Betting on Stocks (Dead Presidents MC Book 7) Read online

  Stocks was holding on to an image of me that was no longer real. I’d always been a go-down-with-the-ship kind of gal, and my life had sunk. I was treading water like a motherfucker, but this wasn’t a sustainable answer. I was exhausted, and sooner or later, I’d drown.

  I needed a life raft.

  If I had any chance of keeping my promise to Naomi and trying to recover, I needed help. I couldn’t do this on my own, and I had my very own boy scout here offering to throw me a rope. I didn’t know how to feel about that, but I was too wrecked to answer.

  “I’m here, because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” His hands slid down my face to cup my chin and force my gaze to meet his. “Whatever you need, I got you.”

  Stocks

  I COULDN’T LET Monica push me away. If I walked out her door, I had a feeling I’d never see her again, and I refused to let that happen. She thought I didn’t want her body, but she couldn’t have been more right or more completely wrong.

  I didn’t want her body; I wanted all of her.

  And I needed to seal this deal and prove that fact to her before she doubted me again and bounced. “I meant what I said. I refuse to hurt you and I don’t know what your body can handle, so you’re going to have to be on top.”

  Her eyes widened. “What if I’m not in the mood anymore?”

  My hands were still cupping her chin, so I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip before giving her a chaste kiss. She didn’t pull away. Encouraged, I said, “I don’t think anybody in the history of mankind has needed to get fucked more than you do right now.”

  She glared at me. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

  “It’s a fact. Sometimes the truth hurts.” I tugged her T-shirt over her head, and she raised her arms to let me. “But don’t take it personal, because I’m not fairing much better. My balls could be mistaken for giant, overly ripe blueberries. If I don’t get some relief soon, I might have to get them amputated.”

  “Giant blueberries, huh?” Her gaze drifted down to my crotch.

  And just like that, we were back to easy conversation. “Are you questioning the size of my balls?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know that I would call them giant.”

  “Clearly you need another look at them.” My hands squeezed her now bare breasts, and her eyes dilated.

  “I’m just saying that it sounds like you’re the one who needs to get fucked,” she quipped. “Smurf.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Fondling her nipples, I took her sassy mouth again. Soft, plump lips met mine. She opened her mouth, and I slipped my tongue inside, giving her a preview of what I planned to do to her pussy. She tugged at my shirt, so I pulled back long enough to remove it before reconnecting and attacking her neck.

  Soft, supple flesh greeted my lips and roaming hands. As I kissed down her scar line she tried to pull away from me, but I held her close. “Don’t. I want all of you, babe. Every last inch.”

  Her breath hitched.

  My lips explored her tits. Sucking a nipple into my mouth, I swirled my tongue while giving the other nipple a firm pinch. She moaned, encouraging me to do it again. Once I’d given both breasts enough attention to make her pant, I grabbed her ass and hefted her into the air. She wrapped her legs around me and I carried her to the bed. Plopping her down on her back I shoved the garment bags onto the floor, clearing off the rest of the bed in one massive sweep of my hands.

  Monica gasped at me—probably about to rip me a new one for dumping her shit off onto the floor—but I was too horny to care.

  My mouth found her flesh again while I unzipped my jeans and ripped them off, kicking them aside.

  Lying on her back, wearing nothing but a pair of pale blue shorts, Monica was a work of art. I wanted to take my time and admire every inch of her beauty, but I wasn’t lying about my balls turning into blueberries. I needed to be inside her now, but I’d be damned if was going to spill my seed before I made her scream my name.

  Tugging off her shorts and panties, I kissed my way down to her lower lips while spreading her legs wide. She was just as pent up as I was, and when my tongue landed on her clit, she about bucked me off the bed. Chuckling, I gripped her hips and sought out her eyes.

  “This okay?”

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  “You sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

  “Less talking, more licking.”

  Sounded like a plan to me. Settling in between her thighs, I licked her clit a few times before sucking on it.

