“Delilah, baby, are you back for seconds?” he laughs.
“You know it, big daddy,” she purrs, leaning over so her double d’s are thrust into Heavy’s face. He motorboats them for the hell of it, gathering her big jugs up in his hands. Delilah giggles in the most annoying way I believe I’ve ever heard.
“Go get Tracy and meet me in my room in ten minutes. I’m going to see if I can talk Keys here into joining us,” Heavy responds, swatting her on the ass.
“Yummy,” Delilah coos, giving me what I like to call a fuck-me-now kind of look. Then she runs off.
“Don’t waste your breath. Ask one of the others to join you if you don’t think you can do the job yourself,” I grumble, finishing off my beer, thinking I’m going to need something stronger.
“Got a case of limp dick?” Heavy taunts.
“Just in the mood for someone else,” I mumble. Someone with red hair and a smart mouth that makes my balls ache.
“I got all kinds in my stable, son—”
“I don’t know why you have a fucking stable,” I snap before I can stop myself.
“What the—”
“What the hell can you find in those fake tits of Delilah’s when you got a woman like Red waiting for you?”
“Jesus, asshole, what is in that damn beer you’re drinking? And when did you go all moral on my ass? Last time we talked, you were mocking Shaft for having his dick locked up by a pussy,” Heavy laughs.
He’s absolutely right and I’m kind of pissed that Red has me obsessed with her after only one day. The hell of it all is that as much as I really want to fuck her, I enjoy sparring with her more than anything I’ve ever experienced. Anything. What in the fuck does that say about me?
“I never had a taste of something as sweet as you have waiting for you,” I respond, sounding as if I’m whining. Christ, if this keeps up, I deserve to be neutered.
“Delilah? Hell, man, take her. I didn’t know you were against sharing. Have at it. You can have her and Tracy, too.”
“Not Delilah, asshole. Red,” I growl, tired of this crap. “I’m going to bed—alone. If you have a brain in your head, you’ll be on your way to Red’s house and prove to her that you’re worth the bullshit.”
I push my seat back, needing to leave.
“I agree, Finn is a hell of a woman, probably the best woman I’ve ever met in my life,” Heavy says, surprising me enough that I turn around to look at him.
“She is,” I admit.
“She deserves a fuck of a lot more than a bastard biker who has done so much shit that he should be rotting in a prison cell—and would be, if not for brothers having his back.”
I frown, because we both know that is our lives. I start to ask him if that’s the reason he hasn’t locked her down, but he interrupts me.
“But damn, son, I don’t know how you assholes in Kentucky do it, but I’m not fucking my sister.”
“What the hell are you…” I stop as everything he says registers. “Wait, what did you say?” Heavy doesn’t answer. He just keeps staring at me. “Red is your sister?”
“Yeah. You thought she was my old lady?” He starts laughing, but I don’t give a damn about him. For a minute, I can’t breathe. Then it hits me that Red played me for a sucker.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” I hiss, turning on my heel to head toward the door.
“Where are you going, Keys?”
“To spank Red’s ass!” I growl.
“Hey, you fucking prick. She’s still my sister!” Heavy barks.
I give him my middle finger because I don’t have anything to say that. It doesn’t matter and flipping him off is the only fuck I have to give.
Red’s ass is going to be mine.
Along with every other damn part of her.
7
Finley
I look at the clock for the millionth time. Midnight. I let out a sigh and beat my pillow again. I’ve cleaned the kitchen from the mess the guys left. I’ve given all the animals a treat and locked up the house for the night. I’ve spent the last hour in bed watching a rerun of the Wendy Williams show. I don’t even like talk shows, so I have no idea why I got sucked in. I should be exhausted, but I’m not. I feel like I’m on edge and there’s only one man responsible.
What is it about Keys that gets under my skin and makes it itch? I have no answer, but it would be just my luck to be attracted to a guy that’s like poison oak—an itch I want to scratch but can’t.
I exhale a large, frustrated breath and decide to quit fighting it. I get out of bed, grabbing my old, white, silk robe and pull it over a t-shirt Larry threw at me one night, trying to piss me off. It made me giggle and I told him that it was mine now. I was going to keep it to clean my toilets.
Instead, I wear it every night. I miss having him staying with me, honestly. He was crashing at my house while he recovered from having his appendix removed. He didn’t want to stay at the club. He didn’t want them to see him as weak. He refused to even tell them where he was. My brother, the big, bad biker, is definitely kind of a marshmallow when it comes to being in pain. I love that crazy man, probably more than he realizes.
The shirt falls past my thighs because my brother really is a big man. It’s longer than my robe, but habit makes me put the robe on, even if I live alone. I walk down the hall back to the kitchen, flip the light on, and then go to the fridge to grab the milk and chocolate. Hot chocolate is a last resort. It sometimes makes me sleepy and I’m hoping it does its magic tonight. I’m humming some silly country song that I heard on the radio when someone knocks on my door.
No, I don’t think you can call it knocking. It’s more like pounding.
I open the broom closet and pull out the shotgun I keep there.
“Who is it?” I call through the locked door.
“Open up, Red.”
Fuck. The last thing I need is to have him here.
“Go home, Stud. It’s late,” I growl, keeping the door locked.
“Open the door, or I’ll break it down,” he says, his voice filled with irritation.
“The fuck you say,” I snap, opening the door but leaving the chain on it. I make sure the gun is between me and him, the door opening just enough to let the barrel through. “You need to get back in your vehicle and get the hell off my property, Stud.”
“You lied to me,” he growls.
“What are you talking about?” I snap, wondering if Larry could get me out of jail time if I shoot someone in the leg…
“Heavy is not your old man, Red,” he says, leaning so my gun is pushed up to his gut. I have the safety on, but it makes me nervous when he does that, which is irritating. “He’s your brother.”
“I never said he was my man. You just jumped to that conclusion and I found it funny. So, I let it go. Now, how about you walk back to your bike out there and make like a tree and leave.”
“Cute, Red. But, I’m not going anywhere,” he says stubbornly. He’s grinning at me and crosses his arms as if he’s daring me to make another move. He really doesn’t know me well enough to wave a red flag in my face.