Scarred: The Ruthless Rebels MC Series Book 3

by Michele, Ryan

  I want the lips on me. “Please,” I plead.

  “What do you want, baby? Tell me and I’ll give it to you,” Whitton’s voice comes through the cloud, but I still can’t open my eyes. Knowing it’s him, sends another surge through me as if I’m struck by a thousand different lightning bolts at once.

  A strong arm bands around my hips holding me to the soft cloud. The pressure feels really nice even though I want to arch into him and get more of his touches.

  “Tell me what you want?”

  “Please, touch me. I need…” my words trail off into a breathy moan of frustration. I try to lift my hips, but am stopped once again.

  Fingertips slide over my cleft, but there’s a barrier and it feels like fabric. Reaching my waist, I begin to pull the restrictive fabric, but strong hands stop me and I growl, letting my feelings be known.

  I hear a chuckle, then, “Relax, Roe. I’ve got you.”

  My body, tight as a wire, sags to the cloud as warmth comes to my core. It’s a mouth breathing hot on to me and teeth that begin nipping the area. Now a finger rolling around my clit, and I want to move. I need to move. It’s right there. The orgasm I desperately want is right there. If he’d just move a little to the left.

  I let out a guttural cry when he moves farther away from the place I need him to be.

  “Whitton!”

  He chuckles again. I’ve missed that sound. Seems like forever since I’ve heard him. His touches become rougher, taking me to the point of ecstasy then pulling back before I’m able to come. Again and again and again. The coil inside me wants to snap, and it’s on the verge if I could just get him to move.

  The heat and touches leave, and a weight is next to me. Then the touches come back, but they’re light and along my side and hip like I’ve rolled over on my cloud.

  Lips touch mine in a sensuous kiss, and I fight again to open my eyes. It’s Whitton, and I don’t want to miss any of this. Between that and my lack of orgasm, I may spontaneously combust at any given moment.

  “Roe, need you to open your eyes,” the lips say against mine, but I don’t listen. Instead, I lean forward and take the lips again, my fingers threading through his hair. Damn it’s soft.

  He breaks away. “Roe.”

  I attack again, now moving to straddle him. He holds my hips in place, and I can’t get to his cock to give me the friction I need to come.

  “Roe.” This comes out more demanding and almost pained.

  Slowly, I open my eyes and gasp when I see myself, noting none of that was a dream. I am, in fact, straddling Whitton, and my body is on fire. He doesn’t give me time to say anything. His hand on the back of my head pulls me down to him, and he kisses me. This isn’t the one like the dream. No, this is fierce, controlled, and hot as all hell.

  My hips begin to move, aching for something to help relieve the buildup. At this, my body is flipped over, Whitton on top of me, his hands roaming my body while mine stay on the sides of his head. So lost in his kisses, I don’t register anything but what I’m feeling. His weight on me pressing me into the bed. His soft lips assaulting mine in the most delicious of ways. His breaths tickling my lips as he kisses me. His eyes close as he takes from me and I give.

  He’s as beautiful as before with many more years on him. I can’t tell if the world has been kind to him or not, even this close. Some scars are deep and can’t be seen.

  I close my eyes and give in. I shouldn’t. The rational side of me wants to kick my own ass, but it’s Whitton.

  It’s Whitton.

  The boy, now man, I’ve loved for so many years. My first. My everything for so long. He’s here. In my bed with me, and resisting is futile.

  One of his hands moves down to my short covered lower half, and he begins to work me again. It’s too much, and I have to pull away to gasp his name. It’s not enough to put me over, but just enough to keep me on the edge. Shit!

  “Whitton!” I cry out, needing more. Needing the release, now.

  “What do you want, Roe?” His deep, rough, voice hits me, sending tingles everywhere, only amping up my already alive body. Can’t he just be quiet.

  “I need to come.”

  His weight won’t allow me to move, and he keeps playing with my pussy. Frustrating man!

  “Me too,” he whispers. “Inside your pussy.”

