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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SAINT

P ippa naked or wearing my T-shirt and sweatpants is a sight to behold. Her bruised face at first, had not shown her in the best light, but over the next couple of days, as her bruises fade, and she appears wearing the clothes she ordered and that the prospect had collected from town, well, it’s not just me whose mouth drops open.

Tight jeans, hugging her ass, a bra supporting and even showing a decent cleavage, her new fitted tee defining a waist I already know from touch both my hands can span. But seeing is believing, and hell, my woman is hot.

When Tempest challenges her to a game of pool, I suspect he just wants to see her ass at best advantage while taking a shot. As I do too, I don’t complain, just stay close where I can get the best view.

He lets her break. She lines up her cue but doesn’t get anything anywhere near a pocket. Tempest grins widely and sinks ball after ball. Finally, he misses. He’s only got three colours left on the table, she’s got all her stripes. Biting her lip, she gives him a tentative glance, then rests the cue carefully over the back of her hand and takes in a deep breath. The cue stick jerks forward. One ball goes down. On the next shot, she manages to get two into separate pockets. I clap; it was a good shot. But beginner’s luck, probably. Uh-uh, there’s no chance with this one, but by fuck, or by fluke, another stripe sinks down. She’s four balls left on the table to Tempest’s three. Even I forget to look at her ass, choosing to admire the way she uses that cue, lines up her shots and makes the balls do exactly what she tells them to. Risking a glance at the sergeant-at-arms, I see our resident pool shark getting increasingly worried.

A crowd has gathered around, I can almost hear the collective indrawn breath as she sinks her final ball, then eyes up the black, the tip of her cue lovingly giving the white a gentle caress. No one dares draw in air as it nudges the final ball toward the corner pocket, quivering for a moment on the cushion before it finally goes down.

“Fuckin’ pool shark!” Tempest roars.

Pippa smiles at him sweetly. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Beginner’s luck, I’ll be damned.” But begrudgingly he reaches over the table to shake her hand. “Got some good trick shots there, sweetheart. You’ll have to teach me those sometime.”

I stiffen at his endearment, then realise if he wants pool lessons from her, he’s either got to get them fast or agree to let her stay and be mine.

She winks at me, then heads for the bar. She’s grown in confidence, and I don’t feel I have to hover over her to lend my support. I rapidly reconsider when I see what she’s heading toward, but it’s too late to warn her. Heaven, Sweetie and Star have quickly converged on her, obviously ganging up, with Trixie standing a little way off, watching. I shouldn’t step in. If she’s going to make a good ol’ lady, she’s got to stand up for herself. Much as I hate it, I accept the challenge that Tempest has offered me, put my twenty down on the table, and line up my cue.

I break. I’m stripes. I sink a ball and miss the next shot. Leaning against my cue, I turn my eyes toward the bar, noticing she’s surrounded. I hear raised female voices, and watch hands wave in the air as though making points.

“Your turn.” Tempest brings me back to the game.

I line up my shot, distracted, and miss.

Slap. Turning fast I see it’s Pippa who’s obviously just slapped Star around the face and has Heaven in some kind of headlock. Sweetie’s backing away, her hands held up in surrender. And Trixie, well, she’s standing back, laughing and seems to be encouraging Pippa.

Tempest pots two balls, then fluffs his next shot. Encouraged by her confident handling of the bunnies, I can get my head fully into the game and clear the table to Tempest’s disgust. When I finally turn back to check on my woman, she and Trixie are both drinking shots.

Leaning in, Tempest confides, “If she wasn’t a Fed, you’d have a good one there. Can’t deny I’m envious, Brother.”

The grin that starts to spread over my face disappears as fast as it came. However good a fit she seems to be for the club, my brothers will be blind to any of her attributes other than she worked for law enforcement.

With that reminder my time with her is most likely limited, I march over, place my hand around her arm, lean into her ear and tell her, “Why is it, whatever you do turns me the fuck on?”

Placing her hands around my cheeks, she puts her mouth close to my cheek and whispers, “Loved watching your ass when you were playing.”

