Flamed with Courage: Notorious Devils (Cash Bar Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  “I want that,” she sighs. “Feels, so good,” she says.

  I make a come-hither motion with my finger inside of her, just as Keys appears. “It cool if I sit by y’all?” he asks. Whitley makes a noise in the back of her throat, but I can only chuckle.

  “Sure, we haven’t been able to talk much, yet,” I state. “Nice to have someone with your talent on board, you thinking about sticking with us?” I ask.

  Keys showed up to help with all of the compound rescue shit. He’s a computer techie, and God knows we needed one here. I hope he works out, I honestly think having someone who’s computer savvy would be a great asset to the club.

  “Yeah, I’m staying. I like it here a hell of a lot,” he grins.

  That’s how I spend the next thirty minutes. Shooting the shit with Keys, my finger buried inside of Whitley’s tight cunt, while drinking a beer. I’m lucky as fuck I’m able to multi-task.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHITLEY

  I’m mortified, no I’m beyond that. Whatever the word beyond mortified is, that’s what I am right now. I’m sitting, spread eagle, while Free fingers me and talks nonchalantly to his friend.

  Both men are acting like nothing is going on right now, and I’m on the verge of coming. I’m pissed at myself for it too. I should be dry, as embarrassed as I am, but I’m not.

  I’m soaking Free’s hand, and I can feel my wetness on the insides of my thighs, just adding to my total embarrassment.

  “I’ll let you get back to your girl, when I get back in town we’ll have a beer,” Keys chuckles as he stands.

  Free turns to me, and his eyes soften. “You were such a good kitty,” he rasps.

  My belly clenches at his words, and my pussy pulses. “I’m embarrassed,” I admit on a whisper.

  Free hums, his head dipping closer to mine and I feel his nose slide up the column of my neck before his lips touch my own. His tongue slips inside of my mouth and I open for him. His thumb presses against my clit, as his tongue slowly fucks me, his finger matching its rhythm in my pussy.

  Ripping my mouth from his, my hips jerk. “I’m so close,” I exhale.

  “Party’s over. Time to go upstairs,” he growls, removing his hand from between my legs.

  I slowly climb off of his lap with shaky legs. Free stands, and my face heats when he adjusts his crotch. He takes my beer that’s still gripped tightly in my hand and sets it down next to his. With his hand wrapped around mine, he takes long, quick strides hurrying toward our room.

  Once we’re in the room, I lock the door behind me, my eyes focused on him. “Take that dress off, let me see my Kitten,” he demands.

  With shaky fingers I bend over slightly, grabbing the hem of my dress and quickly pull it over my body. He looks me up and down, his expression set firm, and I can’t read him. “Bra and panties, Whitley,” he demands.

  I nod, quickly stripping out of my bra and panties. I’m on edge, I’ve been on edge for what feels like an eternity and I’ll do almost anything at this point for relief. I dig my nails into my palms, clenching my fists as Free just wordlessly stares at me.

  “Whatever we do, wherever we do it, if you ever say you’re embarrassed again I’ll spank your ass, then fuck you in the middle of the clubhouse. I won’t give a fuck who’s watching.”

  My thighs tremble at his words, and fear rolls through me. I would die of embarrassment, thinking about a room full of people just seeing me naked, let alone watching me having sex makes my stomach twist. Shaking my head, I whimper.

  “You gotta get this shit outta your head, Kitten,” he growls, lifting his chin toward me, then dropping it to his feet.

  Using that as my sign to walk closer, I slowly take one step after the other until I’m directly in front of him. He lifts his hand, his finger circling around one nipple, then the other. My entire body shivers from his touch, and my pussy clenches, as I almost beg for more.

  “If you’re going to be mine, Whitley. If you’re going to be my Old Lady, then you’ll need to understand that I’m in control, not just of you, but of your body too,” he says his tone sweet, but his words almost harsh.

  Controlling men. It seems like I’ve been surrounded by them since the moment my parents died. I want to balk at his words and fight him. I want to tell him, no, but I’m not a complete fool. I drop my chin a bit, to show him my submissiveness.

