The Sweet Under His Skin (43 page)

She sat up and pulled her shirt back on. She watched him shrug that vest back on, rearranging his crotch not very subtly. Arielle shook her head.

"What’re you going to do now?" he asked, heading for the door.

"Likely take a nap."

His grin was wicked and his eyes twinkled as he said, "Do me a favor and play with yourself. Just a little, in my bed. Make my day."

"Quentin!"

"Later, dirty girl." He was chuckling as he shut the door behind himself.

She shucked her jeans, climbed in between the sheets, and then as she lay there, eyes wide open, heart still racing just a little, she couldn't help but do as she was told.

"Got a call from Dante," Bishop started the meeting by announcing this surprising bit of Intel. "He's been contacted by Reuben who’s been trying to find his step-brother who came to Portus Felix last night and now he ain't answering his phone."

"Fuck," Quentin interjected.

"So I think we can safely say this asshole we offed last night was important to Reuben," Bishop finished.

"But do we know who Reuben is yet?" Quentin wanted to know.

"In Shanksville the lady at the town office said Tarquin Hamilton was a regular-looking white guy. Looked like he coached fucking little league. But the lady at land titles said he was a midget."

"Don't think that's what they call them," T-bone offered, earning him a look of annoyance from Bishop and Quentin at the interruption.

"Sorry—little person," Bishop amended. "More to your P-C liking?"

T-bone just looked at his hands like he wondered why he bothered. At least, that was what Quentin was wondering.

"So what did Dante tell him?" Dillon asked.

"That he'd look into it, but he wanted Reuben to back off selling in Portus Felix since this is his territory. Of course, I have a problem with that but for now we'll agree to disagree," Bishop said with a chuckle.

"Did Reuben agree to that?" Dillon asked with a wry grin.

Bishop shook his head. "No. He said that sounded like a threat, and if his brother turns out to be dead he'll be all too happy to go to war with the Nazi Lowriders and Dead Men."

"So he knows about us then? And he suspects us?" Quentin guessed.

"Yeah. His step-brother came here for Arielle's sister. To return the property, as it were." Bishop’s eyes swung to Quentin. "Arielle has to stay here, brother. That guy went right to her house."

Quentin was already nodding in agreement. "She's fine with it. Her sister's at the aunt's place, and Jolene's pretty sure no one knows about the aunt. They have different last names. And apparently that farm is hard to find."

"The kid could be a soft spot," Bishop noted. "At school he's likely fine, but coming to and from? We're transporting."

Quentin grinned. "He's gonna fucking freak out."

They all shared a laugh at that, and Quentin was actually excited to introduce the rest of them to Calvin. What the hell was happening with him?

"Dante asked to meet, just briefly, out in Portus Felix Desert. Friendly-like. We have a common enemy, and he has a few lily-skinned contacts that we don't. If he can give us information, I think we should take it," Bishop said.

Colton was shaking his head. "Yeah, but what's in it for Dante? We ain't letting him sell that shit in Portus Felix."

"Of course not. But you and I both know people will still drive to Shanksville or even Ramsfield for a high. We take out Reuben's hold in Portus Felix, they're coming to Dante again. The difference is we have no dealers in Portus Felix beating up people on front lawns. That's the shit we prevent." Bishop jabbed the table with his finger to make his point. They murmured their agreement all around the table. "Now, I want Dillon, Colton, and Jack with me. And if you can tear yourself off your very special piece of ass Quentin, you too. If you can fit it in."

Quentin grinned. "Yeah, I'm in."

"You sure?" Gage asked. "Pretty sure I interrupted something to drag you here."

Quentin shook his head. "Fuck off." Gage cracked up.

"We meet Dante in half an hour. Everyone stay sharp. I trust this prick as much as you all do. Everyone staying behind is on alert, too. If this is a trap it would be a good one." They all nodded in agreement with Bishop, who declared the meeting over by saying, "Now get the fuck out of here. We leave in fifteen."

Quentin followed the rest of the group out of the clubhouse then made his way back to his room, opening his door quietly, hoping like hell he was interrupting something.

Arielle lay in the bed on her side, and at the sound of the door opening she rolled to look at him over her shoulder. She gave a slight smile, and when he realized her face was still flushed he was grinning like mad. "Arielle?"

