Halligan To My Axe (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 2) (19 page)

“God I’ve missed you. Missed this.” He said, running his nose along the exposed skin of my throat.

Our combined wetness was making Kettle’s cock tunnel into me with such ease that it was nearly laughable. It felt like we’d doused ourselves with lube with the effortlessness it took for his cock to sink inside of me.

Tattoos lined Kettle’s chest, and all I wanted to do right then was trace every single one with the tip of my tongue.

He had a killer grin, a mouth to die for, and the hottest body on the planet. One look at the man had my core hot and wet for him.

I was in the process of licking his left pectoral when a small tap on the window beside us had Kettle freezing, staying my hips with his large, callused hands.

Both of us together looked to the side to find Loki standing there with a shit-eating grin, and Trance a little further down the stairs, back towards the door, contemplating the para-sailors in the distance.

That was when I realized that, although we were inside, those that ventured too close to the deck got an eye full. Just as Trance and Loki had done only moments before.

Kettle growled in frustration before shuffling, as best as he could, with pants around his ankles until my back was on the far wall instead of the door.

Did he stop though?

No. Hell no.

He just sped up.

“This is gonna be quick. I’ve left them alone too long and now they’re wondering how things went.” He growled as he started thrusting harder.

Then he grasped one thigh, pressed it up and out, fairly plastering it to the wall, before he started working me in hard, deep strokes.

The rasp of his pubic hair against my throbbing clit was making me barrel towards my orgasm at a high rate of speed. It came on so fast that I skyrocketed out of oblivion with very little air in my lungs. Emitting a small squeak as I went.

My hot core clamped down on his cock, working him like a hot, wet, pulsing fist as my orgasm overtook me.

Kettle’s growl of completion escaped against my mouth, and our tongues dueled as our orgasms tore through us. It hurtled me into a pleasure I’d never felt before.

“Fuck,” he panted a few minutes later as he let my legs drop from around his hips to the floor.

My boots hit with a soft clicking as I shifted positions slightly, feeling the leaking of his seed as it dripped slowly out of my pussy and slipped down my thighs.

“I’ve got to hit the shower,” I said before dashing into the bedroom, leaving Kettle to deal with our little problem.

Then I snickered to myself.

I was such a hoe.

There’s a fight in your firefighter. Just be there for him when he needs you.

-Silas’ words of wisdom

Adeline

Fifteen hours later found us all gathered around a huge table in the middle of the clubhouse.

All the couches and chairs I’d seen on my previous visit were pushed to the side of the room in one corner.

Rock star Christmas Pandora Station was playing through Kettle’s iPhone that was connected to the speakers, and I was having a fucking blast.

I’d been to many parties with my father’s club, but I was a young kid, and kids didn’t have the same participation level in a club as adults did.

So here I was in the middle of the table with Baylee on one side of me, and Kettle on the other.

Baby Blaise was in my arms, dressed adorably in her tiny little onesie that said, ‘Merry Christmas ya Filthy Animal’ on it, and it made me have those ideas again.

Baylee was currently going over a call they’d caught last week, and Trance snorted when he heard her recount.

“What’s the craziest call you’ve ever had?” I asked Trance.

Trance thought about it for a few seconds, eyes going distant, before he smiled widely.

“Well, there was this one time I was called by dispatch for officer assistance. They had a man masturbating at the local Wal-Mart on one of those benches that sits by the checkout lanes. He was just doing it right out in the open for everyone to see. Anyway, the first cop to get on scene was a rookie cop who’d never been on a solo call before. Of course, he picked that one up. So, he goes about trying to persuade the man to stop, but there’s such a crowd around him that he really can’t do much of anything besides talk to the man.” Trance started.

He picked up his beer, took a sip, and set it down before continuing.