  “We have so much to get to know about one another, Kitten. We’re just learning, I’m not mad,” he informs me as his fingers travel down my stomach, through my short curls, then slips two inside of my sore pussy.

  I automatically widen my legs, and he rewards me with a brush of his lips across mine. His mouth travels down the column of my neck as his fingers continue bringing me closer toward release, again. My body never completely came down from his earlier ministrations.

  “Okay, Free,” I mutter, my hips rolling, aching for more of his touch. “I understand,” I lie.

  I don’t understand it at all, how can I understand why he would want to touch me or fuck me, in front of his friends. It doesn’t make sense to me, at the compound that was a punishment. I’m too wound up to fight it right now.

  “You don’t,” he says, lifting his face directly in front of mine. “You don’t, but you will.”

  I open my mouth to say something, or ask something, I’m not even sure, but I don’t get the opportunity. Free fills my open mouth with his tongue and I moan as soon as it swirls around. My hips jerk, his fingers working me faster, pumping harder and causing the ache inside of me to spread throughout my entire body.

  Wrenching my head back from his, I let out a long cry as I come around his finger, my body shaking and jerking without my control. I feel like I’m practically convulsing. Free growls, removing his hand from between my legs, and it takes every single part of me to force myself to remain standing. I watch, my mouth dropping open in somewhat horror as he slips his fingers between his lips and sucks.

  “Free,” I mutter.

  He chuckles, giving me a wink as he pulls them out with a pop. “Kitten, I’ve had my face between those sexy thighs, it’s no different. I needed a taste. Now, on your knees, take me in your mouth,” he growls.

  My eyes go wide and round, all at the same time. I’ve never done anything like that before and judging by the smirk on Free’s lips, he knows it too. He stands, his head tipped to the side, still fully dressed and waits.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I slowly sink to my knees. My hands shake as I reach for his belt. I fumble, my fingers slipping more than once, as I unfasten his belt, his button and then with trembling fingers tug down his zipper.

  Free’s cock juts out and stares me straight in the face. I lick my lips, unsure of what I’m doing. Wrapping my hand around the base, I bite my bottom lip at the soft skin over steel hard length beneath my touch.

  “Open, Kitten,” he softly demands.

  I open my mouth, wrapping my lips around the head of his cock, sliding as far down his length as I can. His hand slips into the side of my hair, and his fingers grip the strands.

  “Just open, let me fuck you, like a good kitty.” His words send a chill up my spine and I feel wetness between my legs.

  I want to be that for him, his good kitty, his everything. Because without him, I’ll be nothing but a whore for his brothers.

  He’s not only my savior, he’s my protector.

  FREE

  Her mouth feels like heaven, especially when she lets me take control. She sits back on her heels, her big gold eyes staring up at me and her lips wide and welcoming. I fuck her sweet mouth, slowly, and not too deeply.

  I don’t want to hurt her, no matter how badly I want to sink to the hilt and feel my balls touch her chin. Filling her with my cock, any part of her feels fucking amazing. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to come down her throat. I’m going to fill her with part of me.

  Whitley will not only be the woman who wears my tattoo branded on her shoulder, she’ll always be the one wh
o has been marked by me on every part of her body. Filled with me, in every hole possible. She is mine, and if I could imprint that shit on her goddamn forehead, I fucking would.

  I’m close, and without giving her warning, I growl before I empty inside of her. Surprisingly, without hesitation, she swallows every drop. My fingers tangle in the soft strands of her hair, tightening my grip as I attempt to catch my breath.

  Slowly, I ease out of her mouth, wishing I could stay inside longer. Without a thought, I sink to my knees in front of her, sliding my hand around the back of her neck and tugging her off balance and closer to me.

  Smashing my lips against hers, I take. Filling her with my tongue, I taste her, I taste us. Fuck me, I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, but goddamn it’s fantastic. She whimpers, and I slowly ease out of the consuming kiss.

