Page 23 of Preacher Man

He was still boiling hot about it. Making his morning shower more entertaining than usual, stroking one out before eight AM was a good start to the day, especially since when he came all over the shower wall and his own stomach his teeth were clamped together as he hissed her name making the climax burn out in hard spurts.

“Earth to Preacher. Don’t let us interrupt you,” he heard. Blinking hard he looked up to see all the men around the church table gawking at him.

“Say what?”

“Oh, nothing.” Glared Rider at the head of the table. Fingers tapping, meaning he was pissed off at something and since he was fixing a stare only at Preacher he could hazard a running guess it was him. “Just talked shit for ten minutes, asked your opinion and got the space cadet reply. The fuck, Preach, I don’t talk to hear myself you know.”

“Sorry, Prez. You got my attention now. What did you say?”

“Good thing it wasn’t to do anal, or Preacher would be in for a helluva surprise right about now,” guffawed Snake stuffing his mouth with a pizza pocket he was addicted to. Preacher side-eyed him but otherwise said nothing.

“I asked if you wanted any of the boys to go with you back to Lincoln.“ The way Rider worded it, all careful like, and the way the table became quiet, eyes on him like he was a damn dancing queen showing off her titties. He shook his head. The prez was asking if he needed a chaperone. Rider had heard of the aggravation he’d gone through with Red Light. Fucking H was a gossip.

“Nah. I’m good, Prez. It’ll be an in and out job I'm hoping, just a fast talk with Genty, I called him but you know paranoid Polly insists on face-to-faces for business.”

"That’s what your momma said the night you were made,” smirked Snake. Preacher popped up to his feet, his face turning nasty with a hard glare and a long accusing pointed finger. “Thefuckyou just say?”

“Damn. I think we done found Preach’s kryptonite.” Snickered Pretty-boy, well out of range for a smack around the face, but Preacher would take the walk around the table, no problem whatsoever. He sat his ass down. Glared some more at Snake.

“I was joking, fucker. I like your mom!”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he warned quietly.

“Well now, before I drown in testosterone poisoning, how about we get back to the meeting. I have ledgers to balance,” offered Texas as a mediator. “Over to you, Prez.”

“As I was saying. Preach is in Lincoln again next week, so one of you ladies will have to pick up his slack in the shop.”

“I can.” Offered Snake immediately. Little shit with his apology. Preacher reached across the table and the two brothers slapped hands.

“Aww, they made up. Now I’m all warm and tickly inside again.” Laughed Grinder, dark slate gray eyes twinkling. Quit as a flea Snake fired back “Nah, man, that’s just your venereal disease festering. Hey, Butcher, whatcha got for dick rot in your black bag?”

Their medical man snickered, silver rings on each finger, he had his hands crossed on the table, head to toe leather, wouldn’t think to look at him, Preacher pondered, the death this man had seen in his path. It took all sorts. Now he patched the brothers up and stayed on the fringes of the MC. A good man. Quiet man. Secretive man.

But then they all had those.

He was currently thinking of a woman. Like nine deep in sexual fantasies. He’d already gone down on her, tongued her until she passed out. Now he was stroking her with his fingers, swirling her sweet cream from clit to ass.

Knuckles rapped on the table brought his head up on a hard inhale.

“Now you’re back with us. Do the rounds today at the shops. See if they need anything.“ Informed Rider as he doled out the day’s jobs to the brothers around the table. Preacher nodded. That meant to collect the profits from the gambling, and loans, and later Texas would skilfully clean all that lovely RS money.

They made a lot. He wasn’t complaining about the share of his cut. It was so much more than he earned legally in the army. Kill an enemy, get paid a pittance, fuel underground loans and rake in the profits. No wonder there was so many professional criminals nowadays.

And there was no better than an outlaw.

“Sure. I’ll take that cocky little shit prospect with me, show the kid the ropes, see how quick he barfs when he catches a load of Marcel’s crooked teeth.”

Everyone laughed.

Marcel ran the gambling side of things for a small cut of the takings. It kept it away from the RS stamp, no one knew they were involved, but damn did the man need a toothbrush or his own personal dentist on call.

“Halitosis city. Make sure you send the prospect real close. He’ll die on the spot. “

“It’s like being hit in the face with a stink bomb.”

“It’ll put hairs on the prospects chest. If he lives.”

“Reaper. I want you to pay a visit to Brex. He’s due to collect his package.” Rider spoke over the chatter.