Page 236 of Savior
“Nothing.” She huffs. “He took me for that ride on his bike, we had fun, drinks at a beach bar. And he didn’t make a move, at all. Not one move. Is it me?”
“No, of course not.” Cherry insists.
“And Dean did threaten him.” I remind her.
“Maybe Derek did, too.” Latisha sighs. “Oh, look. Here come the Coochie police now.” She jokes, nodding her chin towards the crowd as both Dean and her brother, Derek, approach us. We all try to stifle our laughter at her remark before they get to us.
“Uh oh, what does this little coven find so funny?” Derek jokingly asks, taking a playful swipe at Latisha’s head. She easily ducks and avoids his reach.
“Never you mind!” she says, shoving a plate with a sandwich at him.
“What’s this I hear about a brand?” I ask Dean.
“A brand?” he arches a brow at me over the rim of his aviators.
“Viking said you were busy getting branded.”
“And here I thought he could keep a secret.” Dean says, more so to Viking as he returns.
Viking walks behind the smoker to check on the meat we haven’t pulled apart yet. “Like she’s not going to see it next time you whip your dick out for her.” Viking mutters.
“Whoa… I did not get a dick tattoo, bro.” Dean objects, looking around at his surrounding MC brothers lounging beneath the nearby tent. They’re all trying to hide their smirks. “Fucking asshole.” He mutters, undoing his belt and jeans to an uproar of ‘Oh Hell no’s, and We don’t need to see it, bro!’s, from his MC brothers, as they whoop it up to embarrass him further.
Dean ignores them, of course, shoving the front of his pants and boxers down to expose his gorgeously chiseled lower torso.
“I meant this to be a surprise, later.” He sighs.
Still covered in a transparent plastic patch to keep his fresh ink safe from infection, I can see the tattoo on his Adonis belt. A set of lips, in a familiar shade of deep red, on the right side of his V-cut, as if he’d been kissed there. I bite my lip, my cheeks flushing with heat, as I remember the first time I had kissed him there, in the gym… The salty taste of his heated skin.
“I had Buck draw it up from Ace’s first sonogram.” He adds. “Been meaning to get it done for you, for a while now.”
His MC brothers burst out with jokingly mocking ‘Aww’s, and ‘That’s adorable!’s now. Dean flips them off, keeping his attention on me.
“Do you like it?” he asks. “Turns out, it really is bad luck to get a woman’s name tatted, or I’d have gotten yours.”
“Probably on his fuckin’ forehead, too.” Viking gripes.
“Bunch of fuckin’ comedians.” Dean grumbles. “Luckily for you dicks, the only opinion I care about, is Vanna’s.”
“I love it.” I tell him. “I love you.”
Dean grins at me as he redoes his pants and belt, then reaches out, gently gripping the back of my neck as he pulls me to him, planting a territorial kiss against my lips.
“Get a goddamned room already.” Viking mutters at us again, though I can hear the humor in his voice.
“That ain’t a bad idea…” Dean growls, taking my mouth once again in a more ardent kiss. I try not to laugh against his lips at his MCs’ hooting and hollering, as they egg him on.
It’s a little after ten pm, before the lot is cleared out, and the prospects have cleaned up whatever trash had been left behind. We’re all in the Twisted Throttle now, closed to the public for our private party tonight, in celebration of another successful fundraiser. While we wait for Diesel and Viper to come back from the War Room with the total amount of what we brought in this weekend, Cherry is behind the bar with me, pouring a bunch of celebratory shots in preparation for what I anticipate to be a record-breaking number.
Vanna is perched on a bar stool across from me, her hands tiredly draped over Ace.
“Watcha thinkin’ about?” I ask her.
“No matter what the numbers say you brought in, you should be proud of this, Dean. All of this. No wonder the County loves you and this MC, so much. Did you see the Toys for Tots truck? It was filled to the brink.” She smiles. “I can’t wait for the Christmas event.” She rubs her belly with both hands. “Ace will be here for that, this year.”
“Maybe you can talk Dean into letting me be Krampus again.” Viking says, reaching behind the bar to grab himself a beer. “Or at least Odin this year.”
“I told you. You’re Rudolph.” I remind him for the fifth year in a row. Whenever we start collecting for Toys for Tots, Viking starts his nagging about the Christmas event. “Snowy won’t like you trying to steal his thunder as Santa Claus, anyway. You know he looks forward to that shit every year.” I glance over at Snowy, giving him a chin lift. He shakes his head and goes back to shooting pool with Axel and Dozer. Snowy knows Viking always starts right around now, hoping by the time December rolls around, he’ll have worn us down.
