Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  “Sloane,” I whisper once my hair is clean. He ignores me again, spinning me back around to condition me.

  “I want you to come with me, Imogen. Everyone knows what happened to you, and nobody gives a fuck that your face isn’t perfect. I want you at my side because you’re my Old Lady, and it’s your earned place; but I also need you there because I love you.”

  I close my eyes and allow him to spin me once more to wash the conditioner out. I, personally, would let it soak for at least ten more minutes, but he’s being sweet, so I’m not going to bitch about it. When the conditioner is rinsed, I lift my head and look into his green eyes, eyes that are waiting for my answer.

  Bringing my hand up to cup his wet jaw, I smile softly. Then I lift to my toes and press my lips to his before I wrap both of my hands around his shoulders and press my breasts against his chest.

  “If you need me there, baby, that’s where I’ll be—always at your side, always where you need me,” I whisper.

  He grins before he lowers his head and captures my lips with his in a soft kiss, still careful not to cause me further pain. Though my face has lost most of its swollenness, it will still take weeks and weeks to heal completely.

  “Pleased as fuck, sunshine,” he grins.

  We finish our shower and then Sloane makes me breakfast. It isn’t anything fancy, just eggs, bacon, and toast, but I can’t deny that watching him cook for me in the kitchen is something that I will never, ever forget as long as I live.

  “What time do I need to be ready?” I ask when he sets my plate in front of me.

  “Nine,” he grunts as he walks around the kitchen island and sits at the barstool next to mine.

  “I wish I had time to visit your mother for another bruise hiding makeup tutorial,” I mutter before I cover my mouth as my eyes widen, just having realized what I’ve actually said to him.

  “She that good at it?” he asks, shoveling some eggs into his mouth, seeming unaffected.

  I nod before I take a bite of toast and then speak. “She is. You couldn’t even tell I had a bruise by the time she was done with me.”

  “This will be the last time in your life you’ll ever have to worry about it,” he growls.

  I place my palm on his forearm and squeeze him gently with my fingers before nodding.

  “I love you, Sloane.”

  “Love you too, baby,” he murmurs, turning to his plate and finishing his food.

  We don’t speak for the rest of our meal, and then he informs me that he has some more club shit to do. He says he’ll be back around eight to get ready for the party, and I need to be ready to roll by nine. I agree.

  Before he walks out of the front door, he kisses me, filling my mouth with his tongue. I taste the promise of later, and I know that tonight we’re going to have fun, even if that fun doesn’t start until after the party is over.

  “Pack a little bag, we’ll stay in my room at the club tonight,” Sloane announces before he slams the door behind him.

  I blink and turn to my bedroom. I need to call someone for help. I can do my makeup, but I’m not an expert.

  I wonder if my mother-in-law would travel this far to help me, and then I decide I need to just stop being a pussy bitch and call the other Old Ladies. I consider these women my friends, so I need to stop keeping them at arm’s length.

  SOAR

  I don’t even have to guide my bike as I go to the clubhouse from my house. It’s an easy ride, something that only takes a few moments. If I wanted, I feel like I could close my eyes for the entirety of the trip.

  MadDog should have the scheduling done by now, so I can give it to Genny. I also want to get a man on her while I’m gone working. I’ll never allow her to be home alone again.

  I’ll never leave her vulnerable like that again, not ever. She’s been left vulnerable too many times as it is.

  “Hey, brother,” Texas booms as I walk into the main bar area of the clubhouse.

  I lift my chin at him and glance around the room. I’m not surprised to see Serina draped over a naked Grease. They’re both passed the fuck out. I shake my head as I walk over to the bar and ask the prospect for a bottle of water.

  “Taking it slow tonight?” Texas asks.

  “Got a piss test in an hour,” I chuckle.

  “At least it’s not tomorrow,” he laughs, toasting my water with his beer bottle. I let out a sigh and his brow furrows. “You doin’ okay?”

  “I am, really good. Imogen and I are trying for a baby,” I admit.

