Blood & Bones: Judge (Blood Fury MC Book 3) Page 3

  Mentally, he began to go down his contact list to see who and what he was in the mood for.

  Whoever it was, needed to blow his mind so he could forget—at least for a little while—about that fucking mountain, those inbred Shirleys and how a nine-month pregnant Autumn looked after they found her strapped to that bed in the compound.

  So fucking caught up in his thoughts, he was surprised when they hit the town limits and headed down Main Street.

  He didn’t miss the fact everyone walking or driving through town stared at them rolling by. While the Grove’s citizens were getting used to the return of the Fury, it didn’t mean they all liked the idea.

  Most of them didn’t.

  Trip was right, they needed to keep their shit as clean as possible to avoid hassle from the town council or even Manning Grove PD. He needed to keep his shit clean with them, too, since his business’s survival counted on it.

  He mindlessly followed the formation into the large municipal parking lot at the center of town and one-by-one, all his club brothers crab-walked their sleds back neatly in line next to each other, so they only took up a few parking spots.

  He backed his next to Ozzy, and then Rook rolled his on Judge’s other side.

  Ozzy wore a huge smile as he jerked off his goggles. “Can’t get any fuckin’ better than that ‘cept for a fat, wet and hungry pussy. Meeeeeow.”

  Judge wondered if he would end up nuts deep in Lizzy later and if Judge should cross her off his list of ball-emptying potentials.

  “Shit’s gettin’ to be blue ball weather, though,” Rook stated after jerking down his face mask, heeling down his kickstand and yanking off his leather gloves.

  “Don’t be a pussy,” Dutch griped in his gravelly voice as he walked past them, tugging on his long salt-and-pepper beard. “Us Originals never cried about a lil nippy nuts. You young fucks ain’t made like we were.”

  “Yeah, bet you rode your sled two miles up a hill in five feet of fuckin’ snow just to get your dick wet,” Rook razzed his father.

  “When your ma was still ‘round, got my dick wet all the time. And the bitch could suck a knob off a fuckin’ door.”

  “Christ,” Rook growled, dropping his head and shaking it.

  “Well, it’s fuckin’ true, boy. If it wasn’t for that, never woulda made her my ol’ lady and had her squirt you and your brother out.” He waved a wrinkled, age-spotted hand and kept moving toward the front of the line where Trip, Stella and Cage were waiting. “By the way, havin’ you two trashed her fuckin’ pussy. Worst decision ever!” he shouted back over his shoulder.

  Ozzy, another Original like Dutch, snorted and slapped his gloves on his leather chaps-covered thigh. “Fuckin’ old man. Always was a pisser.”

  “Yeah, he was,” Judge mumbled, sliding the key from his Softail Slim. He loved his sled. He’d had it customized after he bought it new to make it look even more badass than it came from factory. He’d traded in Ox’s old sled he’d rode ever since he was old enough to be able to keep it upright. Which was not long after that fucker went to prison.

  He’d also wore his old man’s cut, but with his own name patch on it. Trip had him rip off the old diamond 1% patch on the back and remove the Original patch on the front, too. So far, only Ozzy and Dutch could claim they were Originals.

  He didn’t give a fuck about ripping those two patches off. Those were the two reasons that caused the Fury to burn to the ground in the first place.

  Nothing but murder and mayhem...

  When Whip and Rev strode by, Rev asked, “You assholes comin’?”

  “Not yet.” But that was his plan for later. He just needed to pick a place to plant his cum.

  “Yep.” Ozzy dismounted and chased after them.

  “Fuck,” Rook said softly next to him, which had Judge glancing at the man who was now standing in front of his own sled, a black beanie yanked over his head, dark sunglasses on his face, and his hands on his hips.

  “What’s up?”

  “Fuck, man, look at that piece of fuckin’ ass headin’ this way. What I’d do to stick my dick in that...”

  Judge’s gaze slid from Rook to the object of the man’s attention. With a quick glance, he noticed a woman walking in their direction—her face a bit pale, her eyes a bit wide and worried, and her hand tightly gripping a little girl’s—had caught every male with a dick’s attention.

