Page 19

“RAISE HELL, PRAISE DALE!”

The open road, damn, there is nothing better. The steady rumble of my steel horse in unison with the brothers behind me is music to my ears. Growing up in a small town, I didn’t think ahead. It’s kind of a bubble, small-town life. Everyone knows everyone, shit runs a little slower paced than city life. When I went to college, I saw life outside of Salemburg, North Carolina. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t for me. The older I get the more I have learned to think ahead.

As a man, this brotherhood I’ve found in the Hellions it’s everything to me. This loyalty runs deeper than my past, it’s my present and my future. I live, eat, and breathe for this club. Life can be rough, but the Hellions family is always at my back to pick me up.

Grinder rides to my left slightly ahead of me. As Road Captain, he heads up these things. All of the logistics are sorted by him, and I trust wherever he leads. We ride two by two down highway twenty-four east in the great state of North Carolina.

Born here, raised here, and I’ll fucking die here, I’m Carolina through and through. Raff rides behind me slightly and to the left in line behind Grinder but enough of a gap that I sit between them to the right. It’s a zigzag pattern that is safer on these roads. He’s always directly at my back, as my Vice President it’s where he belongs.

Shit, we go back to being in diapers, no one knows me like Raff. Back to the days of playground fights Raff is always at my side. All the brothers have my back and I have theirs. That’s Hellions life.

Yes, I am the President of the Salemburg Hellions, and we are currently riding out to the Haywood’s Landing annual barbecue. Established in the early nineties by Stud, who rides hard as a Salemburg original, we have been a solid chapter for the Hellions MC. We all know and respect what Roundman, Danza, Rocky, and Frisco built in the first charter of the club in Haywood’s Landing. Every single one of us is tied together to stand behind what they created two decades ago.

Ride until we die, this is a homecoming we look forward to.

All the chapters in North and South Carolina ride in, families in tow. Tripp is now the Haywood’s Landing Hellions charter president, but not a single tradition from Roundman is ever missed. Especially this annual barbecue. From early on, Roundman’s place as our overall club president was never challenged. Knowing Tripp’s history with Roundman, there isn’t another man to be our overall president better than him. I didn’t get to ride under Roundman like Stud did or Tripp, but Roundman’s legacy lives on. And Tripp, well, Talon “Tripp” Crews is the kind of man not to be fucked with. He’s an asshole on a good day and a nightmare on a bad one. The thing about it, though, there is nothing and I mean nothing he won’t do for any Hellion at any time.

The ride to the coast is calm for us. Roughly two hours of pavement beneath us as a unit with solid weather is nice, especially for the families to come along with us. I can take a deep breath knowing we aren’t doing much business this weekend. While my homebase is and always will be Salemburg, North Carolina, Haywood’s Landing is the Hellions home and it’s a ride I always enjoy.

We are celebrating the past, the present, and the future.

Family is the core of the weekend ahead.

Before I can think too deeply about the term family and what it means to me, Grinder signals we are pulling off ahead. With only around twenty miles to go, I wonder why the sudden stop. I throw up my hand with two fingers to keep the signal going down the line as each brother behind me follows suit and then we all turn off behind Grinder. I’m not sure if something is wrong with his bike or what the reason for the exit is. We’re about twenty minutes from Haywood’s Landing at one of those popular chain coffee shops.

Grinder half jumps off his bike, yelling out, “gotta take a shit, brother.” I laugh as we all roll into different spots to park. Well, that makes sense. Usually, he would have signaled that he needed to pull off alone, but given our destination, the goal is to arrive together as one unit.

Raff parking to my right looks at me as I’m taking off my lid leaving my backwards baseball hat in place, “what the fuck? Why we here?”

That’s Raff, straight to the point and always following his schedule. He doesn’t like unplanned stops. Sometimes, I’ll change course just to fuck with him. It pisses him off to no end, but it keeps him on his toes. Isn’t that part of being brothers?

“Grinder’s gonna get him one of them drinks with eighteen steps so he can flirt with the barista and be hopped up all fucking day,” I mutter as I climb off my Harley to stretch.

I scan the area making sure every brother makes it safely into the parking lot. As president, every member’s safety is always at the top of my priority lists. I won’t relax until each and every part of my club, my family, is securely in the lot.

“Bullshit,” Raff counters knowing Grinder doesn’t drink anything that isn’t beer, liquor, or water. I laugh because he’s right to call me out on that line. Raff also is the attention to details man. He notices every word that is said and every little thing going on around him. I swear he people watches as a past time just to study up on how to read a situation better.

