her body and got to my feet. I hadn’t even taken my clothes off, just pulled out my cock, touched her pussy for a while to make sure she was wet enough for me, then thrust into her. Now I was done, so I was out of here.
“Where are you going?” Bubbles cried the second my zipper was pulled up.
I tilted my head to the side. “What makes you think you have the right to ask that?”
Only one person could ask me that and get an answer—Ama. Even my dad knew not to pull that BS on me now.
Ama was the reason I had my road name, but I was a saint only for her. To her, and for her, I had unlimited patience. Everyone else knew to back the fuck off.
Bubbles nervously licked her lips. Her blonde hair bobbed when she tipped her face down and processed the fact she’d just pissed me off.
After I took a few steps toward the door, she mumbled, “I need to talk to you.”
“Talk.”
Man of few words, that was me. Saint or Mute had been my two options as a road name, and no one wanted to be called fucking Mute.
She licked her lips and I eyed the worn makeup around her mouth. The paint she’d worn had bled out, making the once sharp line blurry. I didn’t even want to know how many brothers’ cocks had made that blurry line happen.
“I’m pregnant.”
I snorted. “So?”
Bubbles squinted at me. “It’s yours.”
Unable to help myself, I grinned at her. “Yeah. Right.”
“It is!” she huffed.
“Yeah? Got proof?”
“No, of course not. But you’re the only guy I’ve ever fucked without a rubber.”
My lips twitched at her lie. “I ain’t your baby daddy, Bubbles.”
“You are!” she spat, snarling the words at me like an irritated cat.
Folding my arms across my chest, I demanded, “Okay, so when did the immaculate conception happen?”
“Eight weeks ago, at your daddy’s b’day party.”
Deciding to see where this bullshit story was going, I tapped the toe of my boot against the floor. It made a thumping noise that would piss off the brother sleeping or fucking underneath me, but it was either that or start kicking shit.
Impatient, see? Patience and tolerance weren’t the virtues I had in spades.
“Oh yeah, I remember the party. Don’t remember fucking you though.”
“You always fuck me,” she hissed, and damn, was that pride in her voice?
“Not that night.” I’d remember too. I’d spent all night with Ama. She’d come down to the party, we’d had a few beers, and I’d taken her back to her room with Keys. As she’d fallen asleep, the pair of us had too, and we’d awoken the next morning sandwiching her.
I swear to fuck, that was the best night’s sleep I’d ever had.
Of course, the threat of losing a hand hadn’t made the night wholly pleasurable. If her daddies had found out about us being there, hell, we’d have been lucky just to lose a hand.
Bubbles’ eyes began to dart around her shitty bedroom, a place that was loaded down with so much shit she belonged on a TLC show, and if she licked her fucking lips one more time, hell, I wasn’t going to be held responsible for my actions.
“You know you’re the daddy, Saint,” she pleaded.
“No, I don’t. I always wear a rubber. Always. I’m not about to touch you without one.” And fuck, I didn’t even leave the rubber in her room. Even now, it was still on my cock and would be until I made it into my bathroom where I’d flush it down the toilet.
Sweetbutts were notorious for pulling this shit on single brothers.
To be fair, most of my MC brethren didn’t have the smarts I did. Not only did I make sure to always use a condom, I never allowed myself to get that drunk where I lost all my faculties. No bitch could ever claim I was drunk and couldn’t remember the sex. No woman would ever be able to magically impregnate herself…
Yeah, I knew it sounded crazy, and I was probably coming off as a real dick, but I didn’t give a fuck.
Bubbles was trying to find a way to stake a claim on me. To get something out of me that wasn’t hers to have.
If any woman was going to have my babies, it was Ama. Not this bitch.
Goddammit.
If there was ever proof I needed to stop fucking around and get a claim on my woman, this was it.