Never Ever: Book One Perdition MC (2 page)

She found her jeans, used her torn panties to clean the
evidence of their pleasure from her thighs and chucked them in his trashcan by
the door. She didn’t want to look too closely at it to see how full of used
wrappers it was, and stepped into her jeans, “Nothing, just something my dad
told me.”

“Daddy’s princess, huh? What, he tell you not to fuck a
biker?” He sneered, not knowing how much her stomach shriveled. She had to
fight to keep her sass, her careless tone while she looked around for her
shirt. “Nope. He wouldn’t have given a fat damn who I fucked. Just remember him
telling me, act like club slut pussy, get treated like club slut pussy. Forgot
how that worked for a second, must have been the repeat orgasms that fried what
brain cells I have left. You ripped my shirt in half,”

She held it up, her favorite shirt ripped clean down the back
and he shrugged, lighting up a cigarette, which made her lip curl in disgust,
“Take one of mine. Don’t care.” She nodded and snagged a blue and white checked
button down, slipping into it and knotted the tails at her waist. She wanted to
leave him thinking she didn’t give a rats ass that he’d just crushed a dream
she hadn’t even realized she’d entertained, so she leaned over and touched a
kiss to his washboard abs, “Thanks for the wild ride,” He’d looked at her like
she’d surprised him, which made her wink. But she couldn’t help the tears
gathered in her eyes when she turned away, flipping the lock on his doorknob as
she pulled it open, “See you around, Ginger.” He drawled from his torn up
sheets, and she snorted, “No. You won’t, Squatch.”

Chapter Two

Four months. Four fuckin months and he was still dick sore
over that smart mouth ginger. Layin in his bed every night alone, like a fuckin
fool, with her ripped shirt pressed to his nose so he could drag in the last
lingering scent of her perfume. Pissed the fuck off, frustrated, physically
unable to get it up for any other woman after riding that bitch raw. Not even
Felicia, who could suck the brass off a door knob, could get his blood up like
that ginger bitch had. He’d laughed at her when she’d looked over her shoulder
at him and told him that no, he wouldn’t see her around. But that sweet piece
hadn’t been joking, he hadn’t seen hide or hair of her.

Best pussy he’d ever had, and she had fucking disappeared.

He’d even sunk so low, as to ask Pike’s old lady, Susan about
her, but she’d just shot him the dirtiest look ever, “Do you know how hard I
worked to get her here? She works her fucking ass off, all day every day at her
god damn nursery, I convince her to come out, have a good time, and you fuck it
up by treating her like some club slut. Fuck you, Roar, she’s too good for the
likes of you.” She’d flipped him off, evil in her eye and gone upstairs to
Pike’s room. His balls were so blue from jacking off every night to the memory
of her beautiful tits, bouncing while she’d ridden him like a racehorse. Her
long red hair tickling his balls, her pretty face flushed with pleasure while
she’d moaned his name to the ceiling and come, her sexy hazel eyes on fire
while she’d looked down at him. He dreamed about her and woke up trying to fuck
a hole through his god damn mattress, and every time he’d tried to pull one of
the readily available club sluts into a dark corner, the raging hard on he
sported deflated like a fucking balloon as soon as he’d put his fingers up
their loose cunt.

He was so twisted in knots over this bitch, the first month
after her, he’d almost beat a dealer pimping women on Perdition’s turf, to
death. Nasa had barely been able to pull him off the guy, and the Prez had been
fucking pissed that they’d almost gotten caught by the cops. The second month,
he’d started a brawl in one of the MC’s strip clubs. The third month, he nearly
started a turf war with the owner of the pimp dealer he’d beat nearly to death,
during peace negotiations and almost got himself shot. And today was apparently
the last straw. He was hungover as fuck, sitting in the chair across from the
Prez, getting ripped a new asshole. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on
with you, you rank mother fucker, but this is it. I’ve fucking had it. You did
a god damn mother fucking doughnut in the front mother fucking lawn, drunk as
shit, and puked in my god damn bushes like a fucking prospect. There’s a god
damn track in the front lawn of my house! I am this close, this close you cock
sucker, to ripping that patch off your god damn cut before I shoot you in the
face.”

