UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8)

by Hayley Faiman

  Then she screams my name as she comes. My chest fills with pride. I made her scream, it was exactly what I wanted. What I needed, especially after the conversation we had, though short, it was more personal that I’ve been with another person in decades.

  Her cunt squeezes my fingers, clamping down as her thighs, and then her entire body trembles. I don’t stop, not until she comes down from her high. Only then do I back up and stand.

  Her eyes are closed and she’s panting as she attempts to find herself again. She’s completely lost to the sensation of her release and it’s fucking beautiful. With a grunt, I stop staring at her, removing my own clothes and strip down until I’m completely naked. Pamela reaches for the T-shirt that she’s wearing, my T-shirt, and I shake my head.

  “Keep it on. Gonna fuck you in my tee, Sunny.”

  “Why?” she asks softly, her voice a breathy whisper.

  “‘Cause you look sexy as fuck in it.”

  PAMELA

  I’m sore, not just a little sore, but everything aches and hurts. I can’t go again and maybe won’t be able to forever. But as he holds me, as Dylan’s arms wrap around me after my umpteenth orgasm, I know that if he wanted me again, I would rally.

  I would find a way to accept his body with mine, because after that first stroke all of my pain melts away and there’s just us. I used to think that people were so full of shit when I would hear or read something like that, but it’s not shit, it’s true.

  Wrapping my arm around his middle, I lift my head and look up to him. “You know, even if I’m never your Old Lady, I would be okay with that.”

  My words seemingly come out of nowhere, but I can’t help but continue to think about the conversation that we had earlier tonight. The one where he said he wasn’t going to claim me, that he couldn’t, because he’s not in good standing. That I could never be protected the way that he wants me to be by the club.

  I can’t stop myself from thinking about the fact that I don’t care about any of it. I feel safe here, with him, with this club. They’re not going to do the things that the Donkey Punchers would do to an unclaimed, or even claimed for that matter, woman.

  “Yeah?” he asks, but it’s not like he’s truly asking me, rather than just saying something to say it, to fill the silence of the room.

  “Dylan?”

  He hums, closing his eyes, and he looks as if he’s fallen asleep. When I don’t say anything else, when I just watch him, when it becomes an uncomfortable silence, that’s when he opens his eyes and finally looks at me.

  “I’m serious,” I say softly.

  I slide my hand up his chest, curling my fingers around the side of his neck before I say anything else. My eyes focus on his, I’m unable to look anywhere else as I watch his intense gaze. He’s beautifully confused, and my lips curve up into a grin.

  “I would be yours with just your word of commitment. Just your promise.”

  He watches me, not speaking, not even breathing. His eyes are back to that almost feral look. I press my lips together, wondering what he’s going to do or say next. He kind of looks like he’s about to run.

  Then he does something that surprises me. He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek before he lifts his head and touches his mouth to mine. He doesn’t say anything, but the kiss, this kiss, it’s hard and full of every emotion and meaning that I could imagine and more.

  It’s breathtaking.

  Chapter Twenty

  JAGUAR

  Leaving her alone in bed, I slip out of the room and head down to the bar. I need a fucking drink. I’m supposed to stay sober, but Dragon is going to have to forgive me for having a goddamn beer, especially after what I’ve just done and promised.

  Fuck.

  I walk past the spot that Barracuda was always perched and I wince at the empty seat. The only reason I’m not filled with complete rage is that I know he is with Shoshana, or if nothing else, he’s at least out of his lonely misery at living a whole fucking life without her.

  “What’re you doing here?” Gator asks.

  I jerk my chin to him, walking around the bar and pull out a bottle of cold beer. He watches me as I use the opener and pop the top off. Without saying a word, I tip my head back and bring the bottle to my lips, downing half of the contents in one gulp.

  Once I’ve swallowed the beer, I slam the bottle down on the bar top and look across to him. “I’m fucked, that’s what I’m doing here.”

  He frowns, his brows snapping together before he shakes his head once and lifts the shot glass that was in front of him to his lips. He throws it back, then hisses as the hard liquor slides down his throat.

  “No more fucked than I am, tell me,” he demands.

  So I do. I tell him about Pamela, about my promises. Then I wince as I tell him that I fucked her bare and came inside of her more than once. He doesn’t even blink at my words, doesn’t even flinch.

  “She don’t care if you brand her. She’s willing to be at your side knowing the man you are, knowing the shit you did. Sounds like you got a good one,” he slurs.

  I watch him, allowing his words to soak in, to marinate. He’s not wrong. In fact, even though she said it almost the same way, it didn’t hit quite the way that it does when Gator said it. I think about his words for a long moment, then close my eyes, slowly opening them to meet his.

  “Fuck,” I hiss. “I got an Old Lady.”

  He chuckles, though the laughter itself doesn’t show on his face, doesn’t reach his eyes. “You gonna tell me what the fuck?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, then looks down at the scarred bar before lifting his gaze to meet mine. His eyes are glassy and he’s drunk as fuck. Drunk enough that the typically closed-mouth guy will probably tell me what the fuck is going on with him and Mamba.

  “She left us. Said she couldn’t be with us when it was clear she was the third wheel.”