And that’s all I need to crash my lips on hers, to let my tongue invade as she opens and lets me in. My cock’s hard enough to hammer nails as I push my pelvis into her, and I can’t wait, lifting her into my arms and marching out of the clubroom toward the stairs.

She’s mine, and I’m not going to waste a moment with her.

Moments later when I lean back to watch my cock disappearing into her pussy, then catching and holding her eyes with mine, watching her face flush as her orgasm’s approaching, I realise what makes this so different with her. We’re not having sex. We’re making love.

Her pussy convulses around my dick taking me over with her. Both sated, I roll to one side, pulling her to me, then wince as her plastered leg knocks against mine.

“You okay?” we both ask together. Then in unison, answer, “Fine.” Chuckling, I gently ease her closer. “You know, when you get that cast off, there are so many other ways I’ll be able to make you mine.”

“Mm-hm?”

“Oh yeah, up against the wall, in the shower…”

“You’re tempting me with a real good time.”

She yawns as she snuggles against me. Me, Saint. The fuck ‘em and run guy. The man who never wanted to be tied down. I’ve seen brothers in the other Kings chapters falling, and always thought they were mad. But it now seems I’m the insane one. The bitch I’m prepared to lay down my life, who I’d forsake all others, for, is the one person I may not be able to keep by my side.

As she dozes, relaxed, my mind keeps racing. There must be some way I can keep her alive.

The next morning, she wakes at a decent hour, while I haven’t really slept. She puts a waterproof sleeve over her cast, and I help her in the shower. It’s a routine we’ve fallen into and one I’m cherishing now, though before her I was a selfish bastard, thinking of myself and never giving aid to anyone else, unless it was a brother.

I can’t keep my hands off her, and she reciprocates. Unable to sink to her knees, she guides me back to the bed, pushes me down, and places her lips around my cock. I’ve had so many bunnies and hangarounds suck my dick before, but no one has ever been able to do it like her.

Love . The reason comes into my head. She wants to please me because of the emotion she feels, and not like she has to excel because she’s chasing a patch. When I give her the chance to pull back, she draws me closer, and I empty myself into her throat, knowing her moans of delight are real, and she’s enjoying my taste as much as I relish hers.

Of course, I reciprocate, though so many times with club bunnies I’ve simply kicked them out after I’ve got my rocks off, but seeing her muscles trembling, feeling her tense, her juices rushing into my mouth is becoming something I live for. Then my cock is ready for round two, followed by three, before exhausted we finally just hold each other tight.

I can’t get enough of her.

If I were to lose her…

I can’t. I just can’t.

Sunlight streams through the gap at the side of the blind. I begin the morning exactly the same way as I ended the night, unable to believe how each time we come together it just seems to get better.

As if we both realise our alone time is over, we shower, dress, me helping her get her jeans pulled up over her cast. Her shoulder doesn’t seem to be bothering her so much now, but I’m mindful she shouldn’t put any stress on it.

Then, with a knowing look to each other, understanding this is yet another day on the countdown, I pass her the crutch and let her make her own way down the stairs, noticing how she’s becoming more agile.

The party had continued after we went up to my room. Paint is lying on a couch with a naked Star unconscious on top of him. Winchester is snoring on a chair, Heaven lying in his lap. Knight appears through the main door, his hand brushing back his hair. I watch him as he surveys the room, then his eyes come to meet mine. His face tightens, and he gives me a chin lift, then starts tidying up, reminding me how much it sucks to be a prospect, seeing the aftermath of a party, while having been unable to partake. Bunnies are off limits to prospects.

To help him out, I cross the room, kicking Winchester’s leg to wake him, and tipping the couch so Star falls off, bringing Paint back to the world with a grunt.

“What the fuck?” Paint stands up and takes a fighting stance, but betrays himself as he wobbles, holds on to the arm of the upturned couch, and places a hand to his clearly aching head. “Er, ‘morning, VP.” He offers a tentative grin. Then to the whore I’d just dislodged, he gives just one instruction, “Get lost, Star.”

Winchester is rousing Heaven with a slap to her ass, then points her toward the door.

