Whitley takes the quiet moment and unbuckles her seatbelt, scooting closer to my side and rests her head on my shoulder. Wrapping my hand around her mid-thigh, I give it a squeeze.
“Thank you for taking me shopping, and letting me pick out what I wanted, for the most part,” she whispers.
I laugh, sliding my hand a little farther up her thigh. “Spread, Kitten,” I softly demand. She whimpers at my words but spreads her thick thighs for me. Slipping my fingers higher, I gently touch her pussy, stroking it as I look ahead. I watch her touch the curls between her legs. I wonder what she would look like without hair. Her bald pussy would be slick, pink, and that little clit would poke out begging for my tongue. Fuck. I want that.
“Free, what’s your real name?” she asks.
I don’t stop my movements, even if I want to pause from her question. I should tell her, I should want to hear her say my name when she comes, but I can’t.
I shake my head. “I like the way you say Free, Whitley. You don’t need to know me by anything else.” I slip my finger inside of her wet heat and she gasps.
“Okay,” she sighs.
I watch as her head drops back against the seat and her hips shift, lifting to meet my slow strokes. Fuck she’s sexy, and I like the fact that everything she bought hides her body, keeping it a prize only for me, that she didn’t seek out figure-hugging clothes today. Maybe I’m fucked up, I don’t know, but I don’t give much of a fuck either.
Whitley’s breathing comes out in short pants as she climbs higher toward her climax. I can feel her pussy fluttering and I know she’s close. “Grab a condom from the glove box, Kitten,” I order. She reaches forward as I rub her clit, circling the nub, watching her fumble around the glovebox.
“Take this off, then come straddle me,” I instruct, removing my hand from between her legs. I shove my jeans down to my ankles, rolling the condom on as quickly as I can.
“I’m too big,” she says as she tugs the dress over her head.
I stare at her full tits for a moment, mesmerized by how fucking beautiful her body is before I grunt. “Get your fuckin’ ass over here, and take my dick,” I growl.
With a huff, her little attitude returns as she climbs onto my lap. I hold my cock for her and moan when she lowers herself so that the head of my dick is pressing against her entrance. Glancing between her thighs, I grind my teeth together.
I want that pussy bare, I want to watch my dick disappear between her soft lips, without anything in the fucking way of that view. I want to see just how fucking stretched she is around my cock.
“Kitten, take me inside,” I demand.
Her fingers tighten their grip on my shoulder as she holds onto me, her muscles shaking with each centimeter she lowers. “You stretch me so much, Free,” she says, her head tipped down as she watches her body take me inside.
“Feels good, Kitten,” I murmur, gently massaging her hips, allowing her to have some control. She hums as she lowers the last bit, and sits against my thighs, completely taking me inside of her sweet tight cunt.
Moving my hand from her hip, I slip it between us and start to stroke her clit. “Hold your tit out for me, Kitten, feed it to me,” I demand.
Her thighs tremble and her hand slowly cups her tit, her nipple pointed directly at me. Leaning forward I kiss the tight bud, my eyes looking directly up at hers, my fingers playing with her clit. Parting my lips, I flatten my tongue against her nipple before I suck it deep into my mouth.
“Free,” she cries her hips jerking as her back arches and she presses harder against my mouth.
I growl, my fingers moving faster against her clit, and my mouth sucking her harder, my tongue swirling around her sweet nipple. I could suck on these big beautiful tits all day long, and never get tired of them. Her hips jerk again, and then she lets out a cry that fills the cab of the truck as her instincts take over.
Sliding the hand that’s wrapped around her hip, I grab ahold of her ass, squeezing her cheek as she rides me. I wish we had more room in here, I bet she’d get goddamn wild, I can’t fucking wait for it either.
“Free, I’m close,” she chants as her hips roll and jerk.
I continue sucking and gently biting her nipple as my fingers move against her clit. I can feel her wetness dripping down my balls, and I moan against her, my eyes staying connected to her own gaze.
Her head lowers and she presses her forehead against my own as she grinds her clit against my fingers. “Baby, you feel so good,” she sighs.
