I don’t try to stifle my tears or to look away from him.
Bent over his bed, my pants halfway down my thighs, the rest of me fully clothed, with a bright red ass from his hand. I’m embarrassed, and mortified, and angry. He wants to control me, own me, and possess me.
There is no way out, either.
If I leave, I open myself up and paint a big red target for Scotty—and not only will it effect me, it’ll also effect Stella. I have to choose the lesser of two evils. Bates is good to me, he’s given us a safe place and he’s taken care of Stella and me without batting an eyelash. I can endure his forceful hand, as long as it doesn’t leak outside of the bedroom door. I can take what he’s giving, for protection and safety.
Bates doesn’t say anything else as he begins to slowly slide out of me before he sinks back inside. It’s achingly slow, and I moan at how good it feels, how surprised I am that he isn’t being rough. He fills me up completely. I want to hate him. I want to tell him to fuck off, but I can’t. Not when a simple touch from him ignites me. I’m too weak to turn away from him, and I hate myself for it. Weakness, my downfall, always.
“It’s only you, tigritsa. You’re the only one I want,” he vows as one of his hands slides from my waist to my clit. He begins to gently stroke me.
Bates’ other hand wraps around my hair as he begins to thrust harder, and faster, in and out of me. His fingers stroke harder and faster against my clit, as well. I can’t stop myself from grinding back against him, and when he pinches my clit, I arch my back up with a cry as I come. My pussy clamps down around his hard cock, and my whole body stiffens.
“Fuck, yes,” he moans before he releases me. Dropping his hands to my hips, he uses my body to fuck him.
I am limp and lifeless as he guides me up and down on his hard cock. Then, he pauses, seated inside of me, and with a roar he comes—hard.
I pinch my eyes closed as he falls on top of my back, his forehead pressed into the crook of my neck. I want to cry, but I can’t. I feel exhausted and completely wrung out. I have nothing left.
I thought by coming to the Notorious Devils, that by coming to Fury and Kentlee for help, I would feel empowered. I left my abuser, I left him before he killed me—I left him to save Stella. Instead, I’ve becoming spineless, again. I’m completely and totally dependent on a man, a man who I want to love so much, yet he’s not giving me much of a reason to. He’s saying some of the right things, and yet not committing. What kind of woman leaves her husband and jumps into bed with another man and expects commitment? I’m so fucked up, I don’t know which way is up or down.
I want Bates, but I want my freedom. The way he is now, I can’t have both. There’s no freedom that comes with being in his bed. Only more control. I feel like I’m choking, suffocating. My independence and freedom is within my grasp, but I can’t have it.
I do know that Bates will protect Stella. He’ll make sure no harm comes to her and that—that has to be my main focus. So if I have to be with other people, if I have to put on some kind of show to ensure her safety and mine—I’ll do it.
“I don’t want to fuck you in front of anybody, baby,” he murmurs.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever you want, Bates,” I resign.
He slips out of me, but he doesn’t walk away from me. Instead, he picks me up like a child, my pants still halfway down my legs, and he lays me down in the center of his bed. I look up at the ceiling, waiting as he wraps his arm underneath me and pulls me into his side.
“It matters, Brent,” he murmurs.
“You have different tastes now, I get it. I’m yours, so I need to fulfill those. I need to turn a blind eye if you want another woman, and I need to be waiting in your bed when you come home to me. I have a place. I can deal with that. I’ve done it all before,” I ramble.
I’m just me and I won’t be enough. I’ll never be enough for any man, let alone him—a man who has cravings and needs that I can’t fulfill on my own. I want to think that I’m strong enough to take him as he comes, but who could do that? Who could watch the man she has longed for, for a decade, be with another woman? I’m not that strong. It’ll kill me, slowly.
My inner thoughts are interrupted when I feel his fingers tangle in my hair. I’m not prepared when they pull and my neck arches back, my wide eyes meeting his pissed off ones.
