Radge by Esther E. Schmidt
CHAPTER ELEVEN
– MERIBETH –
“You’re kidding me.” I risk a glance over my shoulder at Ramsey who is telling me what he and Brodie did last night.
Yesterday when he left our room, I took a shower and watched some TV but I was absolutely drained and slept through the night. When we woke up this morning Ramsey had to go into church for a meeting with his brothers and after a few hours Brodie, Ramsey, Fraser, and I were picked up by one of my father’s men.
We’ve been inside my parents’ house ever since. There were another few hours’ worth of meetings with my father, Ramsey, Brodie, and Fraser. I decided to keep my hands busy and make Italian vegetable soup along with fresh bread. I was in the middle of making herb butter when Ramsey strolled inside the kitchen.
He’s been keeping me company while I finish up and get everything ready to bring some of the food to my mother. She still has issues with her memory and I hope she will fully recover, just like the doctors mentioned.
“No joke. Brodie made him a dickface,” Ramsey says from right behind me. “Fuck, that smells amazing. Not only do you have mad torture skills, a steel spine, fight techniques, a fine brain, sexy looks, and I now find out you can cook like a high-class chef. I really did hit wife jackpot.”
A laugh bubbles from my throat. “A high-class chef? Sorry to disappoint you, honey, but there are only a handful of things I can make. Italian vegetable soup, lasagna, spaghetti, and bake bread. Everything else? I’ll burn the kitchen down. So, don’t ask me to fix you potatoes, veggies, and steak because I can’t. Hell, bacon and eggs? I’ll fail.”
Now he’s the one laughing and kissing my neck. “Okay, not so perfect then, but perfect enough for me, woman. I’ll handle the rest so we’ll each take our share then, huh?”
“Good save.” I place a quick kiss on his cheek and step out of his embrace. “Have a seat and I’ll fix you a plate.”
He sits down at the table and I grab two bowls from the cupboard. “What’s going to happen now?”
Neither my father nor Ramsey have said anything about the next steps in their plan. All I know is what was discussed in church yesterday and what Ramsey mentioned just now about how Brodie continued to torture Rory and eventually killed him by decapitation.
Oh, and let’s not forget the cutting off his dick part and stapling it to his face part. I guess it will leave a nice message when Bane finds his dismembered capo scattered all over his driveway.
“Hunter called me, they’re almost in place. We were lucky he and a few other brothers were already halfway here when I asked for their help. Once they are set to take out the capos we’ll either head for Bane or let him come here.” His eyes go to the bowl of soup once I place it in front of him.
“You’re leaving the go to or come here part in the middle so you can leave me out of it,” I tell him and don’t even have to ask it as a question because it’s written all over his face.
“We will handle it, Meribeth. We don’t even want your father to interfere with the vengeance that’s ours to pass out. The VII Knights MC will be the only ones who are going to rain blood on these streets tonight.”
He stares at me with fierce eyes and his mouth is set in a straight line as if he expects me to argue. And yes, I would like nothing more than to help but I do know it’s not my place. It was his father, and his club brothers they basically used for personal gain, not caring how many lives were lost or scarred by their actions.
I slide my fingers over the curve of his neck, right underneath his leather cut, and give a slight squeeze. “Just promise me you guys make sure to spill every last drop of their blood, and return home safe and whole.”
I’m about to return to the kitchen counter and fix my mother a bowl but a strong arm pulls me onto Ramsey’s lap. His mouth slams over mine and a burst of lust slams into me. One of his hands sneaks to my back while one strays toward my breasts.
Tingles of electricity shoot through my body, setting my insides aflame for this man who with a slight brush of his thumb on the underside of my breast can make it seem as if he’s caressing the place between my legs.
The wide skirt I’m wearing allows me to shift on his lap. Ramsey takes full advantage when the hand on my back slides down until he’s kneading my ass, grabbing the material to lift my skirt.
“Ride me,” he orders gruffly. “Take out my cock and impale yourself. I need to feel your tight pussy wrapped around me like an iron fist.”
My heart is slamming against my chest, lust and desire urging my body to follow his instructions. Sliding my hands between us, I fumble for a moment with his belt and zipper, creating enough room to gently take out his hard dick.
A rough growl scorches my ear when I feel his fingers slide my thong to the side as I place his pierced dick at my entrance. I’m so wet with desire to feel him inside me. We moan simultaneously as I let myself drop, filling myself to the brim until we’re pelvis to pelvis.
I’m not allowed to catch my breath when two strong hands grip my ass as he starts to bounce me off his dick. My hands grip his shoulders to keep myself in place when he takes me for a rough ride on his dick.
His hips thrust up, burying himself to the hilt over and over. His piercing hits a delicious spot inside me and I cry out in pleasure. His grip on my ass tightens and I feel one of his fingers pressing against my back entrance.
I’m on sensory overload when he starts to pump one of his long, thick fingers inside my ass while simultaneously sliding his dick in and out of my pussy. The feeling of being surrounded by this man is as if I’m riding bliss through a storm of havoc and yet he’s my anchor.
