Chapter 3 #2
There was the possibility that Tangaloa deluded himself into believing it was consensual to relieve his guilt.
I didn’t think so because Caroline and Samantha were currently sleeping in his bed.
And Caroline was getting to know enough of the other club members that she should have felt comfortable enough to talk to them, if she didn’t think she could approach me.
Really, the only time I’d had direct contact with her was when they reported back that both she and Samantha had a clean bill of health from the doctor.
Standing in the hallway, I resolved to deal with it in the morning. Lesū Kristo, parenting was hard. I might be good at knocking Lu up, and there certainly would be no child better guarded than my son would be, but that didn’t necessarily make me a good father.
My dad had been the best. Kind, patient, and calm, a warrior who fought only to protect those he loved. There were days when I wondered if I was the milkman’s, because there was no way my father and I could share any DNA. Kind, patient, and calm were three words that would never describe me.
Fuck. I was not a worrier. Was this what the next eighteen years of my life were going to be like? Constantly worrying about my son, if I was doing right by him? Well that was bullshit. I was amazing at everything else. There was no reason to believe I would be any less awesome at being a father.
But there was the issue of room. I had every plan of fucking Lu as soon as her lady doctor allowed it.
I wasn’t sure if I could even have anal sex with her after the birth.
There was some six week rule that I’d read about, but none of the parenting books I read offered any advice about when I could resume fucking her anally.
Definitely something to research, though we still had months before the birth.
Lu had a crib and stuff picked out, but we hadn’t bought anything yet. Our room was big with a private bath, but it would quickly shrink in size as soon as we added baby furniture.
I glanced at the room next to ours. Without hesitation, I walked over and opened the door.
“The fuck?” came from the bed as Lucifer sat up. A lamp was quickly turned on, illuminating the space. “Paniolo?” he questioned, blinking as I entered the room.
I ignored the former priest as I walked over to the wall that separated this room from my own.
If I moved the bed to the opposite wall, we could add a door here, or I could ask Bacon for the floorplans to see if we could add a door, making a passthrough bathroom.
No, I nixed that almost immediately because I didn’t want to share my bathroom with my kid when he got older.
We’d build him his own by then, or he could share with the others on this floor.
That decision was years away though.
“Prez?”
I turned at Lucifer’s questioning voice.
He was wearing fucking striped pajamas, which made me glance down.
Oops. I’d gone into Caroline’s room naked to check on her.
Yeah, it was a very good thing I wasn’t having a daughter.
I didn’t have a modest bone in my body, and I was pretty sure there was something illegal—or maybe just morally compromising—about going into your daughter’s room in the buff.
Or was that both genders now? People were far too sensitive nowadays.
“Move out,” I ordered my club’s Chaplin. “I’m turning this room into a nursery.”
Without waiting for his response, I left and headed back into my bedroom. My body grew hard as satisfaction rushed through me that I had done something good as a future father. The other great thing about that pregnancy pillow was that it positioned Lu perfectly for spooning sex.
“That’s it, my beautiful Hōkūpa?a… You take my cock so good, baby. Your body was made for this, made for me. Look at you, whining for more as I pound your pussy like the greedy little slut you are…”
We were in the barn the night before our wedding.
Some of our audience likely thought that I was playing it up for the cameras, but they’d soon learn that there was no difference to how I took Lu.
She was fucking incredible, fucking mine.
And I took her however I wanted, whenever I wanted, regardless of the number of eyes on us.
I hadn’t seen Tangaloa since he walked out two weeks ago.
I didn’t even know if he would show up for the wedding tomorrow, and frankly, I didn’t give a damn.
The entire affair and hoopla was for Lu.
I’d have been satisfied with a fucking courthouse sign-on-the-dotted-line wedding.
But my Hōkūpa?a wanted to feel like a princess and have her day, so I was making her a princess and giving her her day.
If Tangaloa didn’t show and his absence made Lu cry, then he’d suffer the consequences.
