trip to see Boomer soon. Apparently, he has been in contact with the pyromaniac, and Boomer is just as concerned. Reaper wants to get her away from Vegas for a vacation, hoping it will get her back on track mentally.
“It’s not a problem, Skirt. I enjoy doing it.” Sarah bends down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and I feel like a schoolboy all over again.
“Shucks,” I say, rubbing my heated cheek. I’m a bit bashful around women. Always have been, always will be. I have a secret that I haven’t told anyone. It’s embarrassing, and I don’t like to talk about it, but I’ve never been with a woman. I’ve messed around, blow jobs, hand jobs, making out, eating pussy—I’ve done all that.
I’ve never wanted to fuck a cut-slut, never wanted to fuck a woman I’ve met at a bar; never been that kind of man. I see the guys do it with the whores around here all the time, and it doesn’t appeal to me. I guess I’m a bit of a romantic when it comes to sex. I can’t be like Pirate or Slingshot or Bullseye, where they pass around the girls all night.
I want someone who is mine, not everyone else’s. I’m weird like that, I guess. If any of the guys ever found out I was a virgin, I’d never hear the end of it. Badass bikers who don’t blink at carnage, who kill in a blink of an eye, who have no mercy—we are the kind of men that fuck.
“You’re so cute, Skirt,” Sarah says, kissing my cheek again. I blush harder; no doubt the skin of my cheeks match the hair on my head. “Look at you blush.”
“Stop kissing the man. Only kiss me.” Reaper snags Sarah around the waist and pulls her tight to his side, laying a protective hand on her hip. “Those lips are mine, doll. Don’t you forget it.”
Like she could. She has Reaper’s name tattooed on her collarbone, a wedding ring, and an ol’ lady patch. There isn’t much else he can do to claim her as his, and every man in the club knows it. Respects it.
Sarah rolls her eyes and sits on his lap. “You know my lips are only for you.”
Reaper whispers something in her ear, and Sarah giggles. Slingshot takes that as his cue to leave, as do I. Once Reaper and Sarah get in their little bubble, there is no yanking them out of it unless someone is hurt, or unless Reaper is pissed off at everyone for annoying him.
Which is more often than not.
“I’m going to find Poodle, and we will be on our way.”
“Keep me updated, Skirt. Any problems, you call me immediately.”
“Aye, Prez.” I nod and go in search of Poodle. The closer I get to his room, the more I hear little yaps of the Pi-doodles Lady gave birth to a few weeks ago. I knock on the door, and Ellie swings it wide open. Her blonde hair is cut shorter, to her chin, and she has a big smile on her face showing a dimple in her cheek. She’s a pretty gal. Poodle will have his hands full with her when she is of age, especially with the guys around here.
“Dad is in the other room,” Ellie informs me at the end of a laugh when one of the puppies rams into my leg.
“Right. I keep forgetting that you switched rooms. Sorry, Ellie.”
“It’s okay.” Ellie looks down and points to my boot where a little fluffball is growling, tugging at my boot string. “I think he likes you.”
The pup is short, stocky, white all over with a tan pouf of hair on top of its head. I can’t tell if it’s so cute it’s ugly, or if it’s so ugly it’s cute.
“He’s the only one that hasn’t found a home.”
“Really? Why?”
“He looks different than the rest,” Ellie says, and damn if that doesn’t break my heart.
“I’ll take him,” I say without hesitation. I pick him up, and he licks my nose. All I can smell is puppy breath. I can’t stand the idea of this pup feeling like no one wants him. He seems like pure chaos.
Hmmm. Chaos. That seems like a pretty good name.
“Didn’t know you were looking for a puppy,” Poodle notices from behind me.
“I wasn’t. He needs a home. I have a house and a yard for him. I’ll pay when we get back from our run. Reaper wants us to go