  “Holy shit. Holy fucking yes!”

  Monica’s hand landed on my head and she held me there as if afraid I’d leave her unsatisfied. Not fucking likely. Swirling her clit with my tongue, I watched her writhe in ecstasy. She met my gaze before her eyes rolled back and her back arched.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop! God, I’m so close.”

  As much as I would have loved to pull away and tease her until she was begging me to let her come, my cock needed in on the action before my balls exploded. So, I shoved two fingers into her pussy, curling them until I found her g-spot. I licked and sucked and fingered until she was writhing so hard she was practically levitating.

  Monica spoke in tongues as she found her release and soaked my fingers. I didn’t let up until she was a blubbering post-coital mess. Then I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and popped them into my mouth. She tasted every bit as sweet as I remembered, and she watched with hooded eyes as I licked my digits clean of her juices.

  Her eyelids drifted closed. Giving her a minute to recover, I retrieved a condom from my wallet, rolled it on, and flopped down on the bed beside her.

  Turning her head to face me, she opened one eye. “Change of plans. You’re gonna have to get on top. I don’t think I can move.”

  While I appreciated the nod to my skills, I was determined not to hurt her. Feathering my fingertips down her arm, I said, “I feel like I should get a note from your doctor first. Especially for the nasty shit I want to do to you.”

  “Next appointment, I’ll take in one of those pain scales and ask how hard you’re allowed to fuck me.”

  I squeezed a breast. “That mouth. I don’t know whether to kiss it or shove my dick in it.”

  “You sweet talker, you.”

  Leaning over her, I took her mouth again. As her soft lips pressed against mine, my fingers dipped down to play with her pussy. She was still dripping wet, so I spread her juices over her lower lips, swirling them around her clit. She moaned against my lips, and I rolled her to her side with her back facing me. She smelled of the shea butter cream she had me use in her hair. Kissing her neck, I continued to stroke her folds.

  “You are so fucking sexy,” I breathed against her skin, using my free hand to palm her round ass.

  I played and teased and kissed and nibbled until she was panting with need. “Fuck me,” she said wiggling her ass against my achingly hard cock. “Make me come again.”

  A more welcome request had never been muttered. Lining myself up at her entrance, I grabbed her hips and drove home, burying myself to the hilt. She gasped, and heat engulfed me, squeezing my cock in a silky softness that filled my vision with enough stars to make me want to sing the goddamn National Anthem.

  Never had anyone fit so perfectly.

  My balls drew up, screaming for release. Holding my breath, I prayed they’d shut the fuck up and not embarrass me. Then I really did sing the National Anthem. I thought about baseball, my sixth-grade erupting volcano science project, and anything else I could focus on to get myself under control. Once I was no longer in danger of becoming an erupting volcano myself, I released my breath and started moving.

  Monica felt amazing. “Your pussy feels like it was made for my cock,” I said, driving deep inside her.

  In response, she ground her fine ass against me, taking everything I gave her. “I love the way you fill me up. Harder.”

  She was taking me to the edge again, and no thoughts of sports and childhood awkward
ness had a chance of keeping me from tumbling over. Desperate to get her there with me, I squeezed her clit between my fingers. Her answering moan encouraged me to do my worst. Rubbing harder and faster, I brought my other arm around her to squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples. We were as close as two people could get, but I wanted more.

  I really did want all of her.

  My lips found her neck again. I grazed my teeth along her skin and trapped her legs in mine. Every available inch of me was connected to her. I couldn’t have gotten closer if I tried. She squeezed my cock inside her and the edges of my vision went fuzzy.

  “Fuck.”

  I don’t know if she said it or I did, but we both reacted as if it were a demand. She squeezed me again, I pinched her clit, and we both went over the edge swearing.

  Utterly satisfied, I got rid of the condom. Monica didn’t move an inch. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” I asked, removing my prosthetic leg and sliding back into the big spoon position.

