Crash by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Six

“Maybe later,”she had said.

That was hours ago.

Later was now.

He lost count of the plates of food he ate. Lost count of the celebratory shots he downed. Lost count of the beers he drank. And hits from joints, pipes and bongs that seemed to be in constant circulation.

The Kush was premium, the booze top shelf, the beer far from monkey piss and the food plentiful.

Nirvana. That was what it was.

He was only missing one thing to make the night perfect.

The blonde wearing the sunflower sundress. The woman whose brown eyes had burned a hole right into his chest earlier. The one whose lips he wanted to bite, lick and suck on.

He pictured slipping those thin spaghetti straps off her smooth, tanned shoulders and slowly sliding that silky fabric down enough to expose her tits, then pushing her to her knees and gripping a handful of that long dark blonde hair to guide her mouth back and forth on his dick.

A few times he’d caught Ozzy catching him watching Liz. The guy clearly didn’t hide the fact he didn’t like it, but so far, the man had said nothing to him since earlier this morning.

Something big must have happened between her and him after the show on the deck. Whatever it was ended up being big enough to result in him being slapped and her not wearing her cut today.

If she had been his ol’ lady, then Crash would’ve guessed they had split. But she wasn’t Ozzy’s ol’ lady, otherwise, Crash would’ve squashed his own interest. As the day went on, his interest only increased.

No matter who she talked or flirted with, a smile always lit up her face and her laughter sounded genuine. She took it in stride when she was jerked into someone’s lap, when she was touched, or when her ass was slapped when she wasn’t expecting it. Actions that might normally cause a knee to nuts reaction from most women.

For Liz, she seemed to enjoy getting and giving attention. Almost like one of those sunflowers on her dress soaking up the sun. When it came down to it, she seemed to be an equal opportunity flirt. Men and women alike.

Her interest in women also caught his attention. Some sweet butts did other women because they were asked or even told to, but most weren’t bisexual and wouldn’t have sex with another woman if given a choice.

But a woman who truly loved to eat pussy, as well as suck dick?

Fuuuuuuck yeah.

No wonder Ozzy had become possessive. Especially if he loved threesomes.

Crash took another swallow of his beer and watched her move from behind the bar, where she’d been helping a couple of prospects serve up all that booze and beer, and head over to help another woman roll a cart over to one of the long buffet tables set up inside.

On that cart was a huge multilevel wedding cake and small mountains of cupcakes.

Crash was pretty fucking sure he’d already taste-tested every flavor of the cupcakes on those trays. But he might check to see if any new flavors had slipped past him.

The cake and the cupcakes from Sophie’s Sweet Treats had been one of the “gifts” the DAMC prez wanted to give the Fury prez for his wedding. And since Zak’s wife and his sister-in-law ran the best fucking bakery in Pennsylvania, that was a hell of a gift. Crash’s opinion, of course. Though, he knew plenty of people who would agree with him.

Even so, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to eat first. One of Sophie and Bella’s sweet concoctions or the woman helping set up the baked goods on the long table.

His eyes were glued to her sweet ass as she moved and that firm, but juicy, peach shifted under her dress. He rose to his feet from one of the old green school bus benches that lined the Fury church’s walls and within seconds he was at the table.

He snagged one of the tiramisu-stuffed cupcakes, lifted it, turning it in his fingers to study it like it was the Hope diamond. “Best shit ever.”

Liz turned her brown eyes to him, a smile flirting with her lips. “Are they? You’ve had them before?”

“Can’t count how many I’ve scarfed down. Sophie, Bella and their staff baked all this. Their shit’s the bomb. Best bakery around the Pittsburgh area. Hell, in Pennsylvania. And believe me, I got a sweet tooth so I should know.”

“Maybe I’ll get down there sometime.”

“You bake?”

“Not like this.”

He took a big bite of the cupcake and licked away the icing that stuck to his bottom lip. Liz’s eyes became heated as she followed his tongue.

He turned the half-eaten side of the cupcake toward her. “See? Filled.” He dipped his finger into the center and scooped out a bit of the cream filling. He held his finger to her lips.

When she didn’t open her mouth right away, their eyes met and he jerked his chin up at her. “Open up.”

She did it automatically like she was used to taking orders.

While holding his gaze, her lips closed around the tip of his finger and she sucked it clean, her tongue sweeping away any remains of the sweetness.

Crash bit back a groan, his balls became heavy and blood began to fill his dick.