“Come for me, lovely. Rip the cum from my cock with your clenching pussy so I can brand you from the inside out.” The raw emotion rumbles against my ear and all that’s left is to submit to his wishes.
My pussy clenches with everything I got and I throw my head back to groan, “Ramseeeeeeyyy, oooh, yes.”
He growls and slides his finger out of my ass, grabbing my hips to bounce me off and on his dick three more times before he shoves me down to keep me pinned. I can feel his dick twitching and pulsing inside me as we both keep riding our orgasm.
I ultimately sag against him when my body has nothing more to give. His arms wrap around me, his embrace sheltering me from everything happening outside of this room and in this moment I feel treasured, and I dare say loved.
Too soon for this emotion for some and yet living in a rough world where death and blood is an almost daily occurrence you recognize this for what it is; our bond is special and unique. Our bodies connect flawlessly and my heart beats alongside of his as if it’s meant to be.
I feel his jaw brush my head, the soft caress strokes my heart and I tighten my arms around his neck for a few breaths. Reluctantly I let him slide out of me and step off his lap to righten my clothes. He covers himself up when I feel his cum flood my thong.
“I need a shower,” I mutter and walk over to the sink to wash my hands.
“No showers until I’m back.” He’s pressing himself against my back, his mouth close to my ear when he adds, “I like the thought of my cum inside you, your underwear soaked with it.”
“You want me dirty and sticky waiting for you, got it.” I chuckle and shiver when I feel his lips brushing alongside my neckline.
He nips my skin right before I feel him sucking on a sliver, the sensation sending pulses of desire through my veins. Nipping once more, he lets go and slides his tongue over what feels like the mark he just gave.
“A hickey, really?” I question with a hint of laughter in my voice.
He spins me around, eyes locked on my neck. “My mark fits you well.”
I shake my head and push his chest. “Eat before it’s cold. You have business to handle and when you return you can mark me some more.”
He swallows hard and croaks in a solid promise, “You can fucking count on it.”
Taking his seat, he starts to eat while I get my hands busy with filling a tray of food for my mother. It’s only a handful of minutes later when Brodie steps inside the kitchen.
He lifts his chin in greeting and gives Ramsey his attention. “Prez, time to go.”
I get one final hard and hot kiss and then he’s gone. For a moment I wonder if this was our final moment together, but I quickly shove the negativity away. He might have come into my life by kidnapping me but I think along the way it was my heart he stole instead. I don’t want to imagine a future without him.
Gathering my inner strength, I trust in the words and promise he gave me. His MC is strong and I hope he made the right choice in asking the other charter for help so they can take Bane and his men out together, once and for all.
Grabbing the tray of food, I stroll toward my mother’s room. I have to trust for them to handle their business while I spend some quality time with my mother. I turn into the hallway and barely manage to plaster my back against the wall and hold on to the tray when my three brothers come rushing out of their rooms.
“I call dibs,” Hugo yells.
Holden rushes past him. “That doesn’t count, it’s my turn!”
“You were first yesterday, I’m not going last,” Hale shouts in an angry tone.
“Hellions!” I snap. “No running in the house. What if mom was coming around the corner?”
All three come to an abrupt stop in front of me. Hugo is twelve, Holden eleven, and Hale nine, but it still feels like they’re all six-year-olds, bouncing all over the damn place.
Holden’s eyes go wide as he assesses the tray I’m holding. “You made soup?”
“Please tell me you made some bread too. Yours is my favorite, sis,” Hale quips and all my anger is forgotten.
“I did,” I beam. “Why don’t you three go into the game room and play while I visit mother for a short bit and then I’ll fix all three of you something to eat, okay?”
I get three fist pumps before they speed-walk for the game room. A smile spreads across my face as I watch them go. I missed them, even with the whirlwind of the everlasting bickering.
Heading for my mother’s room, I balance the tray on one arm as I give a rap with my knuckles on the door before opening it. My mother is sitting in a chair near the window. She’s staring out into the garden and seems miles away.
I place the tray with food on the table and kneel beside her. Taking her hand in mine, I finally get her attention as she turns her head toward me. The smile she gives me is an honest one and yet I can tell it doesn’t reach her eyes for the willing recognition I crave.
“Mother,” I croak. “I made some food.”
“That’s very sweet of you, child.” She pats my hand and stands to stroll toward the table where she takes a seat.
My chest squeezes painfully when I think back to the last conversation I had with her. I’d rather have her angry with me than not remembering who I am.
“Didn’t you bring a napkin?” she questions and looks at me expectantly.
Frustrated at the situation and at myself for not adding a freaking napkin to the tray, I tilt my head toward the ceiling and snap, “No, I forgot. Can’t you eat without placing a napkin on your lap for once?” I wince at my own harshness in my voice and quickly mutter, “Sorry. I’ll go get one.”
My mother clicks her tongue in disapproval. “One of these days your temper will get you in trouble, Meribeth.”