  “I’m not sure. We’re gonna have to try it again later to see.” Grabbing my hand, she tugged me even closer.

  I never would have pegged her for a snuggler, but it was a nice surprise. She drifted off to sleep while I watched the peaceful rise and fall of her chest. For the first time in forever, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be. Nothing had ever felt more right than holding Monica.

  ***

  I must have drifted off, because I opened my eyes to see the sky darkening outside Monica’s window. She was still tucked against my side sleeping soundly. I let my gaze roam over her, finally taking my time since she couldn’t catch me ogling her. She was always gorgeous, but seeing her so relaxed and vulnerable took her beauty to a whole new level. The pale scar marring her cheek and neck was also beautiful in its own way, setting her apart as a weathered survivor.

  She was a fucking warrior.

  Still, her questionable views on living unnerved me. Naomi was right to be worried about her friend. Despite all Monica’s joking, her smiles rarely reached her eyes, and a level of hopelessness sat just beneath her surface. She’d also lost a lot of weight since Naomi’s party, taking her build from athletic to slender and throwing up yet another warning sign.

  I need to feed her.

  The instinct was strong, making me aware that it was early evening, and I was reasonably sure she hadn’t eaten all day. Had she even eaten last night? I had no clue. Giving her a little squeeze, I kissed her temple. She stirred, stretching, but didn’t open her eyes.

  “It’s gotta be about dinner time. You feel like going downstairs and eating with everyone?” I asked.

  Her eyes popped open. “I don’t think I’m ready to people yet.”

  Her answer was expected, but I didn’t like it. She needed to be around the others, but I wouldn’t push her. At least, not today. Baby steps. Releasing her, I rolled over and climbed out of bed. “I get it. I’ll bring us up food.”

  “Don’t feel like you have to eat up here with me. I don’t want to pull you away from your club dinners.”

  I scanned the floor for my clothes. “Havoc doesn’t put out like you do.”

  She laughed. “You are out of control, Stocks.”

  Finding my boxers and jeans, I tugged them on. “You weren’t complaining a while ago.”

  “I know. We should probably start off all our encounters with your face between my legs. It makes me way more agreeable.”

  “Deal. But after we refuel and hydrate. I can’t have you passing out from hunger or thirst before I properly get off.” I finished dressing before rounding the bed to try and kiss her.

  She dodged my advances. “No. No sugar for you. Not after that comment.”

  “I meant before I properly get you off, since that’s all that’s important.”

  “Better.” She puckered her lips, and I went in for the kill, squeezing her tits for my trouble.

  She swatted me away and I headed downstairs to grab food.

  The club was seated around the giant dining room tables when I entered, but thankfully Naomi and Eagle weren’t there. Relieved I wouldn’t have to face an interrogation from the club princess, I said my hellos, bumping fists and swapping nods where necessary, before heading into the kitchen. Someone had made raviolis and a green salad. I filled two plates, grabbed a couple of waters, silverware, and napkins, and headed back into the dining room.

  Since I wasn’t exactly known for having company, I expected to take some flack from my brothers over my extra plate, but nobody said shit as I walked by. That probably had something to do with Havoc sitting at the table. He’d had my back since the day I met him, but after I took a bullet in the stomach while I was guarding his woman… well, nobody fucked with me. Ever. He gave me a nod on my way out the door, draping his arm across the shoulders of his pregnant wife.

  After Monica and I ate, we tackled her storage space issue. Putting our heads together, we tossed around ideas until finally settling on separating her wardrobe by seasons. The month of May had been wet, but warm, so we packed all her fall and winter clothes into suitcases and hid them under her bed. Empty suitcases were stacked on top of her closet, and we lined as many shoes as possible on the floor of her closet. The rest, we sorted into rows beside the winter clothes suitcases under her bed.

  Her dresser and closet were stuffed so full she couldn’t possibly fit another stitch of clothing anywhere, but we’d gotten it all put away. The space was still cramped, but at least now she could get around and find everything until we came up with a more permanent solution.

