“What? I got lucky.”
“Yeah, you did. With a mother like Rebecca, you sure fucking did.”
“Now you’re starting to sound a little bitter.”
“I’m not bitter.” Was he though? Bear had it easy.
Robin and Bishop had grown up from the cradle with each other. He’d had Bishop even before he’d become club president, but even back then, he had one of the fiercest reputations anyone could have.
Rubbing at his eyes, Preacher tried to clear his mind.
He’d never married, and the slut that had given birth to Bishop hadn’t been any kind of mother.
Within two years of having Bishop, he’d fought his way to the top, and had been dealing with all the MC problems from debts, to bad investments, to enemies. He’d been out all the time, and Flora had made sure Bishop paid for it. She forgot to feed him. Left him alone in the streets.
He recalled a phone call he’d gotten where the motel Flora had used to fuck six men still had Bishop. He’d been four and locked in the bathroom.
The only time Bishop had been taken care of was when he’d stayed with Robin. Rebecca had been a good mother in the beginning when she thought she’d gotten the better deal.
“He thinks Robin’s going to bow down to him. Become his woman without any care as to what kind of future she wants.”
Bear laughed. “Robin will handle him.”
“Really? She was cut and bleeding today. I don’t know.”
“I know my daughter, and she wants college a lot. She’s smart, and I won’t let her give up her dream because of him. Sorry, Preacher, you know I’m loyal to you. Always will be, but he’s not getting my girl. Not when he’s screwing the Millys of this world because my girl won’t put out.”
Milly was already around the fire sucking on another brother’s dick.
Preacher had never fucked Milly. Had no desire to. He recognized a calculating woman and a bitch when he saw one, and Milly had all those traits and they were not appreciated.
Mavis, a blonde who was in fact a natural redhead, but she always dyed it blonde, walked up to him.
“Could I get you a refill, sir?” she asked.
Grabbing her hand, he stood up. He didn’t give an explanation but dragged her back to his office. Closing the door, he didn’t bother to lock it.
He finished off his beer and turned to Mavis.
She was nibbling her lip, looking proud of herself for standing out.
“Get on your knees.”
She looked disappointed, but he had no desire to sink his dick into her pussy.
Without waiting for another instruction, she opened her lips and took him deep. Holding onto her head, he fucked her mouth, closing his eyes, and waiting for the peace to rush over him.
Milly watched as Preacher took Mavis. What did that slut have that she didn’t? She wasn’t stupid and knew there was an order to the club. Most of the women had been taken by Preacher, but in the year she’d been hanging out at the club, not once did he look in her direction and she made sure he was very much aware of how available she was.
She had no problem doing things other women couldn’t stand.
She loved to suck cock, fuck for hours, and had no issue with a man fucking her ass. Men who she gave everything to were often putty in her hands. She thought about baby Bishop upstairs. He was only seventeen, and his technique was okay.
If she couldn’t have Preacher, Bishop was the second best. After all, he was Preacher’s son, and belonging to him would give her an advantage.
“Suck it, baby.”
She choked on Kid’s cock, all the time coming up with a plan.
All she needed to do was to get Bishop to see her, to imagine coming home or to the clubhouse each time to a willing, wet woman.
The only obstacle in her way was Robin.
She hated that girl. She always acted like she was too good for anyone. Of course, Bishop saw himself with Robin, but she had to get her out of the way, somehow.
Milly wasn’t stupid. She’d come up with a plan, and once she did, she wouldn’t have to worry about Robin anymore. Either Bishop or Preacher would belong to her. She wouldn’t mind either man, but she’d heard Preacher had the better cock and he also held all the power.
Bishop was the easier target.
She’d win, someday.
A couple of days later, Robin’s arm still bandaged, she flicked through Preacher’s endless supply of LPs. She’d found a love of old music, and Preacher had an abundance.
Bishop sat in his father’s chair in the office.
He’d finally been allowed out of the clubhouse, and she’d stopped by to see if he wanted to hang out.
“What do you think it means with him washing his hands of me? You think it means I’m free to go?” Bishop asked.