if he didn’t have the caller programmed in.
But if someone he knew left a voicemail, he didn’t listen to it. Though he did take that as indication they needed to talk so he’d call back instead of texting.
If it was someone he didn’t know, he either ignored it or deleted it without listening.
“What’s up?” Rush asked.
“Brother meeting. Noon. You want a sandwich, text that shit to Dutch or Chill.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great. Later.”
“Later, Dad.”
They disconnected and Rush looked at the time on his phone.
There were a lot of good things that came with being a member of the Chaos MC. Brotherhood. Family. Good times, when they weren’t dealing with assholes. And they made a shit-ton off their auto supply stores, more from their garages and more from their custom car and bike biz. The brothers split the profits equal and his monthly take rocked.
But also, hell would freeze over or someone would have to be in mortal danger before his father would call a brother meeting anytime before eleven o’clock in the morning.
It was now nine past.
He hadn’t clocked it, but he guessed he and Rebel passed out around three.
They’d had a full night’s sleep.
Chaos style.
Rebel’s voice came at him.
“Did you really just phone your father while pressing your dick into my ass?”
He started laughing and through it said, “Babe, I’m a dude. It’s morning. You’re naked. You got an amazing ass. It would probably bring on extreme pain not to press my dick into that ass after waking up, even if I was chatting with the Pope.”
She turned to face him, and Rush didn’t move a muscle, so she ended this taking his weight at the front with his leg hooked over her hip and his dick brushing the curls of the pretty trimmed bush between her legs.
If he hit the lights right, it took twenty minutes to get to Ride from his place.
This meant, to be on time, they had half an hour to get ready and head out.
He was totally gonna be late for this meeting.
He tossed the phone on the bed behind her and pulled her deeper into him.
She hadn’t washed her makeup off last night. She didn’t look like a Hole album cover. She just looked thoroughly fucked, a little sleepy and totally beautiful.
“Hey,” he murmured.
Her eyes got lazy but her mouth said, “Don’t be hot when I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
“You don’t have to have fresh breath to blow me.”
She smacked his hip but then smoothed her hand over it and pressed closer.
“Last night was great,” she whispered.
Last night wasn’t great.
It was fucking phenomenal.
He hoped he still had her nail marks in his ass.
If he didn’t, he’d earn more.
On that thought, Rush rolled farther into her, covering her, and aimed his mouth at her neck.
She turned her head, giving him better access, saying, “I’m not sure I can go down on you in this position.”
This was a loss. Rush had learned she excelled at blowjobs.
Then again, one taste and he’d become addicted to her cunt.
He slid his lips to her collarbone and said there, “Then I’ll go down on you.”
She trembled under him.
He grinned against her skin.
“Shit,” she whispered.
He started to lift his head.
“Shit!” she cried.
He totally lifted his head but didn’t even catch a glance at her before she shoved him away and scuttled off the bed.
“Babe?”
“It’s after eleven!” she yelled, rushing around the foot.
“Uh, yeah. And I got a meeting to get to, so we need to get down to busi—”
She yanked on her panties. “I’m late for work!”
Say what?
She bent, grabbing his shirt and turning to him.
“Where’s my phone?” she asked.
“Rebel—”
“Kitchen!” she shouted, shrugging on his shirt and racing out of his room.
He growled, tossing off the sheet and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He snatched up his jeans, dragged them on and buttoned them as he prowled out of his room.
By the time he made it to his kitchen, she was standing in panties, his shirt on but unbuttoned, gaping open a couple of inches to show a path of skin from the tangle of delicate chains at her neck to the lace of her panties, head bent to her phone.
He really wanted to take a moment to appreciate the view, but Rebel freaked because she was late for work, which they had decided, repeatedly, was no longer her precedence.
The second he walked into the room, hair flying, her head came up to look at him.
“I’ve got four calls from my AD and one from Benito,” she