If he could be inside of me all day, every day, then I would be the happiest person on earth.
“I do. I’m sorry. We’re going to have a meeting, then do some scheduling for next week. I can’t get out of it, but I’ll be home when I can.”
His voice rumbles, deep and rugged, filling the room around me. I wrap my hand around the side of his neck and look up into his dark eyes.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” I whisper.
Johnny nods and brushes his lips over mine one more time before he disengages from me and leaves.
I watch him walk out of the door, locking it behind him before the tears well up in my eyes. It’s my first night alone in this house, and also my first night alone since Johnny saved me. I didn’t want to tell him, for fear he would think of me as being childish and immature, but I’m anxious.
I’m scared, I’m nervous, and I don’t want to be here all alone. I wanted to beg him to take me to the clubhouse. I would have stayed out of the way and not bothered anybody. But I didn’t want to seem like a burden, so I didn’t say anything.
In this moment, I’m now regretting it.
I turn on the television to drown out the silence and I decide to bake. I love to bake, and since everything that’s happened over the past few weeks, I haven’t had the opportunity.
I gather the ingredients for my absolute favorite chocolate cake recipe and I begin.
I make all of my desserts from scratch, and I have most of my recipes memorized, especially this one. The rest are in a notebook, one of the only items that wasn’t clothes that I remembered to take from my apartment.
I smile as I start to whisk together the batter. It isn’t one that you’d want to lick the spoon after you mix it together; it’s watery and a little bitter, but once it’s baked and slathered with my homemade chocolate buttercream icing, it’s rich and decadent and absolutely perfect.
That’s how I spend my evening, until the early hours of the morning.
Baking.
Wishing Johnny were home.
Wondering where exactly he is and when he’ll be home.
At three in the morning, after my cake has baked, cooled, and been frosted, I decide to pour myself into bed. Johnny won’t be home anytime soon, and it makes my stomach twist and turn.
I know where he is, but I don’t know what he’s doing, and I fear whatever he’s doing, it isn’t good and it’s with another woman… or two.
I wish that I trusted him and that I was confident enough in myself to know that he only wants me, but I’m not there. Not yet, at least. It’s going to take time, I think—especially since he’s said he enjoys other women. While I satisfy him now, that may not always be the case.
The doubt is there, it will always be there, and the minutes that tick by, they water that doubt, they feed it and it flourishes.
I hate it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
DIRTY JOHNNY
The clubhouse is buzzing. Patch-in parties. They’re my absolute favorite part of being in this club. Today we’re patching in a prospect named Bug. He got his road name because on his first ride, he swallowed a bug and freaked the fuck out like a bitch baby.
It was the funniest shit I think I’d ever seen. I laughed so damn hard, tears came out of my eyes. Tonight though, he’ll no longer be a prospect.
Tonight, he’ll become a full-fledged member of the Notorious Devils, and he’ll reap the benefits of that as well—all the pussy, green, and booze he can handle.
“We’re headed to the Devils Club, who’s in?” Vault yells over the loud music.
Cheers erupt all over the room and I can’t help but smile. The fucking Devils Club. It used to be one of my favorite places on earth.
A few years ago, Fury got the best idea I think the man’s ever had. He leased a building downtown and turned it into a titty bar.
Our club owns the building now, and Sniper manages the club and the girls. It turns a pretty profit, but the perks outweigh the cash.
Those bitches love to fuck, and they love to put on a show, making patch-in parties fucking legendary.
I raise my hand only to have both Fury and Sniper clear their throats next to me.
“What about Hattie?” Sniper asks, furrowing his brow.
“What about her?” I ask, taking a pull from my beer.
“Don’t you want to go home to your Old Lady?” Fury grunts.
I think about his words and then I think about him and Sniper. I haven’t seen them at a party without their women at their side in years.
Is that what having an Old Lady means?
Does it mean that I can’t hang with my boys anymore? I can’t go to a titty bar when I want?
