Jerry's Passion: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 6) by Chiah Wilder
Authors: Chiah Wilder
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the past week. What the fuck?”
Jerry pushed off from the wall. “I’m just tired of the way Banger thinks he can tell everyone what to do in their personal lives. I’m getting sick of that shit. And that asshole in there—” he gestured to the bar “—needs my fist in his face for starting something and not finishing it.” He walked toward his Harley.
Chas followed. “You know, the asshole was right. You were staring at his bitch.”
Swinging his leg over his bike, Jerry shook his head. “She’s not even my type. If I was staring, I didn’t realize it. I wouldn’t have had anything with her, but if I wanted to, I know she would’ve fucked me in an instant. These sluts are all alike.”
Chas nodded. “You heading to the clubhouse?”
“I’ll be there for church. I got some things to do. See you.” Jerry pulled away from the curb and headed out of Pinewood Springs.
As he rode on the backroads, he sped up, loving the rush of spring air around him. When he was on his Harley, it was as though he were alone in the world, just him and nature. During his solo rides, he became one with the earth, the sky, the trees, and the wind. It was the most liberating feeling he’d ever known.
He veered off onto an old path that wound around the side of Pine Mountain. Finally, he stopped and stretched his legs. To his right, he heard the gush of water and he walked toward it, his boots sinking into the soft ground littered with pine needles and dandelions. As he rounded a curve, he saw a creek coiling around the mountainside, its water cascading over the rocks in haste. Moving closer, he stared at the fish darting through it. Ribbons of sunlight spilled into the alcove, and from where he stood, he could see the creek bed’s smooth-edged stones glowing amber and bronze. With ease, he sat on the ground, a cool, spring wind ruffling his hair. He leaned his head back, listening to the trees creaking in the breeze.
Jerry needed to be there, by the water, surrounded by the mountains, trees, and wildflowers. All of it was like a salve for his soul. He’d come real close to beating the shit out of a guy who had every right to be pissed at him. He had been staring at the guy’s woman, but not in a sexual way. When he’d come back from the bar with another beer, she’d had her back to him and he’d noticed her long, blonde hair. For a heart-stopping second, he’d thought it was Kylie, but then she’d turned around. He’d stared through her, Kylie’s sweet smile filling his thoughts and punching him in the groin. He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since he’d hung out with her two weeks before. The way she’d felt in his arms, and her lips on his, were burned in his brain and his dick. He had to see her again, hold her, breathe in her lavender scent, and kiss the softest, sexiest lips he’d ever tasted.
He picked up a stone and threw it in the creek, watching the current engulf it and take it away. He had it bad for Kylie, and not being able to have her the way he wanted made him crazy. Jerry knew he’d been in a mood since he’d come back from Crested Peak, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing how she tasted and felt made his lust simmer, and the fact that she was off-limits made his blood boil. He was so damn pissed he’d started at least four fights with a couple of the brothers and some other bikers at a bar he’d gone to the previous Friday.
Jerry stretched his denim-clad legs and took out his phone, scrolling until he found Kylie’s number. For a long while, he stared at the blank screen, debating whether or not he should text her. He wanted to, but then he remembered that she’d told him she had no memory of anything except him taking her to her dorm room. She’d been dead-drunk, so it could’ve been anyone or anything kissing her and she wouldn’t have known anything different. If he contacted her right then, he’d start something he knew he shouldn’t. If he didn’t text her, she’d
Jerry pushed off from the wall. “I’m just tired of the way Banger thinks he can tell everyone what to do in their personal lives. I’m getting sick of that shit. And that asshole in there—” he gestured to the bar “—needs my fist in his face for starting something and not finishing it.” He walked toward his Harley.
Chas followed. “You know, the asshole was right. You were staring at his bitch.”
Swinging his leg over his bike, Jerry shook his head. “She’s not even my type. If I was staring, I didn’t realize it. I wouldn’t have had anything with her, but if I wanted to, I know she would’ve fucked me in an instant. These sluts are all alike.”
Chas nodded. “You heading to the clubhouse?”
“I’ll be there for church. I got some things to do. See you.” Jerry pulled away from the curb and headed out of Pinewood Springs.
As he rode on the backroads, he sped up, loving the rush of spring air around him. When he was on his Harley, it was as though he were alone in the world, just him and nature. During his solo rides, he became one with the earth, the sky, the trees, and the wind. It was the most liberating feeling he’d ever known.
He veered off onto an old path that wound around the side of Pine Mountain. Finally, he stopped and stretched his legs. To his right, he heard the gush of water and he walked toward it, his boots sinking into the soft ground littered with pine needles and dandelions. As he rounded a curve, he saw a creek coiling around the mountainside, its water cascading over the rocks in haste. Moving closer, he stared at the fish darting through it. Ribbons of sunlight spilled into the alcove, and from where he stood, he could see the creek bed’s smooth-edged stones glowing amber and bronze. With ease, he sat on the ground, a cool, spring wind ruffling his hair. He leaned his head back, listening to the trees creaking in the breeze.
Jerry needed to be there, by the water, surrounded by the mountains, trees, and wildflowers. All of it was like a salve for his soul. He’d come real close to beating the shit out of a guy who had every right to be pissed at him. He had been staring at the guy’s woman, but not in a sexual way. When he’d come back from the bar with another beer, she’d had her back to him and he’d noticed her long, blonde hair. For a heart-stopping second, he’d thought it was Kylie, but then she’d turned around. He’d stared through her, Kylie’s sweet smile filling his thoughts and punching him in the groin. He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since he’d hung out with her two weeks before. The way she’d felt in his arms, and her lips on his, were burned in his brain and his dick. He had to see her again, hold her, breathe in her lavender scent, and kiss the softest, sexiest lips he’d ever tasted.
He picked up a stone and threw it in the creek, watching the current engulf it and take it away. He had it bad for Kylie, and not being able to have her the way he wanted made him crazy. Jerry knew he’d been in a mood since he’d come back from Crested Peak, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing how she tasted and felt made his lust simmer, and the fact that she was off-limits made his blood boil. He was so damn pissed he’d started at least four fights with a couple of the brothers and some other bikers at a bar he’d gone to the previous Friday.
Jerry stretched his denim-clad legs and took out his phone, scrolling until he found Kylie’s number. For a long while, he stared at the blank screen, debating whether or not he should text her. He wanted to, but then he remembered that she’d told him she had no memory of anything except him taking her to her dorm room. She’d been dead-drunk, so it could’ve been anyone or anything kissing her and she wouldn’t have known anything different. If he contacted her right then, he’d start something he knew he shouldn’t. If he didn’t text her, she’d
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