Page 4 of Ruby

I grasp her hair, not because I’m a ruffian, but so I can see that pretty mouth working between my legs. She takes it like a pro, and I’m talking right down her goddamn throat.

Ruby.

The VP for the Stiletto Riders MC. Yeah, I know who she is. And while it crossed my mind to let her know who I was, there’s no way she would’ve looked at me twice if she realized I’m a prospect.

My club, the Blackstone Backroad Bandits, is only an hour away. I’ve been sent to spy on the Stilettos’ neighbor, who’s stirring a whole lotta trouble down here in Saddle. Wrath, my Prez, understands the women are capable of handling it. Heck, the entire state of Texas knows these women by reputation, but nobody can get into Lanzetti Farms compound if they wear a Stilettos’ patch.

So, here I am.

To protect and to serve. And I’d serve this feisty redhead all fucking day, even if she is older than me.

One of the first things she asked me after we swapped spit was my age. Granted, it’s a fair question: I do have a baby face. My favorite teacher always told me I could get away with everything with my dimples and crooked smile, and she wasn’t far wrong. It’s served me well with the ladies.

“Does any of that really matter?” I grin at Ruby. “What matters is we’re hot for each other.”

“Jesus, please tell me you’re older than twenty-one.”

I burst out laughing. “Give me some credit.” I place a hand over my chest. “But I’m flattered you had to ask.”

“Shut up and answer me,” she demands, the fire burning in her eyes.

“You first.”

“I don’t think so.”

I bite my bottom lip. “Twenty-seven.”

Her eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Now you.”

She steps back. “You’re not even thirty years old; how could I get myself into this mess?” The comment is more to herself, rather than a question aimed at me.

I pull her back by the lapels of her cut. “Don’t get mad, but if you really wanna go postal, you can take it out on my body. Age is just a number, baby.”

“I’m thirty-six, that’s almost ten years!”

“Not so much in dog years.” I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s hot. You can see what you do to me.” I jut my hips out, my dick rock hard. “Feel it.”

“I have to go.”

She’s madder than a wet hen, but that doesn’t bother me. Angry sex can be amazing, too.

“You’re just sayin’ that because you’re older than me, but trust me, Mama, I’m into it.”

“Mama? Oh my god⁠—”

“It’s a joke.”

She narrows her gaze. “You’re one of those guys, aren’t you? Who sweet-talks a woman out of her very mind. I’ll bet you have a whole diatribe of those damn cheesy pick-up lines at your disposal.”

“Nah, readin’ wasn’t my biggest forte. I only learned to write in middle school. Had no parents, and the foster care system sucks⁠—”

She frowns. “You have no parents?”

“Who’d have thought that was worse news,” I mutter.

“I… Well, it’s just I have no parents, either… And I’ve no damn clue why I just told you that.”