Romeo (Dark Knights MC/Blood Fury MC: Crossover)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Five years later…

Romeo sucked on a fat blunt. With a half-full bottle of whiskey on the floor by his boot and his knees spread wide, he slouched in the recliner tucked in the corner of his room while keeping his eyes glued to the bed.

When the smoke rolled out of his mouth, he inhaled it again through his nostrils and back down deep into his lungs as he contemplated the situation before him.

What bugged his ass the most was, he should be rock hard about now. He should have his dick in his hand and be stroking it until he rode that sweet, sharp edge. Until he was ready to take part in what was happening on his mattress.

But he wasn’t.

For some fucking reason, this shit tonight wasn’t doing it for him.

Maybe he was sick. Though, he didn’t feel ill. Just…

Bored as fuck .

That realization just made this whole goddamn thing worse.

Sweet butts weren’t a fucking challenge. All he had to do was order them to show up and they did.

No backtalk.

No attitude. No spirit.

Nothing but fucking boring.

He could tell them to do anything he damn well pleased and if they wanted to remain a sweet butt in his club, they had to do it. For the most part.

Again, boring.

He was in the mood for a woman—or even more than one—with fight and fire.

Someone to get his pulse pounding, his blood rushing, and his dick hard enough to ache.

He was far from that right now. In fact, he had to smother a fucking yawn.

Not just one, either.

Were Tink and CeeCee great at eating pussy? Seemed to be by the sounds coming from them both as they enthusiastically munched down on each other in a sixty-nine position.

Could he order one or both of them to come over to him, get on their knees and suck him off until he blew his load down their throat? Hell yeah.

Did he want to? Fuck no.

Christ. Something was definitely wrong with him. Since when did two horny women going at it hot and heavy not get him off?

If he wasn’t sick, he had to be fucking broken.

Because for him, this shit wasn’t normal.

Maybe he needed a goddamn shrink.

Or less whiskey.

Regrettably, maybe less pot .

He frowned.

Fuck that. Overindulging never once made him not want to have sex in the past. Normally, he was always ready to go no matter how badly he was wasted.

That was another sad fact tonight…

He wasn’t even buzzing yet.

“Kiss each other,” he barked before tucking the lit joint between his lips.

Tink lifted her face from between CeeCee’s thighs as the other sweet butt turned her head. Both stared at him with their lips shiny and their eyes glassy.

He might not be buzzing but the two of them certainly fucking were.

Damn.

When they untangled their limbs and sat up, their tits hung heavily, and their nipples were tightly pebbled.

He picked these two tonight out of the ever-changing stable of sweet butts because they both had thighs thick enough to rub together. Just how he liked them.

Don’t give him a damn thigh gap. He didn’t want to see a sliver of fucking light between their thighs. When he went down on a woman, he wanted to be temporarily blind and deaf because his face was buried deep within some womanly flesh.

White boys liked skin and bones. Gaps between a woman’s thighs large enough to drive a Harley through.

Romeo was certainly not fucking white. Nor did he want to be.

He was the goddamn president of the Dark Knights. And to be in his MC, you had to be dark. Or at least be some shade of black.

As for the club’s sweet butts and ol’ ladies? Not the same requirement. They could be any color in the damn rainbow as long as they had tits and a pussy.

And put out. Willingly.

In fact, Tink was Asian and CeeCee was… He didn’t fucking know or care. Basically, she was pale. All he cared about was that her pussy was pink, and it didn’t smell like a wet fucking dog.

For fuck’s sake. The two of them tangling tongues and twisting each other’s nipples also didn’t do shit for him tonight.

Something had to change. It had to be either him or them.

He decided it was them.

The second they paused from eating each other’s face, he ordered, “Get out.”

“Romeo...” CeeCee whined with her two over-plucked eyebrows pinched together so tightly, they became one thin line that looked like someone had drawn it on with a damn Sharpie.

“Get the fuck out. Done with you two.”

“But we?—”

This was not the kind of attitude he was looking for. It wasn’t a challenge, it only pissed him the fuck off. “Said get the fuck out! Find somewhere else to fuckin’ be. Anywhere but here,” he bellowed, crushing the lit end of his blunt between his fingers.

When he surged to his feet, his boot kicked over the bottle of whiskey and it skidded across the floor. At least the fucking thing didn’t break, because that would be a waste of good booze.

It was bad enough he just wasted his damn time.

“Givin’ you five minutes to get the fuck out and get gone.” With that, he spun on his boot heel and climbed down the loft steps, keeping one ear on the sweet butts to make sure they were doing what he ordered.

He shook his head when he heard them scrambling and asking each other what they did wrong, then he headed outside and took long, determined strides toward Dirty Dick’s.

Of course, that trip only took a few seconds since his place was directly behind the Knights-owned bar. It used to be Magnum’s crib until the man got hitched to his ol’ lady and decided to knock her up.

Twice.

Caleb and Asia were younger than some of the enforcer’s goddamn grandkids. Instead of coasting into old age, here he was raising more crib lizards.

Fuckin’ fool.

Worse, Magnum now put his family over the damn club. He was still supposed to run the bar, but who ended up doing it most of the time?

Romeo.