  I groan, feeling myself get wetter. His hand leaves me, and I practically cry out. But quickly it’s back, only this time it’s underneath my small boy shorts and into my panties. His hands are rougher to the touch and feel deliriously fantastic. His fingers enter me and I’m teetering on that edge, just hoping for that final push to get over.

  “Please,” I plead.

  “You want that, Roe? Me inside this tight cunt? Filling you over and over until you can’t take it another second? Coming so hard you scream my name?”

  “Yes, please.” I do, I want him like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. I want him to fill me, feel me. I’ve wanted it for so damn long.

  He raises up on his knees and it’s then I notice he is full out naked. This long cock jets out from his body. The tip an angry purple. I can’t take my eyes off it as he strips my shorts and panties.

  He comes back down on me. “No glove,” he whispers only an inch from my face, looking down at me. Below, his hips move to find my entrance.

  “I’m on the pill. Are you clean?”

  “Never gone ungloved except you. Yeah, baby, I’d never do anything to hurt you.” At these words, he thrusts inside of me, and I scream from the intrusion of my body. He had to have grown because there is no way he fit inside of me before. I wiggle, adjusting to him as he stays buried to the hilt inside of me.

  Whitton waits for me to adjust and when my eyes open, he smiles.

  “Kiss me,” I tell him, reaching for his face, and pulling him down to me. His hips jerk his cock in and out of me. My body alights and a cry comes from my lips, then I pull him back to me as I ride out the orgasm, feeling him move back and forth. He lights another fire when the last one still had flames.

  He doesn’t move from kissing me, like he wants to be connected to me in every way possible. I want it, too. I’ve missed him for so long, and I need to feel again.

  Tension builds, higher and higher until I explode and feel him still on top of me as he rips his lips from mine and buries his face in my neck. I suck in breaths rapidly, and my body feels sated.

  Too bad my mind just decided to kick into gear now, after this. Shit, now what am I going to do?

  Chapter 12

  Oh what a tangled web we weave!

  Roelyn Duprey has always been my little taste of heaven. She felt good before. Now, it pains me to think of walking away again. It’s a pain, a burn, a bittersweet feeling cutting so deep into my soul it will add another scar to my insides.

  I press my lips to her neck, my teeth graze her soft skin as my cock pulses inside her, softening. The aftershocks of her orgasm roll through her one by one as my mind races, and my cock feels at home.

  Home.

  It’s one four letter fucked up word. It’s an illusion. A place people tell themselves is safe. I’ve never been safe at home.

  Except with Roe.

  She’s always been my beacon of light to guide me from the darkness that haunts me inside. She’s always been my soft place to land when the wars in my mind wage on and on.

  Slowly, I slide out of her and instantly feel disconnected and out of sorts. I lift my head and see the emotions in her eyes.

  Love.

  Hurt.

  Fear.

  “Roe,” I start, and she trembles under me.

  “Don’t, Whitton. No promises. No words. Don’t speak, don’t give me some illusion of what will be. This moment, let it be.”

  I did this. I hurt her before and now.

  “I won’t make a promise to you I can’t keep, Roe. I’m here. For as long as I’m here, I’m yours. All of me.”

  She tips her chin up and wraps her ha
nds around my neck. Her fingertips trace the bubbled skin of my scars as she pulls me to her. “Don’t speak,” she whispers again. I feel her pain. I see the unspoken emotions of her fears. I’ll leave again.

  My mind goes back.

  Tenderly, her fingertips reach out and touch my cheek. The discolored, misshapen mess on my face, she is not afraid of. Instinctively, I draw back.

  “Beauty lines inside and out, Whitton Thorne. You are the most glorious man I’ve ever known, inside and out. From a boy to now, as we get ready to graduate high school and start life, you are a gorgeous, strong, fierce man to love and cherish.”

  “I’m a mess, Roelyn Duprey, like my face, my body, my soul. It’s all damaged, scarred.” I cup her face and press my lips to hers. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. You’re amazing, loyal, strong, fierce, and the one woman in my life I have ever, and will ever, love.”

