Zodiac Bondi
Life was always messy for the Roberts clan. My first memories were hiding under my crib while adults screamed and threw things. I was scared because I was small. Once I got larger, drama no longer affected me.
My mom was dead before I was old enough to remember her. My dad shuffled in and out of my life until he lost a fight while too drunk to get medical attention. I heard his body was mostly rotten in the ditch before anyone discovered him.
No one shed any tears over my dad’s death. Big Mike lived longer than his brothers or sisters. By then, I was one of two surviving Roberts clan members. My cousin had been in prison for slugging a nun, while I was running shit errands as a prospect for the Black Rainbow Motorcycle Club.
These days, I was the president. I took what I wanted and didn’t nurse regrets. I liked my life. Nothing about it bothered me.
Decades ago, when I was in the foster care system, I saw a therapist to help me deal with my family’s toxic ways. I shared my feelings freely. Never held back a damn emotion. Hiding from myself wasn’t an option. That philosophy made me healthy enough to survive anything.
When I liked someone, I sided with them even if my loyalty cost me. When I wanted to take something, I didn’t let morals stand in my way. When I got an idea in my head, I refused to walk away until I had accomplished what I desired.
That was why I took over the Black Rainbow Motorcycle Club when its leadership refused to deal with danger in our territory.
I burned many bridges by backstabbing Wrecker.
He was a popular guy with loyal men who had followed him for decades.
Though I was his muscle, capable of destroying the club’s enemies, he never viewed me as a threat to his power.
Wrecker was always shortsighted that way. I had big plans, even back when I was kissing his ass as a prospect. Originally, I planned to run a new club with everything I learned from the Black Rainbow. But why start over when I could take what I wanted from men too lazy to keep it?
Even if I was right, my mutiny hadn’t come without costs. Wrecker and his guys did what they could to undercut me around Baton Rouge. Their sons had no shot at gaining a patch in my club, so they moved to Little Memphis to join the LM Jokers and poison its president, Tricky Curran, against me.
I didn’t give a shit about the LM Jokers or Tricky.
He was the dumbass son of a better man. I’d rather align with the other Little Memphis club.
The Crimson Guard’s president was solid like his father, Ford Reed.
Most of the club’s members were the children of long-time badasses. They were worthy of becoming my allies.
One of their members interested me beyond biker politics. From day one, I'd had my eye on the blonde, gray-eyed Elle Reed. Her smile stole my interest in other women. Her full, round tits filled my head with the best fantasies.
But making a move on her felt like a mistake. The Crimson Guard were tenuous allies, and she was the club president’s little sister. If things went wrong, Clint seemed like the kind of man to ruin an alliance for personal reasons.
So, I didn’t pursue Elle to the extent of my interest. I was in no hurry. Anticipation often made a reward sweeter. Not that I didn’t eventually get a taste.
Four months ago, during a party at the Crimson Guard’s clubhouse, Elle stopped running long enough to let me kiss her. Then, in the clubhouse’s office, we did more than kiss.
That one quick taste had left me conflicted. I wanted more, yet Elle had avoided me ever since. A month ago, I showed up in her community to see Exile. As soon as Elle got a look at me, she took off inside her house and never returned.
I wondered if Elle was why Clint requested a sudden meeting at his clubhouse. Exile would be there, yet Clint said he didn’t want me to bring anyone from the Black Rainbow.
“Have you turned on me and decided to sign my death warrant?” I asked Exile during our last call.
“If I killed you, do you think the guys would let me live?”
“Maybe. I could imagine them claiming good riddance and moving on with their lives.”
Exile didn’t buy my concerns. The guys worshipped me, after all.
As requested, I rode to Little Memphis on a Tuesday. My mind refused to worry about possible reasons for the meeting. Rather than stress, I enjoyed the summer heat on my skin.
The Crimson Guard was a mixed club with female members. Unlike many of my clubmates, I didn’t laugh at the thought. Mostly because I’d fought the Little Memphis Motorcycle Club before. Those men were the real deal. I assumed their daughters were also rough and ready to throw down.
My blasé view of the situation shifted slightly after Lula Reed was abducted, leaving her two chick bodyguards fucked up and near death. Not that I was overly fond of Stevie and Cher, but I couldn’t have shit play out that way with Elle.
The snarky blonde was mine in a way no other woman would be. I actually remembered Elle existed without prompting. No other woman could claim such a thing.
I arrived at the Crimson Guard’s clubhouse to find several motorcycles parked out front. I recognized Exile’s bike as one of them.
The Fire Hooch was once a strip club. The winking pinup girl sign in the front was likely left over from its saucier days. The clubhouse was on a busy street, and I scanned the area for any eyes on the location.
Turning back to the Fire Hooch, I smiled at my memory of Elle in the back office. I hadn’t intended to rush my first taste, but Elle wasn’t an easy woman to seduce. She either pretended I didn’t exist or claimed I was annoying.
But that night, out of fucking nowhere, she tugged me into the office.
Entering the clubhouse today, I found Clint sitting at a table with Exile and Boone Chester. I was strolling toward them when I spotted Elle behind the bar top. Her golden hair hung loose around her sexy vixen face. She narrowed her stormy gray eyes at the sight of me.
I smiled and licked my lips at the thought of getting another taste. I knew what hid under her vintage red T-shirt with the words “Feel Your Feelings” printed on the front.