  That bite of panic that I expect to consume me at the words that have just left my lips, it isn’t there.

  “Yeah? Congrats, brother. I hope your swimmers take,” he grins, slapping me on the back.

  “Me too,” I admit, jutting my chin out.

  Texas watches me for another beat before his face goes serious and his voice dips low. “You have any issues with your sobriety, we’re here for you, brother. Not one of us wants to see you fail, wants to see your marriage fail. We were all concerned when Genny left the way she did; would be a million times worse she took your kid with her.”

  “Yeah, we actually talked about that last night,” I admit.

  I’m not one to really talk about my feelings and shit much, but being sober has kind of forced that out of me lately. It’s brought all my feelings to the surface. On more than one occasion, I’ve felt like I might explode if I don’t get my shit out.

  “Everything good?” he asks when I don’t expand.

  I nod with a grin and clap him on the back before I stand and head toward MadDog’s office.

  I knock on the door and wait for him to call me inside before I walk in. He and Mary-Anne fuck like rabbits, and there’s no way I want to risk walking in on them. Though I’ve heard it’s hot as hell, I’m not really into watching my Pres fuck his pregnant wife.

  “C’mon in,” he grunts. I turn the handle before walking inside, then I freeze.

  MadDog’s got a kid standing on his thighs while his hand is wrapped around her little belly, and another one is sitting on the floor in a pink dress, an array of Barbies and their clothes strung out all around her. I can’t hide my smile at the sight. It’s cute as fuck, and not what I’m used to with my Pres.

  “Just wanted to know if that schedule is done, but I can see you’ve got your hands full,” I say with a smile.

  MadDog looks up and he gives me a wide smile. I’ve never seen him look so fucking happy. It sends a pang of regret to my heart.

  If he can be this happy, if he can find his happiness, why couldn’t I be man enough to give that to Genny these past years?

  “You asking about a schedule or you looking for an ear to unload on?” he asks, his voice raspy and deep.

  “Both,” I admit.

  “Riley, girl,” he calls.

  Her little head pops up before her body follows and she rushes to her daddy’s side. He bends down low and murmurs to her. She nods her head and then scurries past me.

  “She’s gonna run to the kitchen and grab, Mary,” he mutters. “We’ll talk without little ears.”

  “Maxfield,” Mary scolds as she walks into the room, not even realizing I’m here. “You sent Riley in there, and she walked right past Grease and Serina, passed out naked.”

  “Sorry, sweetness,” he states a with a shrug, sounding the least bit sorry.

  “Well, you will be when they’re teenagers and think they can do that shit,” she says as she walks over to little Finley, who is smiling widely at her mama.

  “They better fuckin’ not,” he growls.

  “Well, they keep seeing this stuff, they think it’s normal, they’ll be acting just like their aunties and uncles,” she says as she wraps her hands around Finley’s middle and brings her to her hip.

  “All right, sweetness, you made your point,” he murmurs, wrapping his hand around her hip.

  She rolls her eyes and bends down, pressing her lips to his. I feel like a voyeur as I watch them kiss. It isn’t
anything deep and overtly sexual, but it’s still intimate.

  “I’ll come get them when I’m done here, yeah?”

  “Okay,” she breathes as her face completely softens.

  I watch as he pats her ass and then she giggles slightly as she slips past me with Finley in her arms, closing the door behind her.

  “You’re scheduled to work this week, and every other week. They’ve upped the shipments to weekly. Don’t know why, don’t give a fuck. All I know is that it makes our wallets fatter,” he shrugs. “And I have colleges to save up for,” he grins. “You needed to talk?”

  “I want to have a man on Imogen when I’m at the docks,” I announce, watching as he slowly nods.

  Then I explain to him about what happened early this morning. I tell him about my probation officer and the officer Houston showing up at my place.

  “The fuck you say,” he whispers in a lethal tone.

  Normally, it would be something brought up in church, maybe even voted on, and I’d be asking and not telling. This is my wife, and I refuse to take any more chances with her safety.

