Polk 13.
I’m minutes from the clubhouse, the wind whipping past me when Lincoln calls me. I almost don’t want to answer. I want to bask in the afterglow. Quinn’s lips stretched obscenely around my girth, the impossibly tight suction of her mouth, the way it felt to empty down her throat…not to mention what her pleasure tastes like on my tongue. The sounds she makes when she cums. Fuck, hard-ons while riding are not impossible, but certainly uncomfortable. At the red light, I slow to a stop, plant my feet on the ground and adjust my cock as I answer his call.
“What?”
He sucks his teeth, “Is that any way to greet your bro from another ho?”
“If your mother was alive, she’d hit you upside your head for calling her a ho.”
“And I’d deserve it. As it is, I’m happy Audrey didn’t hear me,” he mutters the last part, but I hear, and it cracks me up.
“I’m a few minutes out, what’s up?”
“Oh, yeah, nothing major, just Bently and Quinny sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g—”
“There was plenty more than kissing,” I admit proudly.
“And you’re lucky Audrey and Quinn didn’t hear that.”
I nod in agreement. “Yes, yes I am.”
“You good?” he asks seriously, my best friend concerned for the welfare of my tender heart.
“Fucking phenomenal.” I realize why he’s called, “Quinn call Audrey?”
“I won’t divulge the secrets of a lady…but you’re golden, brother.”
“She’s it for me. I’m claiming her as soon as I can, officially. But as far as the club is concerned, she’s fucking mine.”
“About time. Happy for you, Polk. Real fucking happy.” He sighs over the line, “Ford ain’t gonna be happy.”
“Ask me if I give a fuck.” I get up to speed on the bike, letting him know, “And he opens his mouth, I’ll gladly shut it with my fist.”
“He’s not alright.” Lincoln voices an observation most of us have experienced in the last several months. “I think…I think Quinn was right, there’s something wrong with him.”
“Besides being a fucking asshole?”
“The assholery has significantly increased.”
I pull through the gates, nodding at Wheat, then park my ride in my designated spot. “I’m here.” I chuckle when the line clicks dead. Fucking Lincoln didn’t even say goodbye. Such poor manners.
Inside the clubhouse, most of the brothers are missing, probably in Church already. I’m not late, but I’m skirting awfully close. I grin again when I remember why. Quinn is incredible. And I’ve finally got her where I’ve dreamt of for longer than I care to remember.
Ford is walking across the clubroom, his permanent scowl firmly in place. I start walking toward the hallway that leads to the conference room we use for Church. There is plenty of fucking room. Yet, Ford shoulder checks me on purpose.
“Prospect!” His eyes narrow, but he quickly recovers with an irritating smirk.
“Sorry, brother.” Fucking insincere asshole.
“We aren’t brothers, prospect. ”
Ford steps to me, getting in my face, “I’m still a member of this club. I’m a Congressional.”
“You wanna stay a member of this club? I suggest you adjust your attitude before Madison gives us the green light to adjust it for you.”
“She’s not a brother! Fucking cheap used puss—” I cut him off with my fist in his gut. When he bends over, I grab his ears to hold him in place and bring my knee to his face.
I bend low to speak in his ear, as he gasps for breath. “Quinn is off-fucking-limits. You don’t talk to her, you don’t look at her, you don’t think about her. She belongs to me. And at this fucking moment, she’s more a part of the Congressionals MC than you can ever hope to be. You wanna fuck around? Be my guest, but don’t come crying to us when you find out what it’s like to lose the only fucking family you’ve ever known because you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut.”
I leave him wheezing and stride out of the clubroom. Inside Church, my brothers sit around the table and I’m the last to arrive. “My apologies, Pres. Our prospect Ford required a little hands-on attention.”
Madison sighs, long and weary. I do not envy the man who leads us. It is a heavy burden and worse than wrangling cats higher than Snoop Dog on catnip. “Well, I guess that changes our agenda slightly.” Mad nods to Wilson. “Go ahead with the minutes.” Wilson reads through our last Church. When he’s finished, Madison leans back in his chair, steepling his hands, his elbows on the arm rests. “Hayes, you had an idea?”
Our treasurer rests his arms on the wooden table, our emblem emblazoned in the center. His expression is equal parts amusement and hesitation. “Ford’s behavior is deteriorating rapidly. He is quickly becoming something that we actively fight against, his treatment of the females in the club is abysmal.” Several of the brothers nod or smack their hands on the table in agreement.
Langley, however, slams his fist on the table and stands, “Abysmal? Abysmal ? He tried to force Chastity to her knees to suck his cock after she repeatedly told him no. I propose we string him up by his tiny balls and use him as a human pinata!”
McKinley giggles, and it’s disturbing how much it sounds like a teenage girl. “We could take a few pages out of Carnicera’s vengeful playbook!”
Madison points at McKinley, “We’ll discuss Audrey’s sister shortly.” Then he points at Langley. “I’ve heard your ideas of retribution. And ‘abysmal’ means appalling, or extremely bad. It was an appropriate word choice.”
Langley drops back into his seat, his cheeks red from embarrassment, his eyes downcast bashfully, “Oh. Ok. I didn’t know that. I’d still like my human pinata idea noted in the record.”
“I even underlined it for emphasis.” Wilson tells our youngest patch.
