SOLD: Jagged Souls MC

by Naomi West

  But no matter how hard we tried to distract ourselves, Creed was still firmly rooted in the back of our minds. Worry seeped into every second, stretching it out into eternity. And yet, we continued to wait, listening to the ticking of the wall clock with nervous anticipation.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Creed

  This is no longer about treason or mutiny. No, it’s about way more than that. Regardless, I still felt like a target when I walked into the Edge’s clubhouse. I felt like everyone can see what I’ve done, what I’ve seen today. I feel their eyes on me as I stride past the bikes and head towards the back where Kelly was bound to be.

  A long, lithe body slid out from the shadows like a snake to block my path. Christine had a wicked little smile on her painted mouth. She was wearing some kind of long, red dress. She looked more red carpet ready than dress for a night at the Devil’s Edge. “Heading somewhere awfully quick, Creed,” she purred, holding her arms out to either side. “Why don’t you slow down a little, take a look around? You might find something you like that way.”

  “I doubt it, Christine Rodgers,” I snapped, my teeth grinding together as I stared her down. This bitch thrived in our home, was welcomed here, and spent her time stringing along my brothers, eating our food, and drinking our alcohol. All the while her mouth was full of poisoned lies. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to snap her tiny neck and mail her body parts back to her family. But I couldn't do that.

  Her face turned from playful to sinister in a matter of a half-second, like someone had flipped a switch. “Oh, look at who thinks he’s so smart. Do you really think Kelly is going to believe you? Especially after I tell him who you went meeting with this morning.” She smirked. “Checkmate, asshole.”

  I swallowed hard as Christine stared me down. “Is it checkmate, Christine? You might want to recheck the board.” I rolled up my sleeves, showing off the flame tattoos climbing up both arms. “I still have a trick or two up my sleeves.”

  Before she could say another word, I reared back and punched her right in the face. Christine fell like a rock, unconscious before she even hit the ground.

  A gasp went through all of the Devil’s Edge members as her limp body fell to the floor like a ragdoll.

  “Would you like to see who your leader has been fraternizing with?” I asked the witnesses. “This is Christine Rodgers.”

  Silence met my claim; it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But no one moved and no one spoke, so I pulled off one of Christine’s massive bangles on her left wrist. A decorative “R” decorated the skin there, written in bright red ink.

  She really was a Rodgers. I stared at the tattoo, just as dumbfounded as everyone around me. I glanced around at the other members of the Edge, watching as the glaze in their eyes faded away, replaced by anger.

  And when I left Christine’s limp form behind me to confront Kelly, they followed.

  Kelly was waiting for me.

  He stood as I entered the back room. “Kelly,” I said, my voice carrying over the suddenly silent room. Everyone was watching me. All of the eyes were curious, accusatory. But I would prove them all wrong.

  Kelly’s eyes, however, were too far gone to save with facts. No, he was filled with madness and anger and no sense.

  “Your Christine wasn’t sent by the cartel. She was a Rodgers. Did you even vet her?” I yelled, loud enough for every single member of the Devil’s Edge inside of the building hear me. A riot of whispers broke out for a moment before the silence returned. “Did you know, Kelly?”

  “You have been breaking the rules, my friend,” Kelly said instead of answering my question. “You should learn to color in the lines.” Slowly, as if it was a slow motion move, Kelly turned, grabbed what looked like a golf club, and took a swing at my head.

  But I was ready. Rolling out of the way of his wild swing, I picked up another of the clubs from the back wall, coming to my feet in one fluid motion. I’d forgotten how fast Kelly could be, and I had to throw myself to the left to avoid his second swing.

  “You sadistic asshole; how dare you gamble with everyone’s life here like some sort of psychopath? What the fuck were you thinking?” I swung wide, catching Kelly on his left arm. He didn’t even seem to feel it, bringing his club around to try and strike from below. I side-stepped, careful to keep my footing. If I stumbled, he would be on me, crushing my skull in one powerful move.

  “The Edge is mine!” Kelly retorted, his voice an octave too high. “I can risk it however I like.”

  Another round of whispers filled the air as the crowd glanced at one another.

  “Our brothers’ lives aren’t chess pieces, asshole!” I swung harder, slamming the club down with enough force to break bone. It cracked the concrete below us as Kelly dodged to the left like some sort of fucking athlete. I needed to slow him down.

  Kelly just laughed, the sound of it echoing off of the walls. “Your brothers are willing to die for the glory of the Edge. We’re going to be on top, and then nothing will be able to stop any of us!” he cried, swinging at me like a lunatic.

  I backed away, trying to keep out of range of his club. The crowd backed up with me, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. “We could have all been wealthy until you fucked with it!”

  “No, the cartel never was going to let us keep the territory. They were thinning our ranks and that of the Carrion Club to let the Rodgers in.”

  The faces in the audience hardened as I continued to speak, spilling the secrets of Kelly’s obsession with the whole of the club. “He used all of us for some sick, dangerous way to the top, not caring how many of us died in the process,” I swung hard, pressing forward to slam the end of the club into his shoulder. Kelly’s collarbone shattered with a wet crunch as he screeched in pain.

