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Hoover quickly does as I tell her and gets to work taking care of my cock. I’m not even fully hard as she wraps her red-painted lips around my length. She knows what she’s doing, though, as I fill her mouth. It’s nice not having to guide or instruct her on what I like or want.
Some of the other Fallen Girls wouldn’t know how to suck a dick with written instructions and a tutorial. Hoover is trying to go slow and take her time, believing I’ll return the favor or stick my dick in her. That’s not going to happen because I’m not putting my mouth on her pussy, considering she’s fucked all the patched members.
One of our bylaws is the Prospects don’t get to fuck the Fallen Girls, so those are the only ones she hasn’t been with.
Grabbing the back of her head, I show Hoover exactly how fast and hard I want her to suck my cock. She wraps her tongue around my length and uses one of her hands to roll my balls. I groan as she moans, the vibration pushing me closer to the edge. Using suction, she pulls her head back toward the crown of my dick before twirling her tongue around it. I fist my hand in her hair, making her moan again as one of her hands disappears beneath the short hem of her skirt.
As soon as I come, growling out my release, I pull my cock from her mouth and tuck it back in my jeans. Hoover looks at me from under her lashes with a pout on her overly made-up face. Her bottle-blonde hair feels like straw, and her fake tits press out of her small tank top to the point I can almost see her nipples from beneath the edge of the fabric. There isn’t a single ounce of anything real on her body, from her head to her toes—including the fake nails she uses to dig into the backs of the men she’s with—a weak, pathetic attempt to mark her territory.
“What about me?” she whines, spreading her legs, her fingers sliding in and out of her bare pussy.
“What about you? I never said I was gonna fuck you. I got shit to do but needed a release,” I say, turning my back as she remains on the floor.
“Why don’t you ever fuck us?” she says as if she has a right to question me.
“Because I know you bitches are shady and want to trap a man. Since I’m the President, I know I’m high on your list. Not gonna happen. Get the fuck out,” I say, walking toward my door as I pull my keys out of my pocket and check to make sure I have my phone.
“That’s fucked up, Reaper,” she says, obviously not knowing when to shut her damn mouth.
“Get gone,” I say as I close the door and lock it behind me.
As I walk through the common room, I notice Carrie. A new Fallen Girl, without a nickname yet, talking to Jameson. He wouldn’t touch any of these bitches even if he were fully patched. He’s waiting for his girl Zoey. Jameson told me the story, and I know what’s going through his mind, even if I disagree with his reasoning. It’s not my business, though, and I’m gonna stay out of it.
I let him know I’m going for a ride before leaving the clubhouse. I’ll be back in time for church later on.
I’m sitting at the head of the table. Eagle is on my right, Titan on my left. Everyone else is slowly filing into our meeting room. I’ve got a cigarette hanging from my mouth as I wait for everyone to take their seats.
Our meeting room is larger to accommodate us all and has extra chairs for visiting clubs or members to sit in while we meet. The table has been in the club for years. It’s scarred, old, wooden, and has the club's colors burned into the center of it. Pictures of club members from the very beginning until now fill the walls surrounding us. There’s a large screen on the wall behind Hawk and Cash.
Hawk is our tech guy and uses the screen when we all need to see something from his laptop.
The meeting room also has double doors with the club colors burned into them. It’s completely soundproof, so no one in the hall can eavesdrop. At the same time, we can hear what’s going on in the common room with the flip of a button. Jameson will be standing outside with our cell phones and weapons tonight. I’ve also ensured he’s the one outside today because of one of the items on the agenda.
The doors remain locked when we’re not in here, and no one’s allowed in. No one but the officers know we have cameras pointed at the door in case someone attempts to break in here to find out any information we discuss.
Slamming the gavel on the table, I say, “Meetin’ called to order. First order of business, we’ve got a run comin’ up. Trax, you’ve got the route planned?”
“It’s all good. Backroads and avenues away from where the cops sit and patrol,” he says, smoking a cigarette from his seat and taking a sip of his beer.
“Hawk, we’re not goin’ over business and shit today. We just did it all a few days ago. Unless something has changed,” I say, looking at him as he shakes his head in response. “Okay. I am bringin’ up somethin’ I want to start within the club. Kidd, get Jameson in here. He’s goin’ to give the details we need before startin’ to make a decision.”
There are murmurs around the room. We don’t bring in Prospects into church—ever. Not a single man around this table has ever taken on a venture of this nature. I keep my eyes on the door as Kidd brings Jameson into the meeting room. He’s looking around the room with awe and shock on his face. It’s like looking at a kid in a candy store as he takes in the room before letting his gaze land on me.
“Um, what’s goin’ on?” he asks, standing at the end of the table without attempting to take a seat.
“I need you to fill us in on what the Wild Kings do to help the domestic violence victims,” I say, glancing around the table.
“Oh, okay. When they find out about a woman who is the victim of domestic violence, they get her out of there. It doesn’t matter if she has kids, animals, or whatever else. Other than important papers, they take what they can’t live without and get them set up in a house close to the club. A Prospect is posted at the house to make sure their abuser doesn’t get close to them again. If they need counseling, doctors, or other services, they ensure the women and children get what they need. The club provides rides and anything else. The homes are completely furnished, and groceries are bought every week. It doesn’t matter what they want—they get it.
“The Phantom Bastards MC and Satan’s Anarchy also have programs in place. Satan’s Anarchy is the only one who does things differently. They have a separate compound for the women and children. Houses are built for them to live in. Toys, clothing, toiletries, and everythin’ else are provided. All services are provided within the compound. Counselors are on staff, and a doctor, too. They teach them life skills and stuff as well,” Jameson says, his voice full of passion.
“Thank you, Jameson. You can go back out the door and watch over everythin’,” I say, waiting for him to do as ordered before talking again.
The men look around the table at one another. The interest is already sparked in their eyes—they’re going to be on board for starting this program.
“Anyone have anythin’ to say?” I say, looking at each man in turn.
“When do we start?” Titan says, his voice low and hard.
“I was thinkin’ of buyin’ the land behind the clubhouse. It’s been sittin’ empty for years, and we can put a break in our fence to add on a compound for them. I'm sure the women and kids won’t want to come here, but it might make them feel more comfortable knowin’ they’ll have easy access to us if somethin’ happens. I like the idea of what Satan’s Anarchy does. We can start a separate compound that’s a part of us all the same. Cash, are we flush to put in an offer on the property?”
“We’re good. Our investments are doublin’ and triplin’ all the time. There’s more than enough to get the entire thing up and runnin’ without it makin’ a dent,” he says, not even bothering to look at the papers in front of him.
“Anyone have anythin’ else?” I ask.
When no one responds, I slam the gavel on the table again, ending the meeting. Everyone files from the room, excitement filling the air. They’re ready to party and sit back with a cold drink and a woman to fuck or suck them. I’m the last one from the room as I stop to collect my phone before turning and locking the door behind me. Jameson rushes past me to take his spot behind the bar to help Rebel serve drinks.