“Jeez,” Pippa says softly beside me. “You guys are real gentlemen.” She softens her accusation by chuckling quietly.

I feel a moment’s guilt as before I met her, either brother could have been me. “Wait until they find their one.” I capture her eyes with mine. “Like I have.” She swallows, then blushes. “Yeah,” I tell her. “You’ve ruined me for all others now.”

Holding the hand not gripping her crutch, I guide her into the kitchen. “Wanna test the theory about the way to men’s hearts?”

At my raised brow, she laughs. “You make the pancakes, I’m on eggs and bacon.”

As we work, I switch on the television, turning it to a local news channel. Both of us pause, kitchen utensils held in midair, when we hear her name mentioned, our attention caught by the newscaster. I turn up the volume.

“Three men from Sierra Vista, Arizona, have been arrested and charged with the homicide of Secret Service Agent Phillipa Owens after an SUV was found with dents and scratches, and paintwork matching the car she was driving when she was driven off the road. Both men are known to have been avid supporters of Preston Adams. Bail has been denied.”

I watch her as she stares at the screen. I can’t read what’s going through her mind until she turns and gives me a wide grin. “It wasn’t actually murder, as I didn’t die, but if it hadn’t been for you, Saint, they would have killed me.”

“You burning the car would have given you the chance to get away, even if I hadn’t been there.” I’m not quite sure why I’m advocating for them.

“Without your help, I doubt I could have pulled myself out of the ravine. And even if I had, I could have died waiting for someone to stop and assist me.”

Tilting my head to one side, I ask, “So you don’t mind they’re accused of murder?”

Firmly, she replies, “They would have killed me. That was their intention that night.” Her face tightens. “My only worry is that they won’t get the death penalty, and they’ll become fucking heroes in the penitentiary.”

My woman is out for blood. Leaving my pancake mix, I walk toward her and cup my hands around her face. “What if I told you we had contacts? Wherever they end up, it’s likely the Kings will know someone, somewhere, who’s got nothing to lose, and can ensure they don’t get the notoriety they’re after.”

“You’d do that for me?” I’d do that and a hundred things more. “They tried to kill me, Saint. On nothing more than circumstantial evidence and rumours. I don’t want them worshipped like kings wherever they end up.”

“Then we’ll sort it,” I promise her.

Her face fills with emotion as she raises her hand, curls it around my neck and brings my head down to hers. “Thank you.” She touches her lips to mine.

A slow hand clap has me quickly stepping out of her embrace, only to see Stalker standing there. He grins, raising his chin first to me, then to her. “Spoken like a true outlaw.” He chuckles, rubs his hands together, “Now what’s cooking for breakfast?”

“Nothing for you,” I growl.

“Baby.” Pippa leans and puts her hand to her cheek. “We’re actually preparing plenty.”

“That’s what I fuckin’ want to hear.” Kicking out a chair, Stalker sits down.

Rolling my eyes I turn back to my task. Doubling the mixture when Piston enters. When Bullseye and Tempest appear, I throw my spatula down. “Leave this to me,” I rasp at Pippa, and leave the kitchen.

Going out to the bunkhouse and banging on doors, I rouse the bunnies out of the other’s beds, giving them all the same instruction. “Get over to the kitchen and make yourselves useful.”

Trixie’s first to appear. She pats me on the cheek as she passes. “I got this,” she reassures me, then repeats my actions, banging on doors. “Star? Heaven? Sweetie? Get your asses in gear. Our men are hungry.”

Star’s next to open her door. She’s dressed in a barely there negligee, not long having been in bed. She yawns widely, but her tiredness seems to disappear fast as she sees me, and assumes what she thinks is a sexy pose, one hand head-height against the door jamb, hip cocked out. “Saint, I knew it was only a matter of time before you came looking for me.”

While I feel bile rise into my throat, Trixie grabs hold of her hair. “He ain’t here for you, girl. He needs to be Fed.”

“Get off me. Saint?”

I block out her appeal, wondering how I ever stooped so low as to put my cock in her pussy. On multiple occasions, as I recall, now it makes me feel ill. Pippa’s worth a hundred of her. “Get your ass to the kitchen,” I back Trixie up.