  Judge’s jaw got tight at a couple of catcalls coming from his brothers which made the blonde move a bit quicker, dragging the girl, who looked about five, along with her. The girl also had blonde hair just like her mother.

  Or who he assumed was her mother.

  “You comin’?” Rook asked him, his eyes still glued to the very generous hips and thighs heading their way.

  Judge could tell, even with her walking swiftly and stiffly, she couldn’t control the natural rock and roll to those hips. Nor the bounce to those tits, which were the perfect size for a man to be smothered to death. While wearing a smile.

  They were just how he liked them. Tits, ass and pussy big enough to get lost in.

  And this one had it all.

  Problem was, she had a kid attached to her and she looked scared as fuck.

  “You go on. Be there in a sec,” Judge mumbled.

  He didn’t miss Rook’s grin. “Aimin’ high, Judge. But she’s haulin’ some baggage with her.”

  Judge didn’t answer, he only kept his eyes locked on someone a fuck of a lot better looking than Rook.

  Rook snorted, shook his head and wandered off, following the rest of his brothers as they headed toward Dino’s Diner.

  Judge tugged on his knit beanie, pulling it lower over his head, but kept his eyes on the blonde. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she was walking a direct line to an old silver Honda SUV. As they got close to it, she let go of the girl’s hand and then screamed, “Daisy!” as little legs became a blur.

  “Oh fuck,” Judge muttered as the little snot monkey came tearing toward him.

  “Daisy!” her mother screamed, now in a panic, and almost took a header herself right onto the pavement.

  “Oh fuck,” he muttered again as mom caught herself and kept hauling ass after her lightning-quick daughter.

  But those stubby legs outran those fucking long, wrap-those-around-my-ears legs and got to him before she did. Though, Judge might have enjoyed watching those tits bounce out of control beneath her open coat as the woman scrambled to keep up.

  “Hi!” was screamed up at him with a big smile and a sloppy wave.

  “Guess your name’s Daisy,” Judge grumbled, looking down into bright blue eyes and a whole bunch of sass. One little hand was plugged onto one equally little jutted out hip.

  “How d’you know that?”

  Judge jerked his chin up at the woman who was finally catching up. “That your mom?”

  Daisy glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “Yeah.”

  “That’s how I know. Was screamin’ your name and you ignored her.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “She’s alllllways screamin’ my name.”

  “You give her a reason to scream your name?”

  The little girl dug the toe of her tiny light blue sneaker covered with daisies into the pavement, making some beads on her laces jingle. “Nooooo.”

  “That don’t sound convincin’,” Judge told her.

  She shot him a bright smile. “I—”

  “Daisy!” the blonde, curvy woman yelled, blindly reaching for her daughter as she kept her eyes glued on Judge, who hadn’t moved from his sled. “We have to go.” She sounded out of breath—whether she was out of shape or because she was scared of him, Judge didn’t know—as she grabbed her daughter’s arm and tugged.

  “Mommmmma, I’m just sayin’ hi!”

  Another tug. “You said it, now we have to go.”

  “He didn’t say hi back yet!” she screamed.

  Judge winced. For fuck’s sake, that kid was going to be a handful.


  “Hi, Daisy,” he said, biting back a snort.

  She glanced up at her mother, “Now you say it.”

  Mom acted like she didn’t understand. She probably wanted to disappear into the blacktop. “Say what, sweetie?”

  “Say hi!”

  Blondie blinked and her mouth dropped open slightly. “Umm. Hi.” Color tinged her cheeks.

  “Now you say it back,” Daisy demanded from Judge.

  “Know how this works, kid,” he told her.

  “Then say it!”

  Christ, the kid was going to grow up to be a dominatrix. He lifted his gaze from the mini-me to her mother. “Hi.”

  “I’m so sorry she’s bothering you,” she said quickly. “Daisy, let’s leave this nice man alone.”

  “Far from it.”

  Her just as bright blue eyes flipped from her daughter up to him. “What?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “Mommmmmmmaaaaa. He hasn’t told me his name yet.”

