Chapter 6 Titan
Chapter six
Titan
After the girls loaded up with two dozen books between them, Dash and I agreed to surprise them with a visit to the clubhouse for drinks.
Secretly, I was grateful for the distraction. Otherwise, I would have been forced to return to Barrett’s big, empty house. Alone. With Ruby.
That was…not a good idea. Not while she was flashing those fuck me eyes.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been fine.
But something was shifting between us. Something dangerous. Intoxicating. Sizzling with sexual tension.
We arrived at the clubhouse in the late afternoon, when the alcohol was flowing but the intoxication levels were still relatively mild and manageable.
It wasn’t as busy as it could be, especially during this time of year, when every inch of the place was covered with gaudy Christmas decorations.
But it would be enough to keep my self-control reined in.
“Gentlemen!”
Hillbilly—President of the Reckless Order—gestured to us from a table on the far side of the room where a game of poker was taking place. His country boy drawl had remained unchanged after all these years, although his hair had turned fully white by now.
“Get in here,” he called. “Bring those sweet little ladies with you. There’s plenty of beer to go around. Feel free to raid the fridge in the kitchen. Ironside cooked up some holiday hams for the crew. We’ve been eating leftovers for days.”
“Old Ironside is still kicking?” I asked in disbelief.
“You’re not getting any younger either, wiseass,” Hillbilly replied. “Can we deal you in for the next round?”
“Sure. Christmas is already burning a hole in my pocket. Might as well try to score a few bucks to make up for the damage.”
“What about you, Dash?” Hillbilly offered.
Dash shook his head and hooked his arms around Sierra and Ruby.
“I’ll grab some of that ham with the girls and get them settled in.”
I scrubbed a hand over my mouth, my gaze straying to the flounce in Ruby’s mini skirt, barely covering her ass. The scrape of a chair on the wooden floor drew my attention back to the poker game. Hillbilly pushed a chair out with his foot.
“What are you eyeing that jail bait for, Titan?” he demanded.
“She’s twenty-five,” I protested. “She just looks like jail bait to you because you born in the fucking stone age or some shit.”
Hillbilly snorted as I took the offered seat.
“You’re one to talk. Aren’t you staring down the barrel of becoming a senior citizen yourself these days?”
I grimaced. This conversation was sobering me up fast, like an ice cold bucket of water thrown on those scorching hot, forbidden feelings I’d felt for Ruby in the bookstore.
“Just deal the damn cards, would you, Prez?”
He chuckled and started shuffling with expert hands. This felt familiar, traversing the ruts of my past. Playing poker with my brothers. Celebrating Christmas in our own fucked-up way.
When I was VP, the club would always wait until the last possible minute to pick up a tree. So we would be left with the bottom of the barrel to choose from—the scraggly runts of the litter, crooked, gnarled, with broken branches and missing pine needles.
It seemed somewhat poetic and fitting actually, to rescue a misfit tree that no one wanted for a quarter of the price. Adopted by a bunch of bikers who didn’t belong anywhere else in this world except right here, in the clubhouse, in the home that we built together.
This year, the tree looked like another one of those unfortunate rejects. It leaned to one side, and a portion of the trunk was exposed, bare, from the branches getting stripped away.
Nevertheless, it had been draped in our finest assortment of decorations—popcorn garlands and shiny tinsel, twinkling lights and pictures from bygone years.
At the top was our trusty Christmas angel—Santa Claus on a Harley-Davidson, with his long white beard blowing back and his tattooed knuckles gripping the handlebars.
“Do you miss us yet?” Hillbilly asked, sliding the cards across the table’s surface with a flick of his wrist, dealing them out to each player.
I smiled ruefully, gathering my cards under my palm.
“Maybe. A little.”
There was a lot of nostalgia wrapped up in this room. Down the hall would be the Chapel where meetings took place. I sat at that table for years, with the VP patch on my chest. Hillbilly’s right hand man, and his second in command.
In some ways, I was grateful to be free of that responsibility for a change. In other ways, this club had defined me, housed me, supported me at times when I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I fought alongside these men and called them my brothers.
“There’s always a place for you here, if you want it,” Hillbilly said, fanning out his cards and adjusting them. “Can’t give you back the VP patch though. That belongs to Ironside now.”
“So it’s a bunch of old guys running the gig, huh?” I replied with amusement.
Hillbilly chuckled.
“Damn straight. Someone has to keep these youngsters in line.”
Two hours later, I had lost and won several hundred dollars. Sierra and Dash were playing pool with Lila, Hillbilly’s daughter. And Ruby was at the bar, deep in conversation with a new member I didn’t recognize. His patch read, Psycho.
He was a handsome bastard, I had to admit. Good, strong jawline, mesmerizing dark eyes, and a devilish charm to him that was hypnotizing to witness. Even from my position clear across the room.
When Ruby spoke, he leaned in, utterly enthralled with her. Maintaining steady eye contact. Hanging on her every word.
He pulled out his phone and angled the screen in her direction.
She popped off her bar stool, bending over the counter.
Her ass stuck out—unintentionally, innocently, but no less provocative—and that damned skirt rode up even higher.