“Anyway, he called for backup, and two seasoned beat cops show up. Of course, the same thing happens. The guy’s still stroking his meat in front of God and country while the three cops
try, calmly, to tell him to stop. They can’t really do much about it, because the guy was high on meth, and they know he’s going to have to be brought in. Then the show started when the rookie lost the quarter toss and was forced to actually put the guy in handcuffs. As soon as the rookie touched the guy, he fucking flipped. Switch thrown, I’m saying. One second he’s calm and just slowly stroking, and the next he goes fuckin’ wild and starts attacking the cops and the crowd. Let’s not forget that he’s still working his cock.” Trance laughed.

The men around me were all laughing their asses off, Kettle’s top half was bent over the table as he wiped tears from his eyes, and Sebastian and Loki were leaning against each other laughing full throttle.

The scene made me so fuckin’ happy I could scream.

These men had a soft spot in my heart a mile wide.

“So they call me. By the time I showed up, there were twelve officers on scene all trying their best to stop the guy, but none were brave enough to get close to the man because the fucker’s still jacking off, more furiously than before. They’d tased him numerous times, and he shrugged it off like the goddamn Hulk. So my old K-9 partner, Elixir, and I walk inside the Wal-Mart and follow the crowd to find the fucker scrapping with the rookie cop while a few of the other cops are standing back videotaping it. At one point, the man that was high on meth got the upper hand and straddled the cop, aiming his dick right at the rookie cops’ face. Needless to say, I let Elixir go to do his job and the meth head still wouldn’t fucking stop jacking it. It did hold him still long enough for us to get some restraints on him and shit. They shoved him in the back of the rookie’s police car where the meth addict proceeds to use the fucking seat to finally get off. Then he goes to fuckin’ sleep. Like it never even happened.”

“That’s...” I said shaking my head. “Crazy!”

“I used to live in Vegas. It’s a big city. Lots of crazy shit going on.” Trance nodded.

“So you’re telling me he fought them off single handedly?” Sebastian wheezed.

Trance nodded solemnly making the entire table erupt in laughter.

I shook my head and then looked at Kettle. “What about you?”

He wasn’t able to answer before his name was bellowed from the other end of the table.

“Kettle!” Porter yelled. “It’s time”

Porter was holding up a black case in the air that resembled the shape of an instrument and shaking it wildly.

“Hey, careful with that!” He said standing abruptly and walking quickly to Porter.

“Oh, yeah. Get ready for a show!” Baylee said, as she rubbed her hands together vigorously.

“What’s going on?” I asked, as I moved the baby until she was propped up on my shoulder with her little baby bottom in my hand.

“You’ll see,” she said cryptically.

Kettle, Porter, and another man I’d seen, but didn’t know right off hand, took a seat in the very corner of the room and started tuning their individual instruments.

Porter pulled out a worn and battered acoustic guitar, the other guy, who I’d finally placed as Torren, pulled out a harmonica type device that was connected to some sort of cord or something. Then there was Kettle, who’d pulled out a gleaming wooden fiddle that was beautiful.

“Are they going to play Christmas carols?” I asked

Sebastian, who was on the other side of Baylee, heard my comment and snorted. “Do they look like they’re going to play Christmas carols? They’d all have to be really, really drunk to do that. Kettle doesn’t normally play too often, either, so they wouldn’t piss him off by asking him to play carols. He’d never play again, and it’s an awesome thing to witness; it’s best not to piss him off just in case.”

I stayed silent as I watched Kettle check his instrument, and then his bow. He ran his fingers over the strings, testing the long fibers of hair.

“Can I have ice cream now?” Johnny, Sebastian’s four-year-old son, asked from across the table.

All our eyes went to the plate in front of him, noticing for the first time it was empty of the carrots that Baylee had put on his plate when they’d started dinner.

He’d been complaining for nearly an hour now about ‘hating carrots’ because they were ‘rabbit food’ and he was a ‘human fucking being.’ When he’d asked for ice cream, Sebastian had flat out told him no, he sure as hell wasn’t getting any ‘fucking ice cream’ until he finished his ‘goddamned carrots.’

I’d winced right along with Baylee at the curse words coming out of Sebastian’s mouth knowing Johnny would turn around and repeat each and every word at a later date in time. Most
likely when they were around other people that would be highly offended by a four year old cursing.