  “Tomorrow you’ll get your ink,” I state. Whitley’s glazed eyes look at me and she nods, her teeth sinking in the corner of her bottom lip. I smirk, brushing my lips alongside hers in a chaste kiss. “Then we’ll go look for a place to live.”

  “Really?” she breathes. I heard her earlier, does she think that I would make her live somewhere that she’ll be uncomfortable? “I didn’t think you’d want to look so soon,” she murmurs, her eyes glancing from side-to-side, obviously worried, or stressed or some other stupid shit.

  “Go hop in bed, Kitten. I’ll meet you there,” I grunt as I stand.

  Stepping out of my boots and jeans, tugging my cut off and hanging it from the doorknob, I pull off my shirt and toss it on the floor. Whitley makes a noise, and I turn my head to look at her. Her eyes are narrowed on my shirt, balled up at my feet. I smirk, bending down to scoop it up, then pick up my jeans as well.

  I toss them toward the closet and make a whoosh sound when they land in the basket. Grabbing my boots, I set them by the door, flipping the light off, then slowly make my way toward the bed. I can tell my girl likes tidiness, she’s going to be sorely disappointed in me, seeing as this is probably the one and only time I’ll put my shit in a hamper.

  Climbing into bed, I wrap my arm around her, tugging her back against my front and shoving my leg between her thighs. My chest rumbles when I feel her pussy against my leg, it’s wet and warm.

  “You want my dick, Kitten?” I ask, pressing my lips to her shoulder.

  She shudders in my arms. “No?” she says, the word coming out more like a question than anything else.

  My eyes slide closed and I wish I could slide into her waiting cunt right this second. I can’t wait until she goes to the doctor and gets on birth control. I already know sliding inside of her bare is going to feel like heaven on earth.

  Moving the hand that’s pressing against her belly, I nip her shoulder right where my mark is going to be, and cup her pussy with my hand. She lets out a soft breath, but I don’t do anything other than hold her.

  “Free?” Her soft voice washes over me. I wonder how I ever lived thirty-seven years without hearing it before now. It’s sappy as fuck, and it’s not the first time I thought the same thing, but this woman, she’s completely knocked me on my ass.

  “Sleep.”

  She lets outs a sigh and I slip two fingers into her warm heat, my palm pressing against her clit, but otherwise stay unmoving. “Just want to feel you, Kitten. I’ll take care of you before your appointment,” I state.

  Whitley doesn’t move, her body is tight and wound up, but this moment is about control, fuck every moment is about control. Her breathing eventually evens out before her body relaxes and I stay right where I am as she falls asleep. Next time I think I’ll make sure my cock is deep inside of her when she falls asleep.

  Burying my face in the back of her neck, smelling her hair, I eventually find sleep as well.

  A scream fills the room and I sit straight up. Looking around, I press the heels of my palms against my eyes and rub to get the sleep out of them, and to make sure I’m really awake. The scream sounds again, and I glance at the direction it’s coming from to see Gemma curled in the corner of the room.

  “Babe, come get back in bed,” I growl.

  This is a nightly thing now. Her screaming, huddling in the corner. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in months and I feel like a dick for thinking of myself, but fuck. I don’t know how to help her. I don’t know how to make the nightmares or her pain stop.

  “You touched me,” she whispers.

  I scrub my hand over my face, shaking my head. “I was asleep,” I inform her.

  “You touched me, Mason,” she whimpers. “Your dick was hard, and it touched me.”

  Goddammit. Of course, my dick was hard, she probably had her ass pressed against it. A man can only take so much, even one who isn’t a saint. Even one who fucks whores so that he won’t try anything with his own woman. Doesn’t mean I still don’t want her, doesn’t mean I still don’t crave her, and it doesn’t mean my brain can inform my cock to stay flaccid in its fucking sleep.

  “Come to bed, babe,” I softly demand.

  She shakes her head, her hair and eyes both looking wild as all fuck. “They hurt me because of you. This is all your fault. I wish they would have just ended me. Looking at you every day, knowing they did it because of you. I hate it,” she admits, not for the first time.

  That guilt, it chokes me, I have to physically cough to continue breathing. “If I could go back, I would,” I say.

