Grainger guides himself to the aching wet heat between my thighs, touching me with his tip and then letting out a colorful curse. He thrusts hard and deep, taking my cunt the same way he did at the chapel. This time, though, we have more time to play with each other.
My hands find the firm muscles in his back, kneading and scratching at his skin as he shoves the sweatshirt up my body to reveal my bare breasts. His lip curls as he pauses, studying my pebbled nipples with interest.
“Did he suck these tits?” he asks me, and it takes a long hot second for me to realize that he’s thinking about Grey.
“He was planning to, on our wedding night,” I taunt, and that’s it, enough to trigger Cade. He drops his mouth to my right breast, biting my nipple and tugging on it as I cry out and gather him against me. His pistoning hips pin me to the forest floor as I quiver and thrash beneath his brutality. He isn’t being nice, not at all. And I love it. That’s not why I like Cade, because he’s nice. I like him because he’s an antagonistic asshole.
Just like me.
We’re the same, me and Grainger.
“Tell me he never fucked this cunt,” Grainge snarls, biting my ear and making my hips buck. Our pelvises crash together as pleasure courses through me, hotter and headier than I’ve ever experienced before. Everything about being back feels new somehow.
I yank him to me, thrusting up to meet each one of his movements.
I started my birth control pills this morning, but eh, I might be in trouble. That’s later Gidget’s problem.
“He never fucked it,” I whisper, putting my mouth beside his ear and enjoying the way his back muscles tense at the feel of my breath. “Since I last left this compound, it’s only been you. Just you.”
If I thought Cade was being wild before, that’s nothing to how he becomes. He slams my wrists into the ground, and rocks into me so hard that I can feel the tip of his cock reaching uncomfortable depths just seconds before the pleasure coiling in me is unleashed. It lashes out like a whip, making me scream, making me drag my nails down his back.
As deep as he wants to go right now, I can handle it. I can take it. I want it.
He drops his mouth to my right breast and bites me hard, just before coming with a ragged groan, working inside of me for several hard thrusts and spilling himself into me. My pussy is still clenching, squeezing and milking him; I can feel every movement of my own body, every pulse. I can only imagine what it feels like for him.
Eventually, Cade drops down to his elbows. With my body crushed under his weight, he catches his breath.
“Very few people expected to find you alive” he tells me, holding himself there, our bodies still locked together. “I was one of them.”
We both pause at the sound of footsteps—very deliberate footsteps. Whoever’s coming wants us to hear them or else we wouldn’t know a damn thing. I know who it is before I see a face emerging from the shadows, bathed briefly in silver moonlight.
“Your daddy wants to see you at the clubhouse,” Beast says, surprising me and Grainger both. It makes me wonder then if he wasn’t watching the whole damn time.
His presence, at the very least, gives that unspoken ‘permission’ that Cade was so worried about.
Grainger sits up slowly, warily, like he wonders if he might have to get into it with Beast. But no, Beast waits patiently, arms crossed over his chest.
“You watch us?” Cade growls out, and I remember yet again how damn possessive he is. Me marrying Beast is a huge blow to his ego, his pride … and his heart? If he even has one. Beast just shrugs which could really mean anything, but that seems to be enough to assuage Grainger. “You are one, twisted motherfucker. If I were marrying Gidget …” He trails off with another harsh laugh, sitting up and then chucking my sweatpants at me. Put them on NOW, is what his gaze says.
I go deliberately slow, taking my time as I drag the material up my legs.
“If I were marrying Gidget, no other man would dare touch her.” Grainger looks right at me as he says the words, and I realize how true that is, one of the unspoken reasons why I didn’t pick him that night. Beast is practical when he needs to be; Cade is not.
I’m picking pine needles out of my hair when I walk into the clubhouse. Doesn’t matter. Can the men walking past tell that I just fucked their sergeant-at-arms in the woods? If they can, they keep that shit to themselves.
They don’t look at me too closely, don’t ogle me or catcall or whistle. They never did before, too afraid of Cat’s wrath. Now, with Beast as my soon-to-be husband, they’re even more wary of making the wrong move around me.
