ZEKE’S BABY: Midnight’s Hounds MC Page 16

  Stella moved quietly into the back of the house to her father’s old room. Katrina was piled sideways against the pillows, as usual, her stuffed bear, Ted, gripped tightly in her little arm. Seeing how Katrina slept never failed to bring a smile to Stella’s face. The girl could be found anywhere in the bed, though rarely with her head on the pillows and her feet at the foot of the bed. Most common was the position she was in now, sideways, pillows on one side, Theodore E. Bear tucked in tight on the other.

  Stella reached down and picked Katrina up, cradling her head so it wouldn’t flop around like a rag doll, and tucked her into her shoulder. Katrina didn’t wake as Stella waved bye to Connie and snuck out the door, her path lit only by the parking lights of her car. She tucked Katrina into the car seat, snapped her in, and then drove the twenty minutes to her apartment before reversing the procedure.

  After a year, Katrina was so used to being handled in her sleep she rarely woke, and if she did, she normally went right back. Stella pushed the hair out of Katrina’s face, kissed her softly on the forehead, then retired to her room. She hadn’t lied to Connie; she was tired and looking forward to a day off, but there was more to it than that. She was feeling the weight of being a single parent again and wondered if she would ever find someone. Seeing Gabriel had reminded her how she once felt, before he broke her heart.

  With a sigh she stripped out of her clothes, adding them to the hamper for washing, before putting on her favorite sleep shirt, the one that said I’m off to Club Bed, featuring DJ Pillow and MC Blanky, cleaned her face and brushed her teeth.

  It was after one when she tumbled into bed, and she knew Katrina would probably be up by seven demanding breakfast. She tried to sleep, but the ache between her legs wouldn’t let her relax. Finally, growling in frustration, she opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand and searched under her underwear until she found her toyfriend. Since Tony wasn’t here, this would have to do.

  She slipped out of her shirt and lay back, allowing her mind to wander as the softly buzzing toy caressed her in all the right ways. Her finger softly circled her nipple, the point becoming firm under her gentle touch. Unbidden, an image of Gabriel popped into her mind, standing before her in this very room, the room they shared when they were together, but it wasn’t the Gabriel of four years ago; it was the Gabriel of now, filled out and with a confidence he never had before.

  She shoved the image aside, thinking of Tony, but as his lips found hers, it was suddenly Gabriel again, his lips so warm and inviting. He’d always known how to please her, the caress of his lips electrifying as he kissed down her body, his breath hot on her skin. She gripped her breast, the buzzing toy sliding in her wetness, touching her most sensitive place, her mouth opening slightly in pleasure as her breathing sped up, his tongue destroying her as he licked, each touch to her clit sending searing pleasure dancing through her body. She gripped his head, pulling him in tighter, pressing the toy harder into her in response. She began to thrust her hips, her passions taking over, Gabriel’s cock thrusting into her hard and fast, his grunts of passion twisting her up.

  She plunged the vibrator into her, the sudden change making her gasp as she crushed her eyes closed, the feel of Gabriel’s cock hammering into her, his sudden cry as he came, his hips still driving into her furiously. He rolled her over, taking her from behind, his sweat dripping onto her back as he took her, muttering of his love and how she could please him like no other woman.

  He came again as he roared his ecstasy to the world, his orgasm tipping her over the edge. She plunged into her rapture, the toy stroking and plunging, driving her climax on, until with a shuddering grunt she pulled it from within her, dropped it on the bed, and rolled onto her side, her hand gripping the linens as she waited for her orgasm to release her.

  She sighed out of her climax, awash in feelings she didn’t understand. Relief her need had been satisfied, but disappointed it had been thoughts of Gabriel that had gotten her there. She was over him, or at least she thought she was, and hadn’t thought of him in a long time, maybe as much as a year.

  She blew out a long cleansing breath and then patted around on the bed until she found the buzzing toy. She switched it off and stretched languorously as she smiled. It annoyed her his sudden appearance in the diner made her fantasies return to him. It was probably Tara prattling on about what she would do to him if she caught him alone that had wound her tight. She smiled and stretched again and decided it didn’t matter. It had done the job and she felt warm and relaxed. She just wished Tony was here. He was always good for a nice long cuddle after a good romp.

  With a sigh she redressed and carried her friend into the bath for a quick cleanup before returning it to the box in the bottom of her drawer. As she settled in, she could feel sleep tugging at her, but once again she remembered the feeling in her car, the encroaching loneliness and the desire to have someone in her life, someone to cuddle with, someone to love her and Katrina.

  She closed her eyes, pushing the thoughts away. This wasn’t the first time she felt the loneliness. Late at night, as she was sliding into sleep was the worst time, when she most keenly felt something was missing. But she would get over it. She always did. Tomorrow would be another day, and once she was wrist deep in flour and sugar at the bakery, she would forget all about how she felt now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Gabriel stomped through the parking lot to his hog. Stella had started to piss him off with her sneering attitude, but if he were honest with himself, he deserved every bit of what she’d dished out. He’d done what he’d done for what seemed to be good reasons at the time, but he was just a stupid ass kid and by the time he realized how wrong he’d been, he’d decided to let it be rather than open old wounds again.