  “I would too. I would have run the moment I laid eyes on you. I would have never got together with you. Never,” she spits.

  Sitting up, I rub my hand over my face, feeling the sweat on my skin. Looking down at the body lying next to me, I let out a breath when I realize it’s Whitley. She’s not Gemma, she’s not hurt. She’s breathing and sleeping, and mine.

  Rolling out of bed, I grab my jeans from the hamper, pulling them up my legs and leave the room. I won’t be able to sleep again, I never can when memories of Gemma assault me. Usually, I feel so fucking guilty that I drink myself into oblivion. I still want to drink, but the guilt isn’t as strong as it usually is, instead, I’m just left with a feeling of sadness.

  Quietly, I walk into the bar and grab a bottle of Jack, then make my way toward the empty sofa. I’m surprised it isn’t littered with a couple naked bodies, but I’m grateful. Twisting the top off, I take a healthy swig as I close my eyes. I’m going to do what I always do. I’m going to drink Gemma off my mind.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WHITLEY

  I wake up with a start. The sun has just started to filter into the room, and glancing at the clock on the top of the dresser makes me moan. I’ve only been asleep for a few hours. Stretching my sore body, I roll over to curl against Free’s back, but the other side of the bed is empty and cold.

  Sitting up, I look around hoping to find him somewhere in the room, but I’m alone. With a frown, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and pad over to the laundry basket. Reaching inside, I grab his discarded t-shirt from earlier in the night. Throwing it on, I slowly walk over to the door. His vest is still hanging on the handle, so I know he couldn’t have gone far, it seems like he always wears that thing.

  I walk directly to the bathroom, but the door is open, and the light is off, so I don’t bother checking in there. Instead, I make my way toward the bar area. I don’t know why he would be there, but then again, I don’t really know him that well, at all.

  The actual bar is empty, but I see a figure sitting on the same sofa I was fingered on just a few hours ago. I recognize that figure because I would recognize him anywhere. Free is just that special and different. I close the distance between us, my brows knitting together when he brings a bottle to his lips.

  “Free?” I ask as I approach.

  His dark eyes meet mine, his jaw is clenched, and I watch as a muscle jumps in his cheek. “Go to bed,” he growls.

  Ignoring him, I suck in a deep breath and climb onto his lap, exactly where I was earlier in the evening. My legs spread wide as I straddle his thighs. The ha
nd not holding the bottle wraps around my waist and squeezes me roughly.

  “Tell me,” I whisper, cupping his scruffy cheeks with my palms. He brings the bottle of liquor to his lips and takes another swig.

  “If I tell you, I’ll lose you,” he slurs. I shake my head, but he pins me with a glare causing me to freeze. “Don’t tell me shit’ll be different, Whitley. I’ve done this all before, but I didn’t claim her. It’s why I’m claimin’ you and doing it fucking fast.”

  I don’t understand what he’s telling me, or what he’s trying to explain. Leaning forward, I press my lips to his, but I don’t kiss him, I just speak. “Baby, I don’t understand,” I say, looking into his tortured gaze.

  He shakes his head, closing his eyes slowly before they open back up again. There’s something different in his gaze now, something harsher and less vulnerable than just a few seconds ago. It’s turned into something demanding, hard, and suggestive.

  “Take my cock out, Kitten,” he mutters.

  I open my mouth to balk at his demand, but he narrows his eyes, daring me to speak. He’s intimidating. For the first time, I don’t feel at ease around him, I feel almost frightened.

  My fingers shake as I reach for his pants, my eyes staying glued to his. His jaw is clenched again and I watch as his nostrils flare with his heavy breaths. Lifting up on my knees, I pull his pants down past his hips and position myself over the head of his already hard dick. My pussy is sore, and I know it’s going to really hurt if I attempt to slide down without being ready.

  Free releases my waist with his hand. “You’re not ready, hold on,” he grumbles. I breathe out a sigh of relief as I sit back on his thighs a bit. I expect him to reach toward me and stroke my clit and center like he always does, but he doesn’t.