  Holy fuck.

  “She’s not normally like this, she’s just tired and needs a nap.”

  “No, I don’t!” Stomp. “If he doesn’t tell me his name, then he’s still a stranger and Aunt Heather says I can’t talk to strangers. So, if he’s a stranger, I can’t talk to him. So, he neeeeeeeeeds to tell me his name so I can taaaaaaaaalk to him!”

  Blondie rolled her eyes just like her daughter had done and it was kind of cute. “Good lord, child, you’re going to give me an aneurysm.”

  Daisy blinked up at her mother. “A what?”

  “Never mind, we have to go.”

  “No!”

  “You need to listen to your momma,” Judge told Daisy.

  “Don’t wanna ‘til you tell me your name.”

  God help the man who got saddled with that demanding woman. Though, if she grew up looking like her momma, most men might tolerate the attitude. And some other men might not like it and try to beat it the fuck out of her. “If I tell you, you gonna listen to your momma?”

  Daisy’s lips pressed tight.

  So did Judge’s.

  Then the little girl stomped her foot once more with a loud huff.

  Judge swung a leg over his sled and got to his feet.

  Daisy’s blue eyes went wide as she took in his height. “You’re like the giant in Jack an’ the Beanstalk!” she whispered in awe.

  “What’s the giant’s name?” Judge asked her.

  “Momma, what’s the giant’s name?”

  “I... I don’t know, sweetie.”

  “It can be your name,” Daisy decided with a sharp nod. “What is it?”

  Judge squatted down beside her and looked her directly in the eyes. “You sayin’ we won’t be strangers if I tell you my name?”

  Daisy nodded her head like a little fiend. “No! Then we’ll be friends.”

  Judge glanced up at Mom, who was nervously chewing on her bottom lip. “Not sure your momma will let us be friends.”

  “I’m not askin’ her!”

  Judge’s eyebrows shot up. “How old are you?”

  Daisy lifted a hand with all her stubby fingers spread wide. “Five!”

  “Then you always gotta ask your momma everything first.”

  “Oh... please,” her mother groaned, “not everything.”

  Judge’s lips twitched and his eyes dropped back to Daisy’s. “My name’s Judge.”

  The little girl made a face. “Never heard that name before.”

  “Bet you heard a lotta names in all five of your years.”

  “I have.” She nodded. “A lot.” She pursed her little lips and searched his face. “Now we’re friends, can I touch your face?”

  What the fuck? “Why?”

  “You look like a shaggy doggy. An’ I wanna pet you ‘cause I’m not allowed to have a dog.” She huffed again.

  Judge pinned his lips together. After a few seconds he had his shit together enough to say, “Not sure you touchin’ a stranger’s a good idea.”

  “You’re not a stranger now, Judge,” she reminded him with so much sass, Judge could taste it.

  “You’re right. I’m not.” He pushed to his feet. “’Nother time, Daisy. Sure your momma don’t want you touchin’ men you just met.”

  “Then next time.”

  Judge met the bright blue eyes of Daisy’s mother. “Yeah, maybe next time.”

  As he looked down at the woman, he noticed her hand shaking as she reached once again for her daughter.

  “You afraid of me?” Judge asked softly.

  He didn’t miss her throat move as she swallowed. “Should I be?”

  “Probably,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Sorry?”

  “Nothin’ to be afraid of. Ain’t gonna hurt you.” He flipped his eyes down to the little girl at her side. “Or your girl.”

  “Okay, well... N-nice meeting you.”

  He didn’t even try to bite back his snort. Liar.

  Lies otherwise known as polite bullshit. He hated fake. He wanted real. “Why was it nice?”

  Her grip tightened on her daughter’s shoulder. “I... I’m not sure what—”

  “Said it was nice meetin’ me. What was nice about it?”

  Color flushed her cheeks again. “You... you were nice to my daughter.”

  “She’s got quite the attitude. She get that from you?”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open. And after a second, she snapped it shut. “We need to go. Sorry for bothering you...”

  He pointed to the rectangular patch on his cut. “Judge.”