All it would take was the whiff of a breeze and she’d be flashing her panties to the whole fucking bar.
I inhaled a deep breath and slowly released it. My gut clenched as Ruby continued to flirt with Psycho. Flipping her hair over her shoulder. Gazing up at him through her lashes.
“Earth to Titan,” Hillbilly said. “Are you placing a bet or not, brother?”
I snapped my attention back to the game. But I couldn’t focus properly. My gaze kept straying back to Ruby. Her long legs, those knee-high boots, and that damned smile…
Dash clamped a hand on my shoulder with a squeeze, making me flinch.
“Sierra and I are heading out,” he said. “It’s getting late and we’re having her grandmother over for a holiday lunch tomorrow. She’s beginning to fret that there are still moving boxes stacked in the kitchen.”
“Let us know if you need a hand,” Hillbilly said. “I’ll send a few of the boys over to do the heavy lifting.”
Sierra and Ruby said their good-byes, hugging each other. I walked them to the door, waiting until they drove off before I turned to Ruby, who had resumed talking to Psycho again. I marched over, scooped an arm around her waist, and lifted her up. She yelped with surprise.
“Hey! Put me down—”
Carrying her back to the poker table, I sat down and settled her firmly on my lap.
“You’re going to stay right here,” I said. “Where I can keep an eye on you.”
Ruby huffed, wiggling her ass against my groin. I growled and grabbed her hips, digging my fingers in to let her know I meant business.
“That is the second time you have interrupted a perfectly innocent conversation," she protested.
I scoffed.
“There’s nothing innocent about you, honeybee. I’ve seen the books you read.”
Ruby glanced over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose at me.
No one batted an eye that she was perched on my lap. Bunnies did the same thing in the club all the time. Hell, even a few of my brothers’ wives would cuddle up to their men while playing poker.
Being shy was a foreign concept around here. Sex and love were shown just as freely as hatred and grudges in the Reckless Order. That was Hillbilly’s policy: air your grievances and fuck your ladies like it’s the last time you’ll see them. Tomorrow is never guaranteed.
Another round of poker began and I studied my cards. Ruby shifted in my lap with an irritated sigh. I could smell her perfume—faint, delicate, but sweet. Her body heat seeped through my jeans.
Straight to my cock.
I gritted my teeth as the blood in my body began racing south. It wouldn’t take much effort to flip up that scrap of fabric she called a skirt.
“Fold,” I grumbled, tossing my cards on the table. It was a shitty hand anyway.
“With a beautiful lady on your lap like that,” Hillbilly said. “I would have thought your luck would improve, brother.”
“She’s a minx, Prez,” I said. “Nothing but trouble.”
Ruby pouted. Then the little brat wiggled her ass harder, adjusting her position to lean back against my chest.
“If I have to sit here,” she said. “Then I want to play too.”
“No,” I countered flatly. “You’re here to watch. Besides, you spent too much at the bookstore already.”
“You’re not my dad,” she protested. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
I slipped a hand under her skirt, resting my palm on her upper thigh. If I moved half an inch higher, my thumb would be at her clit.
Ruby jolted and went dead silent.
First, she clamped her thighs together automatically. Then, after a moment, she spread her legs wide, granting me access. With the table shielding us, no one could see what we were doing.
But it was still risky nonetheless. Touching her like this. In a crowded room full of bikers. I didn’t want them looking at her, thinking they could fulfill her bookish fantasies about a bad boy biker ruining a good girl like her.
I mapped my fingers over the warm, smooth skin of her inner thighs. Then slowly dragged my fingertips along the gusset of her panties.
Wet.
Fuck.
My cock jumped at that realization. Ruby exhaled a shaky, controlled breath, keeping her gaze focused forward, away from me. But she canted her hips at a slight angle, seeking friction. Trying to rub against the pressure of my fingertips.
Every muscle in my body felt like a live wire, buzzing with electricity, stretched taut, and aching with the need to be inside her.
I tugged her panties to the side and sank my fingers into the scorching heat of her pussy. Ruby’s lips parted and she clawed at the edge of the table. Gouging her nails into the wood.
With my fingers still buried inside her, I picked up the fresh cards that Hillbilly dealt with my free hand.
Slowly, I stroked and curled up against Ruby’s G-spot. Not enough to make her come. Not yet. I wanted her trembling. I wanted her desperate to be fucked when I finally gave her the cock she was so hungry for.
“What do you think, honeybee?” I said, whispering against the shell of her ear. “How much should we wager?”
Ruby’s throat worked as she swallowed. She shoved all of my money into the pot.
“All in.”
Hillbilly whistled.
“Your girl must be confident in your chances, brother.”
I hummed but I didn’t say anything.
Or she wants me to lose so badly that I can’t play anymore, I thought. And then I’ll be forced to leave the game. Devoting my attention entirely to her.
Ruby was barely breathing. I skimmed my lips along the curve of her neck, mouthing at the collar of her chenille sweater, as soft as a cloud. Her walls fluttered around my fingers. She chewed her lower lip, unraveling by the second.
When the round was called, I was the final player to display my cards.
“Royal flush, boys. I win. Looks like my honeybee is a good luck charm after all.”