UnScrew Me (Savage Beast MC Book 1)

by Hayley Faiman

  Taking my gun out of my shoulder holster, I quickly climb on top of the sleeping man, my thighs straddling his hips. Pressing the barrel of my piece to the center of his forehead as I do. His eyes fly open and he starts to flail until he hears the hammer of my gun cock back.

  “What the fuck?” he grinds out.

  I tilt my head to the side, a smile tipping my lips. “So, you’re not as brave as you were earlier. Now that you don’t have all your men at your back and my woman on her knees,” I sneer.

  He jerks beneath me. “It’s business, Silver and you fuckin’ know it. She isn’t fuckin’ claimed,” he growls, his same shit excuse from earlier.

  Leaning down slightly, I make sure he can see my black gaze in the moonlight. “She is mine. You treated her like a whore, like a game, all while you laughed. You expected me to take it. Out of respect for my president, I won’t kill you. Out of self-respect, I will mark you,” I growl.

  Holding the gun steady against his forehead, I reach for his face with my bowie knife and let out an exhale when I feel it sink into the side of his mouth. I drag it up in a half smile as he screams below me. Now he can smirk forever.

  Lowering my knife, I debate on carving a J into his skin so that he’ll always remember me. There is blood pouring from the side of his mouth, his skin hanging like raw flapping meat from his mouth. I grin. Retribution. The fuck thought he was being fucking funny, now he can always wear his smile. I don’t think he’ll ever forget this moment.

  “See you in the morning, fuck face,” I snap, climbing off of him.

  “You’ll regret this,” he bellows.

  Taking a couple of steps back, blood dripping from my knife and my gun still aimed at his forehead, I snort. “No, I won’t. This is done. This is what happens when you fuck with the big boys, Karma. You get yours. Take it like a fucking man.” Turning around, I leave his house.

  I’m sure he’ll attempt to retaliate, and I’m positive that I will always be better at it than he is. The man is lucky to be breathing. So he’s a little uglier than he was an hour ago. He’ll still open his eyes tomorrow, he’ll still breathe free. If he fucks with me or Presley again, then I can’t promise that it will always be the case. The next time I’ll be ending his life, slowly.

  Climbing back into my truck, I start the engine and head to the clubhouse. I should go back home to my new woman. I should crawl into bed with her like I promised. I don’t. I can’t. I am dirty, too dirty to get into bed with her. I am not wrong for what I did, and I do not feel guilt. However, I don’t feel clean or good, either.

  The clubhouse is pretty empty, and I’m not surprised because of the early morning hour and the long night we all had. I grab a bottle of tequila from behind the bar, then walk over to a table and sink down. I don’t bother with a shot glass. I take a pull from the bottle and close my eyes as the liquor burns going down my throat.

  A figure appears when I’m about six gulps into my bottle. It’s female, but I can’t quite make out who it is. She sinks to her knees next to me, crawling in my direction. Glancing down, I watch her until she’s in front of me.

  She doesn’t speak. Her eyes roam over my face as she watches me. It’s Smith’s daughter. “I don’t even know your name,” I mutter, reaching out and touching her bottom lip with my index finger.

  “Della Louise Smith,” she says softly with a smile.

  I grunt, pulling her bottom lip down before I release it. I watch as it pouts out and I think about how pretty she looked the last time these lips were around my cock. My stomach twists at the memory, it clenches, and I frown.

  “Why aren’t you in some brother’s bed?” I ask.

  She smiles sadly, then shakes her head. “I was,” she admits. “I couldn’t sleep, and I saw you here. You look lost, Silver,” she rasps.

  “I was. Not anymore,” I admit.

  She tilts her head to the side. Della. Not a name you hear often, still pretty, and fitting for the poor little rich girl. She lifts her hands and slides them along my thighs. I grunt, shaking my head when her gaze lifts to mine.

  “I found someone,” I explain.

  Della smiles, but it isn’t cocky or calculating, it’s sad. “I know you have. She seems really sweet too,” she says. “I just like the way you make me feel. I miss it.”