His Prez, who was the closest thing to a father he had,
ranted on like that for a while, and to be honest the hangover was nothing in
comparison to his disappointment. Joshua “Top” Frasier was so pissed, he was
surprised there wasn’t steam coming out of his ears. He was so pissed that the
end of his salt and pepper beard was jutting out from clenching his jaw, fists
white knuckled into fists on top of his desk, his blue eyes so cold that his
nuts felt icy in their glare. “You got five seconds to tell me what the fuck is
going on with you, and it better be good, or pay the fucking price.” He shook
his head and leaned forward to press his thumbs into the corner of his aching
eyes, “Got no excuse worth hearing, Prez. I’ll pay up.”

“Fucking right you will! You’re gonna get your ass in the
truck and get me some fucking grass,”

“Grass? I thought you quit smoking, Top-”

“Sod, mother fucker! Grass! Jesus, how fucking hungover are
you?”

“Two fifths of Cuervo.”

“Don’t fucking tell me your dicks in a knot over a gash?” Top
roared

“Okay.”

Top’s fists crashed down on top of his desk so hard that
everything on it bounced, “Are you shitting me? All this mother fucking shit
over a
woman
? There is a reason we got pussy on tap out there, Roar. Go
fuck this…whatever the fuck this is, out of your system, after you get me some
god damn grass and you fix that crater you made in my front fucking lawn. And
if I see a single prospect out there helping you, I will nail your cock to the
wall, with his teeth. You got me?”

“Yeah, Prez. I got you.”

Top furiously scrawled something on a slip of paper and
slapped it on the desk, stabbing at it with a glare so hot it scalded and told
him to fuck off. “Sober the fuck up. I want this done, today. We gotta ride out
tonight to meet with that dickless player that’s got it in his head his money,
trumps our rule about no whores or drugs on our turf. Got some slick ass
mercenaries he thing is gonna protect his sick ass and I fucking need you
sharp. Not fucking rabid. But if that grass ain’t done, I’m taking Flapper and
Bull instead of you.” The fuck he was getting replaced by pair of wet behind
the ear fucking prospects. He didn’t say a fucking word, just grabbed the slip
of paper and got up, queasy as fuck and did his best to not puke inside Top’s
office.

The air outside was fresher, cooler, the sunlight feeling
like shards of glass digging through his eyeballs, but a glance to the front
lawn of the compound had his ears heating. Crater was right, the tires on his
Fat Boy had dug trenches in the green grass. “Shit.” He found a pair of
sunglasses in the truck and pushed them on his face, grateful for their meager
protection. He rolled the windows down just in case he needed to pull over and
hurl, glancing at the address that was a half hour away “Fuck.” He turned the
key and nearly lost his mind as the music blasted out of the speakers.
“Motherfucking…Ruckus!” He roared, which only made the pounding in his head
worse. “Little bastard’s lucky he ain’t around.” He muttered to himself as he
turned out of the lot. “All your fault, ginger. All your fucking fault.”

He probably would have appreciated the place Top had sent him
to, if not for the nasty headache, and the sycophantic little twat flirting
with him. It was some kind of farm, shit growing everywhere, tinkling wind
chimes that hung from trees, the smell of fertilizer ripe on the air, so ripe
it turned his stomach. There were two buildings, a little farm house across the
fields, and a big hot house that had a shit ton of flowers growing on one end,
and a shop like storefront on the other end with jars of herbs, hippie shit,
candles, crystals, incense, a little coffee bar where he’d attracted said
sycophant. She’d quivered like a bitch in heat when he’d ordered the biggest
cup of coffee they had, black, and breathlessly told him she had the cure for
his hangover. “I’ll tip you fifty bucks if it works, sweetheart.” He’d growled,
holding up that fifty, watching her eyes turn round and greedy lust paint her
cheeks.

She wasn’t anything special to look at, he’d had better.
Which instantly made him think of that ginger bitch, which pissed him off. But
she delivered. She made him some nasty little shot of something that was green
and tasted like grass covered cow shit. But five minutes later, and that brain
bashing headache was gone. She’d breathlessly asked if she could do anything
else for him, and wanting out of there as fast as he could get, he told her he
was there to buy some sod. “Of course. What kind? We have Bermuda, fescue,
centipede grass, Kentucky bluegrass, um Rye-“

“I don’t fucking know. It’s green.” He’d growled, and her
lashes fluttered while she laughed nervously. He’d waved his hand at her and
called Top to ask what kind of god damn grass, and after getting the answer, he
hung up. “Bermuda.”

