Her Devils: Devil's Regents MC Books 1-3

by Sarah Bale

  “Then fuck me, Liv. Fuck me so we can both get off.”

  His fingers dig into my hips urging me to move. Holding onto the headboard, I ride Bash. Our bodies have always felt like we were meant for each other, and this is no exception. His cock presses deep inside of me, hitting that sweet spot that sends white sparks shooting behind my eyes.

  My head tilts back when he cups my breast. He’s tuned in to what I need and rolls my nipple before moving his hand lower.

  “Fuck. You’re close, aren’t you?”

  I nod, bouncing faster on his cock. It’s all over when he scrapes his thumb over my clit. I cry out, shattering into a million pieces around him. He lets out a deep groan as he comes, and my pussy clenches him like a tight fist. Leaning down, I capture his mouth for a kiss.

  “That was a great way to wake up.”

  I laugh. “Agreed. I truly didn’t intend for it to happen so fast.”

  “I’m not complaining. In fact, if you give me a few, I’m down for shower sex.”

  My body stirs at the thought, and I nod. “Then, let’s help your little friend along, shall we?”

  He rolls on top of me and we fool around until he’s hard. And then we go to the bathroom and have the best shower sex I’ve ever had. Afterward, we wash each other, and I can’t stop smiling and he notices.

  “It’s good to see you looking happy.”

  “What can I say? I have a lot to be happy about.”

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “Me, too.”

  When we get out of the shower, I groan. “I have a therapy session in an hour.”

  I’d totally forgotten about it with everything going on, but I really don’t want to miss a session with Dr. Cross.

  “I’ll take you. Make sure no one is following you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  We get dressed and go to the living room. Razor is gone, but King sits on the couch, watching TV.

  “You two finally done?” He grins at me, so I know he’s not serious.

  “I was trying to go for round three, but then I remembered I have a session today.”

  Bash adds, “I’m going to take her.”

  King replies, “I’m going to head over to the clubhouse.”

  He gives Bash a look, which makes me feel uneasy.

  “Did something happen?”

  King says, “It might not be anything, but Razor is looking into it. We should have more information later. What time is your session?”

  “In an hour.”

  “How long do they last?”

  “It depends on what I have to say. King, are you sure everything is okay?”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Promise.”

  I want to trust him, but I can’t. What happened? And where is Razor?

  We go outside and King says to Bash, “Take my truck. I’ll ride your bike back to the clubhouse.”

  Again, there’s that fucking look.

  Bash open the passenger side door for me and waits until I climb in before going to the driver’s side.

  “Seriously, tell me what’s going on or I’ll think the worst.”

  “I don’t know. You’re right – it’s something. King’s never told me to take his truck since I’ve known him, and we’ve been through some bad shit together.”

  “Does he think your bike was tampered with?”

  “That, or he knows you’re safer in the truck. He’s made some modifications to it and it’s as safe as a tank.”

  “Do you know where Razor is?”

  “No.”

  I sit back, trying not to worry. But come on, it’s nearly impossible not to.

  We arrive at Dr. Cross’ building, and Bash kills the engine.

  “I’ll walk you inside. When you’re in her office, I’m going to head over to the clubhouse and see what’s happening. Text me when you’re finished, and I’ll come get you. Whatever you do, don’t go outside alone.”

  I let out a small laugh. “That statement right there makes me think you know more than you’re letting on.”

  He doesn’t deny it, but gets out, coming to my door. Hand in hand, we walk inside. In the lobby, I press the buzzer to be let into the office.

  Bash asks, “They don’t let anyone else in, do they?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. It’s only other patients.”

  The door clicks open and I give Bash a smile before walking inside. He stays there until the door closes behind me, and I’m safely inside. He definitely knows something, but what is it?

  The receptionist says to me, “Dr. Cross is just finishing with her last appointment. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

  “A water would be great.”

  She nods and goes to the small room behind the receptionist desk. A moment later she comes back with a bottle, handing it to me. I sit, sipping on my water, while I wait. My mind keeps going to a million different places, but I try to stay calm. If it was something bad, he wouldn’t have left me. Right?

  About twenty minutes later, the door opens, and a woman walks out, dabbing her eyes. She gives me a small smile as she leaves.

  Same, girl. Same.

  Dr. Cross calls my name. “Are you ready, Olivia?”

  “Yes.”

  I follow her into her office. At first, I didn’t like the floral wallpaper and floral print couch. Now, it’s familiar and welcoming. I sit in my favorite spot, putting a pillow in my lap. Dr. Cross sits in the chair across from the couch and picks up her notebook.

  “Good morning. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  She always starts each session this way. I used to think she was being fake, but I think she really means it. Like, she actually gives a fuck about me.

  “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

  Dr. Cross smiles. “You seem happy today.”

  I realize that despite the photos and whoever is taking them, I am happy.

