Fudge's Sprite: (Brothers of Devil's Comfort MC Book 4)

BOOK: Fudge's Sprite: (Brothers of Devil's Comfort MC Book 4)
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Fudge’s Sprite

 

The Brothers

Of

Devil’s Comfort MC

 

(A Brothers of Devil’s Comfort MC Book 4)

 

DCMC

 

By

Brair Lake

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2015, Brair Lake

All rights reserved by author.

The Author can be contacted on the following media pages

 

[email protected]

www.brairlake.com

www.facebook.com/brairLakeAuthor

Twitter@brair_Lake

 

 

Cover Image: ©
Image ID : 21363813

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without written permission of the author

 

 

The work in this book is the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to person either living or dead, places, events or locations is purely incidental.  The characters and storyline are a work of fiction. The Devil's Comfort MC is about escapism and does not reflect real life in any way.

 

 

 

Description.

 

 

Can fuck buddies become more?

 

Soon after becoming a widow. Ellie Wright turned to Devil’s Comfort MC’s Road Manager for comfort.

 

Nick “Fudge” Winchester was more than obliging to give the war widow what she was seeking.

 

Neither of them were looking for something permanent, contented with their set-up. Free to date and sleep with other people. No ties or commitment.

 

That was until Ellie Wright began to date the local sheriff. Feelings long buried begin to rise and they began to question what they wanted.

 

 

The Men of Devil’s Comfort are tough alpha men. Who love to ride their bikes on the open roads of Louisiana and when they are not riding, they party hard,

 

They rule Comfort Spring, a small town located near The Mississippi River.

 

This book contains explicit sex and is intended for mature audience of 18+ only

 

There are acts of sexual nature that some people may find offensive. If you are one of these people, please do not purchase or read. This book contains, self-pleasure, anal play (male and female), sex toys, strong language.

 

There is also some reference to child abuse.

 

The Devil's Comfort MC Series, is about escapism and does not reflect real life in anyway.

 

If this offends you in any way. Please do not purchase.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Contents

 

 

Prologue                                                        Chapter 17

Chapter 1                                                        Chapter 18

Chapter 2                                                        Chapter 19

Chapter 3                                                        Chapter 20

Chapter 4                                                        Chapter 21

Chapter 5                                                        Chapter 22

Chapter 6                                                        Chapter 23

Chapter 7                                                        Chapter 24

Chapter 8                                                        Chapter 25

Chapter 9                                                        Chapter 26

Chapter 10                                                        Chapter 27

Chapter 11                                                        Chapter 28

Chapter 12                                                        Chapter 29

Chapter 13                                                        Chapter 30

Chapter 14                                                        Chapter 31

Chapter 15                                                        Chapter 32

Chapter 16                                                        Chapter 33

Epilogue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

“Nikolas arrêt reniflements ta mère est morte”

“But, Grand’Mere, I miss her.”

“You need to be strong Nikolas, and now is not the time for tears. Ta Mere, is gone, and so is votre Papa.”

As Grand’Mere, squeezes my hand, the blood in my fingers has begun to tingle. Her grip is very tight, which makes it hard for me to wiggle my fingers, to ease the pain. The late afternoon sun, continues to blaze, burning on to my neck. The suit, which I am wearing, is uncomfortable as it causes my small body to sweat.

Today is my eleventh birthday, and we have just buried Ma Mere. The cemetery is packed with mourners, and to one side there is a jazz band playing.  As I look around, I take a peek at the group of mourners, and I wonder, who is feeling genuine sorrow, and which ones, are here out of morbid curiosity. 

Several days ago, I had arrived home from school, to find Ma Mere’s body sprawled on the living room floor. Blood was pouring from her chest. As the blood congealed on the floor, I ran up to her body, hugging her close to me. She is cold, and her eyes are staring up at the ceiling. It was while I was hugging her body, that I felt another set of arms wrap themselves around me. Gently, whoever it was, has dragged me away from the cold lifeless body.

“No, I want Ma Mere.”

“Nikolas, move away from the body. The police need to examine it.”

As I turn towards the sound of Grand’Mere’s voice. A voice which sends a chill through my body. I wonder, why the evil witch is here. What did she want?

Grand’Mere hated Ma Mere. Everyone in the quarter knew this. Silently I stood by the old lady’s side, and watched as camera’s flashed. While the police took their photographs, a man was leaning over Ma Mere. As he examined her, he has begun to prod and probe at her body with his instruments. Once in a while, he would stop what he was doing, and scribble on a piece of paper.

They said he was a doctor. Yet, how could he be? If he was doing nothing to help her? Next, they brought in a stretcher, where Ma Mere’s body was laid on top. Next, a cover was carefully thrown over her body. Then they carried her out of the house.

“Nikolas go pack an overnight bag. You’ll be staying with me.”

