Wilson 23.
Tilly’s round, firm, panty clad ass grinds against my groin where she nestled in comfortably before she fell asleep. After Church yesterday, we hung around the clubhouse, had dinner with some of the brothers, a few of the Lobbyists, Quinn and her crew, plus the ol’ ladies and Sammy. Tilly and Tybalt engaged everyone in conversation from the bitchy LaToya to our youngest prospect, Corn. Stacy squeezed my shoulder on the way past me at one point, and whispered in my ear, “It’s like they’ve always been here.” The sincerity in her voice, echoing my own thoughts as I watched the siblings argue animatedly about something that happened when they were kids that had the whole clubroom in hysterics, had me nearly bursting with pride and love for my woman.
Despite the events of the last two days, meeting Tilly and getting to know her, her heart, her hopes and fears, and the pain that has molded her into the incredible woman she is today…is the best thing that has ever happened to me. She is the best part of who I am today, and who I will grow into as the years pass. Everything I do will be in dedication to her and her happiness. Because she is my happiness.
And I showed her twice last night before we fell asleep. I chuckle in the dark of my room, wondering why I’m up now, but pushing that aside as I remember our disagreement about undergarments. She insisted on putting underwear back on before we went to sleep, because she didn’t want “vagina stuff” all over the pillow she puts between her knees. I insisted they would only get in my way of slipping inside her silken slit. She countered that they could be pushed to the side easily enough. And I made her prove it to me, laughing at her bitching that she had to put on a new, dry pair of panties because she’d leaked my cum all over the pair she was already wearing. I don’t think she realizes how different men and women are. She felt ickiness whereas I felt pride. I marked my woman good.
My phone chirps with an urgent text and I realize quickly that is what woke me up out of a sound sleep. Kissing along Tilly’s bare shoulder, I roll her gently to her stomach to free my arm, then slide from bed without disturbing her. My attempt to let her sleep was all in vain as I read Madison’s message calling for Church now. It’s 3:37 in the morning. Heart in my throat, knowing they must have found something at Rawson’s place, I shake Tilly awake, pulling on clothes.
“Wilson? What is it? Are you sick?”
“No, baby. Madison’s called for Church, we need to get dressed and head down to meet them.”
She sits upright, her eyes instantly losing the sleepy look of a second ago. I chuckle at her exuberance. “Me? He wants me to come too?” I nod with a grin. She pumps her fists in the air and shimmies, her naked tits swaying back and forth. I lean forward to pull a tight nipple into my mouth, but she puts her palm to my forehead and pushes me out of the way. “My lemon bars worked! Yes! This is awesome!”
I might be taller, have longer legs, but Tilly moves like a ninja cheetah through the clubhouse, entering Church before me. A few of the brothers watch her with grins. Madison is already there, and he smiles softly at Tilly, pulling her to his side and kissing the top of her head. With his arm firmly around her shoulders, he glances around the room. My brothers are in various states of dress and alertness. Clearly some were still partying, while others were woken up for the meeting, like us. “Why aren’t any of you fuckers this excited for Church?”
Hayes sighs loudly in his seat next to Madison, “Because you’ve lost that loving feeling.”
“Now it’s gone, gone, gone.” Adams deadpans.
“Whoa. Oh.” McKinley chimes in. There’s a moment of silence, then as one, my brothers and I begin singing You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ by the Righteous Brothers while Tilly watches entranced, snapping her fingers to the beat.
When our voices trail off at the end, Tilly claps excitedly, bouncing on her feet. “Oh, this place is magical!”
“Well, now that our a cappella choir practice is over, let’s get started.”
Tilly gasps, both hands clutching the front of Madison’s kutte tightly. “You have an a cappella group!” Madison shakes his head at her fondly but meets my eyes over her head. I nod, steering her away from Prez and over to our seats.
“I didn’t know you sang. Is that a normal thing for motorcycle clubs? It wasn’t mentioned in all the stuff I read—”
“Tilly.” She stops, reads my expression, then releases the saddest exhale in history.