  We were so proud of our progress that I retrieved us each a beer, and we spent the rest of the evening in my room, watching television, napping, and fucking.

  First thing Monday morning, Monica called and made an appointment with my prosthetist, giving me hope that she was making progress. Even more encouraging was the fact she agreed to let me go with her. Later that day, we walked down the street to a salon to get her hair professionally braided, and I’m not going to lie, I watched and took mental notes. If she ever needed me to fix her hair again, I’d be all over it.

  With Monica taken care of, we came back to the station and focused on my current problem, scanning help wanted ads and using last week’s paper to cross off the positions I’d already applied for. Over the next two days I filled out several applications and even had a phone interview, but still no job offer.

  Some mornings Monica didn’t want to get out of bed. Some mornings, I wanted to sleep the day away alongside her. But somehow, we kept going. It was easier to slug through, knowing that if I quit, she would, too.

  I didn’t want her to quit.

  Wednesday night, we joined the club for dinner for the first time. The rest of the week passed in a blur of job applications, club dinners, physical therapy appointments, and nights of fucking. By the following Monday morning, Monica was ready to join us for our first club event since she’d arrived, and I was over the fucking moon to know she’d be riding on the back of my bike.

  Monica

  “SO, WHAT’S THE plan?” I asked Stocks who was acting entirely too evasive about the agenda for today’s club activity. We were standing beside his bike, surrounded by at least fifty other bikers, all of whom wore jeans, boots, and leather vests decorated with various patches. I was coming to realize that this was their uniform. The tattoos and beards seemed optional, but most of the bikers sported them, giving the group a rugged edge.

  Emily, Naomi, Carly, Sasha, and Jessica were also in attendance and ready to ride out, each one standing beside her man. The kids were playing in the common area and would be staying at the club with Naomi’s stepmom and a few of the older wives.

  Stocks handed me a helmet. “Memorial Day tradition. I’d tell you, but I don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

  I looked to Naomi, but she shrugged like she was in the dark, too. Like she hadn’t grown up in this goddamn club. Not buying her ignorance for a second, I glared at her, but she met my glare and smiled sweetly.
>
  As if anything about my best bitch was sweet.

  I flipped her off and she laughed and blew me a kiss.

  I used to love surprises, but losing my arm had changed things. Now, I needed to know what I’d encounter ahead of time so I could mentally and physically prepare myself and—if necessary—arm myself with excuses why I couldn’t go. By keeping the details of today’s activity a secret, Stocks was challenging my comfort zone, which I didn’t appreciate at all.

  “At least give me a hint, Stocks.”

  He shook his head. “No. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  I had two options. I could either hunker down in my room like a frightened little bitch, or I could trust him not to drag me into a situation I’d hate. Over the past week, Stocks and I had spent a lot of time together. I’d told him more about myself than I’d ever told anyone. I felt no need to define our relationship, but I definitely considered him a friend.

  Everyone around us was mounting up.

  Stocks threw his leg over his bike and looked at me expectantly. “You comin’?”

  His question sounded a lot like a dare. I didn’t want to go, but I was tired of feeling like a frightened little bitch. Growling in frustration, I popped my helmet over my head and climbed on his bike, settling myself against his back.

  Naomi was watching me. Maya and Eagle had been keeping her busy enough that I hadn’t seen her much lately. No doubt my nosey friend would have all sorts of questions for me after today’s ride.

  Engines revved to life, sounding impressive as hell. This was the first time I’d been on Stocks’s bike since the night I met him, and it was crazy how different this time felt. Back then, he was a stranger, nervous as hell and clearly intimidated by me, while I had enough confidence for both of us. My outfit and hair were on point, and I had every intention of rocking his little white-boy world. It had been a game to fuck with him and see how badly I could throw him off, but in the end, he rose to the occasion. Literally. Stocks had matched my filthy talk and kept up with my out-of-control libido, impressing the hell out of me.