Facade: Facade

by Ashley Suzanne

  He’ll do.

  “What time can you switch bar duties with someone else?” I catch him off guard. His eyes widen at my possible proposition and he scans the room. “What are you looking for?” I ask sarcastically.

  “You’re here with Axe, right?” Oh, hell. Technically I’m here with Skylar, but I’m not here with Skylar.

  “Well, I’m not his if that’s what you’re looking for. See that girl over there?” I point to Mira, who’s frantically kissing Skylar like he’s getting ready to board a space shuttle destined to save the world from falling asteroids. “That’s Axe’s girl, my best friend. I came here with her, but I’m most definitely not here with anyone.”

  On a different note, Mira’s really come out of her shell. When she was with Danny, the idea of public displays of affection made her uneasy. With Skylar, though, she’s a whole new woman. She’s practically raping him in the middle of this damn bar. Maybe I should buy Sky a rape whistle.

  The corners of his lips turn up into a slight grin and his eyes peruse my body, well what he can see of it from behind the bar. “What’s your name?”

  “Kylee.” I put the straw into my mouth, hollow my cheeks and make a complete spectacle of myself. I typically don’t pull all my tricks out in one night, but this is a different situation. I have a man to fuck out of my mind and a life to move on with. “How about you? Got a name?”

  “Jacob.” Well played, universe, well fucking played. “But the club calls me Anger.”

  “Anger works for me, but why do they call you that?”

  “When I first started hanging around the club as a teenager, I was pissed off all the time. Prowler always used to say, ‘That kid has more anger than any grown man I’ve ever met’, and it kinda stuck.” He shrugs his shoulders, apparently not caring what they call him.

  “Interesting. I get it.” I lean over the bar, leaving nothing to the imagination when he can see clear down my tank. I grab his shirt, pulling him toward me. “So, Anger, wanna give me a ride?”

  “My bike’s out front, if you wanna go we can.” I laugh. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, this guy. Thank the heavens he’s easy on the eyes.

  “Not exactly what I was talking about,” I whisper in the huskiest voice I can muster while containing my laughter.

  “Shit yeah.” Finally, he catches on. Anger grabs another guy standing next to the bar. The two switch positions behind the bar and my hand is quickly swallowed up by Anger’s much larger one, dragging me toward the stairs.

  “Hey, Ky!” Skylar hollers from the other side of the bar. His questioning gaze is hard to misinterpret, not to mention the disappointed look coming from Mira is almost enough to make me turn around, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach is what’s worse.

  I know exactly what I’m doing, and obviously so do they, but I can’t seem to stop. I need to prove that I don’t need Jacoby. That being with him after he lied to me like that is crazy, and this guy might be the cure to the insanity I’m feeling. I shrug my shoulders and give Mira and Sky a small finger wave before I’m on the move again with Anger.

  Walking through the narrow hallway that houses the individual apartments of the members, I find myself dragging my feet. Once I enter the door that we’re stopped in front of, there’s no going back. The feelings of Jacoby and me together over the last few weeks flood my brain, causing even more hesitance. As much as I don’t want to admit it, it’s been really nice to be with one guy so long.

  No, not going that route. Pull it together, get your swerve on and move the fuck on. Going down that road will only lead to heartbreak.

  As soon as Anger’s key opens the lock, it’s my hand that turns the handle and almost shoves him through the entrance while kicking the door closed with my foot.

  “So, about that ride?” I pull my tank top over my head, tossing it on the floor.

  The room is very similar to Skylar’s from what I can remember. The only time I was there, I was wasted out of my mind and Mira took me upstairs to take care of before I made a fool of myself.

  “Don’t you worry, firecracker. This is gonna be a fun night.”

  Anger’s mouth comes crashing down on mine, picking me up and not so carefully dropping me on his bed. His less than skillful tongue plunges into my mouth, not waiting for permission, and attacks my senses.

  I see why there’s a no kissing rule with whores. It’s not the personal factor, it’s the fact that most guys can’t kiss. Jacoby can kiss. Fuck. No. More. Jacoby.

