Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Grinder
“What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Besides the obvious of being born on April Fool’s Day.
” As soon as Parker is out of sight, I’m on Sledge like a shark on fresh meat.
Not physically on him, he’d punch my face and do some serious damage to it and because he’s the VP, I’d have to grin and bear it.
To be honest, I’d probably grin anyway. It’s my go-to reaction right before an all-out brawl.
“What? Just give me a second, will ya?” The deer-being-held-hostage-by-bright-cab-lights look in his eyes is shifting to something more human. So, fine. I’m giving him the second he’s asking for.
One. Time’s up.
“Your sister just crossed the entire goddamn ocean to see you and your reaction is…” I make a circular motion with my index finger, pointing out the whole of him while I think of a word that describes this shitshow.
“She didn’t cross the ocean, dude. Pretty sure she took a plane.
” My head swings around and the death glare I know I’m aiming straight at Boner has zero ounces of brotherhood in it.
“I’m just sayin’,” Boner takes a step back, his hands up in surrender and a cigarette dangling from between his lips.
“Did you see that suitcase?” I’m gonna kill him.
He’s my roommate at the apartment we share downtown so it’d be easy to snuff him out.
I frown. Well, not right now it wouldn’t, since his mother is visiting…again. Hmmm, homemade cookies. But that’s beside the point. The point is…
“Go get your dick wet, Boner. The adults are talking.” I’m pissed on behalf of Parker, and Sledge’s reaction was shitty, but damn, I may be laying it on a little thick with my best friend.
Not that I’m going to tell him that.
“I think I will.” Aaand…that’s why he’s my brother, roommate, and ride or die. With a goofy grin that tells me he knows exactly what I’m doing, he pinches the cigarette between his index finger and thumb and walks away, grabbing Maya—she’s his favorite pair of lips—around the waist as he goes.
The room doesn’t erupt in laughter, but everyone is definitely focused on this little tiff happening in the center of the clubhouse. A light chuckle spreads at Boner’s ability to diffuse a tense situation without even trying.
My attention rolls back to Sledge, but my anger has dropped a couple of notches.
In my periphery, I catch sight of Spencer in an armchair nursing a local craft beer.
Fuck, he looks edible. All of him. But I’m not digging the frown on his face or the slight down tick of his lips.
His plump, made-for-cock, delicious looking lips.
Okay, focus on one thing at a time.
“Look, man, I get it. That bomb was bombin’, but you’re the adult here.” I frown, looking up at the ceiling as I berate myself. “Okay, that sounds all kinds of wrong, especially since I want to fuck your sister so fucking bad I can already taste her pussy on my tongue.”
The crack of a cue stick against my bare bicep throws me onto the baize-covered table, the balls dispersing with the weight of my fall.
“Fuck’s sake. I can’t remember a time we ever fucking finished a game in this place.” I’m not sure who’s talking but I’m guessing the last ball to hit my head is causing a concussion.
“I knew your dick would get you in trouble one of these days!” Now that voice I recognize. Fucking Psycho.
“I may not know her but you’re not touching my sister.” Sledge throws the broken cue onto the table next to my head and offers me his hand. Propping myself up onto my elbow, a smirk firmly in place, I clasp hands with him and laugh.
“You know, brother, if you wanted to try the pool table fuck train, all you had to do was ask.” He pulls me up with enough force for an elephant, grinning like he’s deranged. And it hits me. “Oh fuck. If I call you my brother does that make it incest?”
“You’re an asshole.” Like well-practiced comedy, everyone goes back to their business. I guess when Mom and Dad aren’t fighting, it suddenly loses its entertainment value.
“That I am.” I pat him on the cheek. then give him my serious, I’m-not-fucking-around face. It’s like my I’m-about-to-rip-out-a-tooth face but with less snarl and more eyebrow raising. “You need to apologize. Don’t grovel, that’s weird.”