  “Was she?” I ask immediately, then press my lips together and wonder if I’ve spoken out of turn.

  Gator shrugs a shoulder, turning his head he looks to the side and his lips curve up into a grin. I follow his line of sight and curse at who is walking through the hallway. It’s Pamela. She’s wearing her jean shorts again and a tank now, her hair is brushed and her face has been washed of all traces of makeup.

  She looks fucking beautiful.

  Shifting my gaze back to Gator, I try to focus on him again, enjoying the way that we’re just talking. For so long, I didn’t talk to my brothers. I was so fucking angry at the world, at Della, at everyone, that I isolated myself and I ruined my relationships. I see it now and I hope that I can fix it all.

  “Was she the third wheel?” I ask.

  Gator turns his head, his eyes finding mine after moving around trying to focus, and he grunts. “No, yeah, hell I don’t know. I love Mamba,” he admits. “Loved him longer than I even know. I loved her too, but it didn’t rip my heart out when she left. I wouldn’t be able to breathe if he left me.”

  Fuck.

  I think about the way I felt when I thought Pammy was going to leave, when I thought that she was going to walk out of my life and my heart squeezed. It does right now at the thought. Gator clears his throat, and I shift my gaze from his to the little blonde standing next to him.

  She’s watching me, her eyes searching my face as she tries to find some kind of answer to some question that’s floating around in her pretty head.

  “You need to tell him, Gator. Tell him everything. Only thing you can do is be honest.”

  “Honest?” he mumbles.

  Jerking my attention from Pammy, I connect my eyes with his. “Yeah, brother. Honest. I wasn’t honest with Della, with anyone. Hell, I wasn’t honest with myself and all it did was fuck me over on a regular basis.”

  “Now?” he asks.

  My lips curve up into a grin. “I’m breathin’ and I think I got something really good with Sunny.”

  He chuckles, lifting his arm and slides it around Pammy’s shoulder. “You mean,
Jailbait here? Girl, please don’t tell me you’ve allowed this fucker inside your sweet little body, and heart?” he’s laughing, and it’s a joke, but my blood starts pounding nonetheless.

  Pamela laughs too, shaking her head a couple of times. Then her eyes find mine and I see something inside of them that I don’t quite understand.

  “He was in my heart the minute he looked at me the first time.”

  “Fuck,” Gator hisses. “You’re a goner, both of you are.”

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  I am gone for her, fucking lost to her and in her. I don’t know what it is about her, maybe it’s just because of who she is, but mostly, I think it’s because of who I am right now.

  A year ago, I wouldn’t have even given her a second glance. I was lost. She came into my life, she needed to be rescued, and so did I. She gave me all of that.

  PAMELA

  Something has shifted. Not just within Dylan, but with his brothers as well. Granted, he said he’s not in the fold anymore, but that doesn’t appear to be the case, especially not tonight. A few guys bring him beers and slap him on the back as they talk.

  I don’t listen to any of their conversations knowing without a doubt that they aren’t for me, not unless I’ve specifically been invited into them. But I observe.

  I take in what is happening around me, and what’s happening is that Dylan is being let in again. Albeit slowly, but he’s still being let in. That’s all that matters.

  He curves his arm around my neck, bending his elbow slightly as he pulls me closer to him, then ever so casually he dips his chin and touches his lips to the top of my head. Warmth fills me at the small and seemingly insignificant move.

  It’s not insignificant though, it’s comforting and comfortable all at the same time. It’s something I’ve never felt before. Being here, with him, with his people, I’ve never felt this safe. I soak it all in, every minute, not taking it for granted and knowing that it could be ripped from me at any moment.

  Because that’s the way life is.

  We only get pieces of perfection handed to us, and right now, this is a piece and I’m going to cherish it for the rest of my life.

  “Shit,” Dylan hisses.

  Tilting my head back, I look up at him, but he’s looking across the bar and he is focused. Following his line of sight, I look to see what holds his attention and I frown. It’s Dragon, his gaze is locked in on Dylan’s and he jerks his chin toward his office.

  Without a backward glance to me, he releases his hold on me and walks away. I take a step to follow him, but a strong arm wraps around my waist. Turning around, I look up to see who belongs to the arm and I’m surprised to see that it’s Mamba.

  “Dragon’s going to talk to him, don’t need you there, babe.”

  Pressing my lips together, I roll them around a few times, then bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep from talking, to keep from asking questions, but I can’t help myself.

  “Why?” I ask.

  My tone is a little more demanding than it probably should be, but I can’t help myself. I want to know what is going on and why. I want to know if he’s in trouble and I want to protect him if he is. I don’t know why I feel this way, but I want to save Dylan from anything bad ever happening to him again.

  “None of your business, but I can tell you’re one of those women who won’t let it go.”

  “One of those women?” I snap.

  His lips curve up into a smile. “Babe, yeah. Normally not my type, all that extra sass. I like ‘em sweet and compliant, but gotta say, after being around all the Old Ladies that the brothers have been claimin’ lately, can’t say I couldn’t use some sass in my life.”