  “We only fucked a couple of times, a few years ago,” I point out.

  She stands, revealing her naked body to me. I hadn’t realized she wasn’t wearing clothes and I blink with surprise. She hums, cupping her breasts, then I watch as one of her hands travels down her stomach, and disappears between her thighs.

  “I don’t need to be yours, not like she does. I’ve heard people around here talk. I know what my place is and honestly, I like it. I didn’t think I could do it, I didn’t think I’d enjoy it, but it is definitely for me. I feel fulfilled in a way that I never imagined possible. I’ve always felt empty,” she admits. “You’re my missing piece though,” she explains.

  I snort, standing to my feet. “My cock is going to fill up a part of you that’s missing?” I ask.

  Her lips pout and she swirls her clit with her finger. I can see her wetness glistening against her little nub, and it should be a turn on. I know how tight her snatch feels. I know how good she is at sucking dick, too. It’s hot, she’s hot, but my cock doesn’t even twitch at the sight.

  “You’ve turned into a sex addict,” I chuckle.

  She moans, lifting her eyes to mine. “Turned? I’ve always been one. I’ve been getting myself off since I was twelve, nightly. You just made my fantasies come true. You are my missing piece, Silver.”

  I shake my head before I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair. “No, babe. I’m not. My dick is not going to be some magical thing that makes your life feel complete. That’s in you. Glad me taking you didn’t scar you for life and you’re happy, though. Seriously, I fucking am glad about that. But I’m not playing this game with you. I’m going to give what I got a fair chance. And I can’t do that if I’m letting you fuck me when you feel like gettin’ off.”

  Turning away from her, I hear her call out. “Don’t leave me like this,” as I continue out of the bar and clubhouse. I’m not leaving her any way, I didn’t even touch the bitch. Luckily for her, she’s in the perfect place to find someone to fulfill that part of her that needs and craves more.

  Jumping back into my truck, I start the engine and I head back to my woman. I should have gone there straight from Karma’s, I fucked up. Once again. I fucked up. I watch as the sun rises on my way. Today I have to go back home, spend time with Buster, get him all settled and ready for another week of school.

  First, before that happens, I’m going to fuck my woman, then we’ll pack her shit and go over together. Meant it when I said she was moving in with me. I’m sure she’ll try and fight me on it, but it’s a non-discussion. She’s moving in.

  Once I arrive to her place, I pull out my phone and search for the number. Scrolling through my texts, I find it.

  Branding party. Friday.

  I don’t expect Dragon to reply. He will later. In a few hours, when I meet him at that fucking diner. I almost can’t wait to see Karma, and his reaction or lack thereof. I’m fucking giddy at the idea of him, and the way he’s going to look. I know he won’t say shit either. He wants whatever deal he’s trying to work with the club too bad to fuck it up by being a tattletale little bitch.

  PRESLEY

  When Silver walks through my bedroom door, my breath hitches at the sight of him. Something is different, off. I watch as he strips his clothes, my eyes skirting down to his gorilla tattoo on his chest. It feels like a lifetime ago I licked his ink and he talked to me about it. I keep my gaze on his body as he walks around to the empty side of the bed and slowly crawls in behind me.

  His arm slides around my waist and he tugs my back against his front. I feel his cock nestle between the cheeks of my ass. It’s semi-hard, as his hand slides from my waist to my breast. “I know you�
��re awake. You didn’t sleep, did you?” he asks, squeezing my flesh.

  “No,” I breathe.

  I shift my hips, hissing when my bruised ass cheeks brush against the hair on his legs. His mouth touches my shoulder, his tongue licks me and then his teeth gently bite down. Bringing my hand up, I wrap my fingers around his at my breast.

  “Where were you?” I chance asking.

  He grunts, squeezing me again, before he shifts his leg between mine. I moan when his thigh applies pressure between my legs, against my pussy. “The truth?” he asks, his voice low and almost a warning tone. He doesn’t want to tell me, but he’s letting me choose.