  I meant it then and stand behind it now.

  “Loved you then,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers. “Only woman in my life I ever have and ever will,” I say before deepening the kiss. My tongue meets hers and my cock stirs to life as she moves her legs to wrap around me, and I slide deep in her once again.

  “Show me. Stop talking and show me, Whitton,” she pants as I slowly glide out of her with the mix of our previous rendezvous lubricating my cock and her pussy.

  I didn’t come to Blakely, Georgia for her. I didn’t leave because of her. The only constant in my entire life has been the passion I have for the woman under me. The only thing I fear in this entire world is the woman under me.

  I left for my brother and for her. I wanted her to have a life without the void that is me. Yet, neither of us moved on. How can I pull out of here when the job is done and leave her again?

  “Faster,” she pants, and I thrust. Hard. Fast. Furious. Passion rules me as I pound into her. She takes everything I give, arching into me, wanting more.

  We’re both covered in a sheen of sweat as I thrust four more times before she clamps down on me, holding me inside her as she cries out my name. Her orgasm is long, hard, and sends me shooting my own release.

  I slide out of her and feel my arms tense, holding my weight off her for so long. Her eyes meet mine, and I crumble inside.

  “No talking, Whitton. When you leave, I’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Don’t ruin this, don’t speak.”

  This time, I do as she requests because the very last thing I want to do is make a promise I can’t keep. And she’s right, when I leave she’ll be okay.

  She’s stronger now.

  She is wrong, I’ll never be okay again. Not without her.

  Rolling off her, I climb off the bed and stand, extending my hand to her. She takes it, and I lead her to the bathroom where I immediately start a shower for her. I grab a washcloth from on top of the stack of towels she keeps over her toilet and quickly wipe up the mixture of she and I as it trails down her leg. Nothing has ever been more beautiful to me than the sign of us together.

  She steps under the spray, and I lean in for one last kiss before giving her, and myself, a timeout. Grabbing another washcloth, I clean up from the sink before stepping into her bedroom. Looking at the clock, it’s five in the morning. I go to my bag and slide on jeans and a t-shirt. Commando is my style, the chaffing a reminder I can survive any pain.

  As I pull off the bed sheets for Roe, I think of my life. I get up, I go to work, and exist. Everything in my entire world, since I was ten-years-old and met the little girl down the street, I have simply existed. Roelyn makes me feel.

  This is dangerous for a man like me.

  The shower cuts off, and Roe enters the space. She’s covered by a towel. My body screams home.

  “Don’t know where ya keep your sheets, babe.”

  She walks to her closet with her ass peeking out from the bottom of the small towel. Not now, I tell my cock to tame just as a pounding comes to the bedroom door making Roe jump.

  “Gotta roll, brother,” Waylon calls out.

  “Less than five,” I reply, watching Roe take a shirt from the hanger and slide it on to cover her body.

  I close the space between us. “I’ll be back when I can. Do what it is you do on the weekends, but don’t engage LaRoche unless necessary. Don’t ask her shit because there may be nothing to this.”

  “Whatever your job is, it’s not my business. Whatever Marie and her husband are into is not my business. Whitton, just go do what you gotta do.” There is a sadness to her tone when her eyes meet mine, I see the pain. “So you can go on with your life and me with mine,” her last words are a whisper.

  Waylon pounds again. “Gotta move, brother, now.”

  Once again I’m torn between comforting the woman I’ve always loved and my brother and what we’ve been tasked to do.

  Rather than speak, because there are no words to right the wrongs of the past or promises for the future I can’t keep, I place my lips to hers before stepping away and out of her room. As I walk into the living area, it dawns on me—for the first time in years, I didn’t start my day throwing up. The acid still burns inside me, but it’s not like usual. Even as mixed up as everything is right now, I find this calm I haven’t had since I left her years ago.

  “You look a mess for a man who has been thoroughly fucked for the last few hours,” Waylon observes.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I growl as we step out of Roe’s house and lock the door behind us.

