Page 105 of Courting Danger

Chapter 28

Roan

“I love bonfire nights,” Roan said as they walked down the path leading from Joker’s Wild to the beach where a giant stack of driftwood and building scraps had already been assembled into an impressive pile that would burn for hours. “Between the food, the music, and the stories, it’s almost as cool as dungeon night.”

“Almost as cool, huh?” Danger asked, nudging his shoulder while Grunge woofed as he pranced along beside him, always thrilled whenever he got to go anywhere with them.

Yes, they’d gotten looks when they’d pulled up in the SUV instead of on their bikes, but as soon as the other Jokers had caught a glimpse of their dogs, they’d understood why and came over to meet the happy pair.

No more skittish tail tucks. No more backing away whenever someone approached. Instead, their tails started wagging whenever they spotted anyone wearing leather, as if they’d come to associate their kuttes with safety and home.

“Yup. Dungeon night has one thing that bonfire night doesn’t,” Roan declared.

“And what’s that?”

“Getting to cum until I can’t feel my body anymore.”

“He’s got a point,” Ocean added. “Though there’s no saying we can’t go for a repeat when we get home tonight.”

“Didn’t you get enough of him riding you when you were on the couch?” Pope asked.

“Or on the floor in the library?” Danger added.

“Did you?” Ocean shot back.

“Fair point,” Danger said, slinging an arm around Roan. “And the answer is no I didn’t.”

“Exactly,” Ocean replied.

They were all laughing as they joined the group of Jokers assembled, with more steadily making their way down the trail. Pope and Danger carried collapsable chairs and a picnic blanket for the pups to lay on so they wouldn’t wind up completely covered in sand. Lynyrd Skynyrd pulsed from the radio, while booming laughter, and a few expletives, rolled down the beach from pockets of conversation.

“Let’s set up here,” Pope said, spying an unclaimed patch of sand well away from the flames, so no crackling embers blew on their pups, not that there was much wind tonight, but exploding burrs did tend to send bursts of sparks into the air from time to time.

“Need anything to drink?” Axel asked.

He and Scout were on cooler duty this evening, making the rounds with an ice filled chest they carried between them.

“What you got in there?” Pope asked.

“Water, lemonade, sweet tea, pop, and beer,” Scout rattled off.

“I’ll take a beer,” Pope said, “and a couple waters for the pups.”

“Yeah, hook me up with a beer too,” Danger replied.

Ocean looked torn before shaking his head. “Can I have a pop?”

“Same,” Roan replied.

They set the cooler in the sand, doled out their drinks, and left four bottles of water for the dogs, which Pope tucked beneath his chair with their bag of supplies.

“Thanks guys,” Pope said, with the rest of them nodding and thanking them too before they moved on around the circle.

“You know,” Pope said. “I still remember the first bonfire my grandfather ever let me attend.”

“How old were you?” Roan asked.

“Fifteen,” Pope replied. “Thought I was a little badass too, when I got my hands on a beer and poured it in a red plastic cup so gramps wouldn’t know. He knew. Watched me refill it through the night. And in the morning, when I woke up with a hangover, he fixed me a breakfast of sunny side up eggs and the greasiest fried sausage I’ve ever tasted in my life, then sent me outside to mow the lawn. I barely made it one pass before I wound up with my head in a bush, puking my guts out.”