It was a dick move to leave her the way I did, I think as I take another shot of tequila. I usually don’t drink the stuff, but tonight, I need it. I watch as a pretty blonde named Jordan shakes her tits on stage. They don’t move, and for whatever reason, I find that shit hilarious tonight.
“You’re so fucked up over that girl, its ridiculous,” I hear a familiar voice say behind me. I turn around as Fury sits down at the bar and motions for a beer from Candy.
“I am. Turns out, she fucked a whole lotta guys after I went off to boot camp,” I announce as Candy walks up to us, handing Fury his beer and me a water.
“You been a saint for ten years, so that shit matters to you?” Fury asks, taking a pull from his beer. I notice Candy hasn’t left, and isn’t going to. Nosey little bitch.
“You be all good with LeeLee fuckin’ other guys while you were in the pen, then?” I slur.
“Not the same thing and you know it. But, I’d get over it; I’d have to with the way I treated her. We all make our beds of roses or shit and have to lie in them. You broke up with her a decade ago. Who or what she did after that is not something you can get pissed at her for. Just like all those bitches you’ve fucked she can’t say dick to you about. It’s a two-way street, brother,” Fury points out. He’s right; he’s so fucking right, but I don’t want him to be. I want to be justified in my anger with Brentlee.
“Not to butt in or nothin’,” Candy begins, butting in. I roll my eyes because she’s always up in my shit. “You can’t expect her to sit around and wait for you for ten years. I mean, even the best good girl on earth ain’t gonna waste all her youth doin’ that shit.”
“You don’t know shit,” I mumble, taking a shot as Candy throws her head back laughing.
“Yeah, asshole, I don’t know a damn thing. I know that I’ve wasted plenty of my time and youth on jerks, cheaters, and liars. You cannot get pissed that she didn’t stay your one pure love while you abandoned her and did whatever the fuck you wanted to. Don’t think I haven’t seen you in here, fuckin’ two girls at once. You think she’s gonna be cool with all that? That she should be fine and accept that? But you don’t have to accept that she slept with a few guys when she was young? You’re just pissed because you know who the guys are. All you assholes are the fuckin’ same,” Candy announces before she turns and walks away from me.
“She’s right,” Fury agrees before he finishes his beer. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
I don’t protest. I wanted nothing more than to fuck a bitch tonight, to fuck the thoughts of Brentlee away, but I can’t. She’s all I can think about. Even now, knowing she’s fucked at least two of my own club brothers, I want inside of her. I want to claim her for the world to see, I want to shove it in every motherfucker’s face that—she.is.mine.
Once I step out of the SUV, Fury tells me that he’ll be by sometime in the morning to take me back to the club for my truck. I wave him off and stumble to the porch. I open the front door and Tammy is sitting on the sofa, knitting and watching an old black and white movie. Her head comes up and she awards me with a gentle smile.
“Stella’s been asleep four hours. What a sweet girl,” she says. Her same smile instantly falls as I stumble toward the chair in the room. “You’re drunk. You didn’t drive did you?”
“Nope, Pierce brought me home,” I grunt. She nods once as she packs up her shit to leave.
“You’ll be okay here alone?” she asks, eyeing me, probably afraid I’ll do something insanely stupid. I wouldn’t, not with Stella in the house.
“I’m good, Tammy. ‘Preciate you watching Stella tonight. Send me a text when you make it home safe, yeah?”
“Okay, Bates, I will,” she says, giving me her soft smile again before she leaves. I listen for her car to start and then she’s gone and it’s quiet, except for the low hum of the voices coming from the television.
Once Tammy is gone, I make my way outside for some fresh air. It’s too fuckin’ hot in that house, and I can’t turn the A/C down because I don’t want to disturb Stella. I lean my forearms on the bannister and breathe.
I’m trying to wrap my head around what Candy and Fury said. They’re right, of course. How can I get pissed off over something that happened years ago, and when we weren’t even together? It’s so fucking irrational. But I’m still pissed. I don’t want any other man on earth, especially my brothers, knowing what her pussy feels like.