  “The protection?”

  “I’ll approve it. You can have one of the prospects watch out for her on those nights. I understand your hesitancy, and I’m cool with that. Nothing wrong with keeping your woman safe. How is she doin’, by the way?” he asks with concern laced in his voice.

  “Better. She’ll be here tonight,” I shrug. He doesn’t hide, nor could he probably, his surprise at that announcement.

  “How are you doin’?” he asks, switching topics.

  I tell him exactly what I told Texas, except he’s my president so I elaborate. I talk to him a little bit about my fears, and he talks me down.

  He’s good with advice, and he’s been through it all, so I take in everything he says and soak it up. When I leave his office, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

  I make my way to my probation officer’s place and do my piss test, knowing without a doubt that it’ll come back clean as a fucking whistle. I’m also going to ask him just what in the fuck went down a few hours ago.

  My woman should never have to be woken from bed to deal with that shit. I want to kick his ass and worry about the repercussions later, but I have too much to live for to go back to that hell hole.

  I have a woman, a whole slew of brothers, Kipling, and soon, maybe I’ll have a kid of my own.

  Fuck yeah.

  I have way too fucking much to live for to pop a dirty test and get sent back to the joint.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  IMOGEN

  “I look like I’m trying to cover bruises,” I state as I gaze at my face in the mirror.

  I have a thick layer of makeup on, and while it looks better than just my clean face, it still looks like it’s exactly what it is—caked on makeup to cover bruising.

  “I’m not sure how else to get maximum coverage,” Cleo whispers as she looks over my face.

  Ivy looks over my face, scrutinizing me, “What if we tried contouring a little more.”

  “Well, unless you’re a pro, I can’t contour for shit,” Cleo states.

  “Times like this, I wish Kentlee lived here. She was so good at makeup when she worked at the strip club,” Mary-Anne sighs as she places her hand on the swell of her belly.

  “I think this is as good as it’s going to get,” I mutter.

  “You’re still beautiful; but the bruising is so dark, I don’t think it matters what we do, it’ll still be there,” Cleo states softly.

  “The bar in the clubhouse is dark, the lighting sucks there, which is good. Plus, your outfit is hot as hell. Nobody will be looking at your face,” Mary-Anne grins widely.

  My eyes automatically go over to the minuscule outfit that the girls brought over when I called them to help me with my makeup. It’s an extremely small black dress. It doesn’t even look like my left thigh would fit inside, but Mary-Anne claims it stretches.

  Ivy goes through my shoes and brings out a pair of metallic gold, Valentino, strappy gladiator, high heels, with matching gold studs adorning the straps up to my ankles.

  “You want me to wear Valentino to the clubhouse?” I ask, my eyes widening as Ivy sets my shoes down next to my bed.

  “All your shoes are expensive. I didn’t see any knockoffs in there,” she says, practically rolling her eyes.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter,” I mutter.

  “They’re sexy. I think you should wear them, knock your husband’s socks off,” Teeny whispers.

  I look over to the small woman, and she tips her head to the side, giving me a wide smile. Shaking my head, I lift a shoulder and agree to wear the damn shoes.

  I can’t believe my fifteen hundred dollar high heels are going to be on that disgusting clubhouse floor. They’ll probably get some kind of liquid spilled on them, too.

  “Okay, we have to go and get dressed as well,” Mary-Anne announces as she stands up.

  All of the women excuse themselves and start to make their way out of my room, but Mary stops and wraps her hand around my shoulder, giving me a squeeze.

  “I’m glad to have you back, Genny. Honestly, I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re so happy,” she says, giving me a wink.

  “Me, too,” I admit.

  “The roads that are the hardest, at the end, what’s waiting for you, it makes the journey so totally worth it,” she whispers before she walks away, leaving me alone in my bedroom.

  I don’t think any more about her words. If I do, I’ll cry. Instead, I walk over to the dress and drop my robe as I reach for the minuscule fabric.