I know she don’t want me fucking other girls, but I didn’t think that claiming her was going to be the end of my freedom.
“Why? She knows I’m with my boys,” I shrug, finishing off my bottle.
“She’s a real sweet kid, Dirty,” Fury says. He doesn’t bother to elaborate.
I don’t know what he’s getting at, and I can’t ask him. A minute later, he and Sniper are up and walking out of the clubhouse.
“That was their subtle way of advising you to go home to your woman,” Torch mutters from behind me.
“Why, though? What the fucks it matter if I want to party and see some girls dance?” I ask, pulling a cigarette out of my pocket and placing it between my lips.
“I’m the last fucking person to give you relationship advice. But I’ll give you some anyway. Bitches say they’re cool with you hangin’ with the boys, they might even claim it’s okay if you see some girls dance, but they really aren’t ever okay with it. What they want is for you to choose them. Choose them over partying all night and watching some hot chicks grind on stage. They want to feel like they’re important and that they matter,” he says before he takes a shot.
“Hattie’s important or she wouldn’t be in my bed right now,” I point out.
“Yeah, but she’s in that bed alone right now,” he says. Then he walks away from me.
It makes sense, he makes sense, but I don’t follow his advice. I want to party with my brothers, and I want to enjoy my night.
I’ve been at Hattie’s side almost twenty-four-seven for the past week. Not that I haven’t enjoyed myself, and her, I just need—space. Even thinking the words, I feel like an asshole, but I straddle my bike and start it anyway.
I ride down to the Devils Club with this nagging feeling that I should be turning my bike around and heading back to the house.
I shove that nagging feeling deep down and I spend the rest of the night and morning partying.
I drink, I smoke, and I watch the shows that are on stage.
“Dirty Johnny, do you want to have some fun?” Serina asks with Tasha at her back, a smile tugging on her lips.
My lids are heavy as I take them in. They’re buck ass fucking naked, and I lick my lips at the sight of their big tits. I shake my head but they giggle at me. Then Serina bends down and brushes her lips across my cheek as her mouth makes its way to my ear.
“My ass needs you, baby,” she whispers. My dick jerks at her words.
“Come on, let’s play,” Tasha giggles.
I stand up and sway. Fuck, I’m drunk. I can’t remember the last time I was this drunk. Maybe I never have been.
Sernia and Tasha both smile widely at me and each of them takes one of my hands.
They lead me over to one of the private rooms and I stumble until I make my way to the couch and flop down on the leather fabric.
I watch as they start their little show with indifference. It isn’t turning me on, not at all. When Serina crooks her finger at me, I have zero desire to join them.
Even with the promise of fucking her ass, the thought does nothing for me. In fact, my cock is fucking limp. I take a smoke out of my vest, along with my phone.
When my cigarette is lit, I check the time.
Three in the morning.
My thumb gra
zes the photo icon and I see my last picture. It’s Hattie’s pussy all spread out and wet, waiting for my cock. I shake my head. Disgust. I’m completely disgusted with myself.
I stand and walk out of the room, ignoring the two women rubbing all over each other in the middle of the floor. I stumble around until I find Sniper’s office, I close the door, locking it from the inside. I lie down on the couch. No way in hell can I drive home right now.
Torch was right. I should have gone home to Hattie.
Fuck, I’m such an asshole.
I smoke for a few minutes before I stub out the cigarette on my boot, and then I stare at the screen on my phone. The screen saver is Hattie—the morning after we were moved into our place.
We only had the bed that I’d bought. I was straddling her and tickling her. When I stopped, she was giggling and looking up at me with this gorgeous as fuck smile on her face.
I had to capture it. Now that I look at it, I feel like the biggest fuckin’ loser on the planet for not being next to her this exact minute.
I have no excuse for not going home when Fury and Sniper went home. I’d welcomed Bug into the brotherhood, I’d drank, I’d played pool, and I’d had fun up to that point.