  “I am.” I pause. “I did something the other day that I’ve never done before. But, before I tell you about it, I want to answer your question from last time. About why I can’t walk away from Bash, Razor, King, and Saint.”

  She nods. “Go on.”

  “They are the first men I have let in. Ever. Every sexual encounter I’ve had has been by force or something I could control. Because of what happened to me as a child, I don’t trust most men. But I trust them.”

  She smiles. “Very good, Olivia.”

  “I took your advice,” I admit. “I wrote letters to a lot of people. My friend, Jas, was the first. She was working with the FBI with me, and she recently left. When I started writing, I just couldn’t stop.”

  “Who all did you write letters to?”

  “Jas. Saint. King. Bash. Razor.” I pause. “My mother.”

  “Did you write one to your father?”

  “I- I don’t think I’m ready for that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

  “He was supposed to protect you and he did the opposite. It’s understandable that you don’t want to face that part of your life, but it will help you move forward.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bringing back that portion of your life isn’t about forgiving him. It’s about forgiving yourself.”

  She’s echoing what she told me the other day.

  “I understand what you’re saying.” I pause. “I told King about my mother’s addiction. And I told Razor about having a miscarriage. Bash and I even managed to talk about our pasts a bit.”

  “What brought these discussions on?”

  “King took me on a date - something that we didn’t do last time. We were asking each other questions, getting to know each other. He recently lost his mother and was feeling sad about it. I told him that I understood because I felt the same way after mine died.”

  “How did you feel when you brought her up?”

  “It was strange. I try not to think about either of them very much. But what I said was true – I did feel sad after she died. Not just bec
ause she wasn’t there to protect me, but because I’d lost a mother.”

  “And the miscarriage?”

  “Razor and I were in bed.” My cheeks flush, but I rush on, “He made a comment about hoping I got pregnant, so I told him that I wasn’t sure I want kids. And I told him about having a miscarriage.”

  “Did you go into detail with him?”

  I shake my head. “No. It was bad enough telling him about that.”

  “I see that you carry a lot of shame with your childhood. What happened to you was not your fault. At all. There’s nothing that happened that should make you feel ashamed.”

  “But I do. I feel dirty and broken because of what happened to me. He used to say it happened because I liked it. The older I got, the more my body betrayed me, and I wondered if I did like it.” The words fly out of my mouth in a rush and I put my hand over my lips, as if I can take the words back.

  Dr. Cross sets her notepad on the table next to her. “Olivia, it was not your fault. You were the victim of sexual abuse.”

  My eyes water and I feel like running away. But I don’t. Because I’m so tired of running.

  “Why did he do that to me?” My voice breaks. “How could he?”

  A sob works its way up my throat. And then I cry. I cry for everything that happened to me as a child. I cry because my mother wasn’t there to protect me. I cry because I literally sold myself for sex just to fill the dark void that he left behind. I cry because I’m scared that I’ll never be good enough to be loved. And I cry because somehow, through all my fucked up-ness, I managed to find three men who love me.

  Dr. Cross hands me a tissue and says, “You’ve made a breakthrough today, Olivia. Today, you finally said those words out loud. It’s the first step in healing.”

  I sniffle. “Sometimes I wish he was still alive so I could hurt him as much as he hurt me. Or at least ask why he did what he did.”

  “You may never know the answer to that question, but what you can do is move forward. I want you to close your eyes.”

  I do as she says.

  “Imagine a white room with a single door. The door is wide open and if you look in, you see your past. But you no longer need to keep that door open. You can shut it and move on.” She pauses. “Now, the door and what lies within will always be there. It’s a part of the house and you can’t change it no matter how much you try. But now that it’s closed you can focus on the rest of the house.”

  In my mind, I do as she says. She right – I can’t change this aspect of my life. I can, however, stop letting it define me.

  When I open my eyes, she smiles. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.”

  “Good. Now, you mentioned being with Razor, King, and Bash again. I’d like you to consider bringing them to a session. Individually, of course. You’ll find it will help each of your relationships."

  “I’ll mention it to them.”

  And it I will. Because I’m ready to finally live.

  “Good.” She smiles. “I am really quite proud of the progress you’ve made.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  I mean it to. Jas was right about Dr. Cross – she’s been through some shit. Just like me. So, when she says to try something, I trust her. When she says I deserve better, I believe her.

  We chat for a while longer, until I finally stand.

  “I better go. I’m sure you have other people waiting.”

  “My door is always open, Olivia. Feel free to reach out if you need me before our next session.”

  I nod and give her a quick wave as I leave. She ushers her next patient in, and I go to the receptionist’s desk to make my next appointment.

  “Okay, Ms. Mayhem. I’ve got you down for a week from today.”

  “Dr. Cross mentioned bringing my boyfriends to a session. Do I need to make separate appointments with them?”

  “Yes. Just call with times that work for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I walk out of the office, into the lobby. The door closes just as I remember I was supposed to text Bash when my appointment was over.

