Helping my woman off the counter and back onto solid ground, I hold on to her as she wobbles on unstable legs. Resting her head on my shoulder, she catches her breath. “I made a mess.”

  I peck her forehead. “I know, don’t worry. I’ll clean it up.”

  She sighs dreamily. “I’ve never squirted before.”

  “It won’t be the last,” I vow because that might very well be my next kink. One we can share.

  Knowing I gotta meet Adam at the office to go over club financials and the new compound security systems being installed today, I escort my woman back to our bedroom, where a nosy Chibs waits at the door. He sniffs me and her as we enter, then climbs onto his corner of the bed to chew on his bone. Kit pats his head as she passes before picking a pair of clean clothes from the closet we now share.

  I snag a Dum Dum from the nightstand and pop it into my maw as I watch my woman undress, down to literally nothing. The curve of her tattooed spine, shapely legs, and an ass that would bring any man to his knees. Breasts, perfect in both size and shape. Ink, everywhere. More than my own and far hotter. She smirks uncomfortably over her shoulder as I watch, soaking up every inch.

  “You’re staring.” She rolls those honey eyes and dons a coy smile.

  Giving zero fucks, I shrug one shoulder. “I’m a man with a hot old lady. I’m always gonna stare.”

  This awards me the sweetest blush, and I feel ten feet tall for making Kit realize how irresistible she is. Trust me, her looks are only a small portion of what I love.

  I trace the flowers on her arms with my eyes as a thought pops into my head. “Ya know, we should get tattooed together sometime. Add some new ink to our skin.” It’s something I’ve never done with another woman. Honestly, it’s not even something I thought I’d do until now.

  Buttonin’ up her jeans and tugging on a skintight Harley t-shirt, Kit spins to face me. “You wanna get tattooed together?” She sounds skeptical, and her wrinkled forehead reiterates that sentiment. That’s been normal as of late. Probably has to do with our yo-yoing over the past two months. We’re good. Then we’re not. ’Cause, ya know, me. Drinking. Niki. All that. We’ve been over it already. Plus, the proposal. This likely feels like warp speed to her. One minute, I’m pushing her away. The next, marriage. In my head, it’s always been there. The desires. The reality of my feelings. But she doesn’t live in my skull. For that, I’m grateful. It also means I gotta help her catch up. Get on the same page, or, at the very least, in the same zip code. The more I talk, the more she knows, the less overthinking she can do.

  “We’re gettin’ married. Might as well make it more permanent with ink,” I explain.

  “I’m always down to get tattooed, but what kinda ink?” Kit grabs the lotion from her nightstand and slathers it on her exposed arms, making her tattoos come alive.

  “Rings?” I suggest, ’cause it makes the most sense. Couples get matching tattoos sometimes, but what’s more personal than getting rings? I can’t think of anything.

  Kit’s head rears back in surprise. “You wanna get wedding rings?” she double-checks, which she does a lot.

  Not wanting to push her into something she may not want, I play it cool. “Sure. Why not?”

  “That’s not a good omen, Erik. We’re not gettin’ rings.” My woman’s firm on her stance. I smile on the inside, loving her willingness to stand up to me, but also thinkin’ she has any real say in what I put on my body. It’s cute. Real cute.

  “Allll-right.” I speak around my sucker stick, not wantin’ to rile her up. “Then you get whatever you want, and I’ll get a ring.” See. Compromise.

  “A wedding ring?” she triple-checks, her voice shrill, eyes blown wide, like I would get any other kind.

  “Yeah. Our wedding ring. Nothin’ says forever like a black band around this finger.” For emphasis, I hold up my left ring finger. Sure, I’ve got the club ring I wear. It’s a heavy son of a bitch. But that can be removed anytime. I can’t take that with me in the afterlife. See, I’m well past middle age. I’m past sowing my wild oats, finally in my right mind, and showin’ your forever devotion to a woman you love is to get a symbol of that love on your flesh. I did it when I got the Sacred Sinner roses. I did it when I got a B tattoo on my thigh, for Bink… so why wouldn’t I do it for Kit with a ring?