  His club fell to the ground, and I kicked it from his reach. Silently, I turned and looked at all of the faces of my Edge brothers. Every single one looked pale, strained. They also looked determined and furious, their anger directed towards our so-called leader crying on his knees.

  Bax stepped forward, holding his hands out in front of him like an offering. Resting in his giant palms was a gun, already loaded and cocked. All I had to do was aim and pull the trigger. “What do you say, Devil’s Edge?”

  Silence met my words. Not a single one of my brothers stepped forward. Not one looked at Kelly with any sort of pity or sadness. No, most of the faces were turned to me. They didn’t even bother to look at Kelly. He didn’t deserve to be acknowledged.

  So I pressed the gun to Kelly’s forehead. Before I could have any second thoughts, I pulled the trigger twice. Kelly’s eyes still held the madness as he toppled over, his blood and brains splattering the Edge’s floor. Silence met the sound of the ringing shots. No one said a single thing.

  When I walked out, not a single person tried to stop me.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Ivy

  “This place fucking sucks,” I mumbled, and not for the first time. It was gross. It was a wreck. I was tired of cleaning, tired of hanging around this shithole and waiting. I hated waiting. I had a store to run now, but instead, I was sitting inside of this shitty goddamn half-rotted barn trying not to cry at all of the dust in my clothing.

  I think the only one of us who found our temporary quarters to be fun was Josh. He finally had grass to run in, for the first time in his life. So I let him run everywhere. He was out there, running around now. It was the only thought that could make me smile.

  I kicked a pile of dirty laundry and cursed at it, screaming at the top of my lungs. I was done with domestic bullshit. I decided I would never do laundry again.

  Someone chuckled darkly at me, and spun on my heel, ready to attack. “You fucking think this is funny? It’s not like you’ve ever tried to do laundry in this shithole.”

  Creed held up his hands. “Fair. But I don’t think that’s proper language for a lady.”

  “Fuck you, Creed.” But even as I said the words, I could feel
a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. He was my rock, my solace in this horrible place. “How much longer do we have to be here?” I knew I was whining, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

  “One more night, then we can head back. The Devil’s Edge should be done voting with what to do with us. Then we can go back.”

  I rolled my eyes, giving the laundry one last kick for good measure. “Why do we have to live in this hellhole when there are so many nicer places in town for us to stay at?” I make a face as I looked around the converted barn. I’d just cleaned up, and already everything was covered in a fine coat of dust.

  “We can’t be in town. I’m not allowed to participate or influence any of the discussions about what to do next, so I have to remain here. Same goes with my damned headstrong child and my damned headstrong woman. They didn’t trust any of his to be within thirty miles of the vote.” He looked amused at my sour expression. “It will be over soon, then we can go home to your store and a new apartment.”

  “We better. I’m not with this nonsense; I--” But I never got to finish my sentence. Creed swept me up into his arms instead, covering my mouth with his and silencing me. He was so strong, I couldn’t have wrestled him off even if I wanted to. Good thing I really, really didn’t want to.

  “I think you’ve done enough cleaning for the day,” Creed whispered against my neck, sending shivers down every inch of my body. “I have a few more chores for you, however.”

  “Oh!” I cried out as he slipped a hand under my skirt, his fingers finding the already wet, slick center of me like a magnet. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to remember what was like to feel him, rough and hard, slamming into me.

  I wanted it rough, and I wanted it now.

  But Creed seemed to be determined to take his time, caressing every inch of my body through my clothing with one hand as he slid a finger inside of me with the other. His touch was gentle and so completely different from his normal touch that I gasped. The gentle brush of his fingers felt like whispers across my skin, and I wanted more.

  I threw back my head, crying out as he set a long, slow teasing pace with his fingers. It felt like silk caressing every inch he could reach.

  Sliding my hands under his shirt, I caressed the hard lines of his muscles. I felt the outline of every scar, my gentle fingertips running over every single inch of him. I could feel the thunder of his heart in his veins as my fingers brushed over his neck, slipping the fabric of his shirt over his head. He abandoned me for just a split second to pull the shirt over his head, and I cried out at even that momentary loss of his touch.

  There was nothing rushed in the brush of his fingers as he found the hem of my shirt, lifting it up over my head.

  We both of us were bruised and battered from our battles; I could still trace the yellowing bruises Kelly had given Creed during that final fight together. The cuts on my hands had mostly healed, but there were scars, pink and puffy from the healing process. We traced the outlines of the injuries we’d both sustained, our touches gentle.

  Creed bent over, pressing his lips to the largest of my cuts across my wrist. His mouth awoke a fire in my belly that simmered deep inside. I moaned in time with his lips as they moved around my body, caressing and spreading the heat throughout my entire being.

  I was in love with Creed Carver. No matter what happened next, I would never leave. If the Edge voted him out tomorrow, I would follow, no matter where it lead.

  He pushed my skirt down my legs, his mouth still kissing its way around each of my ribs and down to my hip bones. I glanced down at him, my fingers burying themselves in his dirty blonde hair.