  “Shit,” I mutter, pulling out my phone.

  Me: I’m finished.

  Bash: I’ll be there ASAP. Don’t leave the office until I get there.

  Well, crap. I think about buzzing the receptionist to see if I can come back inside but decide against it. I mean, it’s an office building. I seriously doubt anything will happen in such a public place.

  And then I see it and realize just how fucking wrong I am.

  13

  Olivia

  Right there on the opposite side of the hallway is an envelope. I feel sick. It’s the same kind of envelope as the others. My feet feel like heavy irons holding me down as I trudge over to the envelope, picking it up. My name is on the front, so there’s no doubt that it’s for me.

  Opening it, I pull the photo out. It’s of Razor and me. We’re against the side of the house, and he’s on his knees in front of me while I’m playing with my breasts. Whoever took the photo caught the exact moment I had an orgasm. My mouth is open, my eyes closed. It’s beautiful and it’s revolting at the same time.

  Flipping it over I read the message.

  Punishing you for each of these offenses against me is going to be fun. I get hard just thinking about it.

  How in the fuck did Razor and I not notice someone outside? They had to be close to get this picture. I vaguely remember a car alarm chirping. Was that when the photo was taken? My stomach roils and I run into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. Who in the fuck is doing this? And why?

  I sit there on the tiled floor fighting back tears until my phone dings.

  Bash: I’m here, Liv.

  Me: Can you come inside? I’m in the ladies’ room in the lobby.

  Bash: On my way.

  It feels like it takes forever, but there’s finally a knock on the door. “Liv? It’s me.”

  “Come inside.”

  He does, and when he sees me on the floor, he rushes to my side.

  “What is it? What happened?”

  I push the picture to him. “This was in the lobby when I left the office.”

  He lets out a string of curses and pulls his phone from his pocket.

  “King. I’m here. She got another photo.” He pauses. “Of her and Razor. Okay. We’re on our way.”

  I stand, going to the sink. Bash watches as I splash water on my face and rinse out my mouth.

  “You okay?”

  “No.”

  He folds the photo and puts it in his back pocket before taking my hand.

  “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the clubhouse.”

  My pulse throbs in my neck. “Does Saint know?”

  “He will shortly.”

  Outside, Bash opens the truck door for me and then slides in the driver’s side.

  “Then he’ll be losing all his club officers in the process.” He goes on, “But have faith, Liv. Saint cares about you. And I think you’ll see that soon enough.”

  I close my eyes.

  I hope so, because I need him.

  Saint

  I’m in my office trying to balance the fucking club books when King knocks on my door.

  “Got a minute?”

  “Yeah. Come in.” I drop my ink pen. “Remind me the next time we have Church to push the vote for the new club treasurer. I’m shit with numbers and Tiny isn’t much better.”

  Since Mammoth left in the spring, the treasurer’s spot has been open. It’s high time we filled it.

  “We need to talk,” King says as he sits across from my desk. “And you’re probably not going to like what I have to say.”

  Well, that’s never a good way to start a fucking conversation.

  “King?”

  “Olivia and I are back together.”

  I’m stunned, but the shocks just keep coming.
/>   Razor strolls in, sitting next to King. “I’m with her, too. And so is Bash.”

  How did this happen right under my nose?

  “You went against my orders?”

  King snaps, “Fuck your orders. We love her. Get the fuck over it.”

  My jaw clenches. “Is that all?”

  “No, you son of a bitch, that isn’t all.” King shoves a folder across my desk. “She’s in trouble. Someone is stalking her.”

  I flip open the folder and feel like I’m going to be fucking sick. It’s a photo of the two of us at the Purring Pussy. I know the exact moment it was taken, too. It was right before I came and was fighting the urge to slide into her.

  “Who in the fuck took this?”

  “There’s more.”

  The next photo is of King and Olivia in what appears to be a library or a bookstore.

  “Bash just called. She got another one when she left her therapy session. It’s of her and Razor.”

  I slam my hand on the desk. “You didn’t think I would want to fucking know this?”

  King replies dryly, “Between sending her away and acting like she was never here, no, we didn’t think you would want to know.”

  I’m going to break something.

  Maybe King’s face.

  Razor stands, holding up his hands. “The point is someone is watching her. We need to figure out who it is.” He adds, “I put up some cameras around her house and in her room. But whoever this is knows what they’re doing. The cameras across the street were wiped.”

  “Who in the fuck would want to do this to her?”

  King answers, “We asked her the same thing. She thinks it’s one of her classmates. Bash and I have both met him, separately. He’s an entitled little bastard and has a hard-on for her.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “I asked if it could be someone from the fantasy website. Maybe a pissed off client. She says no one else should know where she lives, mainly since she hasn’t been on the website in over three months. It’s got to be someone who’s been around her recently.”

  Razor’s phone goes off and he looks at it. “She just texted. She said she confirmed with him, and the dinner is still on.”