  “The truth,” I breathe.

  He shifts my body so that I’m on my back, then his weight is off of me. I feel his fingers drag against my back as he sits between my spread thighs. He wraps his hands around my hips and pulls me up to my knees. “Stay like that. Arch your back. Let me see this sweet cunt, my cunt,” he murmurs. I shiver from his words and do exactly as he requests, goosebumps covering my entire body.

  Joel’s fingertips move, dancing up my thighs, my ass, and sink into the tender flesh there. “Hours later, still fucking beautiful and pink,” he points out.

  “Joel, the truth,” I sigh, pushing against his hands.

  He chuckles, then I feel the head of his cock against my center. I’m not as wet as I should be, he doesn’t care though, he slowly sinks into me. I should say something, but I can’t, I find the small bite of pain feels phenomenal.

  Once he’s completely inside my body, he doesn’t move. He stays planted and we both breathe heavily, we are the only sounds in the room.

  “I went back to Karma’s house,” he announces. I jerk, but his hands fly to my hips, holding me still. “I carved him up a little. He thought he could do what he did and get away with it, Presley. He can’t, and I won’t stand for it. I didn’t kill him,” he states.

  I gasp when he slowly pulls completely out of me then sinks back inside, in one slowly continuous movement. “You like that I stood up for you, that I extracted retribution,” he mutters. “Makes this pussy wet,” he chuckles as he continues to slowly fuck me.

  He isn’t wrong. Not in the slightest. The fact that he hurt someone else isn’t what’s exciting, it’s that he did it for me. That’s what has me growing slick as he fucks me. That and the fact that he knows exactly how to move his body.

  “Where else did you go?” I ask through trembling lips. I need more of him and I need him harder, faster, rougher.

  His fingers dig into my flesh a bit more, causing me to moan and push back against his hips, meeting his thrust as much as he’ll allow. “The clubhouse,” he says. The word is nonchalant enough, but there is so much there.

  “And?” I draw out, but it sounds more like a groan rather than a question.

  He starts to pound into me a bit harder, the sounds of our skin slapping filling up the room. “I was offered some fun by Della,” he grinds out.

  I don’t know how to react. He’s fucking me, and my body craves him, his touch, but his words they’ve just done something else inside of me. Filled me with that doubt that I’ve been trying to ignore, that piece of the club life that I saw, but want to ignore.

  “Turned her down. Turned it down, came home to you,” he grunts. One of his hands slips between my legs in front and pinches my clit.

  “Oh, God,” I cry as my thighs begin to shake. My hips move, not only meeting his, but searching out his delicious fingers as well. “Harder, please,” I beg.

  His fingers move in circles between my legs, then he slaps my clit and my eyes close as my pussy clenches, then pulses, and I come around him. He doesn’t slow down, he slams against me over and over again, his finger continuing to work my overly sensitive clit until he stills inside of me and comes, a roar escaping his throat when he does.

  I want to struggle, to move out of his embrace as he falls to the side and brings my front against his chest. I feel his fingers comb my hair a few times before he tugs my head back. My eyes look up into his and I know he sees the hurt and questions in them.

  “Trying to do right by you, Presley. Swear to fuck, I am. Be patient with me, mi vida.”

  Nodding, I place my hand on his gorilla ink. “I’ll try. If you can’t be faithful to me, just say it, no hard feelings,” I whisper.

  He chuckles, tugging my hair a bit more and forcing my neck to arch backward. “You even try to leave me and there will be a million hard feelings. You’re here, next to me, you’re mine. You’re moving into my place tonight. I’m branding you Friday and we’ll have a party to celebrate at the club.”

  I blink at his words. Half of which I don’t even understand. Pushing those aside, I ask questions about the one statement that I do understand. “Moving in? We’ve known one another for about a minute,” I point out.

  He shrugs. “You want a relationship. I can’t spend the nights here on a regular basis, and cariña, I need you in my bed every night for this to work.”

  “If you think I’m having sex with you every night, you’re crazy,” I announce.