I let my eyes collide with hers but she closes them for an instant and gives a little shake with her head as if she needs to clear it. She gives me one more look and the warmth in her gaze along with the soft smile tugging her lips make my breath catch. But she quickly gives the food her attention as she takes the bowl of soup, placing it in front of her.
Did she make the remark because she recognizes me? My father told me she’s slowly remembering things and the doctors told him it can suddenly fully return if it’s triggered. But with her ignoring me right now it’s hard to say if it was just a reply out of habit?
I leave the room and descend the stairs as I stroll to the kitchen. The house is quiet except for the soft music and bickering coming from the game room. My father locked himself in his office over an hour ago when the meeting with Ramsey and the others ended.
We have guards outside and another one watching the security cams in a special room. Ramsey told me not to worry because they intend to handle–and end everything–tonight.
Maybe it’s because I spent the last few days living in a clubhouse filled with rowdy bikers. Funny how you get used to something so quickly. I shrug the uncomfortable feeling off and enter the kitchen. My heart almost leaps out of my chest when I see a man sitting at the kitchen table. Placing my hand over my chest bone, I take a gulp of air and realize it’s Fraser.
“Oh. My. God. You scared the crap out of me,” I scold and take a few more calming breaths.
Fraser snorts. “Guilty conscience?”
I roll my eyes and stalk to one of the cabinets to grab a napkin.
“This is delicious by the way,” Fraser remarks and I turn in time to see him pointing at an empty bowl in front of him.
“Thanks,” I tell him with a smile on my face, happy to see someone else enjoying my food. “Help yourself to seconds, there’s more than enough.”
He shoots me a dopey grin. “Already had seconds. Prez did good when he made you his old lady. This means you will make it sometime at the clubhouse too, right?”
“Absolutely. But fair warning. I’m a lousy cook, I only know how to make a handful of stuff and fail at everything else.”
“Dollface.” Fraser chuckles. “If you can only make this delicious, spicy, Italian vegetable soup with the amazing fresh bread, everyone wouldn’t want anything else. Seriously, it’s finger-licking awesomeness in a bowl.”
“Well, if you put it like that, I’ll be sure to make some when we return home,” I promise him.
His eyes fill with warmth and his head softly nods. “You’re really somethin’. Feisty as shit and what Brodie told us about the torture part? And now the cooking and you calling the clubhouse home? You fit in perfectly.”
“It’s because you guys are little rays of sunshine,” I tell him with a straight face.
His eyes narrow before he releases a booming laugh.
I give him another smile and hold up the napkin. “I’m going to bring this up to my mother, catch you later.”
“Later,” he mutters as I stroll out of the kitchen.
My mother is waiting with her hands folded in her lap when I stalk into her room. She thanks me politely and places the napkin on her lap and starts to eat. She watches me curiously when I take a seat across from her.
I stay silent to let her finish her food before I can’t help myself and question, “Do you remember anything?”
She gently touches her mouth with her napkin before placing it on the table. “Not so much of the day of the accident. Most parts are still fuzzy but things are coming back to me in parts. The doctors mentioned it wouldn’t take long before I remember everything. And in a way some of it came back when your temper was showing a moment ago.”
“We had a fight that night,” I croak, regret weighing heavy in my voice.
She reaches for my hand and gives a firm squeeze. “I know. Your father told me and I remember some of it now. He also explained details of why you were angry, what happened in his office before the accident and the events that followed. Sometimes we don’t have any choice in actions and events. All we can do is step up for ourselves and try to take fate into your own hands. And even then, it’s a spin of the wheel, no telling where the dice rolls. For instance, if you want revenge for what was done to your friend you might lose yourself in the process.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my mother hitting the nail on the head of what happened the night she got hurt. She’s right but on the other hand, it was a twist on my life to where I am now.
“I didn’t lose myself in the process,” I tell her, and add on a whisper, “I feel like I found myself: found my future.”
“The biker?” my mother questions as she places the bowl and her spoon back on the tray.
“Yes.” I wring my hands and admit my feelings out in the open for the first time. “I think I love him.”
“Is he good to you?”
“Yes,” I tell her without thinking because Ramsey is. “He doesn’t diminish anything I do, say, or want. He really listens and doesn’t mind my temper or sharp mouth. He’s…sweet.” I cringe when I mention the last part. “I don’t think anyone has ever called him sweet, but he is to me. He makes me feel my worth.”
My mother reaches out and cups the side of my face. “Any man who makes you feel your worth is one to cherish, my dear. So, not just think you love him, but open your heart completely. Follow the path love has led you because it’s rare and unique.”
I lean into her touch and take a deep breath. “Thanks, Momma.”
Faded gunfire erupts from outside, breaking us apart. Rushing to the bed, I drop to my knees and shove my hand under the mattress, knowing my father has placed guns at several spots around the house.
“We have to get your brothers,” my mother says, panic hitting her face.
“Stay behind me,” I snap and point the gun in front of me as I glance around the corner and head down the hall, hoping the guards are handling whatever is going on outside.