It should have been enough, and I should have hopped on my bike and got the fuck home to my woman.
What I shouldn’t have done is come here. I’m too fuckin’ stubborn for my own good and I thought—fuck, I don’t know what I thought.
I’m stupid, though.
So fucking stupid.
I close my eyes, knowing I have to sleep this booze off before I can ride home to Hattie.
HATTIE
I sit straight up in bed, my heart racing a million miles an hour as I look around. I’m alone. I close my eyes at what that means.
Johnny didn’t come home last night, which means he stayed at the clubhouse and I have to deal with the fact that he may not have been alone in his bed. I rub the center of my chest, trying to rub the pain away.
The thought of him with another woman hurts. It hurts so damn bad.
The doorbell chimes and I know why I’ve been suddenly awoken. I throw the covers back and slide out of bed, hurrying to the door, dressed only in a pair of short, cotton shorts and a tank top.
Thinking that it must be, Johnny, without looking through the peephole, I pull open the door. My eyes widen at who is standing in front of me.
My brother. Andy.
“How did you find me?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
“Not hard to figure out where you’d go. Your obsession with that asshole is a dead giveaway,” he shrugs.
“No, I mean, how did you find me here,” I ask, waving around my hand.
“Oh, called around. Not hard to do, Hattie, especially when you’re a cop.”
“Why are you here?” I sigh.
“I talked to mom and dad, separately. Mom told me that you were with this guy, that he was at your place. Dad told me you went to him because you were broke and needed him to put you up, so you offered to go back to school and study finance,” he says. I nod at his words—truthful words.
“Why didn’t you come to me for help?” he asks. “You don’t have to whore yourself out to this asshole, Hattie. You’re my little sister, I’d help you out of a bind.”
My eyes widen at his words and I open my mouth to say something, but a deep, rough voice speaks before I get the chance.
“You talk about your sister like that again, cop or no cop, I’ll lay you flat on your ass.”
I watch as Andy’s brow shoots up and he turns around to face Johnny. My eyes take him in. It’s been hours since I’ve seen him, and he looks like shit. He looks hungover and tired.
My chest aches just a little bit more, the pain a little more prominent by his disheveled appearance. Johnny places a cigarette between his lips and lights it, a move I’ve come to know as a habit more than a need for nicotine.
“What is she, then, if she’s not your whore, Williams?” Andy asks, puffing out his chest a little more.
“Not that it’s any of your damn business, but she’s mine. She’s my woman,” Johnny announces.
I pull my trembling bottom lip between my teeth and bite down to keep from crying. I don’t think I’m his, not really, not if he spent all night doing whatever it was that he was doing.
“She can’t be your woman, because she’s nothing but a kid still, you fucking pedophile,” Andy growls. In a split second, Johnny is on him. He has him pinned by his throat against the side of the house.
I stare in surprise, but when Johnny gets nose-to-nose with Andy and speaks, it shakes me from my dazed stupor.
“Hattie’s a goddamn adult and you won’t talk to her, or about her, like that. I won’t fuckin’ stand for it. She ain’t a kid, she’s a woman. I’m her man, so you better get fuckin’ used to it, prick.”
“Johnny,” I plead, pulling on his arm as his hand squeezes my brother’s throat, his cigarette still dangling between his lips.
Johnny’s eyes meet mine and he nods before he releases Andy. I watch my brother double over and try to catch his breath.
“Get the fuck off my property,” Johnny announces before he wraps his hand around my arm and drags me behind him.
He throws his cigarette to the ground and walks over it with his boot on the way inside of the house.
I stand stock still while he slams the front door closed and casually flips the lock. I’m still unbelieving of the events that just took place, the names my brother called both Johnny and me, and the fact that Johnny was about to hurt him, really hurt him.
I watch as Johnny’s chest heaves in anger before he lifts his eyes and looks at me. I don’t see the hate or anger radiating in his chocolate irises—I see worry there.