“What’s up?” Heaven and Sweetie make their presence known.

Trixie shoos me away. “Leave this with me,” she tells me again.

I take her up on her offer.

To give Trixie her due, she has them dressed, or half-dressed in most cases, and heading into the clubhouse not long after I’d re-entered. I lead them to where my woman is trying to keep bacon, eggs and pancakes on the go for all of my brothers who seem to have wandered in.

She catches my eye when she sees my entourage. “Brought reinforcements,” I tell her, pleased to see her eyes widen, then she straightens her back and grins.

She begins snapping the orders, just like an Army sergeant berating his troops, barely allowing any time for protest as she divvies the work up between them, never ceasing to continue working herself. Her mission is to feed all the club. I feel myself turned on just watching her.

Coffee cups are kept topped up, more and more plates of bacon, eggs, waffles… and now Pippa’s got the extra help, hash browns as well as other sundries are appearing. Toast is plentiful and more than enough to feed all the club. And if any of the girls waver, Pippa’s there to crack the whip, using a sharp tongue to get them moving. Amused, I see Trixie is backing her up, assigning herself a lieutenant.

Somehow, she’s made them an organised, cohesive team. Maybe if all the brothers weren’t in attendance, it would be different, but the bunnies seem to want to impress with their prowess, and I even excuse the attempts at flirting, and ignore hands accidentally brushing against arms, or resting on shoulders. Pippa’s glares are enough to keep stray digits from landing anywhere near me, and I relish how possessive she is.

“Shit, I could have this every day,” Freak sits back, massaging his stomach. “Best fuckin’ breakfast in ages.”

“Yeah,” Bullseye reinforces his comment. I’ve noticed he’s been watching Pippa closely. His eyes narrow as he follows the movements of the bunnies working under her direction, and probably, like me, admires the smooth operation. And it’s apparent he’s more than impressed as he claps his hands. “Ladies?” He pauses until all the bunnies look at him. “I’m proposing that from now on your duties include keeping the club fed” At the first murmur of dissension, he casually offers, “And the alternative option, that you walk away from the club.”

Trixie pauses and places her hands on her hips. “Prez, it might not be my place to point something out, but none of us could cook shit until Saint’s ol’ lady gave us instructions.”

I want to kiss her, but no, I couldn’t do that. My kisses are reserved for one woman, my Pippa. And Trixie might be laying it on a little thick, but she’s right. The bunnies need someone to take them in hand and organise them. To date, they’ve had free run of the club as no brother has taken an ol’ lady. And if anyone could keep them in line, I reckon that woman is my Pippa.

“Fuck this!” Star steps away from the stove. “I ain’t nobody’s slave. I ain’t cooking for anyone.”

Surprisingly, it’s the reticent Words who replies. “You want my cock, Star?” As she grins and starts sashaying toward him, he continues, “‘Cause I ain’t feeding anyone my dick who doesn’t feed me first, and,” he adds fast, “I don’t mean with pussy.”

Bullseye thumps his hand down on the table. “Okay. Seems like we’re all in agreement. But before shit changes in this club, it gets voted on. Eat your breakfast, Brothers. Church as soon as we’ve finished. And Saint?” Oh fuck . I let my cautious glance land on him. “Timescales moved up. We settle all shit today.”

Shit, fuck, goddamnit. Have we pushed him too far, too fast? He’s telling me there’s going to be a vote on Pippa, whether she stays or... at this juncture I can’t even think of the alternative.

I’m not ready. A glance toward the woman in question shows I’m not the only one. And Pippa knows exactly what our meeting is going to be about. There’s a world of emotion in her eyes as she looks at me, despair, sadness, desperation. Maybe there’s also a little hope, but not much. I don’t think either of us are feeling optimistic.

“Can you give me an hour, Prez?” One more time to sink my cock in to the most beautiful woman that’s ever come my way. Or maybe, sixty minutes to try and get her and I out of here.

He shows no mercy. “Time’s up, Saint.”