  His calloused hands reach behind my back to unhook my bra. He’s frustrated when he can’t find the hook, and I’m about to poke fun at him for being such a dumbass when I remember the clasp is in the front. Pushing Anger backward, I put one hand between my breasts and quickly unhook the bra, letting the cups fall to the side, exposing my tits.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he says, bringing his mouth over one of my nipples. The sensation of him biting and tugging at the sensitive points has me panting, learning his pattern. Lick, bite, tug. Lick, bite, tug.

  While still attached to my tits, his hands find the waistband of my yoga pants, pulling them over my ass. He only breaks contact to pull my pants the rest of the way off my body. Positioning himself between my parted thighs, he resumes his attack.

  His fingers graze their way down my body and his thumb finds my clit. With slow, calculated movement, Anger circles the hub of all my pleasure with slight pressure. It’s not nearly enough to get me off, but just the right amount to have me ready to grind my hips upward to meet his hand.

  His kisses trail down my stomach and pelvis, until he’s hovering over my core. Once his mouth closes the distance, my hips buck.

  “You’re the best I’ve ever tasted,” he mutters before running his tongue from my opening to my clit then sucking it through his teeth.

  “What are you, the fucking cunt connoisseur?” I hate small talk during sex. Fuck me, make me come and then leave me alone. This is unnecessary. Maybe not for some girls, but for me, it’s a requirement not to sound like a cheesy romance novel.

  “The cunt what?” he chuckles under his breath with his face still buried in my pussy.

  “Never mind. Keep doing that. Yeah, that right there.” I rotate my hips with his tongue on my clit and fingers inside me, manipulating the orgasm out of me.

  “I want to know what you said.” He leans back on his heels, leaving me panting. I can feel the frustration starting to pulse inside of me. Robbing me of an orgasm is never a good thing and I can turn pretty ugly when that shit happens.

  Okay, so I’m sure that if he knows I was making fun of his bullshit dirty talk, he won’t finish. Think of something witty, bitch. “I called you the cunt carnivore. Now, get back at it. I was right there.” Stroke his ego a little bit, it always works.

  “Cunt carnivore, huh? I got you.” He wastes no time getting me back to the place I was moments ago. Anger adds another finger inside of me and angles them upward, hitting that glorious spot in almost all women, turning me incoherent.

  “Fuck. Yes. Don’t. Fucking. Stop.” My hands fly to his hair, holding him in place. I couldn’t care less if he can breathe or not. As far as I’m concerned, he can breathe when my legs stop quivering.

  The ensemble of angels starts to harmonize as a loud knock on the door startles both of us. Mother fucker.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Anger screams. I can totally see the meaning behind the nickname now. I’m left panting on the bed, completely naked and , wondering if whoever is on the other side of the door will finish the job.

  “Calm your shit. I need Kylee.” Motherfucker. Skylar has impeccable timing. Scratch that whole finishing the job business. Not that Skylar’s not sex on legs, but he happens to be attached to the best friend I’ll ever have, and I’m pretty sure that won’t go over well.

  “Welp, looks like that’s for me.” I stand up and start putting my clothes on when Anger’s strong hand wraps around my wrist.

  “What about me?” That’
s the thing with guys these days. They have no problem asking for head or some help in jacking them off, but are never concerned with the woman. But hold the fucking phone if the woman gets off and doesn’t repay the favor.

  “One, you dick, you have about two seconds to get your fucking hands off me,” I rip my arm out of his grasp, “and two, what about you?” Yep, you piss me off and the gloves come off.

  “Are you kidding me? I go down on you and you can’t take care of this?” he says, motioning to his crotch. The veins in the side of his neck start pulsing, threatening to break through his skin. I do feel bad for the guy, standing there in boxers with his erection straining against the fabric. I can’t say I’ve ever experienced blue balls, but I’m sure it can’t be pleasurable. Then again, it’s not my problem, now is it?

  Wait, when did he take off his clothes? Never mind, I don’t care.