  “Judge,” she finished, snagging Daisy’s hand in a tight grip and yanking her along as she rushed across the parking lot.

  “Hey, you got a name?” he called out.

  His answer was the slamming of a car door.

  He waited with his arms crossed over his chest as the silver CRV sped out of the lot.

  Then Judge smiled.

  Until he saw it had New York plates.

  That meant she was just a tourist and not new in town.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, smoothed out his beard, and grimaced.

  He shook his head and headed across the street to the diner, bracing for his ass to be ridden hard for striking out.

  Chapter Two

  Judge gave his girl a little gas and cursed himself for riding his sled to work today. The weather could go either way in December and today was definite nutsicle weather. In truth, it was time to park the Softail for the winter. Which sucked. But in northern Pennsylvania, it was reality.

  At least all the Fury members could park their sleds inside a huge shed on the farm. It gave him a little comfort to have it nearby in case of an unseasonably warm winter day since he preferred his sled over his Expedition. Unfortunately, he needed his Ford for two reasons. Bad weather and for hauling around the dogs.

  Usually their American Bulldogs, Jury and Justice, were with him and Deke at Justice Bail Bonds during the day, so one or the other had to drive a cage to haul their hairy, farting asses. Most of the time, Deke got stuck doing it.

  Today was one of those days since he’d had an itch to straddle his big girl even if the weather was as cold as a witch’s tit.

  The rumble of his straight pipes rattled the shop windows along the strip mall as he headed through the parking lot toward Walmart at the opposite end of the shopping center. He needed to grab another box of wraps.

  Since going up that mountain, he’d been burning through them lately because he’d been burning through sweet butts.

  There wasn’t a lot of pussy hanging around The Barn yet. A half dozen or so.

  Usually when one showed up and stuck, she told her friends. Which meant soon there’d be more. Until then, unless he searched elsewhere, he was stuck with who they had. And he really didn’t want to search elsewhere.

  That could get fucking sticky.

  Sweet butts knew the deal. Some hang-arounds did, too, though they held out more hope of sinking their claws into a brother and wearing
a “Property of” cut.

  If Judge looked for pussy outside of the MC, he’d want to keep it casual and usually women had a problem with casual. Might start off that way, saying they’d be fine with the arrangement. Until they weren’t.

  And then it got to the sticky part. The part where it took an industrial strength scraper to scrape them off.

  So, for now, if it wasn’t a sweet butt who knew her place within the club, then it was his fist. Or his Fleshlight, which he preferred over his fist, sometimes even over pussy.

  No need to kick anyone out of his bed after busting a nut into that. No wraps needed, either. Just a little soap and warm water for cleanup.

  But still... He needed wraps because Whip’s ex-girlfriend Billie, who decided to stick around after Whip tossed her cheating ass to the curb, had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse for tonight.

  And, fuck it, he jumped on it because Billie wasn’t a clinger. She’d stick around only long enough for them both to get off a couple times, and then she’d jet before even having to be told to get the fuck out. She also kept her pussy clean. That was a big fucking stickler for him and had been ever since he’d been sixteen.

  Only problem with Billie was, she wasn’t Judge’s type at all, so she had to work a little harder with her mouth to get him ready. Good thing she sucked dick like a pro.

  She had short black hair, loads of crazy makeup to give her that dark, goth look, and her clothing was the same dark style. She had all kinds of piercings—which Judge kind of liked, especially the ones in her tongue, hood and nipples—and she liked it rough.

  The last part he didn’t mind. To a point.

  He wondered how Whip met her. Because he didn’t seem the type to be into that, either.

  Judge mentally shrugged. He was pretty fucking sure some of his brothers had some hidden kinks. He didn’t give a fuck as long as they weren’t directed at him. While he didn’t mind double-tagging a woman, he wasn’t taking dick in his mouth or getting it up the ass himself.

  Judge turned his sled down an aisle and spotted an empty parking spot.

  That wasn’t all he spotted.

  A silver piece of shit CRV with New York plates.

  Behind it was a woman who was definitely his type.

  He didn’t like little.