Because Magnum was nowhere to be seen. Thank fuck for Wick, since the bartender and his DKMC brother kept shit under control.

Romeo flung open the back door and kept moving. He quickly scanned Dirty Dick’s kitchen on his way to see if the establishment was hopping tonight.

Of course it would be, it was a Saturday night.

For fuck’s sake , a Saturday night and here he was not even getting his dick wet. Maybe he could find someone in the bar to change that.

Someone with sharp teeth and claws.

“Everythin’ fuckin’ good?” he shouted without breaking stride.

He heard a couple of mumbled, “Yeahs,” before he slammed both palms against one of the swinging double doors.

The strong smell of tobacco and weed along with the faint stink of vomit hit his nostrils as he made his way over to the long, packed bar that ran along the rear of the room.

He gave a chin lift to a few of his brothers gathered around a table playing cards and probably betting their last fucking dollar.

One difference between the Knights and some other clubs was, they didn’t have an official clubhouse. Dick’s was their church.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way but once they bought the place, that was how it ended up. Prior to that, the club had a shitty little building that was a joke. And embarrassing. But that was all before his time.

The state seized that building and tore it down when the Knights didn’t maintain it and stopped paying the taxes on the property. No fucking loss from the pictures he’d seen.

Should they have an official church other than a bar open to the public? Probably.

Did he give a shit? Fuck no.

Did any of his brothers give a shit? He heard no complaints.

Unlike the Iron Horse Roadhouse, owned by the Dirty Angels, Dick’s had a basement. They used that when they needed privacy. Like for officer or club meetings.

Or a beat down.

The space worked for them because it was pretty damn flexible, even if it wasn’t fancy.

Like the kitchen, the bar itself was busy tonight. And not only with his brothers. With actual paying patrons.

Customers who didn’t give a shit about rubbing elbows with Black bikers .

Customers who didn’t clutch their fucking pearls when it came to patronizing a MC-owned bar.

Customers who knew to keep any bullshit comments to themselves about the Dark Knights or bikers in general.

To Romeo, seeing how packed Dick’s was meant a hell of a lot of scratch would be hitting the club’s coffers. Some of that would also find its way into his own pocket.

That thought actually improved his mood.

“Wick!”

“Yeah?” the older Dark Knight muttered as he made his way down the bar.

He slammed a hand on the scratched and nicked bar top. “Gimme a whiskey!”

Wick’s expression pinched. “Took a whole fuckin’ bottle with you.”

“Yeah? And now I wanna shot or two from another bottle. Why the fuck you questionin’ me?”

“‘Cause I can,” was the bartender’s answer.

Romeo shook his head. The attitude he wanted from a woman was the attitude he was getting from Wick, instead.

However, he had no desire to fuck Wick. Romeo’s club brother would need much bigger tits and to shave the goatee off his face. Not to mention, he’d need a plump pussy that could take a good pounding.

When a full shot glass was slammed on the bar in front of him, some of the whiskey spilled over the edge. “Jack. Double. Neat,” Wick announced before sauntering to the other end of the bar.

After downing it in one swallow, Romeo swiped the back of his hand across his mouth before drawing his fingers over his beard to make sure there weren’t any droplets clinging to his pride and joy.

He might no longer be able to grow a full head of hair, but his thick facial hair made up for it. It made a good partner with his tongue when he was tickling a woman between her plump thighs.

It was a tight fit when Coral sidled up to him by squeezing her big hips between him and the patron on the next stool.

His hand automatically went to the sweet butt’s ass where he had no problem getting a good grip. “What’s up, chica ?”

Maybe he should’ve invited Coral into his bed tonight. She was the spiciest Puerto Rican he’d ever known. And that was saying something since most Boricuas were spicy as fuck.

Only she wasn’t down with threesomes. She’d do it if told but would make her displeasure known often and loud. For him, it wasn’t worth the fucking heartburn.

However, she was a pro with her mouth and if he couldn’t find anyone else to get him off tonight, he could always get her to give him head. And maybe even a quickie against a wall.

The night was young, though, so he had time to decide on his next course of action.

She dug her sharply pointed nails into the back of his neck causing his dick to take notice. “Where’s Tink and CeeCee?”

And now his dick went back into hibernation mode. “You ask them?”

“No.”

“Then why you askin’ me? I look like I fuckin’ work in an information booth?”

“Because they left with you, Rome.”

He beat back his irritation. “So?”

Coral sighed .

He grabbed her chin and twisted her head towards him. “You just fuckin’ sigh at me?”

Without even a hesitation… “Sure did.”

He released her chin. “Go get me another whiskey. Double. Neat.”

“I know how you like your whiskey.”

“Then why the fuck ain’t there one in front of me?”

“What’s up your ass tonight?”

“My goddamn balls are blue.”

She shook her head, her level of annoyance now matching his. “Want me to take care of that for you?”

He considered her. The woman didn’t have a damn gag reflex, so, again, he was tempted. The only problem was, if he was still feeling this restless once he blew his load, he would be even crankier afterward.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He used to be perfectly fucking fine with either some sweet butts or strange in his bed.

Since when did he get so goddamn picky?

Maybe it was time to straddle his sled, go for a long damn ride and let the wind clear his fucking head.