Sebastian leaned forward and looked at his plate. “Let me see your hands.”

Johnny lifted up his hands and showed his father they were empty.

Then Sebastian bent down to look under the table. Upon seeing no stray carrots, he nodded at his son. “I’ll go get you some ice cream. Thank you for eating the carrots.”

When Johnny smiled, I saw a small piece of orange in his mouth, but then music from the direction of my man started to fill the air, making me look up to see Kettle perched on the very edge of the bar stool. One foot on the ground, and the other on the lowest rung.

His eyes were closed, and he was letting the fine hair of the bow run lightly over the strings of the fiddle.

The other two were warming up as well, but my eyes were glued on Kettle. On the peaceful expression on his face. On the slight quirk of his head as he leaned his chin on the black pad of the instrument.

After about ten minutes of them fiddling around, adjusting things, and basically tuning their instruments to their liking, Mike started playing a few soft notes. Then Porter started picking at his guitar with his large, blunt fingers.

Then there was Kettle, who waited.

His foot tapped along with the music, and instantly, I knew what they were going to play.

“Callin’ Baton Rouge?” I asked Baylee. “Isn’t it against a motorcycle club’s religion to play anything but rock and roll?”

Baylee laughed.

“Wait for it,” she said, sparing me a small glance before she returned her gaze to the impromptu concert ahead of us.

Blaise stirred in my arms, making me miss the part where Kettle actually started to play, but once I looked up again, my eyes were laser focused on the sexy beast of a man rocking it out on his fiddle in front of me.

“There it is,” Baylee smiled as Kettle’s brilliance started pouring out through the music.

Kettle was dressed in dark faded jeans, a black t-shirt, and his cut. His hair was shaved back down so his Mohawk was once again perfectly a half inch long with the sides shaved cleanly down. Then there was the fiddle. It looked so tiny in his large hands.

Words could not explain what I felt as I watched Kettle play.

My arms and hands, as well as my legs, feet, head, and torso were moving with the beat.

What once started as a perfectly lined bow was now sporting broken pieces of hairs as Kettle fairly attacked his instrument in his exuberance.

His fingers were moving so freakin’ fast that it was hard to see, and by the time they were into the last beats of the song, my heart was pounding.

“Holy shit,” I breathed as I watched the boys finish their song.

The men around the clubhouse were all drinking and having a good time. There was family and fun, and I was so very happy.

The only thing missing was my sister, but as long as my sister was happy with her life, I was, too.

“Finished!” Johnny declared as he set his spoon down and then promptly spit out every single carrot that had been on his plate earlier in the meal back onto his plate and left the table.

I had to laugh when I realized that the boy had obviously had the load in his mouth the entire time, throughout eating the ice cream and all.

“I can’t say that I’m not impressed.” Sebastian said dryly.

“I cannot even fathom how he was able to do that...” Baylee said as she shook her head in awe.

Standing up and leaving them to their discussion, I made my way around the large table and sidled up to Kettle who was drinking a beer.

He had sweat beading on his forehead and running down his face, but he looked happy. His eyes had tracked my movement as soon as I’d stood, and watched as I made my way closer and closer to him.

“You did well, Tiago.” I said as I got to within hearing range.

“Yeah,” he said. “My parents paid for me to do well. I still love it anyway.”

“Got a little rough with your bow, there, didn’t you?” I teased.

He snorted. “You’re not putting enough emphasis into it if you don’t break a few hairs.”

“So are you guys taking requests?” I asked, eyes turning from Kettle, to Torren, and back to Kettle.

He looked at me skeptically.

“As long as it isn’t any of that shit I heard rolling through your car when I’m the one following you around, we’ll be good.” Porter glared at her.

I laughed.

“Hey, I resent-”

Kettle’s pager went off. Followed by about half the men in the room. Cell phones started ringing. Alarms started sounding. Then all the men receiving those calls were standing.

“Here, baby. Will you put this away for me? I’m getting a call out. Hang here with Baylee. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can, okay?” Kettle said as he handed me his fiddle and started running away without even a backwards glance.