Page 4 of Property of Stone (Kings of Anarchy MC: Pennsylvania #1)

Chapter One

Thirteen months, two weeks, three days and six hours later

“Fuck me,” Stone grumbled when he heard it.

“I am, baby. I’m fucking you soooo good.”

Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling for a second before dropping them to the ringing phone on the nightstand next to his bed in the clubhouse.

He had no idea who was calling, but it could be a good paying collection job and he could use the scratch. That left him no choice but to answer, even while one of their sweet butts rode his dick.

After thirteen months in the fucking slammer, he had a lot of catching up to do, so he’d been working his way through all of the Kings’ club girls.

One at a time.

Two at a time.

Sometimes three at a time. It all depended on his mood and how much he wanted to drain his balls .

As soon as he tagged the phone, the ringing stopped. Two seconds later, it started again.

Of fuckin’ course.

He set his jaw and glanced at Windy’s huge tits as they flopped in time with her bouncing on his dick. “Give it a rest, woman. Need to take this.”

“I’ll go slower.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Windy earned her nickname honestly. There wasn’t jack shit between her damn ears. But her pussy was tight and she could suck his nuts through his dick. Smarts weren’t needed for that.

Bracing himself, he swiped his finger across the phone’s screen and stuck it to his ear.

The computerized voice announced a collect call. That meant one thing…

“Fuckin’ fuck.” He reluctantly accepted the charge. “Better be good. In the middle of important business.”

“Important business for you is fucking.”

“Damn right it is. What d’you do?” He could guess. Sheena needed her ass bailed out.

Again.

If he didn’t share a kid with the dumb cunt, he’d have bought her a one-way ticket to Siberia so he’d never have to see or hear from that mistake again.

Unfortunately, she did pop out his nut nugget so he was fucking stuck with her. At least for another eight years. After that, though, all fucking bets were off.

“Why do you assume I did anything?”

“‘Cause you’re callin’ me collect from Dauphin County fuckin’ Prison, that’s why,” he roared. “You sure ain’t visitin’. What the fuck d’you do?”

He sat up abruptly, almost throwing Windy off. She dug her long-ass nails into his thighs to keep her balance and to remain securely on his dick.

Goddamn pro right there.

“I cashed a few checks.”

Translation: she forged a few checks. Probably more than a few. Enough to get busted and prosecuted. Again.

The annoyance rising up his throat left a bitter taste in his mouth. But then, to be fair, he’d been bitter ever since he found out Sheena was knocked up over ten years ago.

Best and worst day of his fucking life.

Loved his girl, but hated the cunt that held his baby hostage in her body for nine months.

“You needed more scratch for Sunny, shoulda reached the fuck out.” He always made sure his girl had what she needed.

“First of all, dickhead, you’ve been away and I couldn’t ask you for shit. But the money wasn’t for Sunny.”

“What the fuck you need scratch for, then?”

She didn’t answer, and that was wasting fucking time. Prisons had a time limit on phone calls.

“What d’you need the scratch for, Sheena?”

When again she didn’t answer, he figured it out.

God-fuckin’-damnit.

“Thought you were fuckin’ clean!” he roared. He pulled the cell phone from his ear, dropped his head and shook it, trying to keep this shit together. Once he took a long breath through flared nostrils, he put the phone back to his ear. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, why you gotta be like that?”

“Fuck you, Pebble . You’ve got no room to talk. You just got out for doing something stupid yourself. That asshole move kept you from your daughter for over a damn year! Don’t act like you’re so high and mighty. ”

High would be a good state to be in right now to deal with her constant bullshit.

Since he wasn’t, he gritted his teeth. Not because what she said hit home, but because she had called him Pebble. She only did it to get a rise out of him and he tried not to take the bait.

At least the cunt could’ve brought Sunny during visitation hours. Did she? Fuck no, no matter how many times he asked her.

“Listen, bitch. You know I ain’t talkin’ about you doin’ another bid. Don’t give a fuck about that. You like muff divin’ in prison, that’s on you, but you doin’ meth around my girl is the last fuckin’ straw.” Sunny was never going back to her again. Her mother promised him she’d stay clean.

He should’ve known that was a lie. Sheena wouldn’t know how to tell the truth if her life depended on it. That was why he had insisted on a DNA test when she announced she was knocked up and assumed it was his.

At first, he assumed it wasn’t.

“Just try to keep her from me,” came the empty threat.