I grunt, my grip on her ass tightens as do my teeth on her nipple. She gasps, her pussy clenching around me, holding me tightly inside of her as she comes. My fingers don’t stop moving, even as her body begins to relax.
“It’s too much,” she moans.
Releasing her breast, I chuckle. “It’s never too much, just close your eyes, Kitten. Take what I give you, like a good kitty.”
Her hips jerk at my soft demand, I can’t help but smile. She likes it when I praise her, and talk dirty to her, and control her. I lift my hips, my fingers still playing that sensitive button between her thighs. Her fingers grip my shoulders tighter, her nails digging into my flesh as I fuck her.
“You’re going to the doctor, Whitley,” I grind out as I fuck into her tight channel.
She moans, her limp body heavy in my grip. “I am?” she asks.
“I want to be inside of you bare, Kitten. No more condoms,” I state.
She hums, lifting her head before she presses her lips to my own. I use my grip on her ass to move her body faster along my cock, jacking myself until I’m on the edge. I pinch her clit and her head flies back as her pussy clamps down around me and that’s when I finally let myself go. I come with a roar, wishing again that my cum was filling her body instead of this fucking condom.
“Doctor tomorrow, Kitten,” I growl.
“Okay, Free,” she whimpers.
Whitley collapses against me and I shift my hands, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her even closer to me. I hold her naked body against my chest, irritated that my shirt’s still on and we’re not skin to skin, but honestly what the fuck does it matter since she’s completely under my goddamn skin.
I never expected this girl, and yet, I can’t imagine not having her.
CHAPTER NINE
WHITLEY
We stay in Free’s thinking spot for another thirty minutes before we go back to our seats, put our clothes back on and head to the clubhouse. I try not to think too much into the fact that he won’t tell me his real name, or that he hasn’t said much about himself at all. I haven’t really been extra open with him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better to start over, try to completely forget our pasts and just have the present and future.
Pulling into the clubhouse, I let out a heavy sigh. I don’t really care for it here. There are those women and so many men.
“You don’t like it here,” Free announces, practically reading my mind.
I continue to look at the entrance of the main building. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just new, different,” I admit with a shrug.
He grunts. “Kitten, none of the Old Ladies live here. They all live in town, in their own houses. You want that too?”
Frowning, I turn to look at him. “This is your home, why would I want to stay at some other place, alone?” I ask.
Free’s lips twitch in a smile. “Whitley, their men stay at their home with their women. Snake, our president, lives with his Old Lady and baby. Motorhead lives with Esme, Crooner and his family live in a house. It’s fine you want to get a place all to ourselves. We can start looking tomorrow,” he says as if it’s all no big deal to him.
I don’t know what to say. Choices are not something I’m really good at making on my own. Even before I was taken to the compound, my parents never really let me make my own decisions.
“If you want to stay here, then I’ll adjust. I always adjust, Free,” I offer.
He shakes hi
s head, his dark eyes turning almost black at my words. “There’s no adjusting, Kitten. There’s you and me, working on what we have and creating a good life. I’ve never done anything good, not ever. I tried once, but I fucked it all up. This is a chance to make all of that right,” he explains and it’s like a knife to my chest.
I don’t want to be some do-over from his past, some way to ease his guilt about hurting someone else. I want him to care about me, for me. I want him to eventually fall in love with me and be mine. He’ll never do that if he only has a sense of duty for me.
How long before he’ll be sleeping with the clubgirls behind my back? Then, when will he sleep with them and not even try to hide it because in the end, he’ll have never loved me. I’m nothing but a project to him. I hate how that makes me feel. Even if that was what I was destined for at the compound, I never wanted it.
“We’ll get our own place, Kitten. You need to acclimate to life in the world again, you can’t do that if you’re locked inside the clubhouse,” he winks.
He doesn’t see the sadness on my face, or in my eyes. He bounds out of the truck, grabbing my stuff from the back seat, as I slowly climb out of the passenger door. Walking to the side and a step behind him, we make our way toward the clubhouse door. It’s early in the evening, and there are more bikes here than when we left this morning.