The sound of a motorcycle breaks my thoughts, and I see red as it pulls up my drive. Brentlee is holding onto Torch like she’s trying to climb inside of his body. Her tits and pussy are pressed up against his back, her long arms wrapped around his waist, and her long dark hair is blowing back behind her.
Fucking hell.
As they come to a stop and he kicks his stand down, I walk down the porch stairs toward them. I can’t take my eyes off of Brentlee’s long as fuck legs as she steps off of his bike. The way her hand grabs onto Torch’s shoulder for balance and support. She shouldn’t be on the back of his bike, not when she belongs on the back of mine.
“The fuck is going on here?” I bark with a sway. Fuck, I’m so drunk.
“Givin’ Brent a ride home, like I said I would,” Torch explains with a shit-eating grin.
“Get in the house, Brentlee,” I order.
I watch as her back straightens and one of her hips pops out as her hand rests there. Gorgeous defiance written all over her.
“No, I haven’t told Paxton thank you for the ride home yet,” she says sticking her chin out. Tigritsa—one hundred percent.
“Tell Torch thank you and then get your ass in the house,” I bark.
“Thank you so much for the ride home, Paxton. I really appreciate it,” she says sweetly. Her husky voice washes over me, turning me on, and pissing me off because it’s directed at him and not me.
“Anytime, babe,” he winks. I growl.
Brentlee doesn’t utter a word as she walks past me and toward the house. I don’t watch her go. Instead, I stay focused on Torch.
“Stay away,” I warn. He chuckles.
“Brother, you made it clear you didn’t want in there. Why in the fuck would I stay away? I know what kind of woman she is,” he says as he steps off of his bike and stands nose-to-nose with me.
“I told everybody she’s mine, I never took that back,” I point out, sounding like a toddler fighting over his favorite toy.
“You better make her believe she’s yours then, because the way you treated her tonight, not fuckin’ cool. She’s a good girl. She deserves better,” he scolds.
“She deserves whatever in the fuck I give her, not you, and not anybody else. So stay the fuck away,” I grind before I spit on the ground next to his boots.
“Then man the fuck up, Sniper, and you won’t have to worry about me. I know just how good of a girl she is just remember that,” he remarks. Before I can respond he gets back on his bike, and before I can say another word, he’s gone.
I turn around and start to stalk toward the house. Brentlee is watching me from the front door. As soon as our eyes connect, hers widen and she takes off toward the bedroom. The time has come. I can’t wait another fuckin’ minute. It’s time she realizes that she’s mine, that she’s always been mine, and that she will forever be mine.
I’m going to stake my motherfucking claim right here, and right now. She hasn’t been in love with that asshole she married for a long as fuck time, if ever.
Me? She’s been in love with me since she was fourteen years old.
I’ve waited ten long years to have her underneath me again. I can’t wait a minute longer.
Brentlee
The ride home was exhilarating. I had never been on the back of a motorcycle before, and it was even more exciting than I had ever imagined. My body pressed close to Paxton’s, the wind in my hair as we sped down the dirt roads leading to Bates’ country home.
I watch as Bates gets in Paxton’s face, and I am so embarrassed. Paxton doesn’t want m
e, and neither does Bates, not really. He just doesn’t want any of his friends to be with me. Maybe I should just leave. Stella and I could disappear, maybe go to my brother’s on the east coast.
Connellee hasn’t been home since the Christmas after Kentlee was disowned by our parents. They made it unbearable for him and he refuses to be part of the whole family. I don’t blame him. Our parents can be judgmental assholes. I haven’t even attempted to contact them, and for good reason. They would tell Scotty and urge me back to him. Connellee would help me, though. I just know he would.
I hate to move Stella again. She’s so happy here with Bates in his county home. But if push comes to shove, I won’t have a choice, and she’ll understand—eventually.