“No problem, that’s the most common one.”

He lowered his sunglasses to hopefully convey with his chilling
look, that she should have just fucking said that in the first place. But one
look at his eyes and she sighed like a teenager and came around to take his
arm, “more than happy to show him the grass,” Whatever. He wanted the fuck out
of there, so he let her lead him around the building to the rows of plants and
small trees, stopping dead when he heard a laugh that made his thighs quiver.
“Fuck me running,” He hissed, turning to see a familiar face crouching down
with a little girl, showing her something that was making the kid giggle and
squeal in delight, and her mom grin behind her. But his eyes were all for that
familiar face.

His ginger bitch.

Everly.

“Isn’t that cute? Miz Nolan just hatched some caterpillars
for the hot house, looks like the kiddo found one.”

His sycophant cooed, and he didn’t even spare her a glance,
fixated on watching the way the sunshine made the long tail of Everly’s hair
shimmer like fire. “Miz Nolan, huh?” She was every bit as fucking beautiful by
day as she was at night, which chapped his hide that she wasn’t some hag. Some
figment of his imagination sent to torture him and twist his nuts around till
the felt like they were gonna burst. “Yeah. She owns the place,” A nursery.
Susan had said she owned a nursery, and he’d thought one of those kid corrals
or something. “She’s usually running around here like a crazy person, but the
baby seems to be mellowing her out.”

“Baby?” He wheezed, just as she stood up and revealed the
little bump under her t-shirt, “Yeah. She’s about four months along, so
scandalous,” The twat snickered, whispering like she was sharing some dirty
secret. “She’s not married or anything, and none of us have seen a guy
around...”

He was frozen to the spot, the twat’s words fading away while
he focused on his ginger bitch. On watching her move through a world that had
turned into slow motion. The breeze blew a lock of hair across her cheek while
she smiled at the mother of the other kid, chatting with her and shrugged while
she lay a palm on that little bump and rubbed it with that smile still firmly
in place. In those snug, ass hugging jeans and her snug company t-shirt, there
was no mistaking or hiding what his eyes were seeing. The shock gave way to
murderous fucking rage. Rage that vibrated his body with the effort it took to
control himself. “We’re taking bets to see who’s got the right story about how
the miracle occurred.”

                                                                
Chapter
Three            

 It crossed his mind, for the first time in his life, to
hit a woman. The slut on his arm giggled like what she’d just said wasn’t the
most offensive thing he’d ever heard in his fucking life, and his fury exploded
out of his mouth, giving explanation for why his brother’s had dubbed him,
Roar. “EVERLY!”

She jolted like she’d been slapped, and the only reason he
didn’t make a fucking scene right there, was the way her hand went protectively
to her stomach. Though when she saw him, the smile in her eyes drained away to
surprise. Guilty, fucking surprise. Those incredible eyes of hers flicked to
the girl still on his arm, and if he hadn’t been looking so hard at her face,
he’d have missed the way they narrowed a fraction. So fucking enraged, he
couldn’t speak, so he just crooked a finger at her, commanding her to come to
him. She looked away quickly to excuse herself from the other woman, carefully
handing the little girl the caterpillar on her finger, and luckily for her,
obeyed him.

She got close enough for him to smell that sweet scent of her
skin, which now made sense. The natural flowery scent mixed with lemons and
sunshine. He heard her swallow nervously, but like the strong bitch she was,
she faced him down and pasted a cool smile on her face, “Roar. This is a
surprise,” A muscle in his jaw started ticking, that acidic, evil feeling rage
surging through his veins so hot that he wondered if his skin would melt.
“Yeah. Sure fuckin is. This little twat is telling me all about the scandalous
secret her and your other employees are gossiping about. Apparently there’s a
bet going, on who’s got the right guess as to how you got pregnant.” He
accusingly growled the last bit, and felt the girl jump away from him like he’d
just sprouted horns and blown fire out his nostrils.