“Hayes? Continue.”
Hayes nods at Pres. “The Golem Guerillas in Pittsburgh are only a few years old and they are still finding their footing. However, their shelter is doing amazing work, providing much needed help for abuse victims. I’ve already spoken to Judah, their president, and he has agreed on a trial basis to allow Ford to volunteer at the shelter.”
Adams leans forward, an eyebrow rising in question, “You want to subject women and children who have suffered indignities no human should ever be forced to endure to Ford? Haven’t they suffered enough?”
“I see your point, however,” Hayes responds, “I believe Ford needs immersion therapy, so to speak. He needs perspective. To see firsthand what women, children, even some men experience to remind him of our mission. Our reason for riding.”
Fillmore smirks, “But Pres, Veep, esteemed Treasurer…shouldn’t we ask if Ford finds this plan acceptable?” I hate it when he does this.
“Free men don’t ask permission!” We respond as one. Then Pres rests his knuckles on the table as he stands, leaning over and pinning Fillmore in place with a fierce scowl. “I don’t like you.”
“Love you too, Mr. President .” A chill of disgust travels down my spine. Every fucking time. Fillmore’s imitation of Marilyn Monroe is disturbing…it’s so accurate. And unnatural.
“All in favor of Ford being sent to the Golem Guerillas for rehabilitation?” Not a single nay among us.
“Should he fail…human pinata?” Langley tries once more.
Madison rolls his eyes and sits down in his chair. “I’ll buy you a brand-new bat just for the occasion.”
I think Hayes’ idea has merit. Despite our altercation earlier, I do believe that the Ford I’ve known most of my life is still in there somewhere. I hope the men of the GGMC are able to reach him since none of us are having any luck. An added bonus, he won’t be around to mess with Quinn.
“Wilson?”
“The groundbreaking ceremony for the multiplex is in four weeks. Everyone is expected to be there. Officers will wear their cuts, but we have been asked to don button down shirts and pants made of a soft material. Oh, and no holes in them either.”
“Your woman is awfully demanding.” Keller mutters.
Wilson smiles triumphantly, “She is.” Madison glares at Wilson and clears his throat impatiently. “Right, sorry. Also, Lincoln and Pierce, our tuxedo fitting is a week after the ceremony.”
“Tuxes?” Buchanan sneers. As a rule, most of us are not fans of dressing up. Jeans, boots, cut…all anyone should ever need in life. Well, except for my scrubs at work, but that’s just practical.
“For my wedding,” Wilson explains. “To the demanding woman mentioned a few moments ago.”
Buck grins, “Whose entire digestive system violently revolts when she consumes the food of her people in some sort of ancestral revenge?”
Wilson kicks Buck under the table while most of us laugh. “She prefers ‘Tilly’.” Wilson glances at me with a shit-eating grin. “You got anything to say, doggy boy?”
Ignoring his jab, I proudly state, “Quinn is mine. Order a property cut, please.”
“Well, now, son, you’re jumping the gun here. The club has to approve anyone being claimed by a member before a property cut can be issued.” Clay holds his hands up to stop me. I might punch him next.
Through gritted teeth, I ask, “And who exactly has a problem with me claiming Quinn as mine?” My fists clench at my sides as I wait for anyone brave enough to challenge me.
Fields raises his hand. “I approve of Quinn as an ol’ lady.” I dip my chin once, but his expression becomes…smarmy. “But not yours. She should be mine. She makes the best potato salad. I could live on that for the rest of my life. Fat and happy with Quinn as my ol’ lady.”
Hayes grunts, reaching around Barkley to smack his son in the back of the head. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t fucking deserve her. And don’t let your mom hear about the potato salad. It’s true, but she don’t need to hear that.”
“Since you’re putting a claim on her, I should warn you that my fiancé has chosen Quinn as a bridesmaid, along with Chastity and Audrey as her matron-of-honor. And you ain’t walking her down the aisle, Tybalt is.”
I lift a shoulder. “Tybs is fine.”
Fillmore risks his life again by speaking up, “Hey, uh, the lobbyists ain’t happy that Chastity is in the wedding party. We need to keep an eye on them, I don’t trust a few of them not to start shit.”
Langley growls, “I fucking dare them.” Why won’t he just claim her? It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t think any of us would be opposed to her becoming an ol’ lady, although it’s not typical in the MC community for club whores to be claimed. Chastity, though…just makes sense. She’s sweet and so different from the others. I’ve never been with her, though, she’s like a little sister to me. Not to mention, the connection between her and Langley has been obvious since the beginning, when he was still a prospect.
McKinley starts bouncing in his seat, getting antsy. “Can we talk about Carnicera now? Please? Pretty please with the decapitated heads of our enemies on top?”
Clay slowly swivels his head to stare at his friend. “Why are you so weird?”
“She made a human centipede using three of the guards at the women’s prison! I’m not gonna lie, her stitchwork is impeccable. Such clean lines…”
“This is why you’re single,” Adams states.
McKinley waves off his cousin’s comment. “That’s what the lobbyists are for.”
Lincoln pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m assuming these are the men responsible for her rape and torture?”
Pierce chimes in. “Yes, and also the assault, rape, and eventual death of three other inmates in the last 5 years.”
Buck slaps the table with a grin. “Human centipede for the win!”