But she wouldn’t leave his head, and his dick would not be ignored. The more he thought about her, the harder he got. How fucked up was that?
He needed to get off. He actually hurt with it, all tense up in his belly. Finally, he just gave into it, grabbed his meat and cast his mind back to the days when he and Marcella had had a good time together. That round, sweet ass, those high, firm tits. The way she bit down on whatever she could reach of him as she got close. He had a scar on his forearm from her biting down so hard while he was up her ass.
Fuck, she was hot. Fuck, fuck,fuck.
The orgasm went through him like it had claws, cramping him up from his shoulders to his knees and making him groan so loudly it rang off the tiles.
When it was over, he felt a little better. He still needed about a gallon of coffee, but he thought he could get through the day.
~oOo~
“I hear you, Mav,” Caleb said, shifting in his seat to face Maverick directly. “I’m just sayin’, I polled most of the guys, and a vote wouldn’t go down the way you want.”
At the other end of the sofa in Eight’s office, Maverick leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m his father, and I’m VP of the club. If I don’t want my kid to wear a Bull, that should count for more than what ‘the guys’ want.”
“Dunc’s an adult, Mav,” Eight said. “Father or not, it’s not your call.”
Maverick glared at him but didn’t respond.
The officers were squeezed into Eight’s office to talk about Duncan and JJ and decide whether they needed to call a special meeting to vote on Duncan’s prospect kutte and JJ’s actual patch. Eight had sent Caleb around to poll the patches on both questions. The question of JJ hadn’t sparked much talk, at least not yet. Consensus was to push the issue aside until he was healed up and back in the clubhouse. Eventually, however, there would have to be a reckoning. Maybe—hopefully—he’d keep his patch, but there would be consequences. Freelancing was not okay.
That was a problem for later. Now, they were arguing about the prospect.
Eight picked up the conversation. “On the question of Duncan, you’re on your own, Mav. Unless Jay has a different story when he wakes up, Dunc didn’t do anything wrong. He just happened to be with Jay while he was freelancing—which is why Jay isn’t fucking dead.” Since he was in a fighting mood today, he leaned in from his desk chair and gave Mav a hard look. “It’s time for you to get this bug out your ass. Dunc is a good prospect. He wants this. Two patch votes now, you’re the only one against him, and we all know that’s got nothing to do with how he’d be at the table.”
“He’s my kid, Eight. My only son. How many Bulls have we buried over the years? How many more have been hurt? You expect me to be okay with mysonin this life?”
If any other patch were fighting so hard on this point, Eight might question his loyalty. There was a lot of criticism about the club itself in Maverick’s resistance to Duncan joining their ranks. But Maverick was a special case and always had been. He’d sacrificed a lot for the club, and while he was inside, the Bulls had gone from low-stakes outlaw work to full-on gun running. Major players. He’d come back out to a changed club, and he’d never been good with it. He’d kept the Bull on his back anyway, he’d stayed in the family, and he always stood up and did what needed doing. He fought against the dark shit every single time it came upbecausehe was loyal and loved the club. So Eight understood where all this was coming from.
“Rad was all for his boys wearing the Bull,” Dex pointed out. “At their patch parties, he looked as proud as a college graduation.”
Maverick glared at him. “I’m not Rad. And his boy’s in a fucking coma right this minute because of the club. Ask him today if he’s glad his boys are Bulls. Ask Willa if she’s glad.”
“Whoa, Mav,” Apollo said. “The club didn’t have anything to do with what happened.”
“He was trying to make his dues,” Maverick insisted.
Eight cut that talk off at the knees. “And he was a stupid fucking noob to do it that way. It’s not on us, Mav. The whole problem with what Jay did is he was out of bounds. He got hurt because he didn’t have the club at his back.”
All this talk of fathers and sons weighed heavy on Eight today. He felt like he needed to understand Maverick’s point of view, to know what it was to be worried about a son, but all he could feel was confused.
“You gotta let up on Dunc, Mav,” Caleb said, his tone quiet, almost gentle. “You’re gonna fuck things up between you.”
“Since you brought up Willa, where’s Jenny on this?” Apollo asked before Maverick could bark at Caleb.
Eight sighed. That was a stupid question. The last thing this discussion needed was a woman’s point of view—especially Jenny’s, who’d practically had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the fold.
It occurred to him that Jenny had been a little like Marcella, way back in the day. Not exactly the same, but some parts rang true. Maverick had been happy when she’d gotten pregnant with Kelsey, their oldest, but then he’d gone inside not long before the birth, and Jenny had been livid to be left on her own. She’d cut Mav, and the whole club, out. After his release, Mav had had to fight tooth and nail to get his family back.
Now they were a family of five, and Mav and Jenny, as far as Eight knew, had been happy as clams since they’d mended that break. Jenny had been fully involved in the club since, too.
Maybe he should talk to Mav—no. That was an asinine idea. Only Becker had known about Marcella and the kid. His friend had been disappointed that he hadn’t pushed to be in his son’s life, but he’d only expressed that a couple of times. Becker had understood him.
He did not have that kind of relationship with Maverick. Not even close.
“Jenny doesn’t want him patched, either,” Maverick answered Apollo. “He’s her only son, too.”
The conversation was going nowhere, and Eight had shit to do. “Look. He’s already a prospect. If you bring stripping his kutte to the table, you’ll lose that vote and you know it. You can keep him from a patch, if you feel that hard about it, keep voting him down, and pretty soon he’ll time out and you’ll get your way. But there’s no point in fighting that now. He’s still got a little while before he times out. Are we done?”