Rough & Rich (Notorious Devils Book 6)

by Hayley Faiman

  Sloane wraps his hand around mine and tugs me forward. He then turns to me and leans down to whisper in my ear. “I should have made sure your brand was visible. Sorry, sunshine. You have to stick to my side all night long, no matter what.”

  I shiver at his warning and nod, my hand gripping his a little tighter than before as I plaster the front of my body to the back of his. I feel like a doe caught in headlights as I look around at the crush of people. They’re everywhere, and I don’t recognize any of them. That is, until they part a little bit and I’m brought over to the same corner where the couples always are and I see my friends. All except Ivy.

  My brow furrows as I look for her.

  “Ivy’s not feeling well,” Colleen states. “And Teeny is on bedrest.”

  Sloane thrusts a beer in my hand, and I turn from Colleen to thank him. I don’t even get to say the words because his lips touch mine and his hand travels down to my ass and gives it a squeeze. I can’t help the squeak that escapes me. Sloane pulls me down on his lap. We spend the evening talking to our friends. The music is loud, and the smell of pot wafts through the air.

  I keep glancing up at Sloane to see if he seems edgy or needy for drugs, but he’s acting completely normal, aloof, and relaxed. I find myself relaxing even more.

  This is the second party we’ve been to since he’s been clean. I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips that this man, this version of Sloane, seems as though he’s here to stay.

  Mary-Anne and I chat about her new baby boy a little, but she asks MadDog to take her home early, due to the amount of smoke that’s quickly filling the room.

  Texas and Colleen are next to leave, and then Torch and Cleo. I can tell Cleo is tired as she yawns and rubs her belly. Once they’ve all left, Sloane turns us toward the crazy part of the room. There are naked women walking around everywhere.

  We walk over to the pool tables, and I’m not surprised to see Grease fucking Serina from behind as she sucks some stranger’s dick. It’s when I notice that Grease is actually fucking her ass, because there’s another man beneath her, that my eyes widen.

  Sloane walks us over to the bar. Even though it’s extremely crowded, he has beers in his hand, along with a couple of shots that are placed on the bar top, almost immediately. I reach for the shots and take one, watching as he does as well before he hands me my beer.

  He then presses his palm to my lower back and pushes me through the crowd. I drink my beer, wondering where on earth we’re going when we pass the pool tables, the sofas that are against the wall, and then turn left down a hallway that I’ve never been to before.

  I know that the whore’s rooms are down here, so it’s not like I’ve ever wished to come down here; but I’m surprised to see a big room off to the left. I’m even more surprised by the activities happening inside of this room.

  There are naked people everywhere. Not one person has clothes on, except for a few people who are sitting on the leather sofas that line two of the four walls. There is plush carpeting and a few lounge chairs that people are screwing on in the middle of the room. Most, but not all, are with multiple partners, and it makes me wonder what exactly is happening here.

  “Sloane?” I whisper, my voice strained with worry.

  “We’re just gonna watch, baby,” he murmurs as he presses his lips to my forehead and guides me over to a sofa. He doesn’t let me sit. He pulls me down across his lap. “You mentioned what you did about Destini and the bar. I’m not sure I could fuck you in the bar like that, or even in here. If you wanted me to, I would, but I think you said that more out of shock value,” he says, whispering against my shoulder, his lips touching me with each word he speaks. “But I thought maybe you might want to watch a little.”

  “Sloane,” I say shakily.

  “See those three in the middle?” he mutters.

  My eyes turn to the four people in the middle of the room. It’s a whore I’ve seen before. I can’t remember her name, but she was here before I left three years ago. She’s lying down with a man fucking her pussy. There’s a woman sitting on her face as she eats her out. Then there’s another man sucking on the girl who riding the whore’s face.

  “I’m sure you like that,” I snort, thinking about how any man would love two women.

  “Mmm, I couldn’t let another man touch you. I’d be too fucking jealous,” he grunts against my shoulder before he nips my skin with his teeth.

  “The feeling is mutual,” I state.