As I’m heading down the hall toward my father’s office, I run right into Amber. Almost literally. She’s giggling as she exits one of the dorm rooms, knocking her shoulder into mine accidentally.
Amber Clearwater, one of the most famous and notorious groupies to ever take up residence in the clubhouse. In her early thirties, she’s one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen. Glowing blond hair that waves gently around her doll-like face. Her mouth is pouty, but free from fillers, unlike some of the other girls. She smiles when she sees me, tucking some of that frothing golden hair behind an ear.
For someone who’s been professionally fucking bikers for the better part of six years, she seems remarkably fresh and upbeat. She’s always, always, always wanted to join the ranks of the club wives, privy to their shopping trips and girls’ weekends, their private parties and all the drugs, alcohol, and fuckboys that come with it.
“Girl,” she says, reaching out to take my shoulders. I give her hands a quick look, silently voicing my disapproval at being touched. My skin is still dancing with sparks from Grainger’s rough grasp, and my cunt is throbbing in dual parts soreness and need. There are only four people on this planet who are allowed to touch me right now; Amber is not one of them. “Three months. I can’t believe you’re still alive.”
She’s not the first person to voice that sentiment. Not sure anyone in the club save those four horse-fucks thought I was still kicking—even Cat seemed shocked.
“That’s me. Like a cockroach. Impossible to kill.”
The joke falls flat for Amber, but her smile only fades for a second before she’s giving me a knowing look.
“Beast, huh?” she asks, and I can see that news has spread quickly. Not a surprise. Cat will have done that on purpose, let it leak through the ranks of the club, just to make sure that every asshole in it knows that I’m now ‘leashed’, a proper club wife. It takes a gargantuan amount of effort for me to retain a pleasant expression on my face.
I think about Grey’s words to me—basically his last words—before the ceremony.
“It’s a wedding, not a war.”
Somehow, this feels like a bit of both.
“What about Beast?” I ask, trying not to be annoyed with Amber. I don’t hate any of the club’s groupies. They make me sad, for the most part. The majority of them are very pretty girls with very ugly pasts who have nowhere else to go, girls like Nellie. Coming here, getting a solid, safe place to sleep, a chance to party and drink and smoke, it’s worth the fucking for them. They have a right to say no to any man, but then they have to leave the clubhouse. Most come here with the hopes of finding a husband, someone to keep them when the world threw them away.
Amber lifts her hand up, as if in explanation, and I see the yellow diamond glinting on her ring finger. The blood drains from my face so quickly that I feel faint, and I have to actually reach up and put a hand on the wall to steady myself.
No.
No, please, I can’t deal with that today.
Crown’s asked Amber to marry him? After all this time? I can barely breathe. Did my choosing Beast spur him to make a decision he’s been putting off for years?
“I’m engaged,” Amber tells me excitedly, her voice bubbly and full of fantasy. She should know by now what being a part of the club is really like. But if she’s still here, she must like it the way Nellie does. Likes her place in
the DBD web, just a filament, a strand, but never a spider. She has no power to spin her own threads.
“Congratulations.” The word is wooden, almost caustic. Amber notices and blinks dark lashes in surprise, regaining her composure quickly. “If you’ll excuse me …” I start, intending to move past her.
She doesn’t seem to get the memo.
“Oh, thank you, Gidget. We’re thrilled.” She studies the ring carefully, features brimming with love. She loves Crown? I wonder, feeling my stomach bottom out as nausea overtakes me. That’s an expression that can’t be faked. “Your wedding takes precedence, of course, but I’d love to use the old church—”
“I don’t really have time to discuss wedding plans at the moment,” I tell her through gritted teeth. If she notices my hostility, she doesn’t comment on it. “I’m supposed to meet Cat in his office.”
That does it. A shudder passes through Amber, and she reaches out to yank me into a horrible hug, slathering me with the smell of her perfume.