  Knowing by her scrunched-up, sourpuss expression, Kit’s about to unleash a torrent of reasons that’s a bullshit idea, I pull the half-eaten peach Dum Dum from my mouth, march up to my woman, and push it into hers. Before she gets a moment to scold me, argue, or whatever else she’s conjuring in that intelligent overactive brain of hers, I kiss her cheek and get the hell out of dodge.

  Just as the front door comes to a close, I hear Kit yell for me. Head shaking, wearin’ a big ol’ grin, I keep goin’, back to the clubhouse. Tonight, at dinner, I’m sure she’ll have thought of a thousand things to chat about. Until then, I’ll live in peace, with our son.

  Openin’ the door to my office, Adam’s busy at his computer. A plate with a sandwich and chips rests on my desk.

  “Hey, Oz,” I greet my kid.

  “Hey, Pops. Mom’s blowin’ up my phone.”

  I chuckle. “I’m sure she is.”

  My kid throws a lopsided smirk over his shoulder. “Bink dropped that off a little bit ago.” He gestures to my food. “I got one too.” Adam lifts his empty plate.

  I pop a chip into my mouth and chew. “We on—”

  Knowin’ what I’m askin’, my son interjects, “They’ll be here in an hour.” The installers we hired to up the compound security. New cameras, motion detectors, sirens, hidden weapons, and escape routes. You name it, we’re gettin’ it. From spike strips outside the main gate, to tear gas vents outside the walls.

  “The strip club?” I take my seat and power up my computer.

  “Moved and cleaned.”

  “Good.” Adam’s proven to be a quick learner. The Sacred Sinners, or more specifically, our members, own businesses. Most of them operate within legal parameters with one caveat—we launder money through them. The money we earn through less than reputable ways, we filter through their systems, and voilà, cleaned. Their profits continue to climb, as do ours. It’s how most of our chapters make money, and our nomads stay in the loop. Deke was one of our nomads before he patched in with the mother chapter. Now he runs our body shop down the road.

  “The tattoo shop?” I ask, referring to Pixie’s place.

  “Moved and cleaning it now.”

  Good kid.

  I check my emails, noting one from Big and him cursing me out, because of Bink and wedding stuff. “The church?” I ask Adam.

  “I handled the rest of that yesterday. We are now the owners of a new church. The building you said to buy, I purchased under the new name. Bonez called to say they took possession yesterday. All the accounts are legit, tax-free, and set up to help with all the survivor expenses. The government would be hard-pressed to find anything to sniff at with the way I set things up. Especially with their judge friend helping me navigate the legalities.”

  “Kellan’s a good man.” He came recommended from not only Bonez but Whisky. Since my head wasn’t screwed on straight, I asked Adam to handle the ins-and-outs of the legalities this past month, and as you can see, he’s kicked ass. Not that I had any doubt. If I have any say in the matter, Oz will be a patched brother in no time.

  “Agreed. He is,” Adam remarks, and we do what we always do, get back to work. Every now and again, we talk numbers or business shit. He doesn’t mention what Mom texts about because we keep that separate unless it involves her safety. When she leaves our house to go to Bink’s, I watch her location move on my phone screen.

  Then I chuckle, knowin’ damn well I will be hearin’ the ring complaints not only from her tonight, but Bink too. The sisters and their gossip. As much as it should piss me off, it doesn’t. I wouldn’t have it any other way. My woman fits in. They accept her as one of their own. Even my grandbaby has taken a shine to Kit. So, they can go on and gossip all fuckin’ day long. As long as they’re safe and happy, that’s all I give a damn about.

  Before I meet the men out front to start the walk-through of the compound, I text my woman.

  Have fun with the sisters, love. I look forward to eating more of your sweet pussy tonight and you reading me more BDB.

  If I have it my way, she’ll read while I’m eating her pussy. That’s something we haven’t tried yet. Bet we could make it work.

  Tonight, I’ll give it the good ol’ college try.

  Pressing the heel of my palm down on my unwanted erection, I inwardly scold the thing for gettin’ riled up when all I’m doin’ is thinkin’ about her. He’s a fuckin’ menace. The motherfucker gets harder more now than it did when I was a teen. I get a whiff of her peaches-and-cream scent. Boner. I think of her naked. He’s awake. I kiss her. Stiffy. If I didn’t like the fucker, I’d be embarrassed by his constant appearance. Then again, I can’t blame the guy. He’s as much in love as I am. The only difference is, I get to indulge in what’s mine, while he sits the bench.