  I feel his fingertips grazing the inside of my thigh, and then he wrenches my panties to the side as he slips two fingers inside of me. His tongue tastes my shoulder before he moves up to my neck, behind my ear and kisses me there.

  “You like watching, though,” he whispers.

  I lift one of my legs higher to give him more room, without showing everybody my center. I don’t answer, because it’s true. Seeing these people, their inhibitions shoved to the side as they pleasure each other, it’s sexy as hell.

  “Will you come when they do?” he asks.

  I whimper, my breathing shallowing as his fingers curl inside of me. I watch the three of them, the woman riding the whore’s face throws back her head as she starts to shake, her orgasm on the cusp of imploding. The man groans as he starts to thrust into the whore harder.

  “Sloane,” I gasp as his thumb presses against my clit, applying pressure as he fucks me with his fingers.

  Nipping my shoulder, he tells me to come, and I do right as I hear the man groan and the woman cry out with her own release. “If we don’t go to my room, I’m two seconds from fucking you right here and not giving a flying fuck who watches.”

  I stand and hold out my hand for him as I adjust my tiny dress. I pull him toward his room as fast as my high heels will take me. Once we’re at his door, he presses me against it, his hips pressed close to my lower back as he pushes his hard cock against me. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream, sunshine,” he murmurs.

  “Yes, please,” I whimper as I reach for the handle of the door.

  He moans as his teeth sink into the lobe of my ear. “Maybe I’ll just fuck you right here, take you in the hall against this door?”

  “Please do,” a voice laughs from behind us.

  It’s like cold water is being doused over my entire body.

  I close my eyes and curse to myself as soon as I realize who just spoke. I don’t turn completely around; my cock is hard and this cunt isn’t worth my full attention. I tip my head to the side before I speak to her, feeling Imogen stiffen beneath me.

  “Don’t you have some cock to suck?” I ask.

  “Are you offering, baby?” she coos.

  I laugh. It causes my entire body to shake, but this bitch is pretty hilarious. “Bitch, I’m not offering you fucking shit. Take your little ass right on out of here. Learn when a man doesn’t want you, especially when a patched Devil doesn’t want you. You don’t learn that really quickly, you’ll find your whore ass working a street corner instead of being in a nice warm clubhouse. Now get the fuck out of the hallway before I march your raggedy ass out.”

  I turn my head away from her, not wishing to see her reaction, mainly because I don’t give a fuck about her. I care about the woman in my arms, who is still stiff as a fucking board. I turn the handle of my door, pushing us inside before I slam it behind me and flip the lock closed.

  “Sunshine,” I murmur.

  She turns around to face me, her eyes bright and her smile wide. Then she laughs. It’s absolutely stunning.

  “I wish that I could have seen her face,” she giggles as she shakes her head.

  I grunt and grin at the same time, loving how happy she looks as she laughs. The heat has left, but I don’t mind. I’ll have fun building it back up again. Personally, I’m enjoying her smile and the fact that she didn’t let that whore get to her.

  My eyes widen when she starts to unzip her dress. When she’s finished, it falls to the floor and she’s standing in front of me wearing h
er heels, black lacy panties, and a black strapless bra. My mouth goes fucking dry.

  “Come on,” she says lifting her chin.

  I shake my head as I strip out of my clothes, and then I stalk toward her, wrapping my hands around her small waist. “Can’t wait to make you scream, baby.”

  She grins before she whispers, “I’m planning on it. I’m planning on this whole building knowing you’re making your wife come.”

  “Fuck, yeah,” I grunt before I press my lips to hers, hard.

  My fucking wife, so goddamn hot it sends a shot of fire down my spine.

  Unhooking her bra, I let it fall to the ground before I pull her panties down. She steps out of the lacey material as I back her up against the edge of the bed.

  My cock is close to exploding, and I close my eyes to try and calm myself down. I need her to torture me a little the way she likes, on top and with full reign.

  “Ride me, baby. I want to watch you,” I murmur as my lips travel down her neck.

  I bend a little further to draw one of her breasts into my mouth, sucking on her nipple before I flick the hardened bud with my tongue.

