Wrath (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #7) - Dani Wyatt Page 0,6

treasurer and his woman has been investing some of the club’s money and nearly making us all rich in the process. They are there to make sure the figures are all straight for what we need to collect, and probably Gage has her investing some of his private funds as well—as most of us do.

“Cookies, anyone? Mom sent them special...” Chain sits a container on the table and opens it and the scent of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies overtakes the smell of gasoline and grease.

“We’re always careful.” Gage answers, grabbing a cookie, then his eyes drift over the rest of us. “We’ll head out in an hour, so go shit, or shave or get your cocks sucked and be back here at noon sharp. Anyone who’s late...Bulldog...I’ll personally beat your ass.”

Bulldog walked into our morning meeting forty-five minutes after Gage told us to be here, looking ridden hard and put away wet, so Gage has been riding his ass since, and I don’t blame him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bulldog grunts, stretching and putting his hands behind his head as he leans back in the metal chair. “I’m going to sit here and eat cookies.” He reaches for a cookie, but Ryder grabs the plastic container and holds it hostage.

While they start to nearly knock each other out fighting over Chain’s mom’s cookies, I know where I’m going for the next hour. I’ve been watching the clock, knowing I’ve got about a half hour before she’s done with the food pantry deal she does the third Sunday of every month, and I’m hungry and she’s the one that’s going to feed me.

I walk this time, the spring weather at its peak this time of year, and in a few minutes I’m pulling open the front door of the church, passing the sign outside with the arrow that says ‘Free Food this Monday, 9 am – 11 am. All are welcome.’

There’s no other cars in the parking lot and I know most people come early, hoping they will somehow get better or more food than someone that comes late, but that’s not the case. Kristina is no pushover, and she’s fair with the distribution.

How do I know?

Because I’ve been stopping by for my free food for the last ten months, just to be able to be close to her even for a few minutes.

When I step into the food pantry room, she’s putting boxes on some metal shelves and I clear my throat.

She freezes but doesn’t turn around immediately. I hear her sigh and it sounds annoyed. I’ve not grown on her like I’d hoped, but I don’t give a shit. I don’t scare away easily and with her, I won’t scare away at all.

“Here for my food.” I say, forcing her to turn around.

“You don’t need free food.” She’s curt, but cute as fucking hell, wearing a white tank top today with a pair of jean shorts, her hair in a ponytail on top of her head. Her eyes are so blue they look like they have light behind them and my cock jerks as she locks horns with me from across the room. She is my new drug of choice and there’s no rehab that could rid me of the Jonesing I feel when I look at her.

“How do you know? Do I look like I overeat?” I rub my stomach, hooking a couple fingers under the hem of my t-shirt and pull it up, raising my eyebrows.

“Look, I’m busy. Sure, you can have a box of food. Over there.” She points to the boxes already packed that are left, then turns around and starts putting other cans and food items on the shelves.

“Thanks.” I answer, watching her ass as she pushes up on her tiptoes to a top shelf, then turns around to grab some other items and I’m a few steps closer.

“Over there.” She points again with an annoyed tip of her head and I lick my lips because the closer I get, the more her nipples push out on her white tank top and my balls feel like they weigh ten pounds full of cum that should be inside her pussy.

“I’ll get it. On my way out.” I take a few more steps forward and she looks at the open door, then back at me. She’s not scared and that only turns me on more.

She tightens her jaw and her shoulder sort of twitches up to her ear a couple times and it’s clear I’m getting