"Yes?"

He shut the door behind him, crossed the room, sat on the bed next to her, leaning over her. "You get that homework done, baby?"

She turned redder and rolled away from him. "Quentin—"

He took her by the shoulder and rolled her back. "Why you all red, babe?"

"I'm not."

"Oh, okay. My mistake. We're heading out in a bit to meet up with someone that might know who that guy was that broke into your house. You all right here alone while I'm gone?"

She nodded. "Be careful, Quentin."

The warmth in his chest would have to be ignored for a bit. "I will, Arielle. Kiss me."

She smiled as he lowered his head, pressing her lips to his eagerly, pushing her hands into his hair. Her tongue ran along his lip, and he moaned, lowering himself onto her just a little, arm finding its way under her lower back, then moving down to that ass, squeezing it.

"Quentin," she gasped against his mouth.

"Can't help it," he muttered back, hand running from that cheek up the back of her thigh, then pushing it to the side, running down the inside to the juncture of her legs where she was so, so warm.

"Oh God," she whispered as his hand stroked at her over her panties.

"Babe," he growled. "How're you so wet? Did you do that?"

She was gasping with what his hand was doing, clutching his shoulders, and likely not listening at all. Jesus, she was so turned on. He'd bet good money she'd taken care of herself while he was in that meeting.

He shoved his face along the side of her neck, listening to the small sounds she made that he was beginning to love, knowing when she was close to finishing. That's when he tucked his hand inside her underwear, fingers sliding inside, thumb continuing that circling motion until her back bowed and she gave a soft gasp, so gentle compared to how she shook and trembled around his fingers and under his weight.

When she was still he pulled his hand free, her eyes bright and watching as he licked her off his fingers. Then he grabbed her right hand, licking her first two fingers off, too, smiling widely. "That's a good girl," he muttered, pleased as shit when she blushed again but didn't pull her hand away. He kissed her forehead. "Stay here. If you want anything from the kitchen help yourself. I think T-bone even keeps some of his organic shit in there if the mood hits you for some healthy-torture shit."

"Okay," she whispered, and he was still pretty tickled she was breathless and pink.

"And if you get the urge to do that again," he mumbled, kissing her quickly, "you better wait for me. I wanna watch." She trembled, and he was grinning as he got up. "Later, babe."

Leaving her shut in his room he sought out T-bone, told her that Arielle was napping but that she might need another shit milkshake when she woke up.

"Shit milkshake?" T-bone was understandably confused.

"That thing you told her to make in the blender. Tastes like crap? Is it really that good for her?"

T-bonewas nodding. "Of course. The antioxidants alone will help with—"

"Never mind explaining it, can you just get her one when she wakes up?"

"Sure"

"Thanks man. Appreciate it."

"You ready, Quentin?" Bishop was barking from the clubhouse doorway.

"Absolutely," he replied, sliding on his shades and following his president into the sunshine flooding the clubhouse entrance.

Arielle woke from her nap feeling…renewed. After a long, thorough stretch she got dressed, donned the wig and left the presumed safety of Quentin's room. She meandered down a dim hallway, eyes on the photos and posters she walked past.

The hallway turned out to the main room from there, and she crossed her arms, inhaling deeply and waiting to see things she wasn't going to like. But the room was empty, save for T-bone sitting at the bar, drinking a beer and turning to look at her over his shoulder.

"Well there she is. Sleeping Beauty. How you doing?"

Arielle felt herself smile, striding across the room to climb onto the stool next to him. "I'm good thanks, T-bone. How are you?"

"Drinking at two in the afternoon. That should say it all." She laughed at that, covering a yawn. "How much more of that chemo you got left?" he asked, his voice rolling out like a not-welcoming growl. But his expression was kind and concerned.

"I'm done the first course. One more to go, about two weeks' worth of treatments."

He nodded. "That's rough. I wish you well with that."

"Thank you," she said eventually, a little uncomfortable. Again, she wasn't used to everyone knowing her business.

“Oh, I made you something.” He pulled out a small paper sandwich bag in one hand which he held up and shook. "I made you some of my famous low-fat bran muffins."

She frowned. "You make…muffins?"