“We’ll be in the wives club together,” she says with a small laugh, pulling back to stare at me with sparkling eyes. She’s so nice, like the literal exact opposite of me. I have dark hair; she has light. My eyes are the color of blood; hers sparkle like emeralds. She smells good, and she smiles a lot, and she giggles. I certainly don’t wear perfume, I frown too much, and when I laugh, angels cry.
Amber Clearwater is an angel, and I am the devil’s spawn.
Crown is … he’s really better off with someone like her.
I hate him; I’m going to kill him; I’m going to tear his balls off and shove them down his throat.
I force my aching lips into a smile, but it only serves to make Amber shudder again—just the way she did when I mentioned Cat. Crap. With considerable effort, I soften my expression.
“The wives club. Can’t wait.” Again, if Amber senses my sarcasm, she doesn’t let on.
“We should get together for lunch sometime and talk wedding plans.”
I would struggle to find, in recent memory, an invitation that sounds any less appealing. Shit, I’d be happier exchanging gunfire with the mafia.
“Sounds peachy,” I grit out, finally managing to slip past her. I head straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time while I seethe and burn and ache on the inside. “Give her to me.” Did that bastard really suggest marrying me while he had a girl on the side that was just waiting around for him? As angry as I am, part of me hurts so bad that it’s hard to breathe.
I actually have to pause just outside the door to my father’s office to regain my composure. I’m hurt. I don’t want to be hurt, but I am. He … he lied for me and then he asked Amber to marry him?
“I never said I wanted you as my old lady. And besides, you know I’ve been dating Amber.”
Crown was telling me the truth that day on the driveway; I was just too stubborn to listen.
Walking into that office with pain on my face, etching itself into my very core, won’t go unnoticed. Cat will spot it straight-off, and he’ll wonder. He’ll stare at me, and he’ll ponder all the reasons that I might be upset: that I really am in cahoots with the mafia, that I really do care about Grey, that I’m lying.
So even if this and that are entirely different things, I shove them all down, right into the same box, the one that hides beneath the shadows of my heart, the one filled with monsters of memories.
“Chin up, best foot forward, other stupid ingratiating idioms,” I grumble, and then, without bothering to knock, I shove the door in to find my dad and Crown bent over the desk. They both turn to look at me when I step inside, but I’ve only got eyes for one of them.
Crown’s entire demeanor is crafted of rage and frustration; I can feel it from here. Considering he just got engaged, you’d think the bastard would have one of those annoying Cheshire grins of his on. He can be smiley and goofy when he wants to be. Just … he only ever seems to behave that way when he’s pissing me off. Picking me up from bonfires that I’m not supposed to be at. Swimming in my family’s pool with my friends.
“Gidge,” Cat begins, gesturing me over. I’m too annoyed to bother correcting him. Screw you, Crown, I think, hissing the words in my mind as I stare at the Vice President. He goes still, his muscles tensing as he looks me over. Maybe he can sense my ire from here?
Can he tell that I wanted him to be mine? That he’s ruined the possibility for both of us. Maintaining a subtle four-way relationship with the officers is a bit of a pipe dream, but it was at least that, a possibility. Gossip travels quick on the compound; everyone will know about Crown and Amber before too long.
Once they do, it’s over. He will belong to her. And I’ll … I don’t know what I’ll do.
I have yet to decide, exactly, what my endgame plan is here.
“Yeah?” I quip, wary of my father’s reasons for bringing me here. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been allowed in his office.
“How are you feeling?” Crown asks, his voice tight but professional. His moss green gaze trails to my shoulder. The sweatshirt I’m wearing covers the wound, but this man, he doesn’t miss a damn thing. He notices the dirt stains on the sleeves, and frowns.
“Grainger’s blood is probably poison,” I offer up, and Cat snorts, swiping his hand over his salt and pepper beard. He’s gained quite a few gray hairs during the last several months. Because of me? Was he actually worried about me? It’s too strange of a thought to entertain.
I move across the old wood floors toward the desk. Bookcases line the wall on either side of us, filled with leatherbound volumes of Death by Daybreak lore. Photo albums from the forties, records from the sixties, by-laws passed in the nineties. I ignore it all, pausing a bit too close to Crown, close enough to smell that violet and suede scent of his.