Bates turns as Paxton gets on his bike and roars out of the gravel drive. I can’t look anywhere but Bates’ dark gaze. He looks feral, livid, and so fucking sexy. I clench my thighs together before I bite my lip, causing myself pain so I don’t run to him, so I don’t wrap myself around him. I turn and run away from him, into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
I should be healing from leaving my ex-husband. I shouldn’t be lusting after Bates. But I am. I haven’t loved Scotty ever, maybe. I don’t know. If I did, that love dissipated on my honeymoon the first time he abused me. No, there’s no love for Scotty at all inside of me. The only thing I feel for him other than hate is void. He gave me my daughter, but she isn’t his, never was. She’s mine.
“Open this fucking door or I’ll beat it down. I really don’t want to wake up Stella right now,” Bates’ low rumbling voice vibrates through the door. I take a step away before I turn around and twist the knob.
The door opens and Bates takes a step inside before closing it behind him and locking the deadbolt. I don’t want to know why he has a deadbolt on his bedroom door. Not right now. I don’t care. My body trembles at the sight of him. When his downward eyes flick up to meet mine, I gasp.
“I’m pissed off at you, Brentlee,” he announces.
“Bates,” I whisper. He takes a step toward me and tangles his fingers in the back of my hair before he gently tugs my head back.
“But more importantly, I’m pissed off at myself,” he murmurs before his lips crash against mine in a hard, punishing, bruising kiss.
“I don’t want to be that girl again, Bates, but I don’t think it matters. That’s just who I was,” I admit, closing my eyes.
Bates’ fingers tighten in my hair and his other hand grabs a handful of my ass so hard I know I’ll have fingertip bruises in the morning. Then he gives my body a gentle shake, forcing me to open my eyes and look up at him.
“You are not that woman Brent. That girl is gone, so is the woman who Scotty abused. Look how strong you are, you left him. You saved your baby,” he grinds out. “Besides that, you plan on fuckin’ my brothers? Any of them?”
“No,” I murmur.
“You’re mine, Brentlee. Your body is mine. Doesn’t matter who’s been inside it in the past. From this moment on, it’s mine. Only cock you’re allowed to fuck is mine. I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to be my woman, but you won’t take another man’s dick. You hear me?”
I blink, unsure of what to say. This man in front of me is an asshole. He’s not my sweet Bates, he’s a giant dickhead.
“I’ll do what I want, Bates.” I announce. He throws back his head in laughter before he lowers it and his nose caresses mine, his lips just millimeters away from my own.
“You’ll take no dick but mine, Brentlee. I’ll fuckin’ gut any man that comes near you, tigritsa,” he says before his lips crash against mine and his tongue licks the seam forcing my mouth to open before he slips it inside.
He tastes like tequila and regret. Like the past and the future all rolled into one. My arms involuntarily lift and wrap around his neck, my fingers find their way into his thick, black hair, and I moan as he lifts me off of the ground and walks me toward the bed.
The backs of my legs hit the bed and I lose my balance falling and landing on the soft mattress. Bates kisses down my jaw to my collar bone, and then the tops of my breasts—licking and biting my soft flesh. His hands are still wrapped, one in my hair and the other on the cheek of my ass.
“Bates,” I sigh. He sucks the top of my breast before he bites the skin, then sucks harder, marking me.
“No dick but mine, Brentlee,” he mutters against my skin. Then his hands are gone. “You on the pill?” he nonchalantly asks as he begins to strip out of his clothes.
I nod my answer as my mouth goes dry at the sight of him. He’s huge. Somehow, with his shirt off, his arms and chest look even bigger than they do encased in the too tight cotton. His pants fall to the ground, but I can’t see anything past his thick waist and thicker thighs. There is so much to look at, I feel like I need an extra set of eyes. I gasp when his boxers are pushed down and his long, thick cock is on full display in front of me.
Bates wordlessly strips me out of my own clothes, tossing them behind him, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I hold my breath as his eyes wander over my body. I look nothing like the girl I did ten years ago. I’m rounder, softer—fuller, than I was as a teenager.
“Fuck me, but you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs as his eyes roam my body.
“Bates, I…” I begin, not knowing what exactly I want to say, but needing to fill the silence in the room.
“Spread your legs,” he orders, ignoring my hesitation.
