Misfit (Death Dwellers MC #6) (4 page)

Tits bouncing, Fee rode Stretch’s mouth, never taking her eyes from Cash’s cock, stroking in and out of Stretch while she manipulated Stretch’s hard dick, working Cash into a frenzy. Fee paused in her own pleasure, jerking Stretch’s cock, thumbing the slippery head, squeezing his base, coaxing cum from him.

Sucking cum from her fingers, Fee grinded her pussy against Stretch’s mouth. The moment she came, Cash followed, groaning through his release.

Fee collapsed to Stretch’s side, while Cash fell against the footboard, their harsh breathing filling the air.

“Let’s try this shit again,” Cash said a few minutes later. “We have to get you out of here, Fee.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

They dressed in silence. What could be said? Their relationship was a secret one and both Stretch and Fee had issues of jealousy. Perhaps, Cash didn’t have those feelings because he didn’t see their triad going anywhere. He just had to get
them
to understand that.

Opening the door, he found the hallway deserted. A nursery was set up for the kids in one of the rooms, so motherfuckers didn’t fuck with this area. However, the action had spilled into the second hallway, and the one leading to the main room.

This late, the party had turned into a full blown orgy. Seeing him and Stretch leaving a room with a girl didn’t appear strange. Everyone would assume they’d fucked the
girl
. Fucking fine, if not for the girl’s identity.
And
Fee looked well fucked with her swollen mouth and flushed skin. Not to mention her fucking outfit that had motherfuckers leering at her.

He wrapped his arm around her, scowling at the fuckheads, nodding to the Bob who’d been all over him earlier.

“Cash!”

Ignoring the call, Cash kept moving, fucking exhausted, mentally and physically. As soon as he got Fee to her car, he’d go to his room and crash.

“Hey, Cash. Wait, brother.”

It dawned on him who called his name and he dropped his arm from around Fee. Without stopping, he headed outside. If Slipper wanted to talk to him, the rancid fucker would follow, which he did.

“What are you doing with Prez’s sister?”

Cash stood downwind, so Slipper’s unwashed scent hit him hard.

“I was showing her my computer,” Stretch said, coming up behind Slipper and overhearing the question.

“We been looking for you two for hours.”

Hours, huh? Fucking unlikely. Ninety minutes ago, both Cash and Stretch had been circulating amongst the crowd.

Slipper’s sly look concerned Cash and pissed him off. “Come to find out you and Stretch was having fun with her.”

“No, fucker, we weren’t having the type of fun you’re thinking about,” Cash snarled.

Appearing from the shadows, the Bob who he’d left to see to Fee, sashayed to their little group and winked at him. She still hadn’t dressed, despite the chill in the air. Seeing both Fee and Stretch’s reaction to her, their hurt, Cash scratched his neck.

She sidled between them and brushed her hand over Cash’s chest. She was one of the last girls Arrow had trained. Now, they were Cash’s responsibility. “He was with me until half an hour ago, Slipper.”

To Cash’s relief, she’d fudged the time.

Slipper swayed. “I thought I saw you partying with some other motherfucker a bit ago.”

“Earlier, yeah,” she said easily. “But I’ve been with him at Outlaw’s table. Remember? Before you open your big fucking mouth to Outlaw, check your facts.”

“I have to go,” Fee cut in.

“You shouldn’t have come, honey.” Daphne smirked at her. “I haven’t had your brother, but Cash? He’s mine.”

Hers?

Cash would set her straight, away from Slipper. At the moment, he went with it.

“I don’t know you,
Daphne
,” Fee said, her voice hoarse. “There’s no need to take that nasty attitude with me.”

Daphne laughed harshly. “You don’t have to know me. Around here, there’s two categories. Us and them. You’re them, who only see us as whores and sluts.”

“I don’t see you as anything,” Fee argued. “I don’t know you. It’s your life. Suck who the hell you want. You go near Christopher, and Meggie will kick your ass.”

Slipper snickered and belched. “I’d like to see that.”

“Me, too,” Daphne said, focusing on Cash again. “Let’s leave them to whatever, babe.”

