+vered. Once, twice, three more times and he brought her to release, coming a moment later.

He held her in his arms, still encased in her, and kissed her damp forehead, then leaned his own on the wall above her head. They stood silent for long moments, then he pulled out of her and set her back on her feet. She stared up at him, her beautiful face flushed and glistening with sweat, her lips red and swollen. Pa.s.sion still clouded her eyes and he felt his d.i.c.k hardening all over again.

He'd missed her like f.u.c.k and intended to f.u.c.k her for hours to make up for their days apart.

Chapter 24.

This was the first Christmas Meggie had ever spent without her mother. It shouldn't have bothered her so much. She was a woman now-Christopher had seen to that-and she had her own life. She couldn't be Christopher's old lady and her mother's little girl. She knew that. But she also knew how wasted Thomas got. On holidays, his drinking increased exponentially and his violence went off-the-charts.

Not only that but she'd been so used to Christmas gifts until he put a stop to that, too. Now, she barely had a roof over her head, not sleeping on the streets because of Christopher. While she might've worried about her place in his life at the clubhouse, at his mother's house, he was a different person. Gentler and kinder. He seemed more worried about family, his real, true family, not the men he called brothers.

Meggie had learned bikers lived by a strict code, one that demanded loyalty and respect. They were as much a family as the people related by blood. Yet, it was still a violent, dangerous world, and Meggie wasn't sure if she could ever get used to it.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and, despite everything that stood between them, Meggie couldn't wait. She'd begged and pleaded for Christopher to have Val, Digger, and Mortician join them, until he'd relented. She needed the presents she'd purchased Black Friday, anyway. When she suggested she also call and invite Kiera and Ellen, he drew the line.

"Ain't havin' them two club wh.o.r.es in this house, Megan. You can bat your p.u.s.s.y at me all you want, I don't want them here."

"How do you bat a p.u.s.s.y, Christopher?" Megan had asked, laughing.

He'd chuckled. "You know what the f.u.c.k I mean." They'd been in the bedroom, enjoying the late afternoon after they'd stayed out until the early morning hours, visiting the boardwalk before returning home and starting a bonfire on the dunes while the ocean roared and the wind blew.

Meggie had started to rise, but Christopher pulled her back.

"Listen, Megan, and I ain't bulls.h.i.+ttin'. As long as you here with me, all these other motherf.u.c.kers can go f.u.c.k themselves." A sheepish expression came over his face. "Except Ma."

Meggie had thumped his shoulder. "Christopher Caldwell, you're soooo bad."

He'd tensed and bleakness stole their light moment. "I wish I coulda had Donovan as my last name. I hate my f.u.c.kin' name because I hate the p.r.i.c.k it belonged to."

"Christopher-"

"No, Megan. My grandfather insisted Ma put that name on my birth certificate. Worse thing is the f.u.c.ker who raped her was there to sign it. She ain't had a choice and I ain't had a choice."

"Your name doesn't make you. You're loyal and protective and funny. You rose above-"

"Have I?" he scoffed. "I f.u.c.kin' dropped outta school in the 9th grade. If risin' above is livin' in the dirty f.u.c.kin' world I live in, then I hate to see what I woulda done if I woulda stayed mired in s.h.i.+t."