The Devil’s Dust Holidays

By M.N. Forgy

Copyright © 2014 M.N. Forgy

Edited by Hot Tree Editing

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fictions. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

***

End Of The Year Get Together

“Bobby, get your ass out of this kitchen unless you plan to cook!” Cherry yells at me, her gray eyes pinning me with anger. She’s wearing some ugly red Christmas sweater and black leggings, but she’s cute as hell when she tries to be bitchy with me.

“Fuck that,” I mutter. I can cook, but not many people know that. Before walking out, I dip my finger in the bowl of mash potatoes.

“Bobby!” all the ol’ ladies yell at me, making me laugh. The ladies cook in the kitchen, and the men put the tables up and drink ‘til the food is ready.

The ladies are dressed in their hot-ass dresses, the ol’ ladies wearing their cuts. The brothers are setting up a large table in the middle of the club, ready to fill their bellies with food. It doesn’t get much better than this in my book.

This is my family. This is where I celebrate the holidays. For a lot of the brothers, this is all they have as far as family. I run my hand through my shaggy hair, Jessica popping through my mind. She doesn’t have anyone either. Having to run from her entire family a few years ago to escape her past, and the possibility of slipping up and becoming a suspect in her husband’s disappearance, she had to leave. Not to mention in order for her husband’s disappearance, she agreed to be our on-call doctor, in exchange for our services, giving her the nickname Doc. I wonder what she is doing today, if she is alone. I smirk. I wonder if she can cook.

“Hey, man, what’s on your mind?” Shadow asks, nudging me against the arm. Shadow is my partner in crime, and our VP. I’d die for him.

“The holiday’s man,” I answer, sitting at the bar watching Bull and Tom Cat trying to figure out how to lock the legs on one of the tables. Bull yells at Tom Cat, telling him he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Tom Cat gets pissed, dropping the table on Bull who is underneath it. Shadow and I chuckle as we watch them bitch at one another.

“I think Dani just finished Christmas shopping for Zane. I got Dani this 4D imaging for her pregnancy. Jessica said Dani was talking about how much she wanted to see the baby in 4D, but didn’t want to pay that kind of money,” Shadow remarks, grabbing a beer from under the bar.

“Sounds like chick crap,” I reply, taking a beer from him.

Shadow chuckles, “Pretty much.”

“Boys, come help get some of these plates,” Vera yells, stepping out of the kitchen. Vera is all right as far as looks go, darker hair, skinny body, and she looks hot in black. But I wouldn’t bang her; she’s too much of a bitch.

Shadow and I go to the kitchen, taking hot bowls full of food, and plates to eat on. I place the bowl of mash potatoes on the table, and sit, waiting for the rest of the group to sit down.

“You staying tonight?” Tom Cat whispers in my ear, referring to the after party. Bull’s gift to us for Christmas includes a bunch of strippers from down town.

“Fuck yeah,” I answer, my eyebrows raised in excitement. As if that was even a question. Tom Cat pulls his long blondish hair into a man bun, smiling.

“Nice,” Tom Cat chuckles, rubbing his hand over his beard as he eyes the ham on the table.

“I got you a gift, too, man,” Tom Cat remarks, grabbing a plate.

“Oh, yeah,” I laugh. Anytime an occasion comes around, Tom gets me weed; he knows me well.

Tom Cat pops a chunk of roll into his mouth, and smirks. “It’s good shit, too,” he adds.

“Thanks, man,” I reply, giving him a manly slap on the back.

I look across the table at Zane, licking his lips as he eyes the table full of food.  There a few kids here tonight, but I only like Zane. Shadow and Dani’s son is named after me, and is going to be a badass just like me.

“Shadow, don’t give him any of that pie. He will get a tummy ache!” Dani scolds, slapping at Shadow’s hand that holds a forkful of pie. Shadow furrows his brows inward, clearly angry with Dani’s tone. I bite my lips trying not to laugh. Relationships? Fuck that noise.

“Hey, I got Zane something,” I add, standing from my table. I walk down the hall into my room and grab the box off my bed. Walking back to the table, all eyes are on me as I put it on the top of Zane’s high chair.

“Open it, little man,” I encourage, my heart thudding with excitement. I go back around the table to my spot, Shadow and Dani looking at me cautiously.

“Just open it,” I snap, stabbing my spoon into a mound of stuffing and shoveling into my mouth. Dani turns and lifts the lid, and Zane plows his hands in pulling out the child-size leather cut. The name Zane patched on the back, with the Devil’s Dust logo under it.

Shadow’s grins as Dani covers her mouth with her hand.

Zane tries to put it on, smiling at his dad.

“Now, he can be just like his uncle,” I remark around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, or his dad,” Shadow adds, smirking at me.

Bull laughs at the head of the table. “That’s the best gift a boy could receive. Well done, Bobby,” Bull compliments.

I eat three platefuls of food, talking to the group about general bullshit over dinner.

“I’m stuffed,” Cherry remarks, leaning back in her chair.

“Me, too,” Dani says, rubbing her pregnant belly. That’s my cue to get the fuck out of here unless I want to do dishes.

I stand up and scrape the leftover pie from my plate onto Zane’s high chair while nobody is looking and go into the kitchen.

“Shadow, I said not to do that! You are going to stay up with him tonight when he has a stomach ache!” I hear Dani yell at Shadow, making me laugh. He doesn’t really get a stomach ache, not like she makes it out to be. It’s more like the sugar makes him hyper and Dani in her pregnant state just can’t handle it. I’ve seen them up late at night.