Shit.

When her mouth opened again, he reluctantly withdrew his finger. He drew it through the icing on the top this time, her eyes following his motion. He dabbed it onto her bottom lip. Her tongue darted out and quickly swept the dot of icing away.

“Was gonna lick it off for you,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“I know.”

“Don’t want me to.”

“I do. Just not here.”

That sounded promising. He glanced over her shoulder and scanned The Barn looking for the one person who might cause a problem. Crash couldn’t find him but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t watching.

“Wanna lick this cream fillin’ off your nipples,” he murmured. “Then eat you like one of these cupcakes.”

A flush rose up her chest, her lips parted and her throat rolled.

He didn’t need to ask, but did anyway because he really wanted to fucking hear it. “Want that?”

“Right here?” Her question was husky and stirred something inside him he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Real interest.

At home, sweet butts were just a convenient and easy way to get laid. It didn’t take work like when trying to fuck strange. He didn’t need to impress them, he didn’t need to take them out first, he didn’t even need to bother with any kind of real conversation.

Thinking about it now, he realized he took them for granted.

He never really saw them as anyone to get to know well. They had always existed since the Dirty Angels MC was founded. Only the names and faces had changed over the last five decades. Their role within the club had not.

He had every right to bend Liz over that cake table, throw her dress over her head and fuck the shit out of her in front of everyone. No one should say a word.

But he didn’t want to do that.

He could also do that with any of the sweet butts this weekend.

For fuck’s sake,he didn’t want to do that, either. He didn’t want just “any,” he wanted the woman in front of him.

But again, now at forty-four, he no longer simply took what he wanted. Unfortunately, he thought about it first.

Yeah, it sucked he was no longer the way he was twenty years ago. That was the fucking life. Now he had to deal with bullshit like “responsibilities.” How that happened, he had no clue, but he should kick his own fucking ass for letting it happen.

“Kids are still runnin’ around,” he reminded her with a shitload of regret. He snagged another cupcake off the tray. “Maybe I’ll eat this one outside.” Where it was dark and he wouldn’t have to worry about any of the little ones with their curious eyes. “Wanna share it with me?”

“Yes,” she breathed with a nod.

“Meet me under the pavilion in five.” He spun on his boot heel and headed outside, not bothering to wait for her response.

He didn’t need one.

She’d be under the pavilion in five minutes.

And he’d be waiting.

* * *

He was wrong.

She didn’t meet him in five minutes. Not even in fucking fifteen.

She either changed her mind or got caught up in something else. Or maybe even someone else since she was available to anyone and everyone this weekend.

Not just Ozzy. And not Crash, either.

Fuck it, he wasn’t hunting her down. If she was interested, then she could find him. If she wasn’t, then what-fucking-ever.

The local band the Fury had hired was now rocking out, the bonfire was again roaring high into the sky, and everyone was in celebration mode.

Crash had made his rounds, talking with his own brothers and some of the Knights, as well as making conversation with some Fury members, too. He had even spent about a half hour speaking with Dutch, who owned a garage in town. The gruff biker’s cut claimed he was an “Original” and he proudly told Crash he was currently the oldest member of the Fury.

He reminded Crash a lot of Grizz, the Angels’ oldest member and one of their originals, however, Grizz was a lot older than Dutch. Because of that, he and his ol’ lady, Mama Bear, had decided not to take the trek north this weekend since he wasn’t in the best health anymore. Too much beer, booze, greasy food and arguing with the love of his life, who, he shouted on a daily basis, would put him in an “early grave.”

Everyone knew better since Mama Bear was the old coot’s motivation to wake up every damn morning. Along with his grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

His chest tightened at the thought of Grizz one day no longer sitting in his spot at the end of the private bar in church. He’d been there since the day Crash had become a prospect. The man was a fucking icon.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only member getting older. They all were. It sucked but there was nothing to do to stop it. The only thing they could do was to live every day like it counted and grab opportunities to feel young when they came up.

Like this weekend. Like tonight.

He scanned the crowd and spotted Lily once again flirting with the same tall boy as yesterday, but this time where not a lot of people could see them.

He headed in that direction and when he got there, Lily frowned and shouted, “Crash!”

“Your dad know you’re hidin’ over here tryin’ to get this kid in trouble?”

“I’m not trying to do anything.”

Crash raised one eyebrow.

Lily rolled her eyes. “We’re just talking.”