He set them on the bar in front of her. "These are special just for you. So no sharing, and keep them away from that kid, too." Arielle frowned. "They're pot muffins. Half a muffin per serving, okay? My special ingredient makes them a bit pricey." She blinked, mouth falling open. One, there was pot baked into the muffins in that bag. Two, he made them for her. Three, she wasn't used to having people help her this much. "Everything okay, blue eyes?"

She jumped, realizing she was staring at that bag without talking. He was eyeing her up strangely.

"That's so nice of you," she said lamely, smiling. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Now he looked uncomfortable. "Just hope you like 'em."

T-bone raised his beer and Arielle opened the bag. They smelled amazing.

"What are you up to now?" he asked.

"I don't know. I was wondering if there was something out here I could help with."

T-bone shook his head. "You're supposed to rest. I suggest you do that or Quentin'll tie you to the bed. Unless, of course, you don't see that as a deterrent." Her cheeks were warm again and T-bone coughed up a laugh. "So fun to have a blusher around this place."

She got to her feet. "Is…is there tea in the kitchen?"

"Sure is. Just past that walk-in freezer, there's a kettle and some dry goods on the shelf right above. Go ahead, make yourself at home."

She smiled her thanks, taking the bag with her through the front part of the kitchen, past a heavy door that sure looked like a walk-in freezer and found the kettle easily. On a shelf above were some tea bags, instant coffee, sugar and coffee creamer. She filled the kettle in a nearby sink, plugged it in, then tore a muffin in half and tried a bite.

It tasted really good. For a bran muffin there were a lot of flavors going on. She could taste cinnamon, nutmeg, apple, and…she could see the pot. She was done her recommended serving by the time the kettle squealed, then she hunted down a mug and poured the water over a green tea bag. As she dusted the crumbs off her hands and waited next to the counter for her tea to steep she heard voices in the front of the kitchen.

"What a weird fucking day," woman Number One was huffing, and Arielle heard dishes being loaded into the industrial dishwasher she'd walked past.

"Tell me about it. I don't get it." Woman Number Two sounded equally pouty.

Number One was rolling overtop her friend. "Can’t believe our Quentin is locking it down."

Number Two was still agreeing. "I really don't get that. Is it true she had cancer?"

"She's wearing a wig, dipshit. Why else would she do that?"

"Mandy said breast cancer. She had surgery." A third woman joined in.

"That's something I won't do to get his attention. I didn't even know he liked amputees that much," Number One tittered away.

"Don't be a bitch," Number Three said.

"Are you her best friend? Because old ladies tend to not like us very much," Number Two shot back.

"I think she's pretty." Number Three was easily Arielle's favourite.

"That's nice. She's pretty," Number One used a whiney voice to make fun of Number Three. "Isn't Quentin one of your favorites?"

"God knows he can get it done, and he is the best looking here," Number Two mumbled.

Arielle felt her stomach heave a bit, and she covered her mouth.

"I saw them before, in his room, kissing." Ah, Number Three was the towel girl.

"Did they ask you to join in?" Number One still thought she was terribly funny. Number Two agreed. "You know how he likes a full set of tits."

Arielle winced, hating this high school bullshit hurt she had bubbling up.

"No, he's not like that with her," Number Three still sounded convinced. "I mean, he was kissing her, and it looked…it looked like it was nice."

"You like watching now?" Number Two didn't have Number One's talent for forcing her friend to laugh at every joke.

"He was kissing her like he cared, you guys. She's not some morbid curiosity. He likes her. For real. So you're all just gonna have to kiss Bayle's big delicious dick goodbye."

"Quentin Bayle kisses like a nasty motherfucker, if he kisses you at all. We all know that. You trying to make nice with some skank that just walks in here expecting us to respect her based on absolutely nothing?"

"How about the fact that it's not your place to treat her any differently?" That voice Arielle knew very well. Mandy.

Arielle grabbed the bag and her mug of tea, tea bag still soaking, and darted past everyone assembled at the front of the kitchen. One woman whispered "Oh shit," as she passed, but Arielle refused to look at anyone so she wasn't sure who it was. She rushed for the hallway, shutting herself in Quentin's room and wiping at her eyes angrily when she realized she was crying.