Wild Like the Wind (Page 37)

“They gonna believe that?”

She gave a shrug.

That was part of the biker mama that never left her. She did what she did and if The Man gave her shit about it, especially if it was important, they could go fuck themselves.

She’d find a way to get time off.

“I’ll make the appointment and let you know,” he decided.

Another sunny smile, this one not smug. “Cool.”

He rested her hand on his shoulder but didn’t release her wrist. She shifted it, dipped a thumb into the dent in his collarbone and started to stroke.

“Why doesn’t she get around very much?” she asked.

“Because she’s old,” he pointed out the obvious.

“Could that be contributing to this? I know she uses a walker and she’s not all that fast, but maybe a few more trips down to your place a week. Some outings. Just liven things up a little bit, give her some exercise.”

“Babe, she’s near ninety with a ticker that isn’t doin’ her a lot of good and lungs that aren’t firing on all cylinders. This makes her weak and slow, so she’s not supposed to tax either.”

“Oh,” she muttered.

He grinned at her and asked, “We done talkin’ about Jean? ’Cause I need at least a whole half hour of talking about somethin’ else before I can fuck you again.”

Back came the sassy smirk. “She is so your proper biker grandma.”

“Shut it,” he warned.

“Shepherd ‘Hound’ Ironside, badass brother of the Chaos MC, adored by his Chaos family, feared by everyone else for the lunatic he absolutely is if you do his brotherhood wrong, owned by an old Jewish lady.”

He rolled her, hitched a leg, digging his junk into hers, and growled, “Babe, I said shut it.”

“You’re a lot of things, Hound, right now seriously hot, but also totally adorable,” she teased.

“Had your warning,” he muttered.

She opened her mouth to say something.

But he kissed her.

And when he had her like he liked her, he moved down and ate her.

He worked them up to it, but eventually he drove her into his bed fucking her face and then her cunt.

She passed out, leaking him all over his thigh, which she was straddling, face shoved into his neck, hair all over his chest, shoulder and arm.

Hound took a moment to feel her dead weight right there.

Then he passed out with her.

The next night, Keely did not make Jean walk down to his crib.

She made Hound haul the groceries she needed down to Jean’s.

And it was Hound sitting in the couch where he normally sat while Keely moved around Jean’s kitchen like she’d done it a million times, preparing their meal, doing this jabbering.

Keely could jabber and Jean could too, so as they got in their competition of who could jabber the most, Hound sat there with his eyes on reruns of Mike and Molly wondering if either woman knew he was there.

“So, Hound says your birthday is in April. And it’s a milestone. I’m totally making you a birthday cake. What’s your favorite?” Keely announced.

At that, Hound’s neck muscles grew tight but he still had to power through that to turn his head from the TV to look at her bustling in Jean’s kitchen.

She thought they’d still be together in April?

Christ, he fucking hoped so.

At the same time, for the torture to be over of waiting for it to end, he hoped that they would not.

“Oh, I don’t do much for my birthdays, dear. You have as many of them as I do, they’re not as special.”

Keely shot him a glare and he’d understand why when she asked Jean, “Shep doesn’t do up your birthdays?”

“I didn’t say that,” Jean told her, eyes to the TV. “He gets me a store-bought cake with my name on it and everything. And he brings me a huge feast from that kosher deli off Virginia. Matzah soup and chicken schnitzel for dinner. And he always brings flowers when he comes for lunch.”

Hound looked from Jean to Keely right in time to catch her mouthing silently, “You are so fucking adorable.”

He squinted his eyes at her.

She shot him an amused smile and got back to work.

“Okay, so do you want a store-bought cake this year too?” Keely asked.

“Do you bake as well as you cook?” Jean asked back.

“I have two boys with sweet tooths, so if I didn’t when they were born, I learned.”

“Chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream icing,” Jean ordered.

“I’ll be all over that,” Keely replied.

Hound looked to Jean.

She was grinning.

There it was.

It had been the right decision to let these two get together.

Maybe not for Hound.

But for Jean.

“Now, just to say,” Keely launched in again. “I have some leave that I have to take at work the next couple of weeks and Hound says you prefer to go places in cars. So that he can use mine, he says you also have a birthday checkup but we’ll set that up early so he can have mine and I can take some leave and come with. We’ll go to that deli in person for lunch. Sound like a date?”

Hound kept studying Jean, wondering if that had been a deft maneuver on Keely’s part or if she’d fucked it.

Slowly Jean turned her head and caught Hound’s eyes. From her place in the kitchen, if she was looking, Keely wouldn’t be able to see Jean holding Hound’s gaze.

Her face was wrinkled. She had old-lady skin that was thin and papery.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t have an expressive face.

And right then, it was soft.

“Sounds like the perfect date,” Jean answered Keely, gaze on Hound.

It wasn’t a deft maneuver. Jean knew exactly what Keely was up to.

But still, she hadn’t fucked it.

Yeah.

This had been the right decision. Keely had horned right in but in truth stepped right up, because Hound wouldn’t have found it that easy to trick Jean out of her house for an early visit to the doctor.

Keely was probably lying about the leave she had to take. If she had that leave, she’d have mentioned it.

She just did what she had to do to get done what had to get done.

He wanted to get up, go to the kitchen and stick his tongue down Keely’s throat.

He just watched Jean turn back to the TV and did it himself as Keely cried out an enthusiastic, “Awesome!”

Jesus, he was going to fuck her so hard tonight she’d think she’d never stop coming.

He adjusted in his seat so his cock wouldn’t get stiff at that thought and lifted his feet up to Jean’s coffee table.

“Boots, Shepherd,” Jean said.

He growled but used his toes to flip off his boots.

He heard Keely’s soft laughter.

“You frickin’ women are gonna be the death of me,” he muttered.

“From at least one of us, you can only hope,” Jean muttered back.

Hound went still and he felt the stillness of Keely in the kitchen, but not in a bad way.

In a way he was trying to figure out if his Jean bug just used sexual innuendo.

From her own version of a sassy smile he could see from her profile she did.

It was then, he howled with laughter.

Jean turned her head and smiled baldly at him as he did.

And in the kitchen, Keely dissolved in giggles.

It was then Hound realized life was good.

So yeah, it was a life that was good for now.

But he would take it.

Seed of the Brotherhood