Based on the way she snarled at me, Elle was definitely hoping for a repeat ride on my dick. She wore the same beastly stare right before she sucked on my tongue months ago.
“What’s this all about?” I asked, eyeballing Elle’s tits while I spoke to her brother. “It’s not my birthday, so I assume you didn’t throw me a surprise party.”
Clint’s dark blue eyes glanced at his sister. I felt him speaking to her without saying any words. Nodding, Elle exhaled deeply and walked around the bar top to show off her hot body.
“Get it?” she said and waved at her waist.
“Get what?”
Elle glanced at Clint, who said, “Just say the words.”
Elle focused her sexy gaze on me and said, “I’m pregnant with your kid,” she said and pointed at the paper Exile handed me, “This is where you can get your cheek swab done, so we can prove I’m right.”
“Of course, you’re right,” I replied casually, more focused on her beauty than her news. “Besides me, no man’s been in your pussy for a long damn time.”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Elle snapped back. “I’m a notorious dick addict.”
While Boone chuckled, Clint rolled his eyes. “This isn’t what we talked about.”
“Don’t stifle my voice,” Elle grumbled at him.
“Yeah, listen to the little lady,” I told Clint and smiled wider. “She’s bitching for two now.”
Exile frowned at me. “I thought you’d be more upset.”
“Elle and I shared a very special moment in this very bar.”
“You took advantage of me!” Elle cried. “I was too drunk to know how gross you are!”
Smirking at her drama, I pointed out, “You also talked a whole bunch of shit the night we made that bun in your oven. But once I kissed you, your hands were instantly on my dick.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “Of course, I wanted to play with your dick. You’ve seen my dog, Hobbs. I clearly adore tiny things.”
Chuckling at her ribbing, I gave her belly a second look and noticed she was a bit thicker than normal.
“Why did you hide this shit from me for so long?”
“I wanted to make sure the pregnancy stuck. I’ve reached the second trimester, so it’s safe to tell you.”
“Did you think I’d cry if you lost it?” I asked, moving closer and winning a grunt of disapproval from Clint. “What?”
“You two had a drunken tryst,” Elle’s brother grumbled. “Once you take the test, the situation will be official. Then, you can visit the kid one day or whatever.”
“Are you delusional? Once it’s born, I’m filing for full custody.”
Elle gasped while Exile chuckled. Clint seemed unsure how to respond. Boone shook his head like he was going to have to stand up and punch someone soon.
“I was very drunk the night my little miracle was created,” Elle said with a devious glint in her eyes.
“It’s possible that more than one tiny dick jizzed inside me.
We should really get the paternity test done before you call your lawyer to gain custody.
How can we be sure that your club brother Sugar isn’t the father?
Or York? He’s very tall and manly. Ooh, what’s the pretty blond guy’s name? ”
“Ojai,” Exile answered helpfully.
Shaking my head, I promised, “No one got anywhere near you that night.”
“You can’t know.”
“I kept watch every moment,” I said and stepped closer. “My guys also knew I’d chop off their hands if they touched you. I’d chop off something else if they stuck it inside you.”
“He isn’t lying about that,” Exile added, this time actually being helpful.
“Well, we don’t really know. This baby might even be the product of my hooch rubbing against a slimy toilet seat,” Elle said before spinning around, flicking her hair at me, and walking away.
When Clint started to speak, I lifted my hand and reassured him, "I've got this."
I followed after Elle, who stopped once she realized we were nearly in the same spot as when we first kissed. Crinkling her nose, she shook her head and snarled at me.
“What now?” she asked.
"Well, I figure since I own a part of you now, you’d best follow my rules."
Elle smiled at me and patted my jaw. "Don’t worry. Your club runs like a well-oiled machine, and Exile is a solid VP. He’ll handle things just fine after I murder you."
Grinning at her threat, I slid my fingers across the back of her hand near my face. “I made you come just feet from here.”
“Claim whatever you want. It’s not like I remember much from that night. It’s possible you jizzed on my belly, and the slimy monsters crawled their way to my beaver.”
“You’re making my dick hard.”
Elle’s gaze flared blazing hot. “If this baby is a boy, I’m naming him Wilbur.”
“I think you and I had better set a few rules.”
“No.”
“You’ll need to stop riding your bike, drinking, and getting into brawls. I also expect you to avoid unhealthy foods. I don’t know what those foods might be, but I’ll do a little research and message you with my demands.”
Elle spun around and walked to the bathroom. “I need to pee. Get that cheek swab done, and I’ll see you in six months after Wilbur is born.”
Once Elle hurried her fine ass into the restroom, I considered following her. She liked to run, and I certainly enjoyed a good chase.
But I felt Clint waiting. Giving in to his silent request, I walked back to the bar top.
“Was my sister sober enough to say yes?” Clint asked, hiding nothing in his blue eyes.
“She did more than say yes.”
“Well, get this test done.”
“What for? Do you really think anyone else slipped a dick to her months ago?”
Clint exhaled roughly, revealing the dangerous man hiding behind his usually calm demeanor. “I didn’t know about you until she turned up pregnant.”
“Fine,” I said and glanced at Exile. “I’ll do this test. Then, I get to sit down and talk to your sister.”
“If the test is positive, we’ll invite you to my parents’ place for dinner.”
“Real respectable,” I said and considered Ford Reed defeating me in a fight years ago.
When he hit me with that baseball bat, I never expected to one day know the feel of his only daughter’s pussy. Life was fucking hilarious that way.