His brows are furrowed, but his jaw is set. He licks his bottom lip before he bites it, and for reasons unknown to me, it turns me on, even though I’m angry with him.
“You’re getting your brand today, in a couple of hours, so you better get dressed,” he rasps.
“Where were you last night?” I ask, ignoring his announcement.
“Not your business,” he grunts.
“It is very much my business,” I say, standing my ground.
“Let me rephrase that then. You don’t wanna fuckin’ know,” he says, taking a step toward me.
I search his face for any bit of truth his features might hold, and I find what I’m looking for. Although, what I’m looking for isn’t found in his eyes, it’s found in the form of smeared red lipstick on his cheek. Johnny’s hand comes out and wraps around my waist, but I’m shaking in anger and hurt.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I whisper, my eyes unable to disengage from the lipstick staining his skin.
“Hattie,” he murmurs.
“Take your hand off of me,” I grind out.
He doesn’t do as I ask. Instead, he buries his other hand in my hair and wrenches my neck back.
“Nothing happened. I drank, I went to the Devils Club, and I passed out on the couch in Sniper’s office,” he murmurs.
“I don’t believe you,” I state.
“You don’t have to believe me. It’s the fuckin’ truth,” he grinds out.
“She left her lipstick on your cheek and you smell like her perfume,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes.
I expect him to let me go, but he doesn’t. He pulls me closer to him, holding my body against his. I lift my hands and press against his chest, but it does nothing. He’s too strong.
Then he dips his face down and brushes his lips over mine. I freeze in surprise, and he repeats the move before his tongue snakes out and licks the seam of my lips.
“Nothin’ happened, Hattie,” he repeats. His voice is softer, gentler than before.
“Another woman was close enough for her perfume to wear off on you and her lips touched your skin,” I whisper as a tear falls from my eye.
“I don’t want anybody but you,” he whispers as he runs his nose alongside
mine.
I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of it until I get another whiff of her smell, whoever she is.
“I’m your whore, aren’t I? Andy was right,” I whisper as tears begin to flow down my cheeks.
Johnny rears back and narrows his eyes on me. Silently, he picks me up by my thighs and carries me to the bedroom, depositing me on the bed without fanfare before he’s on top of me. His heavy body presses against mine and his angry eyes focus on me.
“You’re mine. You’re my woman, Hattie. You are nobody’s whore,” he growls.
“Then is she your whore?” I ask.
I don’t know where I’ve suddenly come up with the courage to confront him. Maybe it’s the fact that Andy was here?
Maybe it’s that he didn’t come home last night and now he smells like some cheap perfume with lipstick smearing his cheek?
Maybe I’m just fed up of always being walked all over?
Maybe I just want him to desire only me, the way that I only desire him?
“Your anger and jealousy is a major fuckin’ turn-on, Hattie,” he whispers pressing his hips a little harder against my belly so that I can feel his hard-on beneath his jeans. “But there was nobody else. I shouldn’t have even gone to the Devils Club.
“I should have come home to you. I watched some girls dance and Serina and Tasha from the clubhouse tried to get me to play. That’s Serina’s lipstick and perfume. I didn’t touch them, Hattie. I didn’t want them, all I wanted was you, except I was fucking stupid and got so drunk I couldn’t drive. I passed out on Sniper’s couch, where I stayed until I woke up and came straight here to you.”
“You didn’t touch them?” I whimper, looking directly into his chocolatey eyes.
A smile tugs on his lips before he shakes his head once, his eyes never leaving mine.
“No, princess. I’m yours,” he mutters.
“I didn’t like the way you being out all night with zero communication felt, Johnny. I want to be able to be yours, and I want to do this, but last night…” I let my words trail off.
I’m unable to finish my sentence because Johnny’s lips are pressed against mine in a sweet kiss. It isn’t hard or brutal, just our lips touching and his hand cupping my cheek. It’s gentle and very sweet. It’s very unlike him.
The Notorious Devils MC: Complete Collection BoxSet Page 77
