My games?
“Tack!” I snapped. “I’m not playing any –!”
I didn’t finish. His head slanted and he kissed me. Then he deviated from his plan, yanked off my cami and spent some time at my br**sts. Then he pulled me over him, tugged off my panties, yanked me down on his mouth and ate me. Then he f**ked me from behind, his hands spanning the area just above my ass, under my waist, his thumbs meeting in the middle, his fingertips at my hips.
And during it I decided I was definitely a tattoo person.
Absolutely.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Later
“Don’t worry, Cherry, I’ll get the pig.”
This was Brick accepting the task of finding the pig Chaos was going to roast the next Saturday.
“He always gets the pig,” Hound muttered, grinning at Dog who was grinning back. This told me they were sharing an inside joke. I knew they’d explain if they intended to, they always did, or didn’t as the case may be.
This time they didn’t for no further words were spoken about getting the pig. And seeing as it was a whole pig and that whole pig was a dead pig that would be roasted, I really didn’t want to know how Brick got his hands on it.
I was in my office at Ride’s garage. It was Friday after the Saturday morning that Tack and I had our discussion about tattoos. My office was now filled with rough and tumble bikers. Brick, Dog, Hound and Boz to be exact.
Like the mechanics and body shop guys, members of Chaos hanging in my office was not unheard of. Shortly after Tack officially declared me his woman, this began to happen. It wasn’t frequent. It wasn’t rare. And the boys who came to hang included what I’d discovered was my man’s inner sanctum, in other words, the guys who were closest to him, Dog and Brick (who Tack himself told me were his lieutenants), Hop, Hound and Boz. But I also got visits from all the members of Chaos including the three recruits, Roscoe, Tug and Shy.
Surprisingly it further included the two bikers that Tack confirmed at my question were dissenters but who were back in the fold now that they had to band together against the common enemy of the Russian mob, Arlo and High.
Arlo and High hanging with me at the office wasn’t only surprising because they were the two men I had more than once seen having what appeared to be unhappy conversations with Tack. It was surprising as well because they didn’t seem the type to hang out with a woman and shoot the shit seeing as they were scarier than the other guys. By that I meant scary in a dangerous, menacing way and not just a general, dangerous, rough and tumble biker way. And lastly, this was surprising because, although none of the boys were gentlemen, Arlo and High treated me in a casual, friendly biker way exactly like the others albeit they were more serious and less fun-loving. Nevertheless, the point was made. Whatever beef they had with Tack and/or the direction of the Club was not directed at me.
I’d talked with Tack about this and he wasn’t surprised.
“Like it or not, babe,” he’d started, going what he called gentle-like and I knew he was having a mind to my soft spot with what he was gearing up to tell me. In other words, I wouldn’t like it much. “Chaos, f**k, most MCs, women don’t factor. Only men are members, only men make the decisions. A member takes a woman on, she’s got the protection of the Club. She’s a good woman, she can earn the respect of the men. But she won’t have a say, ever.”
I had nodded and made no response. He was right to go gentle since I didn’t much like what he was saying. But although I didn’t like the information he was sharing, it didn’t surprise me.
Tack kept talking.
“But if a man claims a woman, she’s in the fold and even if she hasn’t yet earned it, they’ll show her respect because doin’ that shows their brother respect. All the men, including Arlo and High, are showin’ me respect by gettin’ to know you.”
That made sense.
“They’re also feelin’ you out,” Tack continued. “Says a lot about a man, the woman he chooses, for a lot of reasons. One ‘a those is it’s the way of the world that men talk to their women. Only men can be brothers but not a one of us is stupid enough to think if a woman has claim to a man’s dick, she’s doesn’t also got time to whisper shit in his ear. They take her shit in, it can sway how he behaves during sit downs. So, with you havin’ my dick and my ear, they’re gettin’ the lay of the land. “
Again, that made sense.
Though his use of the word “shit” as pertains to a woman’s point-of-view didn’t make me feel melty and squishy.
Tack wasn’t done.
“That said, she doesn’t earn their respect, they’ll make the show but in reality, she won’t get it. A brother, they’ll respect always no matter his choice in women unless that woman guides him to doin’ something seriously f**ked up. They get you’re my woman now but the last one they didn’t like all that much. Naomi wasn’t popular. The brotherhood is all-important. She made me miserable and she made my kids miserable which made me more miserable. They didn’t like that. And her shit reflected on me and I didn’t like that. She also turned into a bitch and no one likes a bitch. And last, there was a sect of brothers who were on a certain path, a path she didn’t agree with and made that clear. This made that path a f**kuva lot less easy and it was already serious as shit.”
Oh boy.
“And what was that path?” I asked cautiously.
“You knowin’ about that path is for later,” he answered immediately.
I accepted that because I trusted him to give it to me later. I also accepted it because he explained what was happening gentle-like, telling me stuff many women would find hard to deal with or even abhorrent. But it was him and his world. To live in his world, I had to know it, he shared it and he did it honestly but carefully with a mind to my response. So I decided not to press.