“He don’t wanna just talk, Lily, take it from someone who used to be his age.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” the man-boy said, drawing his shoulders back and straightening to his full height. He was as tall, if not taller, than Crash.

But Crash didn’t give a fuck if the kid was twice his size. “She is my business. And trust me, it’s better for you that I’m here instead of her fuckin’ dad.”

“We’re not doing anything for you to stick your nose into,” the man-boy said.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Ry.”

“Like the fuckin’ bread?” He turned to Lily. “You into a slice of bread?”

“I’m nineteen, Crash—”

“Barely.”

“And I’m old enough—”

“You ain’t.”

“To—”

“Nope.”

She stomped her foot.

Crash cocked an eyebrow. “See that right there? Just proved you ain’t old enough. A mature woman don’t stomp her damn foot like that.”

“Go away.”

“Okay.” He grabbed Lily’s arm and dragged her with him.

“Crash!” she yelled, trying to yank her arm free.

“You want me to drag you right over to your old man? Or you gonna come with me willingly?”

She dug in her heels but that only made him yank harder. “Go with you where?”

Once he got to the crowd hanging out in front of the rollback, the band and the bonfire, he let her go. “Right here.”

Lily glanced around. “For what?”

“For this.” He began to dance.

He didn’t know how to dance, so it was worse than fucking awful, which was the point. He jerked his body and limbs in ways he might regret in the morning, but he didn’t give a shit. He circled Lily doing the goofiest moves he could think of. He just let his freak flag fly.

She stood there wide-eyed, watching him in horror, which made him fling his arms and legs out even faster and in directions they probably shouldn’t go. Good thing he wasn’t drunk yet because he would’ve landed hard on his ass by now.

“Holy shit,” he heard her groan over the music. “You’re crazy.”

Suddenly, they were joined by Violet and Indie, Diesel’s two oldest girls, Lexi, Jag’s oldest, and Emmalee, Lily’s younger sister. They all circled Lily, taking Crash’s lead and dancing as goofy as they could to embarrass the nineteen-year-old.

The girls’ laughter was better music than the rock the band played and eventually, a smile broke out on Lily’s pissed-off face and she began to dance along with her club “sisters.” All of them breaking out into peals of laughter.

It turned into a “who could be the biggest dork” contest.

Crash stopped what looked and felt more like convulsions than actual dancing and watched the girls enjoy themselves. He wasn’t the only one.

He spotted Emma standing in the glow of the bonfire with Dawg’s arm draped around her shoulders and he gave his club brother a chin lift. Dawg gave him one back, a smile curving his lips. The bearded man leaned over and kissed Emma’s temple, then said something into her ear.

That was the great thing about their family. They all looked out for each other, no matter if related or not. DAMC blood ran through all of their veins and that was what mattered the most.

“My work here’s done,” he said to no one in particular.

“I’d say,” he heard from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder. The way the bonfire cast a glow on her skin made him lose his damn breath. But what she held in her hand was what gave him his hard-on.

A fucking cupcake.

In her other hand was a bottle of whiskey.

And, even better, her face held a smile.

“That was a helluva dance,” she said, her lips twitching.

“Impressed the fuck outta you, right?”

“I mean… I haven’t seen such skill like that in a long time.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I just can’t fuckin’ hide it. I try ‘cause I don’t want any of my brothers to feel inadequate. But, you know, sometimes I just gotta bust a move. Or bust a nut.” He turned away from the dancing girls so they wouldn’t see him pressing a hand to his dick. “Though, by bust a nut… in this case, I think I mighta actually busted somethin’.”

She laughed. “Maybe this will help.” She offered him the bottle.

He took it, cracked the top and took a long swig. When he was done, he held his breath for a second, then slowly breathed through the burn. “Brought me three of my favorite things.”

“Pussy, a cupcake and whiskey?”

“I’m a little more picky than that. I prefer my sweets from Sophie’s bakery. I prefer Jack.” He raised the JD bottle. “And I’m pretty fuckin’ particular about my pussy.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you taking up any of the offers coming your way?”

“You noticed?”

She lifted one bare shoulder. “That and I’ve heard a few complaints from the girls about you turning them down.”

“Yeah, well, at this point in my life, I like my women well-cooked.”

“As opposed to half-baked?”

He grinned. “Speakin’ of baked, you forgot my fourth favorite thing.”

“Ah.” She dug into her cleavage and pulled out a joint, holding it up between them. “This?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Goddamn. Never thought a perfect woman existed, but I’ve just been proven wrong.”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“Not from where I’m standin’.”