  I test the elasticity, and as Mary-Anne ensured, it has some serious stretch—though I’m not quite sure it will be enough.

  Letting out a breath, I step into the dress and shimmy it up my completely naked body. I walk over to my closet, where I have a full-length mirror, and I take a look at myself. The dress is tight and short, almost indecently short. The way it holds everything in, and together, I cannot deny that I look sexy.

  On top of that, I feel sexy.

  Hearing the front door open and then slam shut, I run over to my shoes and clutch, grabbing them before I lock myself in the bathroom. I still need to fix my hair, and I don’t want Sloane to see me until my look is one-hundred percent complete.

  “Sunshine?” he calls out.

  “In the bathroom, just finishing my hair and stuff,” I call out.

  He informs me that he’ll shower in the guest bath and he’ll be ready to leave in just twenty minutes, so I better hurry my ass up.

  I smile at his order.

  It’s so normal.

  Not normal for us, but just normal. I can’t help but love it. I’m glad that our relationship is shifting, and I’m enjoying that shift immensely.

  Once my hair is styled in waves that tumble down my shoulders, I buckle my Valentinos and look at my clutch. Deciding I don’t want to keep track of it all night, I leave it right on the counter.

  I’ll be back tomorrow, and the only person who would call me is going to be right next to me the entire evening. Anybody else can contact him if they want to get a hold of me.

  “Ready, sunshine?” Sloane asks, rapping on the door with his knuckles.

  “Yeah,” I breathe as I take another look at my makeup-covered face in the mirror.

  I don’t look completely disastrous, but I don’t look like myself, either. Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I turn and open the door.

  I’m surprised to see Sloane is standing right at the doorway, his eyes traveling from my feet up to my face so slowly that I start to squirm in my spot. He lets out a shaky breath and then his gaze connects with mine.

  “You can’t leave this house looking like that, Imogen,” he rasps, his breathing shallow and his nostrils flaring.

  “What?” I ask in confusion.

  I know my face doesn’t look that great, but I’d hoped the girls were right when they said my dress would detract from it
. Apparently, everybody was wrong. I watch as Sloane lifts his hands and curls his fingers against the top of the doorjamb.

  “I’m about two seconds from ripping that flimsy looking material you’re trying to pull off as a dress, and fucking you until you can’t walk. If I feel this way, I have no doubt in fuck every man down at that clubhouse will feel the exact same. I don’t want them thinking of my wife that way,” he announces.

  My eyes widen and my mouth opens slightly in an O shape.

  “Sloane,” I whisper as I take a step closer to him.

  “Hangin’ on by a thread, sunshine. Don’t come at me with your sweet whispers,” he mutters.

  I don’t stop. I continue to walk up to him. Without a word, I sink to my knees once I’ve reached him. He lets out a guttural sound as I work the button of his jeans and his fly before I swiftly pull his pants and underwear down just past his ass, exposing his hard cock.

  I don’t touch him. Instead, I lick the underside of his length, circling my tongue around the head of his dick. I hear the wood of the jamb cracking beneath his fingers, and I can’t help the excited thrill that shoots up my spine and down to my pussy.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, baby. But if you don’t suck my cock, I’m going to fuck your mouth,” he warns.

  Opening my mouth, I take him as far as I can down my throat. He lets out a deep groan, and I feel it wash over me.

  “Look at me, sunshine,” he orders.

  I open my eyes and look up at him through my lashes. My gorgeous blond husband. My eyes shift to his forearm, and I see my name permanently etched in his skin. I can’t help but moan.

  Mine.

  He’s all mine.

  It spurs me on to suck harder and faster. I reach up and cup his balls in my hand, massaging and tugging on the soft flesh as he growls deep from his chest.

  “I’m about to come, baby,” he warns.

  It’s been years since I’ve swallowed. Blow jobs themselves were few and far between in our dysfunctional relationship. When I was young, swallowing just seemed gross. By the time I was comfortable with my sexuality, we were so fucked up that I only did it a few times before I refused, just because I could.