  Pattin’ his head for takin’ one for the team, I promise him action soon enough, when I’m ready. Until then… achy balls are how we roll.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  KIT

  Barefoot and thoughtful, Bink paces her living room, phone in hand. “I say go for it.” She’s talking about the tattoo I’m supposed to get with Gunz. After another successful oral session with my partner, I’m starting to refer to him as the magic man, I went over a bit of work at home before dropping by Bink’s place for another wedding planning party. We’ve had three so far. Yes, you heard me. Three. Bink’s a firecracker, on top of every little detail. She also cares far more than I do about the wedding. I couldn’t care less about what flowers we have, the cake, the food, or my dress. I’d be happy to elope somewhere. It was Gunz’s idea to get the sisters involved, and involved they are.

  Jade, Loretta, Tati, Debbie, Janie, and Jezebel are all present, spread around Bink’s living room.

  Each sister was given a folder with the Sacred Sinner emblem on the front. Hot pink ones, as Bink is obsessed with the color. So far, we’ve gone over the stack of papers within the folder. Since I’m against the traditional wedding party of bridesmaids, she’s decided the sisters are going to coordinate clothes for the occasion. They were given a selection to choose from. Apparently, Big is ordained, so he’ll not only be Gunz’s best man, but our officiant. That’s news to me. I’m pretty sure it’s news to her old man as well, as she’s fielding texts from him that range from amused to downright fuming. Bink’s been sharing them with the crowd.

  She’s having a ball.

  I’m happy she’s happy.

  Gunz was right when he said the sisters needed something to occupy them since everything’s happened. Jade is more present today than I’ve seen her in weeks. Loretta is still… Loretta. Wild and fun as ever. Tati’s playing with Dom, as she doesn’t care much for planning things. Few teens would. I’m doing what I do best, sitting on Bink’s comfy leather couch, conversing with a talkative Harley. Well, I’m listening as she babbles nonsense that I pretend to understand. Then I reply like I do. This thrills her to no end.

  Sipping from a travel tumbler I brought from home, Harley pats the side of my cup, eyeing it like she needs a sip. Not wanting her to share my germs, I rest it on the floor to keep it out of arm’s reach.

  The one-year-old grumbles at me, wearing the cutest scowl, which I imagine is more her father than mother.

  “If you are thirsty, Miss Lady, I’m sure we can get you something to drink,” I explain.

  In response, the blonde cutie babbles.

  “Oh. Right. You want water too?” I pretend to understand, and she nods as if she’s following right along and agreeing.

  Carting the toddler on my hip, the way moms do, we leave the sisters to their devices and seek a sippy cup for Miss Lady. Not wanting to disturb Bink, and knowing she isn’t gonna care if I go through her kitchen cupboards, I open them one by one until I find what I seek. With the cutie’s help, we fill her butterfly cup with water from the fridge, tighten the lid, and I hand it to her. All the while, Harley babbles on, telling me her life stories.

  “I think I like water that much, too,” I comment as we return to the living room to find their pitbull named Pretzel on the couch cushion we vacated. I shoo him to the side, and he listens as well as Chibs, and gives us just enough room to retake our spot before his head ends up on my lap. His little owner rubs the spot between his floppy ears with one hand as she uses the other to hold her sippy in place to drink until she’s gasping for breath.

  I massage her tiny back. “Big breaths, big girl. I can get you more when you’re done.” I chuckle, remembering times like this with Adam. Him and his blue dinosaur sippy. They were inseparable. He wouldn’t drink from anything but that sippy for a year.

  When Miss Lady is done, she hands me her empty cup, and I rest it on the floor beside mine. As she plays with Pretzel, I dial back into whatever the sisters are discussing about my pending nuptials.