Fee started past him, her shoulders slumped. He should allow her to go. Daphne’s intervention had redirected Slipper’s attention, clearing Cash of any potential accusations while Stretch followed Fee. But Cash hated for her to leave so hurt after their evening.

“Give me a minute,” he told Daphne, somehow knowing he’d remember her name after tonight thanks to Fee’s sneer. He’d fucked the girl more times than he could count. As just another whore to pleasure the bikers, he didn’t bother with a fucking name and forgot her the moment she left his company.

“You owe me,” she whispered to him.

“I’m sure I do, princess,” he retorted.

When he caught up to Stretch and Fee, she was already in her car. Stretch’s scowl matched Fee’s.

“All right, you two. Cut the bullshit. She saved our asses,” he pointed out. “If Slipper went to Outlaw, we wouldn’t have asses left to save. He’d fuck us up and bury us.”

“I have to go,” Fee said dully.

Before she drove off, Cash bent and touched her cheek. “I had fun tonight, sweetheart.”

The hurt on her face reminded him why Outlaw warned Cash away.

“Bye, Cash.”

‘You’re an asshole,” Stretch said, after Fee sped off.

Without responding, Cash walked off. Near the door, he found Daphne and Slipper sharing a bud.

Annoyance darkened her face. She must’ve been pissed because he’d left her to follow Stretch. “Hmm, you know, I might’ve gotten the time we were together wrong.”

Snatching the joint from Slipper, Cash inhaled, then released the smoke. “You’re sure about that?”

“Prez won’t like knowing Fee was here,” Slipper speculated. “I have to tell him, so he can set her straight. She shouldn’t come around when parties are happening. He won’t like her being with you and Stretch.”

“For the last fucking time, I wasn’t with her,” Cash growled.

Slipper squinted and swayed again. “I thought you were.”

Cash pulled Daphne to him. As she said, the girls had a line drawn between them and the old ladies. Or in Fee’s case, Outlaw’s sister. Daphne would see Cash leaving her to entertain
them
as a betrayal.

“Come on, babe, let’s get back to fucking,” he told her, though they hadn’t started.

Tonight, he’d have a drink with her so they could be seen together again, then he intended to fucking sleep. In the morning, he’d fuck her brains out and find a way to flout her around to the guys. Offering them a taste of her when he knew they were married would make Outlaw believe Cash had nothing but fun and games on his mind, and expected everyone else to feel the same way.

Given such a frivolous outlook, he hoped his ruse made any rumors Outlaw might hear about tonight regarding Fee, seem so outrageous and far off the mark, he’d never believe the story.

Cash needed the most opportune time to put his plan into motion. He also had to apologize to both Fee and Stretch for the fucked up way their evening had ended.

Instead of going straight to his room, Stretch went to the bar, spying his cane right where he’d left it earlier when he’d forgotten everything to escort Fee away from the party. Most of all, away from Cash.

Seeing Stretch sit, the Probate on duty hurried over.

Potter was a step away from earning his patch, but Stretch believed the brother would continue bartending even after he became a member. “What’s your poison, brother?”

As Mortician had once tended the bar. Stretch, too. John Boy’s old lady, Kendall, as well. Something about bartending in this club made it a position for life. Once, before Stretch had almost died, he’d thought about asking Outlaw to create a new position. Minister of Alcohol. Or Ambassador of Spirits.

Cash guided Daphne to the other side of the bar. She sat on one of the stools, while he positioned himself behind her and nuzzled her neck.

“Stretch?” Potter’s voice reminded him that he hadn’t answered the man’s question.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “How about some hemlock?”

“Sorry, man,” Potter answered with mock regret. “Don’t stock that.”

Cash wrapped his arms around Daphne, settling his hands on her breasts.

“Arsenic?”

Potter narrowed his eyes. The big, bearded man had been nothing but kind to everyone. However, something about him reminded Stretch of Cowboy.

The mere thought of the name tensed Stretch’s shoulders and made his entire body ache. He’d been told Outlaw had taken care of the men who’d attacked him. Yet, Stretch still worried about his safety and resented his circumstances.

He ran a finger along his scar, clenching his teeth at the feel of the raised skin.

“When you figure out what you want to drink, call me,” Potter said, stomping away.