I do as he asks with shaky legs, thankful for my panties, which cover me so that he doesn’t see everything. My breath hitches when I feel his hands encircle my ankles, he pulls my legs straight up, my knees locking, before he tugs me closer to the edge of the bed.
“Grab onto my thighs,” he commands. Without thinking, I follow his orders.
My fingers grip the backs of his muscular thighs, which, because of the distance, causes my back to arch and my chest to push up.
“Don’t let go. If you do, you won’t be permitted to come,” he grumbles. My already trembling body begins to shake even more.
I close my eyes tightly before I hear, then feel my panties rip. Then without warning, his fingers are inside of me. I gasp and open my eyes wide to find him smirking down at me. One side of his mouth lifted along with one brow, daring me to say something, anything. I don’t. I keep my eyes locked on his and my mouth shut.
“You’re so wet already,” he announces.
He’s right.
I am.
I have been since I saw him in that nasty as hell clubhouse. His fingers slide inside me again and curl, causing me to moan. I couldn’t hold it in even if I wanted to. It’s been so long since I have been touched by a man I wanted.
“Bates,” I whisper. It seems his name is the only thing able to escape my mouth, other than a moan or two.
“I’ll make it good, tigritsa. I’ll always make you feel good,” he murmurs as his thumb presses against my throbbing clit. “Don’t take your hands or your eyes off of me. You need to watch as I take ownership of you.”
I whimper as his fingers leave me and his cock replaces them. One quick thrust and he is completely seated inside of me, to the hilt. I gasp at the intrusion. He’s huge. My fingernails dig into his thighs and he moans, dropping his head back, exposing his sexy as shit neck.
“Who owns you, Brentlee?” he asks as he slowly pulls out of me, centimeter by centimeter.
I sigh, trying to keep my eyes from rolling in the back of my head, or my hands from leaving his thighs and fisting in the sheets beside me.
“You do, Bates. You always have,” I shamelessly admit.
“Fucking right, I have,” he grunts before he slams back inside of me.
I cry out in surprise, but he doesn’t stop. He repeats his move, but with speed and power, no longer slow. No, now he is taking possession of me. I am unable to move; he has me completely surrendered to him. Both hands now, wrapped around the outside of my thighs, holding them up, and out. His cock is so smooth and hard, as he
pistons in and out of me. My eyes stay focused on his dark ones, owning every single piece of me—mind, body, and soul.
My pussy flutters with warning. I’m going to come. For the first time since before my marriage, I am going to come, and I’m scared. I want to so badly; I want him to give me something I haven’t had in years.
“Don’t come yet,” he warns as sweat drips down his chest. Fuck, I want to lick it off of him, and just imagining that doesn’t help me keep myself under control.
He releases my legs and leans over me, one of his fists landing beside my head as the other hand wraps around my throat. I hitch my legs around his back, my eyes never leaving his and my hands firmly gripping his strong thighs.
“Bates, I need to come,” I plead. He shakes his head once, droplets of sweat flinging in all different directions from his forehead.
“Who’s cock do you take only?” he asks as he continues to fuck me, with what I assume is close to all of his strength. It hurts, but it feels delicious at the same time.
I don’t want to answer, but I want to come. I’m his. I have always been so; but what he wants, what he’s suggesting isn’t something I think I can deal with. It’s sex—pure, raw sex.
How can I simply fuck the man I have been in love with for over a decade and not fall deeper into him?
I’m no good for him. I’m fucked from Scotty, damaged and unfixable. Scotty will always be in my mind, waiting to burst through at any moment and drive me further into the ground. Bates wants to own me. I’m not free from my last owner. I don’t have much of myself left to give, and if he takes from me, and it doesn’t work out, there will be absolutely nothing left.
“No,” I weakly say.
I feel his hand tighten around my throat, his thrusts never slowing, never stopping, and his eyes boring into mine. He’s trying to convince me with his stare and his cock. I groan when he pushes completely inside of me and stops, grinding against my clit.
It’s too much.
My airway is constricted, not entirely blocked, but I can’t take a deep breath. Tears begin to fall from my eyes in panic. I lift my hands and claw at his arm to get him to release his hold on me.
Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2) Page 8