  In front of an enormous fireplace, Bink continues to pace as she speaks. “Debbie already has the cuts complete.” She’s talking to Jezebel, our clipboard holder. Jez’s hands move quickly, taking in notes or checking things off as Bink commands attention. I owe her for this. Planning my first wedding was more about my ex’s family and their expectations than anything he or I wanted. It was too large, with far too many guests I didn’t know, and about as traditional as you could get. In a church, white gown, black tux, fall colors, a fancy meal, three-tiered all-white cake. I went along because that’s what’s expected. You’re quiet. You’re submissive. Only I’ve never been any of those things. It took a lot of years of fitting myself into a box for everyone else before I realized I couldn’t do it anymore.

  This I can do. I can marry Gunz. I can watch my son, our son, work with his father every day. I can eat dinner with my guys each night. We can go through shit, ugly shit, and he’ll still have my back. Gunz doesn’t expect me to bend, to fit into whatever perfect, little box he’s designed. He has no expectations. Sure, things are sometimes messy. Nothing’s perfect. But I’ve never been happier.

  Speak of the devil, my phone chimes with a new text. This one’s not from Adam. Since I might have told him to slap his father silly for suggesting the ring tattoos, right after he ran away. Silly man. I’m still not gonna bend in that regard. A tattoo, sure. Matching rings. No thanks.

  Have fun with the sisters, love. I look forward to eating more of your sweet pussy tonight and you reading me more BDB.

  Biting my bottom lip, I smile like the lovesick teenager I’ve become. My stomach gets all wonky as I reread his message.

  A chorus of womanly awes rings loud and clear. I glance up from my screen to see the sisters staring at me, all smiling. Jez makes googly eyes. Jade winks. Bink does a small dance in a circle, flapping her hands.

  “I can’t believe he’s getting married!” she cheers.

  “I can’t either.” Debbie’s kind, aged smile mimics my own. Except she’s not blushing. My cheeks are on fire. I’m not used to being the center of attention.

  Not knowing how to take this intense sisterly love without wanting to cry, I fuss with Harley. I comb my fingers through her silken hair, massage her back, and scratch the pup to distract myself.

  Knowing me as well as she does, Loretta pulls the same crap she does at therapy to take the heat off. Sex talk. Only this time, she talks about…

  “Did you guys know Gunz likes kitchen sex?” The bitch cackles, making eye contact with me.

  Oh. Shit.

  Fixing the beanie on her head, Jade snorts.

  “I heard some really loud sounds comin’ from his kitchen today, when I stopped by,” Loretta illuminates.

  I drag a hand down my face, mortified. Why didn’t she tell me she was gonna stop by? Then she wouldn’t have heard.

  Pleased as punch by this, Loretta keeps talking. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he knows how to make his woman come. Multiple times.” She shimmies her shoulders, her eyebrows waggin’.

  Ugh.

  “Oh. My. God. Shut. The. You. Know. What. Up.” I glare at her, not wanting to curse in front of the kids.

  “You’ve been holding out,” Loretta scolds good-naturedly as Bink and Debbie cover their mouths, trying their best not to laugh. I love them even more for it because Loretta’s downright ridiculous.

  Okay. So, I haven’t told them about the sexual stuff. It hasn’t been that long since we started, and we’re in such a good place, I didn’t want to talk about it and someone jinx how mind-blowing it’s been. There’s nothing wrong with a dirty little secret between me and my man.

  “Well… he likes to be helpful,” I clarify.

  Jade barks a laugh, smiling wider than I’ve seen in weeks. “Helpful.”

  “Yes. We haven’t done the deed. He just likes to… you know… help.” Get me off and other things, too. Like laundry and dishes. Cooking. Making tea. But he mostly likes to help with orgasms. I’m not complaining.

  “Would you say he’s a master at his craft?” Loretta’s salivating for more details on my sex life. As much as she shares about her and Blimp, this woman’s life force runs on depravity, and I love that for her. What I don’t love is her wanting my sexual exploits to fuel that life force.

  Hoping this shuts down any further prodding, I explain, “Don’t pretend like you haven’t seen him in action before.” They all have. It’s no secret Gunz has always been into sex and gives no actual fucks where he performs. Except maybe with me. Time will tell if that remains true. When we met all those years ago, let’s say he didn’t care where we fucked then. In front of his brothers. On his bike. In a bar. There wasn’t a surface he was opposed to. We had our fun.