She handed him the joint. “Let’s save that for later. For now, hand me that whiskey.”

He tucked the joint into the inner pocket of his cut while he watched her put the bottle to her lips and tip her head back, taking a long, healthy swallow.

In the light of the fire and the strings of lights crisscrossing the courtyard, he watched as her throat moved. He wanted to run his tongue along that delicate, vulnerable line.

As soon as she had the cap back on the bottle, he hooked her waist with his arm, pulled her into him and began to shuffle back and forth, the only real dance he knew.

“Don’t drop that cupcake,” he warned. “We’re gonna need it.”

“There’s still a half table of them inside.”

“If there are, there won’t be for long. Those go like crack. Trust me, I know.”

“Then we’ll have to savor the one I brought.”

Yeah, they would. He looked forward to that. “I definitely got plans for that one.”

Her hips rocked back and forth to the music and as much as he wanted to watch her move in that dress, he preferred her being close. She pressed herself against him, causing the steel pipe in his jeans to begin leaking in anticipation. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from her hand and took another long drink, then said, “Hold onto me, baby.”

Her arm—the one not holding the cupcake—slipped under his cut and her fingers spread over his lower back, pulling him close enough for her hard nipples to press into his chest.

He wished they were fucking naked right now. Dancing horizontally, not vertically. But they weren’t, so instead he guided them in a small circle, her hips rocking and rolling against him to the song Forever by KISS.

He tucked his nose into her hair and pulled her even closer. “Feel how hard I am for you?”

“Hard for me to miss,” she said softly.

“Thinkin’ about everythin’ I’m gonna do to you with that cupcake.”

“You’re not going to just eat it?” she teased.

“Gonna eat somethin’ sweet, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

“Bikers are horrible at flirting,” she laughed.

“Yeah, well… We tend to tell it like it is.”

“I do like that about you all.”

“You the same?”

“I try to be, unless what needs to be said will hurt someone.”

“Like he did to you earlier.”

He could detect the sadness in her sigh. “I don’t want to talk about that or even think about that right now. I made my peace with him earlier.”

“Shit smoothed out?”

“As good as it will be for now,” she answered.

“Still hurts.”

“It shouldn’t, but… yes, it still does.”

“Well, I can help take your mind off it, if you want,” he offered.

“I wouldn’t have come out to find you if I didn’t.”

“How many offers you pass up to get to me?”

She tipped her face to his. “You really want to know?”

“Would make a brother feel good to hear it.”

“I’m not sure if you need your ego stroked like that.”

“Tell me anyway,” he murmured with his lips just a hairsbreadth from hers.

“Six.”

He cocked an eyebrow and leaned back to see her face more clearly. “Damn. You were in high demand.”

“Yes.”

“And you said no to all of them.” He didn’t make it a question because he already knew the answer.

“Not to all of them.”

His feet stopped moving. Maybe he was wrong.

Her fingers fisted into his shirt at his back. “I meant, I haven’t said no to you.”

He smiled and pulled her into him again. Since he was holding onto the Jack with one hand, he only had the other to slide down the smooth skin of her back and over the silky fabric until he got to her ass. He spread his fingers, cupping the perfect curve.

“Don’t got any panties on,” he whispered, his dick flexing in his jeans.

“You learn early on not to wear them around here if you don’t want to replace them constantly. Or lose them.”

Christ. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. He was going into it with eyes wide open, knowing exactly who she was and who she’d done, but still—

What felt like a sledgehammer ran into him, knocking Liz free from his arms and away from him. The bottle of Jack tumbled from his fingers as he fought to keep his balance and figure out what the fuck was going on.

A flash of movement to his right had him ducking and a whoosh of air swept over him as the flying fist missed.

Then the person attached to that fist stumbled and fell to the ground on his own.

“What the fuck?” Crash shouted, glancing at the drunk as fuck man now on his knees on the ground.

Ozzy was attempting to get up. “You mother… fuckin’… asshole.”

“Ozzy!” Liz yelled at him. “What the hell!”

“You wanna go at it?” Crash yelled, tempted to plant his boot squarely in the asshole’s chest and knock him on his ass. “Then get your drunk ass up and let’s do this.”

“No!” Liz shouted. “Trip said no fighting this weekend!” She leaned over Ozzy and hissed. “This is his wedding. Don’t you dare ruin it!”