“Yeah, that was stupid. A singing motorcycle club, whoever heard of such a silly, wonderful, fantastical thing.” She says it so wistfully, Buchanan, Barkley, and Carver snicker.
We all quiet when Madison bangs his gavel off the table. Sitting up in our seats, we’re all alert now. “Pierce.” A second later the projection screen fills with a video. It’s of an interrogation room, similar to one of the ones at the FBI building. Tilly gasps next to me, but this isn’t an excited reaction. She leans forward, then stands and steps closer to the screen.
“That be-otch!” In the video, the door opens, Lomax and Fish enter, taking the seats opposite a vaguely familiar woman.
“This is live.” Madison states. “Late yesterday afternoon, Barkley, McKinley, Clay and Adams met Special Agents Lomax and Fish at the residence of Dale Rawson. He was found dead in the kitchen.”
Clay grimaces with a cough, “Very dead.”
Madison continues, “Dale’s phone records revealed he has been in contact with this woman. However, it did not begin until after Dale expired. Eric Rawson is now wanted for the death of Dale Rawson, along with grand larceny, embezzlement, bank fraud and more. I thought it pertinent that we watch Patrice Monahan’s interrogation. Tilly? You know her?” Prez already knows the answer.
“Yes, sir. She was the interim bank manager at Aged Barrell Bank before I transferred as branch manager several months ago. She’s an unfortunate individual.” Tilly bites her bottom lip, her eyes closing, as though she’s thinking. “I wasn’t sure, but she threatened me right after I contacted Wilson the first time.”
I stiffen next to her, “She threatened you?”
Tilly lifts a shoulder, “I think. She told me she would look after the bank and its clients should something happen to me for associating with the wrong crowd.”
“We the wrong crowd, honey?” Carver drawls, his mouth kicking up on one side in humor.
“She’s the one associating with murderers!” Tilly points at the screen, missing the grimace wave that makes its way around the table. We dabble in afterlife expediency from time to time when necessary. I’m sure if Tilly really thought about it, she knows what we do. I just hope that she knows we do bad things for the right reasons.
“Ain’t that the psycho chick you banged in the bar bathroom a while ago, Fill?” Buck asks Fillmore, not a little amusement in his tone. Fillmore isn’t amused, though.
“You had intercourse with her?!?” Tilly rounds on Fillmore. Poor guy doesn’t know what to do. He nods dumbly. Hands on her hips, she speaks to him like he’s a wayward child. “Please tell me you wrapped it up? Washed yourself after?”
Langley scoffs, “He doesn’t even wash his hands after he pisses.”
Tilly drops back into her chair. Glancing at me, she says, “This place isn’t so magical anymore. Boys are gross.”
Three hours later, we’ve learned quite a bit from Patrice the skank. However, what we haven’t learned is where the auction money and items are located. Patrice and Eric were fucking, because of course they were. She helped him navigate the banking system, set up bogus accounts, using Tilly’s credentials to process transactions and open a safety deposit box in Tilly’s name. He promised that Patrice would look like the hero for turning over evidence framing Tilly. Once the Congressionals MC entered the picture, they altered their plans to include taking us down too for funsies. That explains why we were arrested and who their “witness” is.
After the gala, Patrice called Eric, but he didn’t answer. Didn’t respond to her texts. Around 4 in the morning, she logged in to transfer the auction money, but it was gone. The account was empty, and she couldn’t figure out where it went. At this point, she breaks down in tears, because Rawson double crossed her, ghosted her, and gave her crabs. When Lomax begins reading her rights and explaining all the charges against her, she loses her shit. Blames Tilly for everything, saying she wouldn’t be surprised if “that whore” was fucking Eric too and responsible for giving her pubic lice.
I thought Tilly would be upset or mad, but she just laughed her ass off, and asked for chips and queso, which McKinley happily prepared.
I love this woman.