“Yeah, yeah. I just needed to wrap my head around it.” I nod to Sledge and hand signal Violet, who always tends bar, that I’m in dire need of a beer.
When I turn back around, my eyes land on Spencer and, again, I’m confused by the tense expression on his face.
Did something happen to him today? He brings the bottle to his lips, and on instinct, I lick mine.
There’s no ignoring the slight widening of his eyes and the way his free hand clenches on the armrest of his chair.
I know lust—I know it well—and that is the propaganda poster for Porn-R-Us.
I’m about to take a step closer, maybe take advantage of this private moment we’re having from across the room, when a niggling thought starts scratching at the back of my mind.
Where is Parker? Unless she fell into the toilet, there’s no reason for her to be gone this long.
My eyes narrow at the thought that maybe she…no. That’s ridiculous. Spencer tenses and I’m pretty sure he thinks my reaction is to him, so I grin, then make my way straight to him. I’d hate for him to think I play favorites because I don’t. There’s enough of me to go around…and around.
The closer I get to him the more he straightens in his chair like he’s expecting some kind of impact.
Not that I’m against that idea but I’m willing to bet Spencer’s not into my filthy version of gladiator games where the goal is for the audience to thumbs up or down the intensity of the orgasm they just witnessed.
My existential question is…”Death by coming: Myth or reality?
” I’ve killed a lot of assholes, but I’ve never killed by tapping that asshole.
Also, Mac would have my balls if I dropped to my knees to suck off Spencer right here and now. Correction…she wouldn’t go anywhere near my balls, Psycho would rip them off for her.
I shudder at the thought.
“Why so tense, Doc?” I’m using my sultry, God-I-want-to-bend-you-over-this-chair voice.
“Who said anything about being tense?” We both look down at his hand gripping the armrest as if his life depends on it. I raise a brow like it’s a pointed finger. “Shut up.” He brings his beer to his mouth again.
“Want me to replace your beer with my cock?” Tilting my head to the side, staring at him, making him feel like he’s the only person in the room, I bend forward with my hands now on the armrest, my right on top of his left. “My cum would taste so much better than that warm shit you’re drinking.”
“Oh my good gosh, Grinder. Stop it!” Behind me, the brothers are getting rowdy, no doubt doing shots with the birthday boy, so I don’t respond to Mac’s annoyance.
After all, she’s been practically riding her husband all night.
The only difference between the two of us is that where she and Psycho would eventually go back up to their room or their house, I would—without a single ounce of shame or second thought—bare my ass to the entire club and their plus ones.
I’m special like that.
Lifting my hand, I slowly raise my middle finger in Mac’s direction and use my peripheral vision to avoid Psycho’s swift kick to my shin. Big mistake on my part because where there’s Psycho, there’s Bear, and that motherfucker has legs for miles and he doesn’t miss.
Fuck, that’s gonna bruise. “If y’all want to double team me, all you gotta do is ask.
” I grin but my gaze never once veers from Spencer’s wide eyes.
“Sharing is caring, Doc. Don’t, for a second, think that I can’t spread the love.
” My tongue swipes across his slightly parted lips and my cock hardens instantly.
“Hmm, delicious.” Standing to my full height, I turn and walk away.
Time to find Little Miss Stabby and bring her back to the party so she can get to know her big brother.
On my way up to her room, I stop to knock at the bathroom door closest to where we are, but all I hear is fucking and moaning. If anyone needs to piss, it’s gonna be a tight fit in there.
“Hey, Grinder,” I salute one of the Khunts as she saunters down the hall, coming from the opposite direction. I don’t stop, I don’t engage. I do smile because I’m polite like that and my momma raised me right.
That reminds me, just as I reach Parker’s temporary room, that I need to call my sister and see how she’s doing with all the uppity college fucktards. Anything other than fucking fantastic means heads will roll. Literally. Rolling down the street with no teeth.
Using the side of my fist, I bang on the door. I’m guessing she’s deep into the jetlag and probably dead asleep.