“Ain’t ruinin’ it. You are. You…”

Crash reached down and grabbed Ozzy by the shirt under his cut and yanked him to his feet. “Gotta stand first before I can knock your ass back to the ground.”

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ do that, brother,” came a deep voice to his left.

Diesel.

“Ain’t doin’ that shit here,” the DAMC enforcer warned.

Crash released Ozzy with a shove and watched him fall to the ground again. He sucked at his teeth as a couple Fury guys swarmed their brother and helped him to his feet.

One of them was the Fury’s enforcer named Judge. He wasn’t as bulky as D but about the same height. It made sense that his son Ry was almost as tall.

All they needed was Magnum to join them and they’d have a club enforcer trifecta.

“He punch you?” Judge asked.

Crash shook his head. “Tried and missed. Just bein’ a jealous dick.”

Judge stared at Liz for longer than he should and with a look that Crash didn’t like. Crash stepped between them. “Wasn’t her fault.”

Judge pulled on his long beard. “You know what she is, right?”

“I do. But apparently, your brother needs to get a clue.”

The Fury member who had two patches that read “Sig” and “Vice President” patted Ozzy’s gut. “My man just needs to sober up a little. He musta forgot this weekend’s a celebration.”

“Didn’t fuckin’ forget,” Ozzy said, slurring his words. “She forgets who she belongs to.”

Judge’s head tipped back and he stared down his nose at their club secretary. “No, brother, thinkin’ you did. You know the deal this weekend.”

“Never agreed with that deal.”

“Then you shoulda done somethin’ about it beforehand,” Sig told him.

Crash lifted his palms up in surrender. “Look, ain’t tryin’ to step on any toes here. Was told the sweet butts weren’t off limits.”

“They ain’t,” Diesel answered, shooting a look at the two Fury members that dared them to tell him differently. He glanced at Liz. “You a sweet butt?”

Liz’s mouth was tight when she answered, “Yes.”

D tipped his head. That was all the man needed to hear.

“You ain’t steppin’ on any toes, brother,” Judge said. “You want her and she’s okay with it, she’s yours. Lizzy?”

“I’m… fine with it.” She was chewing on her bottom lip and staring at Ozzy.

“But he ain’t,” Sig said, tipping his head toward Ozzy, who both Sig and Judge were holding up with an arm around the man’s back.

“There a fuckin’ problem here?” the Fury prez growled as he approached from out of the shadows.

“Ain’t no problem at all, prez. Ozzy stumbled over a patch of grass in the dark and Crash here caught him,” Judge told Trip. He patted Ozzy’s back. “Didn’t you, Oz?”

“Yeah.”

“See? No problem,” Judge said. “Me and Sig are gonna go find a safe spot for klutzy-ass here and see if we can snag a sweet butt to take care of him so he doesn’t get himself hurt.”

Trip’s gaze sliced from Ozzy to Crash to Liz. After a long pause, he said, “Yeah, do that.” He turned and walked away.

“We good here?” Diesel asked.

Judge nodded. “Yeah, we’re good here.” He turned toward Crash. “Gonna go have a conversation with our club secretary and remind him about his fuckin’ manners. You won’t have a problem with him again.”

Judge and Sig turned Ozzy and helped him away.

Diesel stood there for a few seconds more, staring at Crash and shaking his head. “Always gotta be you or Rig.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Liz said.

One of D’s eyebrows shot up and he stared at Liz. “Wasn’t talkin’ to you.” He turned back to Crash. “Don’t cause any more shit.” With that, he turned and lumbered away.

“Nice guy,” Liz said under her breath.

Crash grinned. “Yeah. He’s the reignin’ king of assholes. We love the fucker, anyway.”

“Judge can also be brusque when he wants to be.”

Brusque was too fancy a word to describe Diesel. Jewel’s nickname for him, The Beast, was more fitting, especially when you landed on his bad side. Something you wanted to avoid.

Crash spotted a catastrophe on the ground.

Fucking motherfucker. “Just wasted a goddamn cupcake.”

The impact had knocked the cupcake out of Liz’s hand. It was now smashed into the dirt because someone had stepped on it.

“It’ll be okay,” Liz assured him with a little laugh, sliding her hand down his arm and linking their fingers together. She gave his hand a little tug.

“Where we goin’?”

“Somewhere where everyone isn’t watching us.”

He glanced around and saw quite a few sets of eyes turned their way. “Good idea.”