“Nice one, fucker!” Shadow snaps, walking into the kitchen with his empty plate. I grin wolfishly, rinsing my plate.

“I’m out of here,” I reply, wiping my hands on my jeans to dry them off.

“You ain’t sticking around,” Shadow questions. He knows I don’t miss a party, but I have to see Jessica. See how she is, make sure she is not depressed and sitting around the house.

“Nah, I am going to go swing by Jessica’s,” I inform.

“You know she’s not going to like you dropping by like that,” he insists, running his over his scruffy jaw, before sliding through his dark hair.

“She secretly likes it,” I add, smirking at Shadow.

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” Shadow laughs.

I walk out of the club and head for my bike, the winter chill already stinging my cheeks. I pull my helmet on and fly out of the parking lot heading towards Jessica’s.

Jessica

“Mom, the house is so smoky!” Addie yells, coughing around her words.

“I’m not sure what I did wrong. I made the gravy just like the recipe said,” I inform, looking at the piece of paper I printed out from the internet.

“Damn!” Bree adds, waving her hand in the air. Bree is our next door neighbor, babysitter, and is pretty much family. She’s this dark headed, secret geek. I love it when she talks about nerdy stuff.

“I’m going to go take Addie to get some Christmas movies. Hopefully when we get back, the place won’t be burnt down,” Bree remarks, laughing. I turn from the smoking stovetop and glare at her, making her laugh even more.

“Screw it. I give up,” I snap, throwing the skillet into the sink. I am an okay cook, but of course, something would go wrong today. The holidays are hard for me. I talk to my mom for about twenty minutes and that’s about it. It’s just me, Addie and sometimes Bree for the holidays. I am always invited to the club for dinner and gatherings, but I don’t feel comfortable taking Addie there, and I won’t leave her by herself for the holidays. The club is a dangerous place, and I try to distance myself from it as much as I can.

A knock sounds at the door, grabbing my attention. Addie must have locked the door on her way out.

“Did you forget your phone?” I yell, walking toward the door.

I open the door and see Bobby leaning against my door frame.

His blond hair is whipped back from the wind of the night and his cheeks are pink. He’s wearing a black long-sleeved shirt, blue jeans, and that damn cut that make my legs tremble.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss, wiping my forehead.

Bobby laughs and pushes past me, his intrusion angering me.

“Wow, what are you burning?” Bobby asks, walking into my kitchen.

“I tried to make gravy. I think I added too much flour. I’m not sure,” I respond, walking over to the sink to clean the skillet for try two.

Bobby rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, and grabs the pan from me mid-wash.

“Let me,” he remarks, rinsing the soap off the pan. I lean back against the counter and watch. Bobby dries the pan off, and sets it on the stove top. My eyes follow him around the kitchen, as he opens a dozen drawers looking for a spoon, going through the food laid out on the kitchen island. I can’t help but stare; he seems to really know what he is doing. I push off the counter and look into the pan, a nice thick gravy starting to simmer perfectly.

“Who taught you to cook?” I ask, shocked he can cook from scratch.

“My mom, she was always doing potlucks and things for the town,” he replies. I nod and leave it at that. He must miss his parents around the holidays. Bobby lost both his parents, and I know it hurts him, even if he acts like it doesn’t. I know I miss my family, even my alter-ego father around the holidays.

Bobby turns and smiles at the gravy, proud of what he has created. He dips his finger in and wraps his lips around it, licking it clean. I literally gasp. There is something about a man in tattoos, in a kitchen, who knows how to cook, that turns me the hell on. Bobby’s eyes dart towards me from my uncontrollable whimper. He smiles around sucking on his finger, recognizing my lustful state.

Bobby dips his finger into the gravy and slides it on my bottom lip teasingly. The warm glaze coating my lip smells delicious. I dart my tongue out and lick it off slowly. My eyes never leaving his blue irises.

“Good, right?” he asks, his voice husky.

He grabs me by the hips and pulls me forward, my chest crashing into his. He cups the back of my neck, the other arm on the small of my back as he kisses up my neck, right behind my earlobe, igniting a line of sparks along my skin.

I reach up and tangle my hands in his hair, wanting nothing more for Christmas than for him to take me in the bedroom and have his way with me.

“You are so darn cute in this little apron, with flour on your face,” Bobby groans, sliding his hands down my backside onto my ass cheeks. I bloom with desire, wanting more, but Addie will be back soon. Shit, Addie.

“Stop,” I whisper, not fully committed to pulling away.

Bobby ignores me, running his hands over my legs, causing my legs to ache from desire.

“You have to stop. Addie will be back any minute,” I plead, pushing away from him. I lean against the counter trying to catch my breath, my emotions so wrapped up in the heated moment.

“Right,” Bobby mutters, running his hands through his hair. “I better get back to the club, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he rasps, tucking his fingers into his belt loops. I close my eyes. I can’t look at him or I’ll be planted on this counter with my hair in the cherry cheesecake, Addie and Bree walking in on us in all my glory.

Bobby walks up to me, and runs his thumb over my bottom lip tenderly, his ocean blue eyes staring down at me with a promising haze.

“See ya around,” he whispers, giving me a panty-dropping grin before he heads out the door, leaving me in a pool of drool and need.

It would be a holiday to remember if Bobby could have taken me on the counter filled with holiday food, but we have our boundaries we both need to abide by.

 

The End

-Happy Holidays,

M. N. FORGY

www.mnforgy.com

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