Banger's Ride: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 5) (13 page)

After church, Banger headed to the great room to grab a beer. Looking around the room, he inhaled deep, satisfied breaths. The brotherhood had come a long way since he’d joined. When he’d signed up to be part of the Insurgents family, the club was in the throes of a turf war with the Deadly Demons. Bloodshed, lockdowns, and badges sniffing up their asses had been the norm.

He took a long pull on his beer, happy that the chaos had ended. For the past six years, things had calmed down substantially. Club life wasn’t all rainbows and shit, but at least the turf wars with the Deadly Demons had been settled. The badges left the club alone since the Insurgents kept hard drugs out of the county. It was a tenuous relationship, but it’d been working for the past several years.

Banger couldn’t complain; the club had enjoyed a long period of relative peace, and the money it was making from its businesses and dispensaries shocked him at times. The one problem he could see on the horizon was the fucking Skull Crushers MC. They’d tried shit in the Insurgents’ county during the summer, but he knew they’d be back. Punks who rode bikes thought that was what made a brotherhood. They were so damn wrong. The assholes in Skull Crushers were young punks who wanted to do whatever the fuck they wanted regardless of whose territory they were in. There was no way in hell he’d let Skull Crushers get anywhere near Pinewood Springs again. He’d make sure to wipe them out if they tried any more shit on Insurgents’ turf. What bothered Banger was that the young MC was causing hell down south in Puebla, where the Insurgents’ affiliate club, Night Rebels, had claim. He’d have to call the prez, Steel, and find out if he needed more muscle to teach the punks respect.

A ping interrupted his musings. Glancing down at his phone, he saw Kylie’s smiling picture flash on his screen.

Kylie:
Hi, Dad. Whatcha doing?

Banger:
Just got out of church. Having a beer. How are you?

Kylie:
Good. Aced my Spanish test!

Banger’s chest puffed.

Banger:
Been telling you for years you’re smart. Now you know your old man was right. ;) When you coming to visit?

Kylie:
Soon. Just wanted to say hi.

Banger:
Hi.

Kylie:
Oh, Dad. :-D See ya.

Banger:
Later.

Just when he’d laid his phone down, another ping sounded. Smiling, he picked it up, and was surprised it wasn’t Kylie. He opened the message.

Belle:
How r u?

A wide smile crossed his face. He’d wondered if she’d contact him. He’d been pissed at her a couple of days before and had decided to cool it for a while, but when he saw her text, a funny feeling punched him in his gut.

Banger:
Good. You?

Belle:
Busy and tired. The usual. :)

Banger motioned Blade to give him another beer. He ran his hand over the top of his head then stared at his phone.

Belle:
U still there?

Banger:
Ya.

Belle:
Thought u left.

Banger:
No. Still here.

Belle:
We ok?

Banger:
Don’t know. R we?

Belle:
I’m ok. Hope u understand I have kids who need me.

Banger:
I do. I’m taking you out. I’m not taking no for an answer.

Belle:
I want to go out. I don’t know if I can get someone to watch Ethan.

Banger:
No worries. I’ll get an old lady to do it.

Belle:
How old??

Banger guffawed, and a few brothers looked his way.
Damn, this woman is green. Fuckin’ love the challenge!

Banger:
Old lady is someone’s woman. I’ll take care of it.

Belle:
Get someone without a record. K?

Shaking his head, he guzzled the rest of his beer.

Banger:
Trust me. I’ll pick you up at 7:30.

Belle:
K. Do I need to do anything?

Banger:
Wear something sexy.

Belle:
:) I meant re: babysitter.

Banger:
Nope. Also, plan on a late night. ;)

Belle:
See u.

Banger:
Right.

Belle’s naiveté tickled him. He was going to have all kinds of fun with this one. Glancing around, he spotted Hawk talking with some of the brothers. He strode over to him.

“Gotta talk to you,” Banger said, a big-ass smile plastered on his face.

“Sure. What’s up? And what’s with the smile? Did you just have a great blowjob?”

“Aiming to. You and Cara doin’ anything tonight?”

Hawk shook his head. “Nah. You wanna do somethin’?”

“I’m doin’ something with Belle, and I need Cara to sit with her son.”

Hawk threw his head back and laughed. “Fuck, that’s classic. Yeah, she’ll stay with the kid. It’ll serve her right for butting into your personal life.”

“I’m fuckin’ glad she did.”

Hawk clapped Banger on the back. “You givin’ up easy pussy?”

“Not sure yet, but I’m enjoying Belle’s company.”

“I’m sure you are. I haven’t seen you smile like that in years. Fuck, go for it.”

Banger gripped Hawk’s upper arm and gave it a tight squeeze, tilting his chin. He was closer to Hawk than any of the other brothers in the club. Hell, he was closer to him than his own siblings. From the day Hawk joined up years back, they’d been tight. “Tell Cara to get to Belle’s around seven o’clock.”

Hawk nodded, and Banger turned around and walked out. The ice covering the parking lot shined and looked like a clear lake. Poking his head back into the great room, he motioned Puck to come over, the prospect dashing over immediately. “Throw some damn rock salt on the parking lot. Someone’s gonna break their ass.” Puck bobbed his head up and down and ran off to retrieve the bag of ice melt.

Banger went out to his car and drove off, a thread of excitement weaving its way around him. He was going to see Belle in a few hours, and it turned him way the hell on, but it also pissed him off that he was so excited about it. She was just a woman, after all—a woman with a pretty face, round tits, and a fleshy ass. What was the big deal? Stacked women with great asses came into the club all the time to party with the brothers. But they weren’t Belle. For reasons he couldn’t articulate, he only wanted
her
face, tits, and ass, and her curves tempted the fuck out of him. Damn, this dark-haired woman had him all mixed up, but he couldn’t wait to see her later that night.