My body turns to stone. I did not want to go and stay with the old witch. I detested Grand’Mere’s house. More significantly, I hated the cupboard in the cellar.

“Who shot Ma Mere? Grand’Mere?”

“One of her lovers probably.”

With a non-too gentle push, Grand’Mere directed me to the stairs.

“Five minutes Nikolas. Then meet me at the car.”

Grand’Mere may only live two blocks away from my home, yet the journey to her house is long and bitter. As I stare out of the car window, I see that our neighbors have begun to gather in the streets. They were looking and pointing at us. The news of Ma Mere’s death has not taken long to be known, or gossiped about. Unable to hold the tears back any longer, my body began to shake with sobs. The salty water landing on my lips, as my nose dripped.

“Stop that infernal wailing Nikolas. Ta Mere is dead, and nothing can bring her back.”

I hate the woman I am following. Ma Mere is dead, and yet, she has not offered me any comfort.

“Where’s Papa?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

Papa never did return to Grand’Mere’s house. Later that evening he was arrested for the murder of Ma Mere, and the next time I saw him, it was at his trial. Inside, I wept with relief. My relief, however, is short, as that night, and the following several nights, were spent in Grand’Mere’s bed.

Each night, she would whisper in my ear, what an evil woman Ma Mere was. If Ma Mere had been faithful, and not some dirty whore, then Papa would not have shot her. That he would not be in prison. Each night, I agreed with her, knowing that if I did not, I would spend the night in the cellar.

The following days were lonely. Grand’Mere would not allow my friends to visit, and I was never allowed to leave the house. Grand’Mere said, this was because there were so many reporters standing by the gate. All wanting pictures and needing to know about Ma Mere’s lurid past. There was no lurid past.

Ma Mere never had any lovers. How could she, when Papa kept her locked in the house, fighting with her. Each night I would listen to her cry, while Papa beats her. She was too afraid to leave him. If Ma Mere had had a lover, she would have run away with him. She would be alive today.

At last, the service came to an end, and I threw my rose on to the casket. My tears are silent, as I say goodbye to the only person, whoever loved me. Although I know she loved me, she never did anything to protect me from the vile monsters that lived in our house.

“Goodbye Mama. I promise to be a good boy.”

We return to the house in silence, and once we arrive back. Grand’Mere took her position in the center of the room, sitting in the straight back chair, while I stood beside her. All afternoon, I remained where I was, listening to the mourners as they came up to us, offering their condolences. It was difficult to tell if they were being genuine, or if they were after more fodder. Each day, since the murder of Ma Mere, and the arrest of Ma Papa, the newspapers have been regaling tales of my home life. All of them, lies. All of them provided by Ma Grand’Mere, the witch.

The trial is no better. Grand’Mere never missed a day at court, and every day she took me with her. Together we would sit at the front of the courtroom, and listen, as our family life was torn to pieces. On the day Papa received his sentence, Grand’Mere had driven home in stony silence. As I sat beside Grand’Mere in the car, I knew I was going to be punished. This knowledge, has me fidgeting in my seat, scuffing my shoes. When we did arrive back at the house, I attempted to go to my room. Away from this evil woman.  However, Grand’Mere prevented my escape, and dragged me down the stairs to the cold cellar.

“Please don’t Grand-Mere.”

“It’s all your fault, and that whore of a mother. That I’ve lost my son. The only person who truly loved me. And you are going to pay Nikolas.”

I do not remember how long the beating lasted, or how many days I spent in the cellar. I was probably there until the bruises healed. From that day, my life became nothing. The beating setting the tone for the next three years.

On my fourteenth birthday, I left Grand-Mere’s house and I never returned. Until now.

 

Present day

“What do you want?”

There standing before me, is not the same woman who I had run away from all those years ago.

“Don’t you recognize me Grand-Mere?”

Silently the woman stepped back, her hand clasping on the door. Gray hair has now replaced the once vibrant black. Her skin has lost its earth tones, and is now a deathly white. Made whiter by my appearance.

“Nikolas is that you?”

“It is Grand-mere. Now are you going to let me in?”

As I stand, towering over the bitch. The memories and the pain I have denied for so long, come rushing back. Gently I place my hand round her scrawny neck. One twist and I could snap the fragile bones, and I know. That deep down I would not feel anything. No remorse or sorrow for ending a life. Yet, that is not what I want, for this lonely bitter old woman. What I want, is for her to live, knowing that her murdering bastard of a son, died in prison, because of what he has done.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Across the cemetery, my father’s funeral is taking place. A funeral, I am deliberately missing. Instead, I am spending the time at Ma Mere’s side. Something, which I had not done in a long time.

“We missed you dude.”

Lost in my thoughts, I never heard the footsteps as they approached from behind me. Although Inferno has tried to contact me several times in the last seventy two hours. I left his calls unanswered. After my visit to Grand’Mere’s, I have decided to delay my return to Comfort Springs.