“We’ll probably party a little tonight, you’ll come down after you’ve freshened up and changed into something we picked up today,” he informs me.
I nod, not verbally answering him. I feel like something is slithering up my throat, choking me. This is familiar, in the sense that I’m being told what to do, and how to do it. Controlled, and directed, just like on the compound.
Free hands me my bags, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. “I’ll be at the bar, come straight to me,” he says.
I nod, still not verbally answering him. My words are completely gone. I hurry toward his room, and slip inside, thankful to have a moment alone. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, or why, but suddenly I feel a sense of dread washing over me.
I thought this was all going to be different, especially after last night and the day we had. I thought that he was different, but he’s not. He’s just wearing leather and rides a bike instead of wearing khakis and leading a bunch of brainwashed people around.
Sucking in a deep breath, I shake myself out of my funk. I can’t be upset about what is happening. I need to just deal with it. Soon I’ll have some kind of tattoo that brands me, and I’ll have a place to live. I should not be bitching about that. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and force my shoulders to relax.
This is not the worst thing to happen to me, in fact, so far everything has been pretty great. Free is fairly kind, he’s decent enough, and so what if he’ll never love me. So what if this is all some elaborate soothing his guilt thing.
It doesn’t matter.
I’ll be safe, and I’ll be taken care of, and that is all I should be concerned with—nothing more, nothing less.
Grabbing the black t-shirt dress and a pair of flat black sandals, I pick up the small bag of toiletries we bought, hurrying to the bathroom. I take a quick shower, then brush my hair, deciding to leave it down. I slip on a pair of soft black panties and matching bra, then my dress and finally my shoes.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I look comfortable, and plain—as usual. Nobody will notice me, and if they do, it won’t be for any reason other than I’m a body standing in the room. Good. I like it that way.
I don’t want attention, of any kind, except from Free. I always want Free’s attention. Especially when he’s kissing me, or touching me, or when he whispers dirty things in my ear. That, I like—a lot.
Making my way to the bar, my breath hitches when I see the man from the other day standing at the end of the hall, the prospect. He lifts his chin toward me as I approach, a smirk on his lips.
“Hey, babe. You clean up good,” he smirks as his eyes scan up and down my body.
His gaze makes me feel exposed, naked, and I don’t understand how he can say I look good when he can’t even see my body. Frowning, I tip my head back to look up at him. “I’m, Whitley,” I announce.
“Know that. Dawg,” he grunts. I assume that’s his nickname, like Free, and Snake and whoever else he’s mentioned. I wrinkle my nose at the name Dawg, I can only assume that he’s a… well, a dog. “Better get on to your man, babe. You ain’t marked, and you look like trouble,” he states then leans down and breathes against my ear. “I fuckin’ love trouble, sweet cheeks.”
I squeak, taking a step back and hurry toward the bar area without looking back. I can hear him chuckling behind me, but I don’t care, my feet carry me quickly away from him.
Free’s back is to me, but I would know him anywhere. Even in our short time together, I could pick him out of a crowd. He turns his head and half of his body to face me. I watch as his lazy gaze travels my body and he smirks when he gets to my face.
He continues spinning completely around in his chair. Dropping his chin down, looking between his legs, a silent command to step between them. I follow his directions, sliding my arms around his waist before tipping my head back to look into his eyes.
Free lifts his beer to his mouth, taking a pull. I watch his throat as he works the drink down. It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve seen in my life. His other hand wraps around the back of my neck, his fingers loose and warm.
“You look pretty, Kitten,” he murmurs, leaning forward to brush his lips across mine. My face heats at his words and I mumble a, thanks. “You want a beer? shot?”
I shake my head. I’ve never had alcohol before. On the compound, hard liquor was reserved for only the men, and only the men of any type of power. Women were never allowed to have any because every woman was treated as if she were pregnant. Breeding was priority number one.