“One taste will never change, baby, and that’s you. The other shit, my nightmares, what I think I need, we’ll figure that out as we go. Only want your pussy. Only you,” he murmurs before his lips crash against mine, taking them in a brutal kiss. His tongue forces its way inside of my mouth and his fingers tighten even more in my hair. He’s owning me, all of me, and I’m letting him. I can’t stop him; I’ll never be able to.
I surrender to him—I’m his, it’s all I have ever wanted and now I have it. I just hope that it’s what I need.
Always and forever.
Sniper
Asleep in my arms, her lips swollen from kissing me, her brown hair tangled and matted, I wonder if this will truly last. I enjoy watching her for a moment before I have to wake her up and take her home. She looks so young, the horrors of her life gone from her face while she rests.
She’s everything, my Brentlee, but is she enough?
I want her to be.
I want her to be enough so damn bad.
I’ll ruin her. She thinks she’s already ruined, but she’s not—not yet.
I wake her up and together we leave the clubhouse in silence. We’re on my bike, so luckily the trip to my place is quiet. Nothing but the wind whipping by us. Once we’re inside and Tammy leaves, Brentlee quietly walks back to the bedroom. I follow, but not before I peek my head into Stella’s room and see that she is indeed safe and sound for the night.
Once I make it back to my bedroom, I suck in a breath. Brentlee is stripped down, her face free of makeup and her bare skin exposed as she stands next to the bed. She doesn’t say anything, she just stares at me, and I wonder what she’s thinking for about two seconds before the blood leaves my brain and goes straight to my rock-hard cock.
“Brent,” I grunt.
She’s chewing her bottom lip and then she speaks.
“This is me, Bates. I’m nothing special. I’m just a woman who has been hurt one too many times. If you want me, you are going to have to take all of me. I’m insecure, I can be selfish, and I may not ever be what you need me to be. If you want me like you say you do, I have to be enough. I don’t want to live the way I did with Scotty. I can do it, I can sit and take whatever you’re willing to give me, but that’s not what I want,” she says.
It’s the most honest she’s been with me since I heard her nightmare of a life in that attorney’s office.
I don’t speak. I can’t. She’s being too raw.
Instead, I take the few steps over to her and wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her neck. I need her. I need to bury myself inside of her, to feel her around me, to know that she is real and mine. All fucking mine.
I’m never letting her go.
Sniper
“Mornin’,” I murmur wrapping my arms around her from behind as she pours milk into a bowl of cereal.
“Good Morning,” she says stiffly.
“What you doin’ today?” I ask, trying to figure out just what in the hell is wrong with her.
“Nothing, resting,” she shrugs. I watch as she slides out of my arms and takes Stella her breakfast, avoiding me and eye contact at all costs.
“I got some shit to do for the club today, I might not be home until tomorrow morning,” I announce as I watch her.
“Okay,” she shrugs as she busies herself in the kitchen.
“Okay, fine,” I grunt.
I leave her in the kitchen, the awkward everything that filled the space behind me. But before I go, I crouch down in front of Stella who is munching on some sugar crap cereal.
“You be good for your ma, yeah?”
“Okay,” she says, gr
inning up at me as she chews her food.
“Yeah,” I murmur before I stand up and leave them.
I get on my bike and ride. I ride toward the clubhouse. I have shit to do and I need to get away from Brentlee. She’s cold as fucking ice this morning and she’s pushing me away. I’ll give her a little space while I work for the MC, something I’ve been neglecting lately, to be available for her. I’ve been doing the minimum, working at the Devil’s Club but not pulling my weight with my brothers.
“You good?” Drifter asks as I walk up to the bar.
“Yeah, what’s your plan for the day?” I ask.
“Gonna go and watch some activity that’s hit Fury’s radar,” he shrugs.
“Want some company?” I ask.
“Fuck, yeah. Hate scoping shit out alone; boring as fuckall,” he chuckles.
I follow Drifter out to our bikes and continue to follow him through the center and then to the complete opposite side of town, the outskirts.