“Nah, he had to drop a deuce.” I explain stepping up on the concrete deciding I’ll make my way inside for a black coffee just to give this place some business for using their restroom. Grinder has a reputation for massive shits with a stench. It’s a favorite pastime to send the prospects in to clean the bathrooms behind him.

These people here don’t need to be left with no sales and no tips after what they are going to deal with behind him. Grinder, he doesn’t get how toxic his ass is. Whoever is left to go in after him will be gagging, there isn’t a doubt in my mind.

Every prospect to ever go in after Grinder has come out looking green and ready to toss their cookies, I don’t want to subject strangers to it. We love to nail the prospects with it after he’s drank too much and given himself the beer shits.

Strangers though, we don’t want any civilian casualties.

Yeah, I definitely need to buy coffee and tip extra today. They are going to earn every dollar this morning trying to survive after he’s done.

Turning to the door, I collide with softness and a wave of long, dark hair. Inhaling she smells of coconut and coffee as I instinctively put my arms around her to stabilize her. Warmth hits my chest as the coffee sloshes from her cup against my t-shirt and cut.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I look down to meet the deepest crystal blue eyes of my life.

I can’t breathe. I’m stuck in place as her eyes lock to mine. She opens and closes her mouth with no words coming out. It takes a minute, and she seems to roll her shoulders back trying to get space between us. She quickly gathers her shit while I’m still stunned at the contact in a way I can’t explain.

“Sorry, sugar, didn’t mean to run into ya. Haven’t had enough caffeine yet to be around people. I shouldn’t have taken the little stopper out of the lid either. I’m not winning yet today.” She lifts her left hand up to me, “here, take this one. I shouldn’t be double fisting anyway. Plus, I made that awesome leather smell you got going on all sweet with this brown sugar shaken espresso. Wouldn’t want anyone to wonder why, so you take this one here, and enjoy it.”

I let out a deep laugh. She isn’t fazed by me, my cut, or the presence of my club. She’s making jokes when most people tend to walk the other way when they see us coming. I like the laid-back way she’s handling this. It’s refreshing in a way I haven’t ever cared about before. Honestly, I find it funny the way people will sometimes literally cross the street or go down a different aisle at a grocery store to avoid us. We don’t fuck with people who don’t fuck with us. Live and let live world is how I like to remain.

“Cute one, sweets.” I release my hold on her to take the drink in my left hand. Mission to spend money inside is forgotten as she steps back and immediately, I want to pull her close again. Damn, she’s beautiful.

To my six-feet-four-inch body, she’s a solid five-feet-ten-maybe-eleven-inches with long dark hair that goes down to a plump ass in a pair of jeans that should be criminal to fit so good. The Metallica t-shirt fits tight across her tits and loose at her waist leaving me to wonder about all the curves of her body. Damn, I’m getting a chub imagining it.

“Sorry again about the little bump. Hope you have a great day and good ride.” She smiles and fuck, I might just faint.

I’ve been around a lot of women and not one has ever been this chill at a first meeting, especially after literally bumping into me. I’m a fucking brick wall. This woman is dangerous. I’ve never been shy about wanting pussy, but something tells me her pussy is the kind a man like me could crave. My mind goes wild with the ways I could fuck her. Watching her hair fall onto my chest as she rides me, or better yet, putting her face down, ass up, and yanking her by those luscious locks back to look at me while I take her from behind.

Oh yeah, this one here, she’s got a fire that will burn a man with a single touch. I might want to play with fire this time.

As she walks away, I follow because why not? I don’t mind some pain with my pleasure because this one is sure to burn deep. I fucking love a chase too.

She doesn’t seem to notice or if she does, she isn’t giving me any indication as she makes her way to an old red Ford Focus. Cute for a first car or college ride, but for this woman who is clearly all woman, what the hell?

Now, I find myself more curious. The car is clean from what I can see. An NC State Wolfpack sticker on the back window and an advertisement for some nut company leaving me wondering if this is actually her car or maybe a younger sister’s? She doesn’t strike me as one to drive something basic. She’s rock-n-roll, fire, with a side of sweet, she needs a car with flare. Simply put, she doesn’t strike me as a normal sedan driving chick.

More than that, this thing can’t be reliable. At first glance, the body style, this is an early two-thousands model. Pushing twenty years on these cars isn’t smart like those classics. If this was a car from the sixties to eighties, I would stand behind the build and longevity. The time frame of this hunk of machine is when computers kick in and everything is plastic as fuck. Not only is reliability something to question, but the safety isn’t there. This car is clearly ready for retirement.

The laughs and whistles behind me get my attention.