  Immediately, I think about what Gator said. That he wanted only Mamba, and I wonder if he could do that, be with just him. I wonder if I could ask him that. I bite the inside of my cheek again, deciding that I can’t. It’s not my place, no matter how badly I want them to be happy.

  “He’s going to ask Jag to go on the run to Oregon with us. We all decided this afternoon that we wanted him to come along. He mentioned he wanted to originally, but nobody really confirmed or denied that he was going to join. Dragon’s doing that right now.”

  Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I try really hard not to ask another question, but I can’t stop myself. Shifting from foot to foot, Mamba chuckles, his eyes are sparkling and I just blurt out my question.

  “Are you guys going to let him back in?”

  The sparkling humor leaves him and something dark crosses his face. I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have said a word. I wish that I could stuff the words back inside of my mouth, swallow them and pretend that I never said them.

  He shakes his head slowly. “Not anytime soon. What he did, it don’t get erased that easily.”

  “I’m just worried about him,” I admit.

  “Yeah? Why?”

  Shrugging a shoulder, I realize that I shouldn’t have even said a single thing. I should have just jumped for joy when he said that they were letting him go to kill my father. I shouldn’t have dug any deeper or said anything else.

  “I think he misses everyone, he’s worried about the future.”

  Mamba hums but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around my bicep, squeezing gently. “Don’t worry, babe. Things work out the way they were meant to.”

  I want so badly to ask him about Gator, but I decide against it. Knowing that I need to filter myself better. It’s hard when you’ve never been around people that you feel comfortable and free with before.

  I find that my filter has disappeared, I’m no longer terrified to even look at someone let alone speak, so now I’m just letting my words fly out of my mouth. Mamba, thankfully, doesn’t say anything else, and a few moments later I watch as Dylan walks back into the bar.

  He doesn’t come straight to me though, instead, he walks toward the bar. I watch him, thinking that he’s just going to grab a beer and then head my way, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands at the bar, his forearms resting against the top as he leans forward.

  I don’t move, trying not to get upset that he’s just standing there. He doesn’t need to be with me every second of every day, but there is something strange about this. He’s been by my side since I walked in here, his hand on some part of my body all night and now he’s avoiding me.

  A girl scoots up beside him and he turns to her. He smiles at something she says and responds. Jealousy fills my body, it’s ugly and nasty, it curls around inside of me and slithers throughout my entire body.

  “Ain’t no thing, babe,” a deep voice says, sliding his arm around me.

  I can’t really hear, not with the blood rushing and pounding in my ears. I can’t rip my eyes away from the scene in front of me either, to see who is standing next to me.

  “You’re really pissed, ain’t ya?”

  I recognize the voice now. It’s Coyote. Tearing my gaze away from Dylan and the whore. I don’t really even know her name, she’s been in the other room of girls. I don’t know any of them. I try to stay away, mainly because I don’t know how to be friends with people, and also, because they’ve all surely fucked Dylan, and being friendly with Pinkie and Della, who have both fucked him, is about all I can handle.

  “Jealous,” I sigh, looking at him. “I shouldn’t be.”

  “Yeah, you should,” he says with a chuckle. “That’s your man, yeah?”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Is he?”

  Coyote shakes his head. “He is. Right now, he’s bein’ a dumb shit. We’ve all been there, multiple times. But maybe you go up there and stake your claim before shit goes down that the both of you regret.”

  Thinking about his words, I wonder if I should. Then I decide that I won’t. If he’s going to do something he regrets, then he’s not the man I thought he was. Then he hasn’t changed, and he deserves that whore. I haven’t been claimed by anyone, I’m still free to leave if I so choose.

 
“I think I’m going to bed,” I announce.

  Coyote watches me for a moment, letting his arm fall from my shoulders. He makes a tsking sound of disapproval, but I leave anyway. I walk straight toward the room that I share with Pinkie and two other whores.

  If Dylan wants me, wants more, wants what he claims, then he won’t make me a mistake to regret. He has to do that on his own, though. I’m not his conscience.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  JAGUAR

  The party goes on, the whore next to me gets drunker and drunker, her body swaying as she pushes against me. I can feel her tits against my arm, but for the first time in my entire life, it does absolutely nothing for me.

  I’m talking to the prospect behind the bar. My focus is on him and if he can help me with next week’s schedule so that I can go with the guys to Oregon.

  The bitch next to me is definitely not my focus. Dragon and the other brothers approved me coming along, something that I had been demanding and hoping for, but wasn’t sure it would happen. However, I have to make sure that I’m covered in my duties before I go.

  The other prospect eventually agrees, but only if I take his duties when I get back. I agree, I’ll do whatever at this point. I want to watch Riot die, I want to witness it all for myself and I want to earn a little more of my brothers’ trust back.

  I’m okay with never being a full-fledged member again, I can live with that, but I can’t live without being trusted by them. It’s the most pitiful sinking feeling I’ve ever experienced and I want it gone. This trip will just be another step in getting it completely eradicated.

  “Let me suck your dick,” the whore purrs. “Let me take care of you.”

  She’s sloppy and drunk, she’s swaying as she attempts to just stand still. Judging by the smeared red lipstick, she’s already had a few dicks in her mouth tonight. I’m not looking to be the next in line.