“What’re we watching?” I ask after we back our bikes into some brush to keep them hidden. Drifter holds his finger over his lips to quiet my questions as he walks down a hill crouched down low.
“See those guys?” he asks, lifting his chin to a group of men in leather, in a circle talking.
“Yeah.”
“They ain’t flyin’ any colors, but they’re fuckin’ trouble. Just don’t know what they’re here for, yet. So we watch, and we wait.”
I look at the men, trying to place them, but I can’t. I have no fuckin’ clue who they are and I don’t see any tattoos marking them or affiliating them with another club. They’re blank. They aren’t one race either, so I can’t figure them out. At all.
“You get anyone else on this, try and figure them out?” I ask, not taking my eyes off of them.
“No, just you, me, and Fury know about it,” he mumbles.
They don’t do anything. A couple of them take phone calls, and then about two hours later they leave. They don’t drive into town, though; they head out and leave Drifter and me in a mass of confusion.
“What is their purpose? Territory? What?” I ask as I think aloud.
“No fuckin’ clue, but we’ll figure it out,” he shrugs. Together we walk back to our bikes and then ride to the clubhouse.
Without a thought, I walk up to the bar and grab a bottle of booze for myself. I’m getting fucked up tonight. I jog to my room and grab my stash of green before I turn and go back to the bar. I sit down by the pool tables and light my smoke before inhaling deep, letting my head fall back and my eyes close.
My mind fills with visions of Brentlee. Fuck. She needs so much from me and I don’t know if I can deliver. Not the way she needs. She’s asking a fuck of a lot from me.
Fidelity.
Commitment.
Monogamy.
I want to give all of it to her. She deserves it all. But I don’t know if I can. When push comes to shove, when it all becomes a reality and not the fantasy I’ve had in my head for years, can I do it?
I take a swig of booze before I open my eyes and look around at my brothers, my family. Fury is standing at the bar, his hand wrapped around LeeLee’s hip, and she’s got her head tipped back in laughter. I want that, I want that with Brentlee. I don’t know if I’ll ever have that.
I spend the rest of the night playing pool, drinking, smoking and trying to forget the dark haired beauty living in my house and sleeping alone in my bed.
My dick aches with need as I lie down in my bed. The room spins and I chuckle to myself. I feel like a fuckin’ teenager all over again and it fuckin’ blows. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and jump a little when my feet hit the cold floor.
My eyes shift toward the door and I give it a good long stare. I could walk right out that door and without a single fucking word make the ache in my cock go away. I could drain my balls down some bitch’s throat.
Visions of Brentlee flash through my mind. The look on her face if she ever found out, the sadness that would consume her, as if she hasn’t had enough of that the past ten years. I don’t want to be the cause of more, all because I want to get off. I don’t want her to hurt another fuckin’ minute, and yet, that’s all I seem to do—hurt her.
I lie back down and stare at the ceiling as the room continues to spin. I reach for my phone and stare at the numbers, I want to call her, tell her that I’m nothing but a fuckin’ dick. I grip my phone and throw it. Pissed off at myself for treating her the way that I have. I don’t even want these other whores and I can have them, right here and right now. Yet, my cock only wants one cunt—Brentlee’s.
The next morning, I wake up and go with Drifter again. This time, the group of men are met by another man. He pulls up in a shiny, expensive car. When he gets out, my eyes narrow. It’s Scott Senior, Scotty’s father.
“That’s Brentlee’s father-in-law,” I announce to Drifter.
“The fuck?”
“Bet these are the fuckers that have been watching Fury’s place for any sign of her. He said someone’d been watching their comings and goings.”
Without hesitation we both stand. I’ll not have Brentlee terrorized a second longer, she’s had enough. Whatever she wants from me, she has it. I’m fucking done with everything. She’s what’s important. Her and Stella. No more women, ever. Its only her for me.