  “Sorry, cowboy. You heard Axe. He needs me for something. I’m sure it wouldn’t be in your best interest to disregard your Sergeant, now would it?” I’ve learned a few things hanging around Mira and hearing all this mumbo-jumbo about club politics. It makes perfect sense why this tool wouldn’t want to disregard a direct order from someone higher on the food chain than him.

  “Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath and punches a hole in the wall next to where he’s standing.

  “Okay, Temper Tantrum, you might wanna calm down a little bit. Not sure who told you punching holes in shit would get you what you wanted, but they clearly lied.” Knowing that Skylar is on the other side of the door and won’t let this jackass put his hands on me probably gives me more courage than I should have. This guy’s fucking nuts.

  “The name’s Anger, bitch,” he seethes.

  I spin so fast I make myself nauseous. There are very few people in this world that are allowed to talk to me like that and usually bitch is a term of endearment. This fucking asshole better think twice about disrespecting me before I kick him in the dick. I stare at him, waiting for his apology; he fails miserably.

  “Oh, really? I’m sorry, I could have sworn it was Temper Tantrum. Well, Anger, bitch is for little girls. Me? I’m a fucking cunt. It’s best that you learn that. Now, be a good boy and handle that before you go back downstairs. Wouldn’t want your buddies to know you can knock a guy out, but can’t get a girl off.” With that statement, I open the door to see Skylar leaning on the opposite wall shaking his head, laughing.

  “What?” I close the door behind me and start to walk to the stairs.

  “The walls are paper thin around here, Ky. Did you just call yourself a cunt? I thought girls hated that word?”

  “Yes, I most certainly did call myself a cunt. And it’s all about taking back the word. It’s ugly and sounds terrible, but when you use it and embrace it, suddenly it can’t be used against you.”

  “Look at my little Kylee, all grown up, getting philosophical after berating one of my brothers. I should be upset with you, but that was the funniest shit I’ve ever heard.”

  “Yeah, I’m a fucking riot.” Skylar rubs his knuckles across the top of my head, making me stop to punch him in the stomach.

  No matter what happens in life, I know that this guy right here is my brother. He will go to the ends of the earth to protect me and let me get away with shit most people dream of. He’s a good guy to have on your side.

  I reach the bottom of the stairs where a very unhappy looking Mira stands with her hands on her hips. Leave it to Mira to make me feel even worse than I already do.

  “You about done being Slutty Sally?” Well, look at her wearing her sassy pants.

  “Yeah, Mi. I’m done. You about ready? I don’t really want to be here when Anger comes back down. We had some choice words. And, well, he’s probably pretty angry.” I can’t help but giggle, but come on, it’s kind of hilarious.

  “She might have called him out on not being good enough to get her off,” Skylar chimes in, still laughing.

  “You didn’t!” Mira’s face turns beet red.

  “I did. I totally did,” I laugh, nudging Skylar with my shoulder as he walks us to the door.

  “Ky, are you good to drive? I won’t be too much longer; maybe thirty minutes or so.” Skylar kisses Mira and hugs me.

  “I’m good.” I start to walk out the door when Alpha Skylar rears his pretty little head.

  “Okay, I’m going to have Mex follow you guys home.”

  “Babe, we got it. No worries,” Mira says with a stern face.

  “Not negotiable. It’s late, dark and you’re in the city. He’s following. Love you.” Skylar kisses Mira once we’re at the car and heads back inside.

  “Love you,” Mira grumbles and gets in the passenger seat. I eye Mex, trying to tell him he doesn’t need to come with us, but he’s not having it. He fires up his bike and pulls out behind us.

  The ride back to Mira’s is uneventful, but I can tell she wants to ask about my Anger fiasco. She’s never been one to pry, and maybe one day I’ll tell her, just not tonight. Mex takes off as soon as Mira and I are through the main door of the building.

  Mira’s adamant that I crash at her place since it’s too late for me to drive back to Ann Arbor. I agree, more so because I’m far too tired to think about spending another twenty minutes in the car. She goes off to her bedroom as I make my bed on the couch.