  Seeing her tonight only reinforced how stupid, and wrong, he’d been. She was still as beautiful as ever, maybe more so. The last few years had softened her, and she’d put on a few pounds, but they had made her more feminine and, to his eye, more beautiful than ever. She’d matured, as he had, and he wondered if maybe there was a chance to get back what they had.

  He snorted. Fat chance of that. It appeared she’d as soon bury a knife in his back as to look at him. He swung his leg over the bike and began to buckle on his helmet. He thought about going home to his empty apartment, then then decided he couldn’t face that, not tonight, not after seeing Stella and her ripping him a new one. He would spend the entire night beating himself up over what he’d done, and he knew that led to only place: the bottom of a bottle.

  He blasted out of the strip mall parking lot, the Harley bellowing its war cry as he banged it up through the gears only to have to brake hard at the first light. He sat, revving the bike, waiting on the light to change. When it did, he gave the throttle a firm twist and ripped away from the light, leaving all the losers in their cages in his dust. After a moment, he took a deep breath and let his annoyance go.

  He wasn’t sure what had come over him, other than Stella’s sneering attitude had pissed him off, but he wasn’t sure why. As he slowed to a stop at the next light, he admitted he knew why. Did he really expect her to welcome him back as if nothing had happened?

  He didn’t feel like going back to the clubhouse as he planned. It still needed a ton of work, but he wasn’t up for it after seeing Stella. He and his brothers had worked most of the day on the place before taking a break for dinner then calling it a night. The contractor was going to start on Monday or Tuesday, and they wanted to have as much demolition work done as possible, to save them time and money, before he showed up. The sooner they could get the place in shape, the sooner they’d have a clubhouse.

  He was one of only two members of the new charter not to have an old lady, though only Doc’s and Hammer’s had made the trip to Greenfield, South Carolina, so far. Most were staying back in Charleston until things were settled and the club was up and on its feet.

  The Iron Kings were expanding, opening a new chapter, their second, in Greenfield. Gabriel ha
d been promoted and would be the Sergeant at Arms of the Greenfield Chapter while Avery Doctson, the Sergeant at Arms of the mother chapter, had been promoted to President. The club was extending its reach and now, with two chapters, one on each side of the state, they were spreading their influence. Greenfield was just the first in what the founding chapter hoped would be a slow roll out across the southeast.

  Gabriel had grown up in Greenfield, South Carolina, and knew the area well. He wasn’t ready for the gavel yet, but his knowledge of the area would be invaluable. He had worked tirelessly in the club and had natural leadership skills, so he had earned the chance to spread his wings a little.

  Even though he didn’t feel it like it, he forced himself to return to the clubhouse. He pulled into what would become the Iron Kings’, Greenfield Chapter, clubhouse, unlocked the doors, and flipped on the lights. They had gotten a lot done on the place in the two days since they’d closed on the failed restaurant. It was in a terrible location for a restaurant, located well away from any other commercial property, but was perfect for them, and the club had picked it up out of foreclosure for a song. The isolated location and large parking lot meant they had room and they planned to make use of it, eventually.

  It was a relatively new building, faced with deep red brick and few windows. The previous owner had gutted the kitchen and bar when the business went under, but the hookups and plumbing were all still there. What the building needed, more than anything, was some walls and a good cleaning. The kitchen fire that had closed the restaurant and driven it out of business had left everything covered in a greasy smoke residue.

  He walked around the place, trying to get into the mood to attack the bathroom walls again, but just wasn’t feeling it. Since he was there, and felt like he should do something, he spent a half-hour sweeping up the debris from the day’s work, piling the mess into two five-gallon buckets which he then hauled and dumped in the huge construction dumpster outside. It took three trips to get all the wood chips, tile pieces, and loose nails and screws swept up, but by ten he was satisfied with what he had done. He stood, looking around the vast empty space, trying to imagine the place after it became the Kings’ clubhouse. He picked up the sledge and crowbar and stepped up to the wall that was coming down, hefted the large hammer, and made to swing, but the blow never came. He stood, staring at the wall, then put the hammer down, gave his head a shake, and stomped out of the building, locking it behind him.

  He rode to the small complex then tramped up to his tiny, two-room apartment. In Charleston he’d rented a furnished place, but here he was planning on buying some furniture and trying to make a home. He strode into his bedroom, sitting down on the one thing he’d bought, a mattress, which was on the floor. He spent most of his time with his brothers, and just needed a place to sleep. Once the clubhouse was finished, he would worry about a better place to sit.