  He grins, a cocky one. A grin that states we’ve had sex twice in less than six hours and he could get me to fuck him every night if that’s what he wanted. The kicker is, he could get that from me. Every night of the week I would probably spread my legs for him. That is, if things go in a positive direction and the dissension from the past twenty-four hours is only a memory.

  “Not that I would complain, but that’s not really what I meant,” he chuckles. His fingers comb through my hair, he massages my scalp every so often and I moan. “I want stability for Buster. I want you to be there, as a statement, that this is not something that is fleeting,” he explains.

  Lifting my gaze to him, I ask an important question that has been weighing on my mind off and on since we began our relationship. “Is it only for Buster?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Has nothing I’ve said sunk in?” he asks.

  I nod, inhaling deeply before I let it out. “It has, but this is really fast,” I point out.

  A slow smile appears on his lips. Lifting my hand, I cup his bearded cheek as his black eyes search my own. “I know what I want, Presley. It’s you, mi vida. All you, cariña.” He turns his head and presses his soft lips to my palm. “Forty-five, remember?” he asks.

  “I remember.”

  “Not wasting a second of my life, it’s a miracle I’ve lived this long. That means, I found a woman I want to share my bed and my house with. A woman I could see making a bigger family with, then I’m putting the work into it. I’m putting this shit on fast forward. I am not fucking around, especially not after I almost lost you,” he explains.

  Nodding, my fingers twitch. “The branding?”

  He smiles slowly, but his eyes look almost sad. “A real brand, with a branding iron. It binds you to me. You’ll also have your own cut so that nobody can mistake who you belong to. The brand is just for my club though, for me,” he explains.

  “You can’t mean it, with a branding iron?” I gasp.

  He lowers his head, his lips brushing my own. “I mean it, Presley. This is my life, this is what needs to be done. I’ll put a ring on your finger, too and give you the wedding you want, but babe this is non-negotiable.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  PRESLEY

  Non-negotiable.

  The words play on a constant repeat in my head as I pack my large suitcase. Joel has left, he said he had a meeting and I have a feeling it’s another thing I don’t want to know any details about. Another scary thing he’s going to go and do. Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I look over at my half-packed suitcase and wonder, again, what the hell I have gotten myself into?

  The sex is good, great really. He seems to be a caring father, even if I don’t agree with everything I’ve seen thus far. He seems to care about me too. He scares me though. The man he is when he steps out into the world, that man frightens me.r />
  Is it worth the fear?

  He’s offering me everything I ever wanted. He’s offering me a future, adventure, and a family. Are his good qualities, his kisses, his cock, worth the bad, the dangerous, and the scary parts of him, of his life? I’m not sure I could survive again if another man took me. If a man like Karma, or someone worse, came after me and forced me to do unspeakable things.

  When Joel’s holding me, when he’s promising he’ll always protect me, I want to believe him. When those black eyes stare down at me, when he parts his lips in awe every single time he slides inside of me, I want to believe every damn thing he says. Every single whisper.

  The reality of it is, I can’t. I can’t fully trust or believe him, I don’t know him well enough to do that. But isn’t this the first step to get to know him that way? This is a big step, and I’ve never done anything like this before, but he’s forty-five, I don’t think he would take this lightly.

  Deciding I can’t make this decision on my own. I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find my sister’s name.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks. She sounds busy, and it shouldn’t surprise me. She works almost as many hours as her husband, Kenny.

  I clear my throat. I’m not going to tell her about last night, not in detail anyway. I’m still just trying to forget it ever happened at this point. “I need your advice. As my big sister, I need it,” I blurt out.

  “Tell me,” she demands.

  She’s all business and I can’t help but smile. Inhaling a deep breath, I tell her a little bit about Joel. I don’t tell her everything of course. Instead of telling her about his club, I just mention that he’s rough around the edges.

  “Really rough, and I emphasize really.”

  She snorts, probably not believing me, assuming that I’m emphasizing for dramatic effect. “He’s older than me,” she points out.