I bang again. Damn, she really is Sledge’s sister. That motherfucker will sleep through the apocalypse and wake up just as the zombies take over the Earth.
“Parker, open up!” With my hands on my hips, I let my head fall back and look up at the ceiling. These Brits are going to be the end of me and my patience. Of which I have a fuckload. Not that anyone agrees with me.
“Fuck it!” Reaching for the knob, I try one last time just in case she’s naked. Oh fuck, I hope she’s naked and waiting for me to come inside. In all the ways. “Last chance, Miss Stabby. Open up or I’m doing it myself.” One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.
With a hard push, the door swings open and it takes me a beat to understand that the room is completely empty.
No Parker. No purple monstrosity. No backpack.
“Motherfucker!” I don’t know who I want to kill first. Sledge for being a complete asshole or Parker for bailing at the first sign of awkward silence. Digging my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans, I look at the time.
It’s been what…? Fifteen? Twenty minutes, tops?
She doesn’t have a car, she can’t be that far.
Unless she called a cab or car share fucker.
The possibility that I could catch her before she disappears is what motivates me to run out of the room and almost break my neck down the stairs of our former psychiatric ward.
These fuckers aren’t wood, they are one hundred percent cement and will open my skull on contact.
At least, I think they will, and I do not want to find out if I’m right on this.
As soon as I arrive at the clubhouse, I come to a skidding stop and search for the man of the hour.
At the bar, he’s got a Khunt lying on her back with shot glasses placed all over her front, lemon halves on her nipples. Shit, that’s a great idea. Why haven’t I ever thought of that?
I shake my head…
Not now, Grinder. Fucking focus.
“Sledge!” He’s about to bend to take a shot without using his hands, but he freezes and looks up at me. Just by my tone—which is always on this side of fun and flirty—he knows something’s up. Even drunk, he’s perceptive as hell.
“The fuck, Grinder?”
“She’s gone.” Damn, I need to stop smoking. And inhaling Boner’s smoke in our apartment. That shit’s gonna put me in an early grave. That being said, the crazy-ass speeds on my bike would do the job nicely, too. And the acrobatics. And the—
Fuck, now’s not the time to have my mind reeling.
“Who?” He blinks, confused and a little annoyed if the curl of his lips is any indicator.
“Who do you think? Your sister.” I’m guessing he’s going to jump out of his seat and go mental. I know I would if it were my sister. Hell, I’d be going door to door at every hotel, motel, and B&B. No fucks given.
“Did she leave a note?” I take a step back like he’s punched me in the gut.
“What’s going on?” Mac is at my side, one hand on my forearm.
“Parker isn’t in her room and all of her stuff is gone.” I’m not panicking, I just don’t like the fact that she’s out there alone. It pisses me off that she’s paying for a place when she had a perfectly comfortable and clean room here. Close to me.
“I’m sure she’s fine, but if you want, I can take Spencer’s car. We can see if she’s walking. We’ll take her where she wants to go.” I fucking love Mac. If she weren’t with Psycho I’d…nah, not my type. But I’ll BFF her all day long.
“I’ll go, Mac. Y’all go home with Gryffin. I’ve got this.” Spencer’s smile is soft and caring when he looks at Mac, and for the first time, I don’t look at him like I want to devour him. It’s all respect as I relegate lust to the back seat of my mind. For now.
“Yeah, all right. You’re sure, though?” Mac asks, looking from me to Spencer and back to me.
“Totally sure.”
“Fucking A, I am.” Spencer and I answer at the same time, and our different personalities echo in those few words that separate us.
Then my attention is on the asshole Brit.
“Are you seriously not coming with us?”
Sledge stands, takes a shot, and joins us at the end of the bar.
“Yeah, I’m coming. After all, she’s my blood and I ain’t having you putting your horny fucker hands on her.”
Ah, there it is. There’s the protective instinct I was looking for.
“Challenge accepted, sir.”