Asunder (Iron Bulls MC #1) (9 page)

“Yes,” she finally whispers. “I’d like to be here with you.”

“Ain’t gonna lie to you, sweetheart, there’s times I’ll be out on a run and not here for stretches of time. But if you’re here I won’t be takin’ as many runs for the club as I do now.” I’m fuckin’ plannin’ to make Hemi take as many runs as possible. Keep that asshat far the fuck away from my little bitch.

“Okay.” She hesitates. “Dante? What about school? In the fall, I’m planning to go to State, live on campus…”

I shrug. “Campus is what? Forty-five minutes away? I’ll come see you or you’ll come home.”

Relief spreads across her face. “Oh, okay.”

“I ain’t gonna stop you from goin’ to school, babe. Besides, this might not work out.” I hate sayin’ it, but it’s the truth.

Her face falls.

“Babe, come on. You might get to campus and decide an old fuck like me ain’t worth wasting your time on.”

Her lip quivers and she shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

By Tuesday afternoon, I’m all moved into Dante’s place. It’s not like I had a lot of stuff to bring. But there was enough to fill half of the bed of his truck. I leave a brief note for my father letting him know I’ve moved out and give him the number of the cell phone Dante pressed into my palm when he picked me up from school.

That was the first of the surprises. The second was waiting for me at his house.

“A car?”

“Yeah, babe. There’s gonna be days when I got club business and can’t take you to school.”

“But—”

“It’s nothin’ fancy. But it will get you to school and back. In the fall, it will get you to college and home to visit me on the weekend.”

The last part he says low and growly against my ear. My legs are like jelly, barely able to hold me up.

“Dante, I need to tell you something.” Shit. Why didn’t I do this
before
I packed all my stuff into the back of his truck?

“By that look on your face I ain’t gonna like this, am I?”

I close my eyes and say the words in a rush. “Thursday when we met, I, uh, knew who you were. I wanted to hook up with you to make Logan jealous.”

With his big hand guiding my shoulders, he turns me. He snorts, “Look at me.”

The anger I expected to find on his face isn’t there. “You still feelin’ Hemi?”

“No.”

“Wantin’ to make him jealous—sounds like you’re still hung up on him.”

“Not anymore.”

“‘Cause you’re feelin’ me?”

“Yes.”

He blows out a breath and stares somewhere above my head before meeting my eyes again. “Look, I ain’t gonna lie and say that doesn’t piss me off. But I was plannin’ to fuck you and send you on your way, so I ain’t got much room to talk. My plans have changed since then.”

“Mine, too.”

He nods once. “Okay. You need to listen up though. Once I announce you’re my girl in front of the club, that’s it. Hemi comes near you, shut him down. He’d be fuckin’ stupid to try. I won’t tolerate my girl jumpin’ beds. You fuck him after you been fuckin’ me, you’re off my bike, out of my bed, and if you still want to hang at the clubhouse, you’re club ass available to any brother. Understand?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.”

“You still want me to move in?”

“Fuck yeah, babe.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

He doesn’t say anything and I squirm while I wait. “No. I ain’t exactly thrilled, but I respect you for tellin’ me. Now, I think the way you’re going to make it up to me is by suckin’ my dick and makin’ me dinner.”

My mouth twitches into a grin. “I can do that.”

Damn fuckin’ right.

Karina works off her guilt by gettin’ on her knees and suckin’ me off like her life depends on it.

At first, I was pissed.

Then I was amused.

Karma is gettin’ even with me for all the fuckin’ women I’ve used, discarded, fucked, and forgotten about. It’s downright fuckin’ funny that the one bitch I actually want to keep, was using me to get even with her ex.

I think we’ll be fine now. Long as Hemi stays the fuck outta my business. Think I’ll have her up to the clubhouse Friday and introduce her around. Not as my ol’ lady. Fuck that shit. But as the girl, who is off limits to those horny motherfuckers.

Holding her head the way I need it, I push my cock all the way to the back of her throat. She gags a little, but keeps her mouth nice and wide. “Good girl. You’re gonna swallow everything I give you.”