I was neither his girlfriend nor his wife, and would not nag him to ‘do the right thing’.
A shit ton of Royal Bastards from all over had started to trickle in three days ago, with the remainder arriving today.
Many were curious about me, as one of the newest Presidents.
There was another one here, Tico something, but I couldn’t remember where his new club was located. Wisconsin? Wyoming?
Capone and Hurricane, from Los Angeles and Yonkers respectively, were the only Prezs I knew personally, and I wasn’t even excited for that.
Although, I got a hell of a kick over sweeping Danyella off her feet in front of Capone, proclaiming I’d made a mistake, that she was the love of my life, and begging her to run away with me like we were in a theater production.
The blush on her cheeks and the steam coming out of Capone’s ears were worth the playful groveling I owed Lu later.
Capone introduced me to Aero, the Prez from Atlantic City, and his pregnant woman, Lacey.
That was about as much as my attention span of new people could handle.
Lu was so much better than me at being all personal and shit.
But I played nice for the sake of brotherhood.
Acting the good boy and host to the visiting Officers, I took them out on the boats, showed them the surfing hot spots, and brought them to Shakaloha, my club’s brewery, for a private tasting.
Hops, the brewery’s former owner, now manager and club member, also gave them a sample of a new brew he’d been working on that hadn’t been publicly announced yet.
We also rented over thirty motorcycles and helmets for the visiting members because most of them were staying in Hale‘iwa.
Meanwhile, Lu and Holly hung with the Ol’ Ladies. She taught all of them, including Holly, how to make authentic leis, not the cheap, touristy crap given out at the airports.
By the time this afternoon rolled around, I’d taken a lot of razzing and lip from the other clubs about what they thought the Hawaiian culture was. Some even did “research”, and when they discovered that men do hula too, asked me if I also did the “sissy dance”.
When Aftermath and Red, the only two additional members present so their women could attend, moved to defend me, I stopped them.
I had nothing to prove to the other Presidents.
I also hadn’t realized they liked me enough to actually come to my defense, so there was that.
Maybe I should stop sending nude pictures to their women.
When Aftermath and Red asked me why I was letting them get away with that shit, which meant they clearly knew me all too well, I could have claimed it was only out of respect for Jameson, who wasn’t in attendance due to some patch over drama happening on the Mainland, that they weren’t all fish food by now.
But the truth was, I let the haoles run their mouths.
I wanted them to,because their tongues would be on the floor soon enough.
Either when they saw that there was nothing weak or feminine about hula and mele chants, or when Lu’s hips captivated them during her wedding dance.
I’d nail their wagging tongues to their foreheads. That’d be my wedding gift to myself.
For being flippant about my culture, I was not surprised when many of the men, and some of the women, wanted to watch the live stream shoot of the last time I fucked Lu before our wedding.
I pounded into her pussy, gripping her thighs hard enough to bruise.
Her hands were tied above her head by silk.
I was willing to bruise her skin in the throes of passion, but I would not use rope that could leave rough marks on her the day before our wedding.
She’s going to want pictures and shit tomorrow, and I wanted to be nice.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t leaving my marks on her in other ways.
Her throat displayed a beautiful red imprint of my hand.
At one point, I contemplated getting the outline of my hand tattooed on her throat, like I had her marks tattooed on me, but decided against it.
I didn’t want to see that permanently on her skin.
I wanted to add it there, over and over and over again.
When my house was destroyed and we decided to move the porn studio out into the row barn, we added some extra equipment, including a bondage bench. Lu was always been adventurous with bondage, but it wasn’t a kink indulged. Since getting that bench, though, Lu had been all over it.
Literally.
The positions she could use were limited with her belly, but that didn’t stop her excitement in the slightest. In fact, aside from our bed in the giant-ass house we now called our home, this bench was probably the furniture we used most. I certainly had no complaints, but then, I was a selfish bastard who wanted Lu regardless of where we were or what position she was in.