“Might loosen you up a little, relax you,” he says. “Hey prospect, you got anything girlie back there?” he calls out, turning his head toward the bar.
The man behind the bar chuckles and lifts his chin. A few seconds later he brings out a bottle and opens it before sliding it toward us. Free wraps his hand around it, turning it to read the label then snorts. I take it and read it myself.
“Root beer?” I ask.
“Yeah, alcoholic root beer, try it. It’s probably Ginger’s or Hayden’s, who knows.”
His mention of Hayden brings an ache to my chest. I only knew her for a few days, but I felt like we could be friends. I miss her. Bringing the drink to my lips, I take a small taste and am surprised that it’s actually quite good. It really does taste like root beer.
Free’s hand moves from behind my neck, sliding down my back before he grabs ahold of my ass, tugging me closer to him. My breasts press against his chest and I look up at him. His dark eyes almost sparkle, and he has a smile tugging on his lips.
The music is turned up and I don’t recognize the song, but it’s rock, the deep bass hums throughout the space. I hear pool being played somewhere behind me and shouts from men, but I’m arrested by Free’s gaze.
FREE
There’s something special about her. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her, but right now, I feel it deep inside of me. This is the woman I was always meant to have. Yeah, it’s a pussy-assed thought, but fuck it.
The guilt I feel about Gemma has started to diminish, the more time I spend with Whitley. It should probably be increasing, but I have a feeling Whitley is who I was always meant to have.
Baby saunters up toward us, and his eyes zero in on Whitley’s ass. It causes me to growl, which only makes his smile widen. The fuck loves to mess with his brothers, especially his brothers Old Lady’s.
“Who do we have here?” Baby asks, his voice loud and jovial.
Whitley turns her head to the side and looks up at him. She takes a drink from her beer and cuddles a little closer to me, which causes me to snort. “This is my woman, Whitley. Whitley, thi
s is Baby, a stupid fucker who is leaving in the morning for the states,” I announce.
“C’mon man, let me fuck around a little with you before I go. Who knows how long I’ll be gone for.”
I grunt, lifting my hand to flip him off. Standing from the seat, I place my hand on Whitley’s back and turn her away from Baby. I guide her toward a sofa at the back of the room. “What are we doing now?” she asks.
I hum, sitting back on the couch, wrapping my hands around her hips and pulling her onto my lap. She stumbles, straddling my hips as her eyes widen and she attempts to tug down her dress with her free hand.
“Stop,” I bark. She freezes, her pretty golden eyes focused on me. Her gaze is wild and scared, and it fucking turns me on. “Feel that?” I ask, lifting my hips.
Whitley’s breath hitches and she nods. “Nobody here gives a fuck about exposed body parts, or sex, or anything like that. This is a complete ‘what happens in the clubhouse stays in the clubhouse’ type of situation,” I explain.
“I don’t want anyone to see me,” she breathes.
My hands slide to her ass, squeezing her from over her dress with a grunt. “Nobody will ever see your naked body, Kitten,” I explain. “However, you have this sweet dress on, and that doesn’t mean that we can’t play a little.”
Her mouth drops open in a small O, and I can’t hide my smile as it grows. One of my hands moves to between her legs and I slide my finger over the center of her soft panties.
“Sexy,” I murmur, my eyes focused on her pussy. Slipping my finger beneath the fabric, I let out a rumble as I feel her wetness.
“Free,” she pants.
My eyes lift back up to hers and I wink. “Now, Kitten, you aren’t allowed to come. I just want to warm this pussy up for me. You sore?”
She moans, her head dropping forward a bit. “Yeah,” she sighs.
I hum. “I like that,” I admit. “Know what else I’d like?” I should feel like a bastard even thinking, let alone saying it, but I don’t.” She shakes her head. “I want that pussy bare for me, Whitley. Smooth, so I can see every goddamn inch of you, Kitten. I want that pussy aching for me, always.” Slipping my finger inside of her, she whimpers. “Feels good when I fill you?”
Flamed with Courage: Notorious Devils (Cash Bar Book 3) Page 8