  I realize that I haven’t checked my phone all night. I pull it from my bag, after the three minute search to find it, and see a few missed texts from Jacoby. I suddenly miss him, wishing I was in his bed; Jacoby’s warm body cocooning mine and him whispering in my ear.

  I make a mental note to call him in the morning, once I have some time to sleep on what I think I may be deciding. I fall asleep with thoughts of Jacoby running through my mind, and how badly this can turn out if I’m not careful.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jacoby

  After two conference calls and a face-to-face meeting with one of my staff members, I’m more than ready to get out of here and finish the conversation Kylee and I started this morning. I called my housekeeper on my way in, making sure that she took the night off, but left prepared meals for me to cook during the week. After my day, I know that I’m not going to get much time to myself this weekend.

  It really is a big deal that Kylee let me stay last night. We’ve done the whole sleepover thing before, but something about this time seemed different. Like we’re finally getting on the same page. And then I go and piss her off for not telling her about Shelby. As much as I’d like to regret my decision to wait on telling her, I can’t. Shelby’s always going to come first, even if I’m with Kylee.

  Slow your roll, buddy. You might not be with her for too much longer.

  I walk out of the office, pull my phone from my pocket as I get in the car and shoot Kylee a quick text. Hopefully, she’s ready and I won’t have to wait too long for her to get there. It’s taking every ounce of strength I have to not just go straight to her house, order in Chinese food and spend the night in her bed again.

  Me – OMW home

  Kylee – I’m in the middle of something. I’ll call u later.

  Me – okay …..

  What exactly does one say to that? The last time we spoke, she was going to come over after I left the office and now it’s a completely different story. With Kylee, I don’t know which way’s up anymore. I know she’s upset, but she can at least try to act like an adult.

  Being with her last night made me feel like we were really turning a corner. Every sign indicated that she was letting her walls down and letting me inside. An amazing night quickly turned into a hellish morning and now it’s going to be a lonely night. I’m probably going to lie in bed all night, thinking of what I could’ve done differently. If only relationships were as easy as business transactions.

  I throw my phone on the passenger seat and continue my drive home. I really wanted to spend time with her tonight but I have more than enough work to keep me occupied until she calls me later. The holidays and
trying to figure out what’s going on with our relationship has really thrown me off course.

  When I get home, I park in the garage and head straight for the kitchen. It would appear that my housekeeper did an excellent job of preparing single-serving meals to keep me nourished throughout what I expect to be a crazy week at the office. Taking one of the Tupperware containers from the fridge, I pop the meal directly into the microwave.

  While my food cooks, I head to my bedroom to change out of my suit. Opting for a pair of black sweatpants and white tee shirt, I’m back to the kitchen before the timer dings. Rummaging through the fridge, I grab a bottle of water and a Butterfinger. Candy; it’s the one vice I have and I always have to have them cold.

  When the meal, which turns out to be grilled salmon and rice, is finished cooking, I head into my office that’s left the exact way it was two days ago; messy, yet coordinated. I power up my laptop and get to work on the new development my company is coordinating.

  After two hours of getting what I can get done from home, there’s still so much more to do. Thank God for assistants and interns. I turn my attention to my phone that hasn’t made a sound since I last texted Kylee.

  She said she was in the middle of something, which I assume is her book, but something in my gut tells me that’s not all it is; she’s running. I dial her number and she doesn’t answer. Trying not to be overzealous, I wait an acceptable fifteen minutes before I send her a text message.

  Me – When do u think u’ll be done?

  I stare at my phone for what feels like hours, when in all actuality it’s only been about five minutes. A return text never comes through. Even when she’s not in a mood to talk, she always texts back quickly. For Christ’s sake, the girl is attached to her phone like a dying man on a ventilator. It’s never more than five feet from her. Is it really so hard to text and say, “Hey, I’m alive.”?

  Nothing bothers me more than having a set plan, and then deviating from said plan. My entire night is thrown off because she’s decided that she suddenly has something to do. I choose to let my mind think that Kylee’s wrapped up in her story and has lost track of time instead of following the gut instinct that’s led me in the right direction for my entire career. It’s a sick kind of sixth sense thing I have.