  Grinning, Creed slipped his hand between my legs again, and I opened them willingly to his touch. His thumb slid inside of me, wet and ready, as his mouth found the very center of me. His tongue lashed out, caressing the pearl of my clit. My legs nearly collapsed as I convulsed with just that gentle touch, the echoes of every brush of my tongue over me like a shockwave that shuttered through every inch of my skin.

  “Oh, Creed,” I moaned, throwing my head back. The long, auburn curls of my hair brushed against the naked skin of my back, and I could feel it, the heightened awareness of every sensation filling my senses. I could smell the dust, feel the grit of dirt under the bare skin of my feet.

  But more than that, I could feel the aching lines that Creed’s fingers and mouth traced along my pussy.

  Creed made love to me like I was something precious, something he desired, and perhaps even something he loved.

  Wrapping his arms around me, Creed stood, picking me up off the ground as he went. He set me down on the kitchen counter, throwing my legs over his shoulders to give his mouth better access.

  The rhythm of his caresses remained slow and teasing, driving me insane with every perfect, pleasure-filled brush of him. I cried out, mewling his name with every caress of that perfect, wet tongue. He somehow knew all of the ways I wanted to be licked, to be touched. My hands brushed over my breasts, the nipples as hard as glass.

  The pleasure built until I was crying out, tears slipping down my cheeks. The blood rush thundering through my veins made me dizzy with pleasure, a beautiful buzz filling up my whole world and diffusing through my limbs.

  That wave, the crash of my orgasm was so slow and perfect. It built to greater and greater heights until I knew it would destroy me as it crashed down like a tsunami wrecks a beach. I could feel in the base of my spine, unbearable and perfect, the pain of so much pleasure echoing through every single nerve in time with the slow, meticulous caresses of Creed’s perfect tongue.

  I screamed when I came, the whole world shattering into a million pieces, the glittering bits of reality falling around me like snowflakes in a blizzard. Every muscle in my body shook with the sheer force of it, and I was sure as the moment hit that I would die.

  Sweat dripped in slow, lazy dribbles down my skin, caressing my body like fingers. I shuttered as they tickled their way down my stomach, my breasts, and dripped onto Creed.

  I was floating.

  It took me a few moments to realize I was being carried. Creed had picked me up off of the counter and brought me back to where our bed was. He set me down on the mattress, then stepped back, staring down and me as I shivered with the aftershocks of the most amazing orgasm I’d ever experienced.

  Creed was not done with me. He would never be done with me.

  His gray eyes locked with mine, Creed took a hold of my right wrist. He kissed my hand before he pulled it up over my head, tying it to the wooden headboard with a scrap of cloth. I watched him do the same to my other wrist, then gasped as he tied something around my eyes, blocking the sight of him. I heard a rustle of clothing, then there was a long moment of silence where nothing happened.

  It seemed to drag on for a million years, the anticipation of what he would do next filling my every pore. I vibrated with it, my pussy dripping wet with hunger for him.

  When he grabbed my thigh hard enough to bruise, I gasped, feeling the pleasure of his five fingers imprinting into my flesh. He pulled my leg to one side, and a sharp, stinging feel of his hand slapped hard against my butt cheek. I cried out at the sharp, stinging pain that lanced through my leg. But much to my delight, Creed was hardly done.

  The gentle, soft feel of his fingers caressed my leg, sending electricity through every nerve and fiber of my body. The bed creaked as he climbed atop me, and I quivered, my senses straining to feel what he would do next. His mouth grazed my collarbones, his breath like a hot wind across my skin.

  When he bit me, he slid a finger inside my ass, slick with his spit. I screamed, reveling in the feel of his teeth burrowing into my skin. It stung, the pain shuttered through every inch of me. I almost came again as he nibbled his way south, his teeth grazing my nipple, sending stabbing, beautiful pain through my whole breast.

  Suddenly, both hands grabbed hard onto my knees, and without warning, his cock forced its way inside of my pussy, still tight and throbbing with my last
orgasm. Pain and pleasure mingled as I pulled hard at my bonds, keening like an animal as I thrashed against the bed.

  He reached up and untied the fabric from my eyes. HIs huge, throbbing manhood stilled inside of me, making me moan with desire. I wanted him to move, to feel the perfect, wet friction of his cock in and out me.

  Creed grabbed hold of my shoulder, twisting me at an odd angle. The bonds on my wrists pulled, and I cried out as the pain of it ripped through my arms. “Watch,” he ordered, pointing to the far wall where an old, dusty mirror hung. Spiderwebs of cracks carved through the mirror’s surface, but I could still clearly see my body twisted and tied up. Creed sat above me, his cock buried deep in my pussy.

  “I want you to watch,” he whispered, and I watched his sensual mouth form the words in the mirror. My eyes traced the outline of him, from the fire tattoos that covered his arms, around the beautiful muscles, down to his powerful legs. I watched as one of his hands wrapped around my ankle, pulling on of my legs up over his shoulder. It was like watching a porn as his throbbing member slid out of my body, dripping wet, and then buried itself again.