AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The entire Tulsa crew and most of the family was riding to Laughlin to put Gargoyle to rest and to formally establish the Laughlin charter. For the first time in Zach’s memory, they’d shut the whole station down for a run—for more than a week.
There had been some serious back and forth between Eight and Cooper over the Laughlin crew’s decision not to return Gargoyle to Tulsa for burial, and Zach had gotten caught up in it a little when his father had called him. Pop had been fired up, which Zach would always find intimidating, but he’d been able to talk his old man down, just as Cooper—and Caleb—had managed to get Eight to at least understand why Gargo belonged here.
In addition to Pop, who no longer had a say in club business beyond whatever sway he had over his sons, Zach had spoken directly to only Jay and Duncan about the issue. They, like him, hadn’t had much personal relationship with Gargo and didn’t have strong feelings either way about where the man should be buried, but they’d given him some insider insight into how badly the older Tulsa Bulls had taken the news.
It felt extremely strange to no longer be a man at that table. Thrumming daily, almost constantly, at the back of his head was a quiet worry that he was making a wrong choice.
That thrum was silent when he was with Lyra. He hoped it would disappear entirely when the Laughlin Bulls were truly patched and had a table of their own. Then he’d feel really settled in his new patch, he thought. In the meantime, when that thrum got loud, he turned his thoughts to the girl he loved.
Tonight, his parents would meet her.
Setting his phone back on the dresser, Zach returned to be Lyra’s big spoon. Her hair spread out on his pillow, and he turned his head to bury his face in it. Dark, wavy, silky, it smelled like the honeysuckle flowers on the huge bush at the side of his house—his folks’ house, he guessed he should start thinking now. That big bush was so fragrant you could almost see the scent wafting from it with cartoon wavy lines. It drew a ton of bees in the spring and summer. Both Marv and Rose, their pit bulls, had been stung at least once. Marv, unable to resist the fascinating little murder raisins, had been stung multiple times. That dog was sweet as hell, but Mensa would not be recruiting him.
For the first time, thinking of home didn’t bring a twinge of guilt or loss. His decision was made, his folks weren’t mad, and today, he’d be able to show them that he’d found where he belonged, and that he loved them as much as ever.
Awash in comfort and pleasure, Zach tightened his arm across Lyra’s belly. She moaned softly and snuggled closer, her hips wriggling, her bare ass doing wonderful things to his cock, and completely derailing his intention to doze off again until she was ready to get up.
Rather than try to sleep again, Zach decided to wake her up in the way she liked best: stroking his hand up and down her thigh, over and around her hip, her ass, her belly, her tits, over and over, never staying in one place long, just touching as much of her sleek body as he could.
He really did love every part of her body. She was slender but not skinny, firm but not muscular. Her tits were fucking perfect, and her skin was like satin. He loved the feel of her belly relaxed against his hand, the weight of her tit and the way his hand could hold all of it, the way her nipple always got hard and tight at his touch, whether she were awake or asleep. He loved the heat between her legs and how she kept herself shaved. He loved slipping one finger between her thighs while she slept like this and feeling her grow wet at his touch.
She called this ‘polishing,’ and he loved that, too. You polished what was dear, andgod, she was dear to him.
They’d met in July; now October was aging. Three months. So much of him was changed in such a short time. So much more than where he hung his kutte.
Waking now, Lyra moaned again, and again squirmed more tightly into his embrace. Zach grinned. She was awake. She liked to pretend otherwise and extend this experience, and Zach liked to let her. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to stay calm enough to keep up the ruse.
Polishing was the best foreplay ever.
Now her hands were wrapping around his wrist, bringing his hand between her thighs and holding it there.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmured at her ear. “I want to fuck you right now. I want to come in from behind and touch you everywhere while I fuck you cross-eyed.”
“Yes, please.” Her voice was only a sleepy whisper, but it was more than enough. Her hands left his wrist, and her arms came up, went over her head. She took fistfuls of his hair and made her body an offering to his need and her own.
––––––––
~oOo~
––––––––
Hosting a funeral fora decades-long member of the Brazen Bulls before their new charter was fully established had all the Laughlin Bulls, the Tulsa transfers and the new recruits, back on their heels a little. They had possession of the property that would be their clubhouse but hadn’t had a chance to do any kind of repair or renovation on the place. They didn’t have furniture yet, not even a table.
But they’d be hosting several dozen bikers from across the country. Could be as many as a hundred, depending on how many riders their allied clubs might send. And a few Russians—though not Niko; Cooper had been right he’d send underlings.
The first event to take place in the Laughlin clubhouse of the Brazen Bulls MC would be a wake.
They needed some kind of accommodations for all those people, places for them to sit, food to eat and beverages to drink, places to sleep. Assistance on that front came from a surprising source: Lyra’s friend Michelle.
Overall, Michelle seemed decidedly underwhelmed by the Bulls. She liked Zach fine, and he liked her the same, but there was little chance she’d be frequenting the clubhouse. However, she loved Lyra, and Lyra loved several Bulls, so Michelle was helpful. She’d quit the casino but still had plenty of friends there, and she worked out a way for the Bulls to ‘rent’ some banquet gear—tables and chairs, even a portable bar—from casino storage. Several rollaway cots and plenty of bedding, too. Kai and Zach had done a run to Walmart for inflatable mattresses to have some kind of bed for anyone who wasn’t planning on getting a motel room—or who ended up too drunk to get there.
The supplies from the casino was not anofficialtransaction, of course. The ‘rent’ would be paid to the staff members who were sliding the gear out, and back in after the wake, unnoticed.
They were going to manage to put on a pretty decent wake for their brother, who would wear a Laughlin rocker and the SAA flash for eternity.
That was the first order of business. Tulsa was arriving two days ahead of Gargo’s funeral specifically to make the new charter official and present its members with their new flashes and rockers and, for everyone but Cooper and Zach, the patches themselves.
Well, the really first order of business was simply greeting their family, and Zach grinned as he listened to the roar of a lot of engines—Harleys and trucks alike—approaching. Even in the cacophony, he could make out his old man’s TriGlide. He’d been pissed when his heart stuff forced him off two wheels for long rides, but he made that trike look badass.