“Sundance. How the fuck did you find me?”

“Fudge buddy, you aren’t that hard to lose.”

“Give me a moment, and I’ll meet you at the café. The one opposite the cemetery Okay?”

“Sure.”

Instead of returning my attention to the grave, I carry on watching Sundance, as he swaggers out of the cemetery. A part of me, is pleased that the club has taken the time and effort to send someone to find me. Another part is pissed at their actions. Yet I can understand why. With all of the changes which are happening, it is not as safe out there, as we are letting on to everyone. The night I left Comfort Springs, I put myself in a vulnerable position. Tats, the ex-president of Black County Stewards, is out there somewhere, watching. Ready to attack Devil’s Comfort at any time.

“He’s dead Ma Mere. It took a long time, and it wasn’t at my hand. But he’s finally dead.”

For a brief moment, bitterness swept through me. If the opportunity to kill the bastard had arisen. I would willingly have done the time. As I glance to the other side of the cemetery, I watch as they lower the man who was responsible for giving me life.

Grand’Mere has arranged it, so that he can be buried in the Winchester plot. While all those years ago, she had made sure that Ma Mere, was buried as far away from them as possible. Next to Ma Mere’s plot, there is an empty space. A plot, I have bought for myself. With a final goodbye, I drop the white rose I am twirling.

As I collect my helmet off the ground, and head for the café in search of Sundance, a deep sigh escapes me. The café is only half full when I enter, and it is easy to spot Sundance, with his strawberry blond hair, sitting by the window, as he flirts with the young waitress. With ease I slide on to the stationary bench.

“Two coffees, Doll.”

The waitress, with the lawn green eyes, gives me the once over, before returning her gaze to Sundance, who responded with a lazy nod and a sleek smile.

“We’re heading out after the coffee Sundance.”

I throw the remark casually to the biker, as he continues to watch the waitress idly.

“Sure. Give me ten, and I’ll be back.”

“What about my coffee?”             

“I’m sure you’ll have it drunk by the time I’m done.”

“Ten minutes, then I’ll meet you at the bikes.”

True to his word, just as I am about to mount the Harley, Sundance strolled round the corner, casually tucking in his T-Shirt. The slight ruffle of his hair, the only indication that he has just fucked the waitress. Without waiting for the whore in training, I push my bike back and turned it towards the highway. In less than sixty seconds, Sundance is pulling his bike alongside mine, and all I can do, is shake my head in wonder. I have been in New Orleans for five days, and not fucked anyone. I neither had the inclination nor the want. The memory of Ivy and her body, is one, I am finding hard to forget. Fuck, I need to get laid, and pretty damn quick.

By the time I have found an old campsite, and pulled in, dusk is long gone. After dismounting from the bike, I yank my bedroll from the pannier, and shake it out, before laying it over the ground. Wordlessly, Sundance followed me. In the silence, he would occasionally throw me a quizzical look, which I chose to ignore. As soon as the bedroll is laid out, I wander off to collect some twigs and broken branches. With the dry kindle, I soon have a fire burning. From his pannier, Sundance withdrew a pack of beer and threw it over to me, pulling another pack out for himself.

“When are we heading back to Comfort Springs?”

Without taking my gaze from the stars, I give a shrug.

“I don’t know. Not yet anyway.”

“You can’t run Fudge. From whatever it is you’re running from. She’ll still be there when you return.”

A long breath escapes me, as I continue with my study of space. Emptiness reaching far and vast. At one time that had been me. Long ago, I had buried my emotions, sailing through life with nothing and with no commitments. Now all that is changing, and it is all down, to a blond bombshell. The moment I discovered that she was dating Adam, a slow rage had begun to build in me. I did not want to share her with anyone.

Sure, I shared women with my bro’s back at the club. However, Ellie is different. I have tried hard to keep my distance from her family. There had been no attempt on my part, to become acquainted with her kids. Fuck, Ellie came with baggage. A lot of baggage. And now, thanks to Sundance, I am restless. With a swift kick of my legs, I climbed out of the bedroll, and took a piss behind one of the trees. In no hurry to go return to the bedroll, I lit a cheroot and draw deeply on the tobacco. The balmy day has long since been replaced by a cool night. Yet nothing is helping to either clear or ease my inner turmoil.

With a flick of my finger and thumb, I watch as the stub of the cheroot sails through the air, before landing on the ground. With a habit of old, I kill the life out of the stub with the heel of my boot.

“What makes you think I’m running?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the looks you’ve been throwing at Adam.”

Thoughtfully, I watch Sundance, waiting to see where this conversation is going. At the same time I give my stomach a rub, as the beginning of indigestion starts to build up. Bile rising in my throat.

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