It wasn’t worth arguing. Sheena was now inside, he was now out. He currently held all the cards. “Wish I never stuck my dick in you.”

“You’re not the only one, asshole. You sucked in bed.”

Bullshit. “That’s why you chased my fuckin’ dick?”

“I was high!”

“What’s new?”

“And you didn’t fight me off, Pebble .”

Because he’d been on a three-day bender himself, he couldn’t remember half the pussy he fucked that Fourth of July long weekend. The only reason he remembered Sheena was because his swimmers decided to fuck him over hard by landing on her shore .

He should get snipped just to teach those cruel motherfuckers a lesson.

“Are you going to pick up Sunny at Darla’s or not?”

Goddamn Darla. She was as bad as Sheena. Maybe even worse. The woman sold her skanky cunt to get her mitts on drugs. She should call the Guinness Book of World Records because the cum dumpster probably had every STD known to man.

Maybe even some that haven’t been identified yet.

He shuddered at the thought of sticking his dick in that woman’s petri-dish pussy.

“Of fuckin’ course I’m gonna get my baby girl. Sunny don’t need to be around that whore.” And this time she wasn’t going back to Sheena after she got released. He might not be the best influence for his daughter, but he had to be a step up from her mother.

Or at least he fucking hoped so.

Goddamn it . Their girl’s future was probably doomed between her two fucked-up parents. Poor Sunny had been born with a broken plastic spoon in her mouth instead of silver through no fault of her own.

“Darla still in Scumbag Estates?” If so, he’d have to pack extra heat. He might even have to bring along a few of his brothers.

“No, she’s living in a pop-up camper in the RV park behind the trailer park.”

For fuck’s sake. That place was a haven for drug addicts. The news kept getting better by the second.

“Hey, Stone? Can you put money on my books?”

Was she serious? Now she wanted to act sweet? Fuck that.

“Why don’t you ask Pebble ?” Stone hung up and threw his phone across the room before shoving Windy off his now-limp dick.

The sweet butt blinked at him wide-eyed. “You okay, Stone?”

“Fuck no. Gotta go rescue my daughter.” Before Darla sold Sunny to the highest bidder to help fund her habit.

Guaranteed, if that happened, his next bid in prison would be permanent.

The meeting room, like the rest of their clubhouse, might not be fancy, but it was theirs.

A massive mural of their Kings of Anarchy colors took up one wall. The rectangular table where they sat had the names of all past and present fully-patched members of the Pennsylvania chapter engraved in it.

Once they earned their colors, each member carved their own name into the long table’s wood top themselves, using a buck or pocket knife, or any other blade they happened to have on hand.

Some had even burned their names into the wood.

The six founders of the Dead Man’s Hollow, Pennsylvania chapter had started this tradition after establishing it back in the early eighties.

Out of habit, Stone rubbed his fingertip over a worn-down carving directly in front of his place at the table, where he sat to the right of their president, Ransom. The name belonged to the Kings’ member who sponsored Stone.

Rubble.

His older brother. First by blood, then by club. Rubble was the one to convince Stone to slip on a prospect cut only a couple of days after his eighteenth birthday.

The only reason he didn’t do it the day he turned old enough was because he was too damn drunk and stoned. On top of the very important fact that he was also busy planting his dick in some bitch for those two days straight.

He found out later the woman had been forty-five.

He wouldn’t have cared about her age, even if she told him up front, since she lured him to her fancy double-wide trailer with the promise of an endless supply of expensive whiskey and quality coke.

In those forty-eight hours, her massive fucking tits almost smothered him to death more times than he could count. He also discovered she could suck a knob off a door.

It was the best birthday in all of his eighteen years.

Until he sobered up.

Until she finally opened the shades in her bedroom and he saw her without all the heavy makeup.

Without that tight-as-fuck shape-wear she squeezed herself into that he swore was invented solely to trick men.

Until he saw her pussy flaps looked like a goddamn Arby’s roast beef sandwich in the light of day.

His walk of shame turned into a sprint of horror and ‘never agains.’

It was a hard lesson learned, but from then on out, his strict rule was to pick them only while he was still stone-cold sober.

Though, rules were meant to be broken. The whole reason he had a daughter.

But that horror story was also how he got his road name.

When he told his brother what happened, and why he’d been missing for two days, Rubble started calling him Stones for having the damn stones to actually tell that story out loud.

Stone dropped the extra S once he got his full set of patches a year later.

Now his road name could mean a shitload of things .