Needing Carrie: A Savage Brothers MC Novella(9)

“Jacob! That’s not very nice!” Carrie berates me.

“What the hell are you doing, Carrie?” I growl.

“I was trying to show Skye how I won my title!”

“Your title?”

“Jacob, I won Blow Job Queen!” she squeals, and then reaches down to show me this red thing she has hanging off her shoulders, that says the same thing.

“I don’t want you to show me. This is Bull’s fault!” Skye gripes.

“My fault? What the f*ck did I do, Doc?”

“Well obviously, Dancer trains his woman better.”

“Trains?” Bull asks, laughing. Fuck, I might laugh too, if Carrie wasn’t giving me a heart attack.

“Well he obviously has given her tricks on how to…” she stops to hiccup, “give a Humvee!”

“A Humvee?”

“She means hummer,” Nicole giggles.

“Mama—”

“I did good Dragon. It’s not my fault or yours that I lost.”

“Mama—”

“It’s just the banana doesn’t taste as good as you do.”

“Motherf*cker,” Dragon says on a sigh, his head down.

“Plus, it wasn’t as hard as you get. Cause well you get really firm and you fill my mouth a lot more, so it’s easier to clamp down and suck…”

“That’s enough, Mama,” Dragon laughs.

“I was just trying to explain why I didn’t win the crown,” Nicole mumbles.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel we’re booked in for the night, and you can show me.”

“What about the boys?”

“They’re sleeping at Mary’s. We’ll be over there before they wake up in the morning. Though you’ll probably be hungover as f*ck,” he sighs, pulling his woman into his arms. He carries her like she was a child in his arms.

“That’s not nice! I won’t be hungover. I’m not drunk. I just feel…nice.”

“I’m sure you do,” Dragon answers, shaking his head.

“Hold up, Boss,” Bull yells, tossing me the keys. “See you tomorrow for the shindig, Dance,” he growls. “Let’s go Skye.”

“No. I’m mad at you.”

“What the hell for?”

“I broke the banana. Shit, I can never suck your dick again!”

“What in the Hell, are you talking about woman?” Bull growls, and I think I can see real fear on his face. Then again, if Carrie said she was never sucking my cock again, I’d feel it too.

“What if I hurt your dick? You never told me I was too rough!” Skye cries.

“Jesus. Where the hell is Crusher?” I ask, shaking my head at the sad-ass shape the ladies are in.

“He’s probably in the back, f*cking Dani,” Carrie announces, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. She’s so drunk, because my Carrie would never use the word f*cking in front of all these people so casually. Then again, my Carrie wouldn’t be wearing a crown or a sash that says, “Blow Job Queen,” so proudly, without blushing her ass off.

“Let’s get you home. Mary and her friend, Tanya, are alone with the kids. They might need us.”

“But we’re having fun,” she pouts.

“Where the hell is the sweater you were wearing?”

“It was hot in here,” she grumbles, curling up her nose, and looking down at her sweater. Christ. That’s it.

“I’m taking you home,” I growl. It’s either that, or f*ck her on the stage, so every son of a bitch in here knows who she belongs to. Me.

Possessiveness. Just one more thing Carrie brings out in me. I used to have nothing and now, I have everything.





10





Carrie





“You don’t seem very happy,” I tell Jacob, looking down at him. I’m sitting on the bed and he’s kneeling on the floor taking off my shoes. That would be a sweet thing to do, if he wasn’t grouching at me the whole time.

“You were half dressed on a stage, wearing a ribbon about blow jobs. Why shouldn’t I be grouchy, Carrie?”

“It’s not a ribbon, it’s a sash, and it’s because I won! I mean I don’t know how much experience Nicole and Skye have at that kind of thing, but except for you, I have none.”

“Damn straight you don’t and you never will,” he growls. Grouchy!

“Which means, I must be pretty good at it!” I declare, ignoring his grumpiness. I’m a queen! I’m not about to let him get to me.

“Carrie…” he sighs, standing up. He reaches down and undoes my jeans. I want to help him, but for some reason my fingers don’t cooperate. So, I just lean back on the bed, bracing myself with my elbows, lifting my ass so he can take my jeans off. Once he removes them, he tosses them on the floor, and then leans down over me. I wrap my hands loosely around his neck and pull him into me. “You’re so drunk, Care Bear. How much did you drink?”

“I’m not drunk, I just…well, I feel good.”

“You do feel really good,” he tells me, his hand moving along my ass to slide up under the camisole I’m wearing.