“Hey there, assholes,” I chuckle as I pull my gun out from my shoulder holster. In my peripheral vision, I see that Drifter has done the same. He also pulls his favorite knife out of its holster at his hip.
“What…” Scott Sr. tries to sputter. I point my gun to his head.
“These fucktards need to leave. You don’t need to know where Brentlee is, she’s not your concern anymore,” I announce.
“That little whore is my son’s wife, and her daughter is my granddaughter, so it seems she is very much my concern,” he says, standing up a bit taller. He’s trying to appear bigger, taller, but he’s still a pencil dicked shrimp.
“Your son’s a piece of shit. Call your men off of Brentlee and pretend she never fuckin’ existed,” I grunt.
“Or what? You can’t do shit to me, you thug. There are witnesses to your threats,” he points out.
I turn to Drifter and ask if he’s heard me threaten anything. He shakes his head, saying he hasn’t heard a thing. Then I eyeball every single one of his wannabe goons, all of which have yet to stand up to bat for this asshole.
“Call everybody off, and leave Brentlee alone. She’s suffered long enough.”
“My son wants her, for whatever reason, he’ll have her,” he states.
“You’re not calling these men off?” I ask. He shakes his head in defiance. I lift my chin to Drifter. In less than a minute, all four men are lying dead in pools of their own blood, and Scott Corbin Sr. is screaming like a woman.
“You killed them,” he screeches.
“I did,” I shrug. “Wanna be next?” I ask with a grin.
“N-N-No,” he stutters.
“Leave Brentlee alone, and get your piece of shit kid to grant the divorce she’s asking for,” I demand.
“Yes, yes I will. I’ll advise him,” he says shakily.
“Now, get the fuck out of my sight,” I bark.
I watch as he scrambles to his car and then takes off like a bat out of hell.
“I just called some prospects to clean this shit up,” Drifter announces. “Do you think there’ll be backlash?” he asks.
“That guy’s so fuckin’ scared, he just about shit his pants. There won’t be backlash, at least not from him.”
Once the prospects arrive, Drifter and I leave.
I text Brentlee once I’m back at the clubhouse, but hours go by and she doesn’t respond. I want to throw my phone across the room. I miss her. I miss Stella. I miss my girls. I know what I want, what I need. The other shit—the fucking nameless bitches just because I think I need it—it doesn’t compare to Brentlee.
There’s a void now that I recognize wh
en she isn’t around, a void that she and Stella fill. They’re what’s been missing in my life, they are exactly what I need. I just need to figure out how to make her see that. If I could somehow show her that she’s the only one I want because telling her won’t be enough. I have to prove it to her, I have to find a way.
Brentlee
I stare at his text. It’s not much, just a few words, words that mean so much more than I wish they did.
I miss you.
I miss him, too. So much. But he’s not giving me what I need. I need more than a few words typed into a phone. I need him to talk to me, to tell me that he can be with only me. That he can accept me and all of my flaws.
I have to go to the clubhouse to work tomorrow, all day long, and I’m not looking forward to it. He’ll be there and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist him.
Physically, there’s a magnetic pull between us that can’t be denied. I want to give him what he needs, what I need, and what we both want. I wish I could be whatever he needs me to be.
“You look tired,” Kentlee comments as she walks into the house.
“I am,” I shrug.
“Saw him last night,” she murmurs.
I wait for her to tell me more; there has to be a catch—something.
“He was drinking and playing pool. It seems you’ve tamed the beast.” She grins victoriously.
“I highly doubt that,” I snort.
“Don’t. Before me, I don’t think Fury had ever been in a real committed relationship. When they finally fall in love, Brentlee, when it’s real, they’ll put their all into it. I see the way he looks at you; the way he’s always looked at you.”
I roll my eyes at my sister.
My tender-hearted, romance-loving sister. Just because her life has turned into roses and rainbows, she thinks that everybody’s life can be the same. I’m a testament to the fact that it doesn’t work that way. I sigh and turn to the kids playing on the floor.
Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2) Page 12