She whimpers a little, but it only cranks me up more. One more thrust out, then in and I’m coming so hard I can barely see straight. She sucks and licks every last drop then rests her head on my thigh when she’s finished. My hand brushes her hair off her face, taking in her flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes. “Good girl,” I praise her. She responds by wriggling closer to me.

“You got homework, baby girl?”

“Just a little.”

“It’s gettin’ late. Why don’t you start on that, and I’ll make us some sandwiches for dinner.”

“But. You said you wanted me to do the cook—”

“I know what I said, baby girl. Changed my mind. Get to work.”

I tuck my cock away and kiss the top of her head before standing. The whole house is an open floor plan, so I’m able to watch her while I put dinner together. It doesn’t take me very long before I’m calling her to come sit at the counter.

“Come eat. Then you can finish your work.”

“Okay.”

Christ, the way she all but fuckin’ glides across the living room is sexy as fuck. She’s got no fuckin’ clue either. Graceful as a cat, she perches on one of the barstools and picks up her sandwich. Love a woman who has an appetite and I’ve yet to see her turn down food.

“Hey, you got one of those little plaid skirts?”

She quirks an eyebrow at me. “You mean like a schoolgirl type thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so. Why?”

“Want you to wear it for me Friday when I take you up to the clubhouse.”

Her eyes widen, cheeks flush, but her bottom lip trembling is what gets my attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

It fuckin’ dawns on me what she’s worried about. “I ain’t takin’ you up there to share you with anyone, babe. The opposite, actually. Want my brothers to know if they see you at the clubhouse, you’re off limits.” Especially fuckin’ Hemi.

But I keep that to myself.

Friday night I find myself dressed up like something out of an old Britney Spears video. When I told Dante I didn’t think I had everything I needed to complete the outfit, he handed me a wad of cash and told me to go shopping.

So I did.

Athena found all of it very amusing.

My father left me some angry voicemails during the week I haven’t bothered to return yet. Dante left Wednesday night on what he said was a “short run,” so he asked me to meet him at the clubhouse tonight, since he had to go straight there when he returned. Before he left he made sure I was thoroughly fucked and that the refrigerator was stocked.

“I can’t believe you moved in with some biker thug,” Athena squawks at me. This is probably the hundredth time this week she’s expressed her disbelief. We’re standing in the parking lot after school and I cast a glance around to make sure we’re not being overheard.

“He’s not a thug.”

She slants an are-you-kidding-face at me.

“Well, he’s not to
me
.”

She thrusts her chin up at my car. “Yeah, I guess so.” She reaches out and hugs me. “I’m glad you’re over Logan for good.”

“Me too.” I realize I mean it, too. Dante has obliterated everything and everyone else from my mind. And probably my heart.

“Okay, go have fun getting fucked fifty ways sideways,” she chirps with a wave.

“What the hell does that even mean?” I grumble to myself as I get into my car.

Flipping down my visor, I brush my hair free of tangles and weave it into two thick braids. Dante didn’t specify anything other than the skirt, but I have a feeling he’ll appreciate my attention to detail.

Next to me, my phone peeps and I scoop it off the seat.

Dante:
Where’s my baby girl?

Good Lord, this man makes me wet with a fucking
text.

Me:
School parking lot. Leaving now.

I wait to see if he responds. When he doesn’t, I put the car in gear and head to the clubhouse.

The parking lot is full of big, black, shiny motorcycles, huge pickup trucks, and a few cars. It’s only three in the afternoon, but that doesn’t seem to matter. This MC apparently likes to get the party started early. Afraid of going in alone with so many people around, I send Dante a text saying I’m outside before I get out of my car.

Apprehension swirls in my belly as my heels click over the pavement. Dante said he didn’t want to share me. But during the week, I’d picked up a bit of gossip about the sort of things that went on behind the big black doors of the Iron Bulls MC.

A kid I recognize from my high school rushes over. He’s wearing a plain leather cut. His lone patch reads “Prospect”. My face heats up under the scrutiny of his blatant stare. The sweater I’m wearing is tight, and the V shows a hint of my boobs, but my belly is covered. My skirt is an actual skirt. It’s short, but my ass isn’t peeking out or anything. There’s definitely a few inches of bare leg between my knee socks and the hem of my skirt, though.