“You’re probably right,” Cat agrees which is a bit too good-natured for my liking. The man is never this nice. Never. He lifts his rust-red eyes up to mine, locking gazes with me. Three months away from him has given me such clarity. While he’s a formidable foe, Cat doesn’t have to be my enemy. I can play him in ways that don’t end with me an early grave. “We need you to go over everything again.”
Crown shifts uncomfortably beside me, but not enough that Cat would ever notice. The only reason that I do is because we have some sort of strange connection to one another.
I heave a dramatic sigh.
“Seriously?” My right hand subconsciously clenches in the fabric of my sweatpants as my legs ache and my shoulder throbs. I’m trying to play nonchalant here, but it isn’t easy. So much is at stake. So much happened. Where are you, Grey? What’s going on?
I wonder if he won’t try to contact me. Considering I have zero access to electronics or Wi-Fi of any sort, I’m not sure how. I wouldn’t put it past the guy to sneak a message in though, send up smoke signals, train a fucking owl to drop a letter down my chimney.
I’d love to talk to him. Or Reba. I just need a friend to vent to, someone to calm my raging fury into a smoking ember. It still burns yes, and it has the capacity to start forest fires, but it isn’t as dangerous in the interim.
Crown stands up straight and then grabs a chair that’s set against the wall, moving it in front of the desk. Our eyes meet briefly, but I can’t glean anything from his gaze. No, this is his VP persona; he won’t give a damn thing away.
And neither should I.
Focusing on Crown and Amber right now isn’t the right move. I need to keep my head on straight, my story straighter, and my emotions in check.
Crown gestures for me to sit, and I do, rehearsing the words before I even begin to talk.
“First, that idiot Cade picked me up at home …” I start, and then I spend four grueling hours going over everything that I know. The clothes the Don wore. The jewels they forced me to put on. The wedding dress. Crown and Cat make me draw a map of the grounds to the best of my knowledge. Every word that was spoken, I repeat, and I tell the truth in every aspect but for how I got
there.
Because now, it isn’t just my life on the line.
I bide my time during the meeting, but I can’t forget the expression on Amber’s face, no matter how hard I try.
She’s in love; she truly loves him.
It’s a lot to process, especially with my father’s calculating gaze trained on my face. He won’t miss a single misstep, one wrong detail, a confused stutter. Somehow, someway, I manage to keep it all together.
Once Cat is satisfied that he’s gotten enough information out of me (for now), he pats me on the head while I scowl.
“That’s my girl,” he says, just like he did when I stumbled out of the church after fucking Grainger, blood oozing from my shoulder. “Now, take that goddamn ring off and leave it on my desk.”
He waltzes past me as I blink in surprise, finally dropping my gaze to my right hand to find the ring Grey gave me still perched on my finger. Just before the ceremony, Giulia instructed me to switch it from my left to my right. That way, Grey could place my wedding band on my left hand, the one closest to my heart.
I almost choke on the memory; it barely feels like it belongs to me at all.
“Your hand was too swollen to take it off before,” Crown tells me after Cat leaves, the door snicking shut behind him. I’m assuming the VP has orders to escort me back to Gram’s house aka the cemetery. However you prefer to say it. “But I see you’re still wearing it, all these days later.”
I give him such a dark look that he actually raises his brows at me. I shove up from the chair and storm into the hallway, heading straight for the bathroom. Running the water, I slather my hand with soap and start to twist and yank on the ring. It’s got blood crusted around the diamonds, but that’s to be expected. I wonder how much of it is mine?
Crown follows me into the bathroom, leaning against the wall and watching me. He’s so serious. I just wish he’d give me one of his stupid grins and laugh this whole thing off. It’s so heavy; I can barely take it.
And I don’t mean the mafia stuff.
I mean the personal shit.
I Am Dressed in Sin: A Reverse Harem Age Gap Romance (Death By Daybreak Motorcycle Club Book 2) Page 12