“Damn, chasin’ tail before we even get to the party,” I recognize Stud’s voice yell out behind me followed by a whistle. “That’s what I like to see, brother.” Yeah, he would. After his wife died, Stud is as wild as any of the young guys in the club when it comes to women.

“Fancy coffee means fancy pussy, , better be careful there, Pres,” calls out Miles. I throw my head back laughing as the sweet thing in front of me stops at her door turning to face me once again. Uh-oh, did he hit a nerve?

My expectation of sass, anger, or embarrassment is met with a sly smirk instead. I study her waiting for some sort of display of embarrassment at the brashness of my brothers. That’s not at all what I find. The mischief dancing in her eyes has me alert as I step into her personal space again. “Just wanted to help you get your coffee safely to your car.” I hold up the cup she gave me.

I won’t apologize for what any of the club members say for a couple of reasons. One, I’m not the kind of man to apologize unless I feel like I did someone wrong. It’s clear cut. My word is solid and if I fuck up, I’ll own it. Second, this is my lifestyle. These guys behind me matter more than any woman I’ve ever encountered so even when they are wrong, I’ll back them. Third, her embarrassment or lack thereof in this case is on her. I don’t control anyone’s emotions but my own. I don’t and won’t control anyone, her feelings about anything are her own to deal with.

She smiles proudly, “told you keep that one. Don’t want your club to give you shit for smelling sweet.” She reaches up and pats my chest as electricity shoots through my body at her touch. “Can’t let that bad boy biker stuff be a facade.”

Nope, this broad isn’t shaken at all by any of us.

It’s a fucking turn on.

The challenge laid; I accept. “Oh Sweets, this is not a facade. I’ll give you the bad boy and the ride of your life.”

She lets out a small laugh not backing down, “I’m sure you would.” She shrugs. “Another time maybe, but for now, Sugar, I gotta go. You’re cute, keep that shit up.” She rolls up on her tiptoes, with her lips against my ear, she whispers, “Just so you know, I’m far from fancy pussy, but I do think with you it could be a wet pussy. Alas, we don’t have time for this little game of cat and mouse, but to be clear, I can be rough, dirty, flirty, lots of fun, but I’m not fancy, Sugar. I’m all things sweet and spicy. Now, I gotta get to work and you gotta do what you do, so have a good day.”

She rolls back down to flat feet, and I swear to fuck my jeans are going to bust from the rock-hard erection she gives me with just her words.

Women typically want to be the damsel in distress or somehow be weaker than me. This woman in front of me, she’s not afraid to be at my level. She’s not afraid to see what she likes and make it known. My heart races and my body feels hot. Calm me is long gone as my body comes alive by her presence alone.

Yeah, she’s a wild one. The level of confidence oozing from her only makes me crave the feel and taste of her. This is a dangerous thing, the level of intoxication I get from her tease.

Fuck!

She opens her door and climbs in her car leaving me utterly speechless. The noise behind me seems to quiet as she winks from the driver’s window, “you ride safe, now, ya hear.”

I shake my head to brush off the fog of lust between us. Did she really give me the old school television show, the Beverly Hillbillies , ‘y’all come back now, ya hear,’ reference? I full out laugh because it’s cute. She seems to get more attractive and alluring by the minute.

Handing her the coffee, I have to keep this going for at least a moment more, “think you’re gonna need this one today too, sweets. You be sure to have a good one yourself.”

“I think this little cat and mouse we’ve played will keep me awake and on my toes all day, but seein’ as I don’t know that you got a cup holder on that bike of yours, I suppose I’ll keep it. But only ‘cuz you insist, Sugar.” She takes it and places it in the cupholder.

“Oh, darlin’ this cat and mouse will definitely keep my dick hard for a while,” I wink thinking surely this brashness will have her running away.

Instead, she bites her bottom lip, “impressive.”

Stepping back, I watch as she starts her car. It sounds rough and the plume of purple smoke coming out of the exhaust tells me it feels just as bad to the car to simply run while parked. Reaching up, I pull off my baseball cap and extend it out like an invitation to her to leave. She gives me one last hard smoldering look before pulling ahead. I put the cap back on, backwards as usual, and watch her drive away.

Well, if this is how this weekend is going to start, it’s going to be a damn good one.

I make my way back to my bike just as Grinder comes out of the coffee shop with a proud smirk. That dirty fuck.

“I feel much better, Pres.” He tells me what is already written on his face.

I laugh as I put my half-shell helmet back on. “Well, I imagine being as full of shit as you are, it does feel good every single time you drop them rocks in the toilet.”

We both mount and crank our bikes as Grinder smacks his cut playfully on his chest before yelling out, “Raise hell, praise dale! Time to ride out, Hellions.”