His dad was usually fair, but Deacon knew he not only broke the rules, but missed dinner. He’d also somehow torn a hole in his new jeans, so now his mother would have to repair them.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” he mumbled as he slowly climbed the porch steps.
His father stopped rocking and got to his feet. “Yeah. You’re going to be.”
The sound of his father’s belt being unbuckled made him freeze.
“Go to your room and wait for me there.”
Deacon flicked his eyes up to his father’s. “Is Judd in there? You gonna let him watch?”
“He’s going to see what happens when he doesn’t follow the rules. Just because he’s sixteen doesn’t mean he’ll get away with pulling stunts like this. You know the rules. You broke them.”
Deacon began to tremble as heat filled his cheeks. “But Dad!”
His father slid the belt from the loops of his jeans. A familiar sound that made the hair on the back of Deacon’s neck stand. “One more word and I’ll add another six on to the six you already earned. You don’t disrespect me, your mother, your blood or this house. And you did all of that today. Now go.”
Deacon blinked quickly and wiped away the tears that were already starting to fall as he jerked the screen door open and ran inside.
Deacon winced as he pulled his PJ bottoms up over his still stinging butt.
Judd sat on Deacon’s bed, his back against the headboard and his ankles crossed as he studied him.
The whole thing had been embarrassing. Not only because his butt had been exposed as he kept his feet on the floor and his hands planted on the bed while his father struck him with the belt, but because he had let a few whimpers escape and he couldn’t stop the tears.
All with his cousin, who was a stranger, watching.
But his father used Deacon’s discipline as a warning to Judd. Letting the older boy know that he needed to keep in line, that he wouldn’t tolerate Judd becoming like his father, Ox. He would respect the law and his family. He would become a productive citizen and not some out-of-control convict.
Now it was just the two of them in Deacon’s room. And Deacon had nothing to say. All he wanted to do was climb into the bed Judge was settled on and pull the covers over his head.
But he had a feeling he wouldn’t get to sleep in his own bed tonight. Someone would be sleeping on the floor in the sleeping bag that was rolled up against the wall. Of course, it would be him.
Judd had already staked his claim on Deacon’s comfortable bed. And if they got into a fight about it, his father wouldn’t hesitate to come back into that room and dole out some more “respect.”
“You picked a hill not worth dyin’ on, kid.”
Deacon sniffled and wiped the back of his hand under his running nose. “What’s that mean?”
“Means you just need to not do stupid shit and if you do stupid shit, you need to know how not to get caught.”
“And you’re going to show me how not to get caught?”
“You bet I am and for that, you’re gonna be my bitch ‘til I’m old enough to move out.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means when I need you to do somethin’ for me, you’re gonna do it. And you ain’t gonna whine like a little pussy about it, got it?”
Deacon nodded, though he wasn’t quite sure if he “got it.” But if there was a way to avoid the belt, Deacon was on board with that.
Judd grinned. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, kid, I’m takin’ the bed. And that sweet little BMX bike you rode off on? That’s mine, too, ‘til I get a set of wheels.”
“But—”
“Did you enjoy pullin’ your pants down in front of me and gettin’ hit with that belt?”
“No.”
“Then you stick with me, kid. Watch, listen and learn.”
Watch, listen and learn.
He could do that if it helped him avoid his father’s belt or a cuff upside the head. Or even getting grounded.
So, maybe his cousins moving in wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
As long as he got his own bed back.
Chapter One
Fingers worked his hair and pulled at his scalp.
She was probably being rougher than she needed to be as she braided it. On purpose.
Because he was leaving.
And she was pissed.
It had been hot and wild, but it was time for him to hit the road.
He was supposed to leave two days ago, but a couple of extra nights couldn’t hurt when the pussy was wet and willing.
Her bare perky tits pressed into the Blood Fury MC’s colors inked into his back. His looks got him loads of willing pussy. His cut and tats got him dirty pussy. And not the kind of dirty that needed a shower. Though, afterward, they’d both need one.
But the kind of pussy who weren’t looking for a husband or a boyfriend, usually because they’d just scraped one off, or a man scraped them off. Instead, they wanted a man who knew how to use his dick and tongue. And use them well.
Tina finished braiding his mohawk before securing the end with a hairband, and then pressed herself harder against his back, sliding her hands around to his pecs and down, tweaking the barbells in his nipples.
“Never met a man so into piercings,” she purred.
Deacon remained sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes focused on his clothes piled on the floor. He needed those to escape. But he couldn’t make a move while she held tightly onto his barbells.
“Yeah,” was all he answered. He wasn’t there for deep conversation. In fact, he hadn’t picked her for talking at all. What he had been there for was over.
It was time to jet.
“Do you have to go so soon?”
Soon? He’d been there too long already. She was starting to get clingy. While the pussy had been great, it wasn’t one he’d want to revisit.
“Gotta work.” And that wasn’t a lie.
“What do you do?”
Fuck. He’d found her on Tinder, not eHarmony. She needed to learn the unspoken rules of a hookup app.
“I’m a pimp.”
Her hands dropped suddenly, like his skin had burned her, and her tits disappeared from his back. “What?”
“Yeah. This was a job interview. Thought you knew that.”
“Bikers are pimps?”
“Yeah, we got a whole stable of bitches. You did alright. You interested? You’d draw some decent money. You work enough johns in a night, you could make enough scratch to start an IRA.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, then winced when she shrieked, “Get out! Get the fuck out of my bed! Get the fuck out of my house!”
That was one way to get cling-free.
He quickly got to his feet, yanked on his clothes, shrugged on his cut and shoved his feet into his boots, not taking the time to lace them. He’d do that when he got outside.
Before walking out of the bedroom, he tossed over his shoulder, “Guess that’s a no?”
Tina was sitting on her bed, the sheet now wrapped around her, pointing toward the door. “Get out! Before I call the cops.”
Deacon shot her a smile, gave her a chin lift and did what he did best...