  I feel like I have the whole world when I’m with her and somehow it’s gonna keep slipping away.

  Chapter 13

  As if my heart couldn’t break more…

  My body jolts as the front door of my home closes, signaling his departure. While I knew he wouldn’t stay, it kills me that he turned and left, once again. Each time he’s left, he’s taken part of my heart and soul with him.

  His words, loved you then, thump through my head like a bass drum getting louder and louder. While my words were on the tip of my tongue, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say those words to him. I couldn’t put myself out there to be crushed once more. The sad thing is, even without the words, my heart feels like it’s shattered into thousands of shards of glass cutting me from the inside out. Like any moment, blood will begin to seep out of my pores and fall to the ground.

  That’s how much that man means to me.

  But me, for him … he leaves. Every damn time.

  Part of me wants to be pissed that he takes off every time his brother does. Part of me wants to hate Waylon for this. Part of me wants to smack Whitton across the head in hopes of making him see. See me. But all of that does no good. It’s Whitton’s choice, and he’s made it. There isn’t much I can do about that, except move on.

  How can you hate someone yet love them at the same time? It doesn’t seem right, but it’s true. All of it. But a lot of that hate is staring back at me in the mirror. With my freshly fucked, plumped lips, face a mix of sated and pain, and hands shaking. I gave myself to him freely. I wanted him, just once more. Once before he was really gone, and it was the stupidest thing I could’ve done, because now I feel him inside of me.

  Not just moving and the ache inside my body from him, but his come. I let him mark me. Hell, I wanted it. Even if it were for a moment—that moment I was his and he was mine. And a moment is all it lasted.

  In the aftermath, it was stupid, dumb, idiotic and makes me a total and complete moron. Instead of letting me release him, it’s only pulled me closer to him, to the hurt, to the love, to the agonizing pain. And I did it to myself. I’m the only one to blame for these feelings inside of me. Me. And that kills me, too.

  I’m smarter than this. At least, I thought I was. Even though having him was amazing, the hollow feeling inside wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth this emptiness inside of me that now wants to invade.

  My alarm goes off in my bedroom snapping me out of my thoughts. I make my way inside, turn off the alarm, and stare at the unmade bed. Whitton didn’t even want me to have his sme
ll for a few days on my sheets. Instead, he ripped them off, like a Band-Aid leaving a sting, but unlike a Band-Aid—I’m not sure this one will go away as quickly.

  I suck in deep, knowing I need to get on with my day. Normally, days off are the bomb and things I put off all week or, hell, the month, got done. Today, I wish we had school. I wish I could go there, see my little ones faces, their smiles, and know that I make a difference in their lives. That I’m wanted in some way, because, right now—I don’t feel that. Alone and empty. And I hate this feeling.

  After dressing, eating, and doing laundry, I clean. My house doesn’t really need it, but it’s a coping mechanism that I use well. It gets things done, and I feel as if I’ve accomplished something, even if I’ve vacuumed the floors just a few days ago. When I have a task, I focus on it and feel good after I’m done. Not to mention, I pump the music in the house super loud and dance my ass off while doing it.

  My mood needs the endorphins, and they come full throttle throughout me. By the time, I’m finished with my house, my smile is firmly in place. Once again the man who was here last night is in the past. Or at least not in the forefront of my thoughts, which is what I need.

  My phone pings with a text.

  Know you have the day off. Lunch 1230 at Emo’s

  I smile, needing Elizabeth and her ray of happiness. When I met her at the bar a few days ago, she just knew her man was going to ask her to marry him. I’m hoping like hell she’s wanting to show me the ring on her finger.

  Be there

  I message back, look at the time, and pull my shit together.

  The drive isn’t long. Emo’s is more of an ice cream shop than anything else, but they do have the best chili-cheese dogs ever. The ice cream is just a bonus. Pulling up, I see her car immediately and park next to it. She hops out a beaming smile on her beautiful face. Her shoulder-length dishwater blonde hair is cut into layers that frame that face.