  “Yes,” she hisses.

  I release her with a pop and climb onto the bed, holding out my hand for her. She slips hers inside as she climbs over me, lining my cock with her slick, hot entrance.

  I let my hands glide up her sides and cup her breasts, pinching and tugging on her nipples as she sinks down on top of me, taking my cock deep inside of her tight body. She doesn’t move, and I’m grateful for it, knowing I’m seconds away from exploding too early inside of her.

  “Ride me nice and slow, sunshine,” I whisper, my jaw clenched tightly. “I want you to come again. Make yourself. Use me.”

  “Sloane,” she says, trembling above me as she starts to roll her hips.

  Imogen gives me a goddamn show to top any other show she’s ever given me. She fucking tortures me, and I let her. It’s the most beautiful torture I’ve ever received. My woman, my wife, enjoying my cock—a cock that is, for the rest of our lives, only hers.

  The warm weight against my back is suddenly ripped from me, and my eyes widen as I let out a short scream. Sloane is being hauled out of bed by a police officer. I pull the sheets up my body to cover myself as best as I can.

  There are several police surrounding us in the room, and one of them tosses a folded blue paper at me. I recognize him as the highway patrol officer, Houston. I open the to see it’s a warrant.

  “What is this?” I ask quietly.

  “We have reason to believe that these men are transporting illegal arms and drugs. This is a warrant to search the premises.”

  I hear Sloane grunt from his place on the floor, an officer’s knee lodged in his back. “Can I get some fucking pants on at least?” he growls.

  Another officer throws a pair of pants in his face, and I hear his muffled words. “You need to get up, ma’am. We’re starting here, first,” an officer says, his eyes pinned to where my hand is holding the navy blue sheet against my naked breasts.

  “Can I please have some privacy to put some clothes on?” I ask.

  I watch as three of the officers smirk, including Houston. One flat out smiles, and another has the nerve to look at me with pity.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, no can-do. We don’t want you trying to cover anything up for your husband now, do we?” Houston states.

  I open my mouth to speak, unsure of what I’m going to say, when Sloane’s enraged yell fills the room. “You fucking pieces of shit. Let my wife fucking put some clothes on. You know she knows fucking nothing about anything. She’s innocent.”

  I watch as Houston kicks Sloane in his ribs, causing him to groan. “Shut your fucking mouth, convict.”

  “It’s okay,” I whisper as I close my eyes and take a gulp of air, trying to get some damn balls.

  The only man who has ever seen me naked is my husband. Now, I’m about to show it all, every single part of me, to a room full of police officers.

  I stand on shaky legs with the sheet still wrapped around me, hoping I can get past these men to the drawer of Sloane’s nightstand, where I know he has at least a t-shirt and maybe even gym shorts stowed away. Maybe I can get by without showing anything at all.

  As soon as I’m standing, Houston reaches out and grabs the sheet, yanking it from my body and forcing me to stand, shocked and frozen still, in front of them. I hear Sloane rustling around on the ground, but I can’t look anywhere but at the officer in front of me.

  “Didn’t know you boys could get such pretty pussy in your beds. Knew I’d get you eventually, Imogen,” he laughs coldly.

  I hear Sloane’s voice muffle something that sounds like fuck you. I feel so pathetic for not moving, but I can’t. It’s as though my feet are physically cemented to the ground. “How about I fuck her pretty little mouth?” he asks before he laughs. “You know Bayard promised me that much.”

  My eyes widen and my feet finally react to his words, my brain telling me flight or fight. I’m too weak to fight any of these men, so I flight. I’m not fast enough, though. Houston wraps his hand around my bicep and halts my movement.

  “James,” the one who looked at me with pity warns.

  “Oh, shut the fuck up. She’s a whore, just like the rest of them. She’s used to sucking strange. She’ll be fine,” he spits. “Sluts are sluts, society or club ones.”

  “You’re a goddamn idiot, James,” Officer Pity growls.