Cash turned Daphne toward him, raining kisses along her throat and down to her breasts. He tugged one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Potter!”

At Stretch’s yell, Cash lifted his head. Capturing the asshole’s attention hadn’t been Stretch’s intention. But most of the partying had moved from the main room and into the hallways and bedrooms. The background noise floated from other areas, making this room relatively quiet.

“You telling me what the fuck you want this time around or what?”

Seeing Cash assist Daphne off the stool and start in his direction sent Stretch’s annoyance soaring. He glared at Potter. As a club officer, he deserved respect, especially from a Probate.

Potter huffed out a breath. “Still don’t know, huh? Before you call me over again, get a fucking clue about your order.”

“Asshole,” Cash gritted to Potter.

Daphne rubbed against him like a cat. He sat her on the stool, his attention on the big man behind the bar. “You want your fucking colors, talk to an officer with respect.”

“Sorry, Ghost,” Potter muttered to Cash, then gestured to Stretch. “He’s just been staring off into space for ten fucking minutes. I got more important things to get to.”

“Wrong fucking answer,” Cash drawled. “Any time an officer sits in front of you, there’s nothing and no one that takes precedence until they are seen to.”

Potter threw Stretch a sour look. “Sorry, brother. I believe you wanted hemlock or arsenic. Am I supposed to run somewhere and find that for you or is there something behind the bar you’d like?”

Cash narrowed his eyes at Stretch. “If you want poison, come to me. I’ll get it for you.”

“I’m sure you would,” Stretch snapped, then looked at Potter. “There’s a bottle of crème de violette behind there. That’s mine.”

“Fuck, you don’t need me to get poison for you,” Cash griped. “You have it covered.”

“I agree.” Potter found the bottle and handed it to Stretch. “That shit tastes like fucking cough syrup.”

“That’s why it’s my shit and not yours,” Stretch grumbled, hopping to his feet. He winced at the pain streaking through his leg. Grabbing his cane with the skeleton head, a gift from Cash, and his bottle, he limped away.

Thanks to the crowded hallways, it took him several minutes to reach his room. Seeing so many people enjoying themselves satisfied Stretch. The past year had been good for the club. Many of the old members who’d stayed away when the club was under siege by Sharper Banks, had become regulars again. The Bobs were back at two dozen, as they’d been when K-P was alive.

The club was different, though. Before Stretch patched in and was just a hang-around, the parties had been a little more frenetic. Those days were long gone. The club president was married, a father, proving everything changed.

In the safety of his room, he made his way to his messy bed, where two torn condom wrappers remained.

He sat on the edge of the bed, opened his bottle and drank, uncertain how to feel. Sometimes, he resented Fee’s intrusion into his relationship with Cash. Like tonight.

Cash’s focus had been her, until Stretch pulled it away by gripping his cock. Just as quickly, she’d regained control. Stretch might’ve been pissed at the way she’d used him to seduce Cash—if he hadn’t been using her for the same reason. The rancor between them wasn’t
her
fault. Cash had brought her in, without asking how he felt about the change.

Now, Cash had given both Stretch and Fee ultimatums. Either the three of them made it together or they
all
went their separate ways. Again, all without Stretch’s consent or consideration.

Cash was an overbearing, domineering bastard.

A little more drink removed some of Stretch’s rising bitterness. He had no right to bear any grudge against Fee. Both of them had chosen to be at Cash’s mercy.

Stretch had no idea why
she
did it. He, himself? Cash had stormed into Stretch’s life, full of arrogance and charm, stealing his heart.

Setting his bottle on the nightstand, he stood and hobbled to the bathroom. He wondered if Fee had made it home safely. As soon as he showered, he’d text her.

He proceeded to strip, then he looked in the mirror. Once again, he touched the long scar on the side of his face, not only feeling but seeing it. Remembering the hatred, the cruelty.

Remembering Hanson, the lover Stretch had reconnected with again. Beaten, shot, and killed, because of Stretch’s supreme fucking stupidity. He deserved every pain, every mark, for leading him into that hellish nightmare.

Turning too quickly, Stretch wobbled on his feet, losing his balance. He landed on both of his knees, biting on his lip so hard he tasted blood, to keep from crying out. Men didn’t show such weakness and he
was
a man.

