“So, you opened your stitches again,” Randall said the moment he entered the kitchen. “Something smells really good.”

“You fix her up good and you’ll get some,” Preacher said.

Randall led her out of the room, going to the bathroom.

“You need to take care of this, Robin. If you don’t it won’t ever heal.”

“I know.”

“So how are you, Robin?” Randall asked.

“I’m doing really well.”

“Your mom has asked me to talk to you about going on the pill,” he said.

She groaned. Her cheeks heated, and she looked at him, wanting the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

“Did she? Really?”

“Your mom and most of the club women come to me when they need something. She thinks it’s time you got on the pill, but I won’t prescribe anything unless Preacher tells me to, or I speak to the person I have to give them to.”

“I don’t want them yet,” she said.

“Is everything okay?” Randall asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Your home life? Bishop? The club?”

“Everything is fine.”

She didn’t know why he was asking her all these questions. It wasn’t like anyone could help her, and she was never going to be a rat.

A rat was one of the worst things anyone could be in the club life. She’d seen firsthand what happened to rats, and it wasn’t good. They were the scum of the earth to club life, and had no room there. Even her mother hated rats, and sometimes she wasn’t the biggest fan of the club.

“I know it seems strange me asking you, but I need to know you’re being taken care of.”

“Why? It’s not like you can tell anyone,” she said.

“Believe it or not, Preacher would deal with it.”

She didn’t like the thought of him knowing any personal details. “No. It’s fine. I don’t want the pill. I’m not ready for it, so you don’t have to worry about me having that.” She wasn’t willing to take something that would prevent pregnancy at the risk of Bishop finding out. She didn’t want to think the worst of him, but if he didn’t believe there was a risk of pregnancy, he might not stop when she asked him to. The moment she thought it, she felt so damn bad.

He’d never given her a reason to doubt him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to force the issue.

“Okay. you know where to call me and how to get in touch if you need me, right?”

“Yeah, I do.” She thought about her mother and cringed. “If my mom asks about it could you tell her you talked to me and you resolved something? I don’t want to risk her … you know.”

“I get it.”

He finished repairing the split stitches. They didn’t hurt this time. She watched him get to work, marveling at his technique. He had a steady hand. All the time, the scents from the kitchen were driving her crazy. Her stomach kept on growling.

“I’m starving too,” he said.

Randall was a good guy. She wondered how he actually got involved in the club in the first place. From what she knew, he had his own practice, and was a nice man, sweet. A couple of kids all on his own. No obvious reason to run to the life of crime. Not that it mattered. No one needed a reason to do what they needed to do.

“Finished,” Randall said.

“Dinner’s ready,” Preacher yelled from what she assumed was the kitchen.

“I’m ravenous. Let’s get out of here.”

With a fresh bandage on her arm, she followed the doctor out into the dining room. It had been years since she ate at Preacher’s house with him inside. Bishop always ordered pizza even though she hated it. There was nothing appealing about lots of cheese and a crust. When she took a seat beside Preacher, he surprised her by putting his hands together to say a little prayer. She didn’t know what he said, but after a few seconds, he started to eat. He served her up first before going to Randall and then himself.

“When we’re finished here, I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.”

At least Bishop’s father took care when he refused to. She wondered what he was doing.

****

“Fuck yeah, that feels good,” Bishop said.

He stared down at Milly’s ass. He’d been wanting to get back inside her ever since his father interrupted them the last time.

The good thing about Milly, she was one good lay, and never took anything too seriously.

“Oh, yeah, you’re so big. Fill my ass up. Come on, Bishop. Fuck me like you want to.”

He gripped her hips and pounded her ass. He didn’t stop even as she cried out from a bit of the pain. Bishop didn’t care.

She was a slut just like all of the club women. They were easy, and before his dick was up her ass, he had no doubt she’d been riding someone else. He heard the rumors and knew what the guys said about her.

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