*     *     *

When Banger arrived
at Belle’s at seven thirty, Cara was there along with Hawk. “When did you start babysitting?” Banger ribbed him as he sat on the couch in the living room, waiting for Belle.

“I didn’t have anything else to do. Anyway, I didn’t want Cara being alone.”

Banger shook his head. “Totally pussy-whipped. You can’t leave your old lady alone for one night?”

Hawk ran his eyes over Banger’s dress shirt. His usual T-shirt and jeans had been replaced with a gray pin-striped shirt and black dress pants. Hawk smirked. “From the looks of you, you’re only a few steps away from being pussy-whipped yourself.”

Before Banger could answer, Belle walked in the room. Banger rose, sucking in his breath as his gaze riveted on her face, then moved over her body slowly, taking in the royal blue dress that hugged all her curves so seductively. When his eyes met hers, something intense flared between them, and they stood staring at each other, neither one speaking or moving.

“Is Cara up in Ethan’s room?” Hawk’s deep voice invaded their intimate moment.

Belle cleared her throat. “Uh… yeah, she is. You can go on up. He’s showing her something on his computer.” She smiled warmly at Banger. “Hi.”

In two strides, Banger was close to her, his head bent low as he breathed in her jasmine scent. “Hi, beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely. Placing his hand on her neck, he felt her shiver, and his pants grew tighter. He brushed her hair out of the way, gently kissing her neck before he trailed his lips up to her ear, and breathed, “Seeing you in your tight-as-fuck dress makes my fingers itch to dig into your sweet, sexy body, babe.” The sound of her hushed sigh went straight to his groin.

In a small voice, she said, “We better get going.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and gave her a quick kiss on her lips. “Let’s roll.”

The restaurant Banger chose was an intimate, rustic one, nestled in the mountains on the outskirts of Pinewood Springs. A raging fire in the fireplace welcomed patrons as they entered. Wrought iron chandeliers with muted lights cast a romantic ambience, and the dark hardwood floors, burgundy leather chairs and wood tables lent an air of coziness to the place. Paintings of the Old West—cowboys on bucking broncos, and old steam trains twisting around tracks in a lush valley surrounded by tall, snow-capped mountain peaks—decorated the earth-tone walls. From the piano bar, easy listening music spilled into the restaurant.

As they sat at a table for two, Belle sipping a glass of white wine while Banger drank a beer, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. In some ways, she was like his Grace—soft-spoken, kind, and mischievous—and in other ways she was different—naïve, stubborn, and fiery. He took her in, loving her curly hair which flowed around her like a wild sea.

“You never been around a biker before, have you?” He smiled at her as his hand covered hers.

She ran her fingers over her wine stem, casting her eyes away from him. “I… uh… Why are you asking me that?”

Searching her face, he thought he detected a slight uneasiness in it. “Just that you didn’t know what an old lady was, and you always seem surprised when I say things to you. Just seems like I’m the only biker you know. It’s cool. I was just asking.” He squeezed her hand.

She took a gulp of wine. “I didn’t know you guys call your wives old ladies. It doesn’t sound like something a woman would want to be called. And you are so… blunt. I’m not sure if that’s because you’re a biker, or that’s just you.”

He winked at her. “A bit of both. I tell it like I see and feel. If me telling you that I like your tits is ‘blunt,’ then you’ll have to get used to me. If I see a pretty woman and like her stuff, you can bet I’m gonna fuckin’ tell her.”

Belle blushed, and he reached out and cupped her chin. “You are such a sweet, hot woman. I love the way you get red when I tell you stuff. Fuck, you hit some buttons in me, pretty lady.” Banger brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

After dining on New York strip steaks, loaded baked potatoes, and asparagus with a Dijon-lemon sauce, they settled into a corner booth in the piano bar. The place was small, seating only about forty people, and the distinct scent of leather and brandy wafted around the patrons. There were several people sitting on the stools circling the mahogany baby grand as the thin, wiry-haired pianist’s slender fingers danced over the keys while he crooned “Margaritaville.”

The waitress placed their drinks in front of them—a red port for Belle and a double shot of Jack for Banger. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. He breathed her scent in deeply, letting it spread through him, exciting the hell out of him; her smell was intoxicating. Cupping her chin, he tilted it, her eyes moving upward to his mouth as his face neared hers. His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips then he moved his mouth over hers, devouring it. Panting, her large breasts rubbed against him with each breath she took. A hot jolt of desire burned through him and he pressed her even closer, his hand molding around the full swell of her breast; he loved the feel of its weight in his palm.

Pushing his hand away, she murmured against his lips, “We’re in a public place. I can’t do this.”

Banger gazed into her gleaming eyes. “Fuck, woman, I can’t help myself. You’re so beautiful. Since I first saw you in your sexy dress, you’ve been driving me wild.” He gripped her hand and set it on his hard, pulsing dick. “See what you’re doing to me?”

With the heel of her palm, she massaged it under the table, and he groaned in her ear. Each touch moved him closer to throwing her down and fucking her good and hard, not giving a shit who was watching. He wasn’t shy to fucking in public; he did it often at the club during the parties—as many of the brothers did—but it was only to relieve a throbbing itch. With Belle, he wanted to consume her, ravage her, do nasty things to her he’d never done with anyone else. She was fucking driving him crazy.

“Let’s dance,” she whispered, pulling away from him.

“Now?” he rasped.

Smiling sweetly, a wicked gleam in her eye, she nodded. “Now.” She scooted out of the booth.