  My heart races and I can feel my breathing shallow as panic consumes me. I’m going to be raped, right here in front of my husband, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. I have a feeling all of the other men are being detained as well, including whoever stayed over after the party.

  “You need another report in your file like a whole in the head. You better just back the fuck away. I have a feeling Mrs. Huntington won’t just accept your scare tactics. Plus, I’m standing right here, and I’m more than willing to testify against your dirty ass.”

  Houston’s hand releases me immediately, and I rush over to Sloane’s dresser, grabbing the first black shirt I can find and, thankfully, a pair of athletic shorts he keeps around. Once I’m covered, I feel stronger, like somehow the vulnerability of my nakedness is now gone, and I can think again.

  “You all right, Mrs. Huntington?” Officer Pity asks.

  “No. My husband has been kicked, is being held on the ground naked, and we were ripped from our sleep. I certainly am not all right,” I snap. I watch as Sloane looks toward me and grins.

  “How about I escort you down to where we’re holding everyone, and you can join your… friends, there?”

  I nod, but don’t take a step, and I certainly don’t take his offered hand. “How about you let my husband stand up so that he can join the rest of his friends?” I ask, arching my brow. He shakes his head with a grin and tells the other men to do as I’ve requested.

  I ignore the looks as I walk over to Sloane. Sinking to the ground I help him with his jeans. Once I bring them up his body, I gently tug his zipper up, and button the top button. I’m careful, and then rise to my feet, my eyes focused on his.

  “Thank you, sunshine,” he murmurs.

  I press my lips to the center of his chest before tipping my head back and giving him a wink. Then I turn, with my head held high, and walk out of the room toward the bar, where I have a feeling everybody else is located.

  “Nerves of steel, woman,” the officer chuckles behind me.

  “Your friends are jackasses,” I announce.

  He laughs even harder, and I feel his fingers wrap around my wrist before he tugs me to a stop, gently turning me around to face him.

  “They absolutely are. They’re also all my superiors, and your husband is possibly in deep shit,” he states.

  I nod, ignoring his words. If he hadn’t recognized me for who my family is, then the outcome would have been much different. Sure, he may have felt badly, but he wouldn’t have done anything to stop it
. He’s not good, either. In this building, there is no good or bad side; they’re all bad, just wearing different uniforms.

  I see Bobbie and walk straight over to her. She’s is sitting at a barstool, and when she notices my clothes, her eyes widen. There are mostly whores, party girls, and a few Old Ladies in this room, which means they’re keeping the men separately.

  “You okay, honey?” Bobbie asks.

  “I am,” I murmur.

  “You look shaken,” Serina says from my other side.

  I don’t know her well, just that she’s an ex-clubwhore turned Old Lady, but she wraps her hand around mine and gives it a squeeze.

  I cough, clearing my throat, “There was an incident, but everything is okay. I’m okay.”

  “Fucking pieces of shit. You know they won’t find anything, right? Our men are not stupid,” Serina practically growls.

  “Let’s hope not,” I state.

  I glare daggers at the fuck who tried to assault my wife. I’ll have his goddamn job for that shit—or maybe I’ll fuck with him personally. I’m getting really fucking sick of seeing this prick around. I grin to myself at the thought. Yeah, forget his job, I’ll fuck with his life instead. Piece of shit woman abuser.

  The men and I are all lined up against one wall, hands cuffed behind our backs as the cops search the place. All of the police officers, except for two that are placed in charge of watching us, take off and spread out. They aren’t going to find shit, except maybe some recreational drugs—none of which are in my room, unless they plant them there.

  An hour later, Houston returns, looking pretty pissed off. He, along with his partner, start to un-cuff us.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t find what you were looking for?” I smart off.

  His head snaps up and he spits on the floor before he speaks. “Watch your goddamn back, you piece of shit.”

  I don’t say anything else, not wishing to agitate him further. I have plans for him, plans that will bring him to his knees. All of the police officers leave with very little fanfare, and the men all stomp toward the bar area, toward women or drinks or both. I don’t want drinks. I want Imogen, and I want to make sure she’s okay.