Total pages in book: 212
Estimated words: 207966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1040(@200wpm)___ 832(@250wpm)___ 693(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1040(@200wpm)___ 832(@250wpm)___ 693(@300wpm)
The charity carwash was raking in the dough for the club’s Biker Big Bros mentoring charity as well as raking in the goodwill in Aberdeen. Pudge was dressed like a biker clown, blowing up balloon animals for a gaggle of kids. Rider’s and Spencer’s girls were painting kids’ faces like superheroes or animals. Food was being sold by Ella and a few other women, while bikes, cars, and trucks were getting washed by shirtless bikers. The best looking of the bunch. And I was lumped in with that group when Deke handed out assignments.
During our quick church sesh, Deke suggested the ‘lookers’ be the ones who washed the cars, getting attention that way. Apparently a few of the women got together and made a list of a dozen ‘lookers’. The others would support the rest of the fundraising efforts.
“I’m more than a pretty face, you know,” Nico piped up after learning he was not on that list, and this got a lot of laughs because Nico was one ugly motherfucker. Bald, tattooed head. Crooked smile. Deep-set dark eyes. Big nose.
“You’ve certainly got a sparkling personality,” Deke fired back, and Nico howled with amusement.
Me, Deacon, Rider, Spencer, Nolan, Fork, Brady, Edge, Scott, Justice, Deke, and Skip were washing cars. Pudge was entertaining kids. Bronto, Bick, Rob, Nico, Speedy, and the rest of the guys were handling security as well as refilling supplies for all stations. Deke’s woman Laura was handling the money.
This would be good for business. Very good. It’d also help transform our reputation, which wasn’t all that bad in these parts, but some people didn’t know much about us since the charter hadn’t been here that long. Now, they knew a little more about who we were and what we were about.
When I finally got my girl down the stairs to join the festivities, I got a kick out of seeing two old smiling grandmothers having their picture taken with a wet and shirtless Brady. Not long later, this had garnered enough attention that a line formed, and a giant whisky jug acted as a donation jar beside Brady’s shirt. It was nearly full of bills.
Justice got in on that action with a line of his own, but the rest of us either declined, me included, or got told no by their women. Rider’s woman got pretty verbal about the no. And judging by the gleam in Rider’s eyes, I’d say her possessiveness would earn her a good time that night. The fucker soaked that up and paraded like a peacock while he washed cars.
“Time for me to stop being a spectator and wash some cars,” I told my girl.
“Oh yeah. You, the spectator; me, the spectacle.”
I reminded her, “You belong here.”
She smiled and put her forehead to my throat and snuggled in.
“And I’m about to be objectified,” I grumbled.
She smiled and it touched her eyes. “Take your shirt off and the charity’s take might double.”
“Enjoy the ride this morning?” I asked.
“So much,” she replied softly, squeezing me.
“Me, too,” I whispered into her hair.
When we made eye contact after arriving, she asked me to take her on a longer ride later, so I informed her, with a not small amount of innuendo, that she would definitely get a ride or two.
When we got in, I took her straight upstairs through the empty clubhouse to my room to drop her guitar and clothes up there, telling her I’d like nothing better than to fuck her, but that I had to do a quick church sesh in the kitchen at 8:30. She fake-pouted and then waved me off, telling me she’d clean my room, shower, and get herself settled in.
Shortly after the meeting where Rob Forker was presented with his cut and we did the rundown of who was doing what along with the safety plan for the day, brothers who had women either wandered out of rooms or arrived. Then, things got going and everyone moved to the parking lot.
Gigi and me were probably the last to get down there as it took a pep talk to get her out of my room where she was trying to unpack her clothes and shoes, taking up two drawers in my dresser and making tall but tidy piles on the dresser and beside the clothes rack.
“My room in the new clubhouse has a closet,” I’d bragged.
“Go ahead,” she’d muttered, sorting through tank tops, “I’ll just try to make some sense out of this mess and then I’ll be down.”
“Come now. This can wait.”
“But…”
“Rip this Band-Aid off, baby. It’s time.”
She chewed on her lip and continued sorting through a tangle of stockings.
“Eyes on me, G,” I’d ordered.
When she complied, I told her, “I’ve got your back.” I squatted and dropped a kiss on her nose, then added, “And your front.” I tugged her by the hand while rising to my feet and she blew out a long breath but stopped resisting.