  It was only ten-thirty and he was keyed up. He showered and changed out of his dirty clothes. He thought about going to bed, but sleep was the farthest thing from his mind and he needed to get out of the apartment before he crawled into the bottle of Maker’s 46 he’d picked up a few days before. He needed some downtime and a distraction to take his mind off Stella. He trotted down the steps, mounted up, and thumbed the big Softail to life.

  He rode through the night, enjoying the rapidly cooling air as he gave the bike its head, allowing it to take him where it wanted. He didn’t care where he went, using the ride as therapy. He was sitting at a light when a woman pulled to a stop beside him on a Sportster.

  “Hey! I haven’t seen that patch around before. Just passing through?” she called, looking him over.

  He grinned at her. “Iron Kings. We’re opening a chapter here in town. You patched?”

  She eased forward so he could see the blood red circle with a five pointed star inside on her back. He crept up to match her. “The Coven,” she said without being asked.

  “Local?”

  “Yeah.”

  The light turned green and they rode until the next red light caught them. “Join me for a beer?” he asked as they waited for the light to change.

  She looked him over again. “Sure. Follow me.”

  He followed her as they weaved through town, pulling to a stop in front of a small house. “Doesn’t look like any bar I’ve seen,” he teased as he dismounted.

  “I don’t think drinking and riding is very smart, do you?”

  He chuckled. “No, I suppose not.” He followed her into her house. “You live here alone?”

  “Yeah,” she said as she moved to the fridge. She pulled two beers out and handed him one. “So you’re new to town?”

  “No. I grew up here, then moved to Charleston to be part of the Kings. Now that we’re opening a chapter here, I’ve come back.” He took a pull from his beer. “You?”

  “Born and raised here. I work at Michelin in their R&D department.”

  “That sounds interesting.”

  “Trust me, it sounds more exciting than it is.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “Doesn’t it always? I don’t even know your name.”

  “Call me Circe.”

  “Not your real name I assume?”

  Circe smiled as she led Gabriel deeper into her house. “No. It’s my coven name. She was an enchantress in Homer’s Odyssey who transformed those who offended her into animals.”

  “Call me Royal, then,” he said as he followed.

  “Royal?”

  “It’s what my brothers call me.”

  “Royal of what?”

  “Nothing. It’s just a nickname.”

  She smiled. Now that she was in the light, he could tell she was considerably older than he was, maybe as much as twice his age, but she still carried herself with confidence and was damned attractive. They settled onto the couch.

  “So what do the Iron Kings do?”

  “A little of this, a little of that.”

  She grinned at him again. “Okay. Outlaw or inlaw?”

  “Inlaw…mostly. The Coven?”

  “Inlaw. We’re just a bunch of witches who like to ride bikes.”

  “Witches, huh? Cast any spells lately?”

  “Did one tonight as a matter of fact.”

  “Oh really?”

  “You invited me out for a beer didn’t you?”

  He chuckled. “And here I thought that was my idea.”

  She smiled as she leaned in a little closer. “That’s what they all think, but you had no choice in the matter. Just like you have no choice now.”

  He grinned, liking the game. “What have you done to me now?”

  She leaned in closer, her mouth only inches from his. “You’re going to show me how much steel you have in your renegade.”

  He barked out a laugh. “I am?”

  “Ever fucked a witch?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “Want to?”

  He took the bottle from her hand and placed it on the table beside his. “Do I have any choice?”

  “None at all,” she said as she leaned in and took his lips.

  She was in entirely too much control. He accepted her kiss a moment, then pushed her hard back, forcing her onto the corner of the couch while kissing her furiously. Her forwardness had turned him on in a big way. This was nothing but sex, pure and simple, and he was going to fuck her until they were both sore and exhausted. He needed this as much as she apparently did, allowing him to burn off his frustration from earlier with some good old-fashioned, hard fucking.

  They wrestled out of their leathers, throwing them into the floor as their tongues forced their way into the other’s mouth.

  “Fuck!” Circe gasped as she thrust at him with her hips. “Not here! In bed!”

  He rolled off her and pulled her to her feet, but before she could turn away, he pulled her shirt over her head, adding it to the leathers, and roughly caressed her breasts.

  She moaned softly, then backed away. “You like my tits? You want to fuck t
hem?” she murmured as she slid her hand inside his pants, firmly gripping his member. “Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy tonight,” she whispered before withdrawing her hand then stretching up to kiss him again.

  He pulled back from the kiss, and she led him down the hall. They stopped just inside her bedroom, shedding clothes as they kissed and tugged at each other, his passions spiraling out of control. She started to kneel in front of him but he tugged her upright, then shoved her roughly backwards toward the bed, following her to push her again so she flopped onto the bed.

  “So, a tough guy?” she asked with a smile. “That’s good. I like men who think they’re in charge.” She rolled away and rummaged in her drawer a moment before she came back with two condoms and three different lotions. She took his condom from his hand and added it to the pile of items on the side table. “You’re going to need more than one tonight,” she purred as she took him in hand again and pulled him into the bed by his cock. “I’ve put a hardness spell on you.”