Well before Stretch had come across Cowboy and company, his father and uncles’ attempted to prove differently.

He sat on the floor and massaged his leg, grimacing at the long scar and shrunken muscle. Sometimes, his damaged nerves hurt so bad he wanted to throw up.

He could ride, but he no longer ran. He wanted to cry, but hardly ever considered laughing. He hated, when he only wanted love.

Guilt and grief gnawed at his soul. Hanson had been his friend.

Stretch had acted in fairness and broken it off with him when he fell for Cash. When things didn’t work out as Stretch expected and Hanson found out, they’d reconnected.

Two loud pounds on his bedroom door snapped Stretch’s head up. Fuck, he didn’t feel like being bothered right now, but experience had taught him they wouldn’t go away until he answered.

Pulling himself to the opened bathroom door, he grabbed the handle as leverage and struggled to his feet. Closer to the door than to his cane, he dragged his way toward it, not realizing his nudity until his hand touched the knob.

“Fuck.”

“I heard you,” Cash called. “Open the fucking door, Woo Woo.”

Woo Woo
. Stretch stiffened. Asshole. Cash knew he hated that fucking name.

“What do you want?” he asked, quite aware of his nakedness and scarred body.

“To see you. Open the fucking door.”

He cracked it open, enough to show his face. “Are you fucking insane?” he whispered. “If any of these fuckers saw you…”

Cash shoved his way in, interrupting Stretch’s chastisement. “If you act guilty, motherfuckers say you
are
guilty.”

Stretch used the open door as a shield to hide himself. When Cash turned, he lifted a brow.

“Close the door.”

“No.”

“I don’t have all fucking night. I have to get back to Daphne before she wakes up, so close the goddamn door and listen to me.”

“Open it. Close it. Make up your mind.”

Glowering, Cash folded his arms.

Stretch slammed the door, averting his eyes from Cash’s face. He didn’t want to see his pity—or
whatever
. More than anything, he didn’t want to be seen as inferior in Cash’s eyes. He was a beautiful man, almost perfect, with an odd blemish here and there. Nothing substantial, though. Not like Stretch, who had a scarred face and body, and had been shot twice in the line of club duty.

“I came to apologize, so can you fucking look at me?”

“I can look at you if I want to. I don’t, so apologize and get out.”

“What are you pissed about, babe? Fee or Daphne? Or both?”

He’d resigned himself to Fee’s presence weeks ago. At times, it was still hard. Cash wouldn’t listen to his grievances, so Stretch stayed silent. “Does it matter, Cash?”

“Obviously, asshole, or I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Stretch thrust his fingers through his hair and leaned against the wall. “I’m not sure what I’m angriest about,” he admitted, his cane coming into his line of vision.

Without acknowledging the gesture, like a childish asshole, he grabbed it and started toward his bed as Cash turned his back, allowing Stretch to retain a shred of dignity

“Thank you,” Stretch said, reaching his bed and pulling the comforter over his legs.

Sighing, Cash faced him again. “I didn’t come in here earlier to fuck you and Fee. I came to escort her out. We ended up enjoying each other. I didn’t want the night to end so fucked up. Shit spiraled downhill because of Slipper and I had to do damage control. I’m sorry for Daphne.”

At almost three in the morning, fatigue wore Stretch down. He was confused about his feelings for Fee and annoyed with himself for his inability to let go of Cash. As is usually the case, he took out his frustrations on the one closest to him. “Are you, motherfucker? As I recall, you fuck Daphne as much as you can.”

“You’ve fucked her yourself,” Cash snapped back. “With me, so stop being a damn hypocrite.”

“I fuck her when I want to, not because she’s forced on me.”

“No one is forced on you.”

If that was true, then Stretch wouldn’t feel so fucking threatened. “Fee was.”

“Any time I’m with her, you can leave. The truth is, you don’t want to. You think she’s coming between you and me.”

“Isn’t she?” After Cash’s dictate, that’s what she was doing. Their relationship had never before depended on someone else’s involvement. “If the three of us can’t be together, then none of us can.
We
had a relationship before you met her.”