Chapter 33
thirty-three
JUDE
I’ve learned to love the afterglow. The feeling lingers longer each time we’re together…that eagerness to lay with her warmth pressed against me, hair spread across my chest like wildfire.
Before Greer, I touched women to get off.
With Greer, it’s because I crave contact. This is what making love means. Showing devotion through touch. I bring my hand to her chin and lift it to my lips, and give her a gentle, sweet kiss, then brush her hair out of her face.
A fist bangs on the door, shaking it in the frame. “Oh, loverboy, your party awaits,” Folgers taunts.
“Fuck off,” I call out before nuzzling into Greer.
“We’re going to have to leave this room eventually. I can hear the band starting outside,” Greer says drowsily.
I yawn and stretch, “Five more minutes.”
She throws back the comforter and starts to dart out of bed. Before I can grasp her waist to drag her back under the covers, she’s out of reach, making her way to the bathroom. My annoyed expression is missed when she says, “I have to pee, and we need to make an appearance.”
I groan, then toss on my jeans. After waiting for the door to firmly shut, I reach into the closet and pull out the gift bag.
I’m waiting, dressed to the boots, when Greer comes out of the bathroom looking more beautiful than ever. She’s changed into a light blue halter top dress with a skirt that sways at her thighs with each movement of her hips. She searches through a small tote and pulls out a set of hoop earrings.
She shoots me a smirk, then pulls out those heels. The ones I’ve fucked her in.
“Keep that up, and we’re never leaving this room,” I warn, already moving towards her.
“I grabbed what matches the dress,” she swears with a coy smile.
“Then you’re definitely going to need this tonight.” I hand her the package looped over my finger as she gives me an “aww, you didn’t” look.
“You’re supposed to be given presents today,” she insists.
“Believe me, this is something I want.”
She takes the bag from me and peeks inside. Looking back up she’s rolling her lips in her teeth. “Is this what I think it is?”
“I ordered it the day after we met. I wanted to make sure you had it for your first club event.”
She reaches into the sack and pulls out the soft black leather.
In the center of the demurely cut vest is the white wolf head of the Loup-Garou.
The top arch says “Property of,” in heavy royal blue embroidery, and the bottom my road name.
“Some women like looser fit ones but this looks more like you…”
She’s biting her lip now, blue eyes growing watery, and she’s not fucking saying anything. I’m never proposing marriage. Not if she gets all teary and doesn’t say anything. I’m going to show up with a marriage license and bring her to the damn courthouse.
I close the distance between us with a step, our faces only a breath apart. “It’s already official with the club, but I want you to say you’ll be mine.”
She swallows nervously, her chin quivering for a second, then she lets out a deep breath, “I wasn’t expecting this today.”
“It’s overdue. A woman is traditionally given the property cut when you claim her.”
Her eyes stare straight into me like a deer in the headlights, and she’s still not answering. In a gentle tone, I inform her, “I don’t want to hear any shit about moving too fast.”
The quivering of her lip grows, and a single tear falls down her cheek. “Some of my family is going to have a hard time with us,” she confesses. “It’s Allie that worries me the most, though. We’re so transparent with one another, and I don’t want us to grow even more apart.”
“Baby Doll, haven’t you learned by now I’ll take care of stuff like that? We’ll make it work, I promise. Put on your property patch, say the words, then let’s go downstairs together.”
With dreamy eyes, she stands up on her tippy toes and places a tender kiss on my lips. “I’m yours, but you’re mine, too. If you want me to wear this, I expect an old lady brand somewhere on your body that’s visible. I don’t want you walking around all hot and women thinking you’re not taken.”
I throw my head back in a full belly laugh. “I already texted the club’s tattoo artist with the design.”
The festivities are well in swing as I lead Greer to the clearing in the woods, my hand on the soft leather covering her back.
I glance down at the patches, loving the way I see my name on her body.
As cheeky as the fuck me heels are, she had to change back into the black flats she was wearing when we drove in.
The earth is too soft around the compound to wear anything else.
Folgers planned an old fashioned Fais-Do-Do for me, likely because it’s Greer’s first club party.
One of our ragers isn’t the best introduction to MC nightlife.
Even at a tamer party, she’d never have gone downstairs without my name on her body. An unmarked woman in our world is an available one.
While I was gone, the prospects rolled out a portable fence covered in black plastic.
It’s stretched down enough to keep the clubhouse from view.
Once we’re let in through the chain link gate, Greer cranes her neck to inspect the prospects standing sentinel along its length.
“That’s a lot of security,” she points out in a worried voice.
“It’s so we can have visitors safely.” I nod to the right, where a Zydeco band is setting up on a makeshift stage.
One of the Labadie brothers, whom I prospected with, drags spoons down a washboard type instrument.
His brother has an accordion, and they’ve brought in a drummer, a fiddler, and a bass player…
the likely reason for the tightened security.
They’re playing their version of Hank Williams song “Jambalaya,” while a small crowd sways to the music below.
There’s no real dance floor. Cajun’s don’t need one to “pass a good time.”
I lead Greer over to a small group of women. They’re all at a table in the blue food tent, Gris-Gris at Darcy’s feet, Owen in Meadow’s arms. Hank is cradled in Brittany’s arms like the big baby he is, belly up, front paws bent.
“He stole a bite of boudin,” Brittany apologizes. “I didn’t know what he could and couldn’t have with his diabetes.”
“It’s okay,” Greer assures, “It was just a little bit.”
“And what is that you’re wearing?” Brittany teases.
Greer plasters on a goofy grin. “He gave it to me five minutes ago.”
“Turn around and let us see!” Meadow demands.
Greer twirls, then peeks over her shoulder. “I love it.”
Brittany moves to stand, embracing Greer. “Wear those colors proudly. Group picture of all the old ladies later.”
“Definitely. Speaking of property patches, Hank is burrowing inside of yours. Do you want me to take him back?”
“I’m enjoying borrowing him for a bit,” Brittany says, rubbing Hank’s head just the way he likes it.
Greer looks at Hank with a sideways expression. “Cheater,” she accuses with no heat.
We’re quickly surrounded by well wishers, some from the New Orleans chapter, which explains the larger numbers. I keep my Baby Doll tucked close to me, but her body slowly eases with comfort.
Sully’s nearby, holding Vivienne to his chest. I’ve only met him a handful of times.
I trust him. I like him even. My brothers do as well, or Sully never would have made it out of prospecting.
But here, now, with him having already spent forty hours around Greer this week alone, he can stay right over there.
Greer seems to notice Sully at the same time I do because I feel myself being tugged towards the baby and, of course, her father.
“Why are we going this way?” I grouse.
“Because it’s weird to see my boss outside of work and it’s only going to be awkward as hell avoiding one another all night. It’s best to go ahead and rip off the bandage.”
Sully must sense us approaching because he lifts his head and watches us. He gives me a compulsory “Congratulations” and nods to Greer. “I barely recognized you out of your scrubs.”
“I wanted to see Miss Vivienne. I didn’t realize she was yours when I saw her earlier.”
Sully’s a doting father, adjusting Vivienne’s frilly little dress and wiping drool.
The baby’s smiling the entire time, attention square on me, as if deciding whether or not I’m worthy of her company.
Greer preens over the baby’s hair ribbon and beautiful smile longer than I’m willing to wait, which is precisely three seconds.
A slow dance starts, and I move my hand to Greer’s hip. “Excuse us. I’m going to have a dance with my old lady.”
Since I’ve made a habit of coming inside of her, and have no desire to stop, I should be grateful Greer likes children. But it’s my night and I want her attention to myself damn it.