Rough & Ruthless (Notorious Devils Book 4)

by Hayley Faiman

  The man who is at the forefront of my mind sits down next to me with a long sigh. I peek over at him and try to hide my smile. He’s removed his sexy aviator glasses, and he’s studying the menu, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in concentration.

  I decide to take a moment to really look at him. His hair is a shade darker than Fury’s and greying at the temples. He’s also sporting a beard, something he didn’t have all those years ago when I first met him. It looks hot as hell on him, too. I don’t know how old he is, but I know he looks nothing like his age. He looks like he could be Fury’s brother, definitely not his father.

  The waitress comes by and takes our orders, her eyes glazing over as she goes from one biker to the next. Something about these men in leather makes women stupid—me included.

  “What can I get for ya?” she asks, popping her gum and staring at me.

  My eyes scan the sticky menu again and I can’t decide. I’m not used to diner food anymore. Kyle always made mention of calories and fat content. Not that I have ever really worried about that, but I suppose he was conditioning me without me even realizing it.

  “What do you want, sweetness?” MadDog murmurs next to me.

  My breath hitches at his tender tone and his nickname. Sweetness. I really, really like that.

  “I’ll have a dinner salad, no dressing, and grilled chicken?” I say. It comes out more like a question.

  “Bullshit,” MadDog barks. “She’ll have a bacon cheeseburger, sweet potato fries, and a chocolate shake.”

  The waitress leaves, and I slowly turn my head to look at him. Shocked by his dismissal, and then completely blown away that he ordered for me—without asking me. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.

  “Tell us what the fuck we took you out of,” he barks.

  I jump slightly and look around to the other men, all of whom look as though they’re lazing in their chairs, except their eyes are alert and focused on me.

  “He—he,” I exhale a shaky breath. “Kyle started verbally abusing me, I guess, a while ago. Then he started hitting me, but only twice,” I say quietly.

  Instantly, MadDog’s body straightens and his anger fills the entire restaurant.

  “Go,” he growls. I watch as the other men stand and scatter away from our table. “Finish,” he demands, his eyes completely focused on me.

  “He wanted to offer me to some executive that could better his career,” I whisper as I look down at my lap.

  “Offer you?” MadDog asks, but I can hear the ferocious anger in his voice, and I know he understands me. I lift my eyes and they crash with his angry ones.

  “Some of his colleagues, their wives and girlfriends, they don’t mind doing things like that.”

  “He’s dead,” MadDog says, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “No, no, I just want to be away from him,” I beg, wrapping my hand around his strong bicep.

  “He’s. Fuckin’. Dead.” MadDog growls.

  Then, as if he hadn’t said those words with that conviction, with his raw anger filling the entire room, he turns his head and lifts his chin, signaling for the other men to join us. Once they’re settled, our panting waitress brings our food, and all conversation is halted as the men start to eat.

  I look down at my plate, wondering how on earth I’m going to eat the greasy food, curious if MadDog will notice if I don’t. When he clears his throat, I turn my head to look at him.

  “Eat your food, sweetness,” he murmurs.

  “It’s so much,” I whisper.

  “Could use some extra meat on your bones, babe,” he grunts. My eyes widen in surprise, which makes him chuckle. “Don’t got enough there to feed a starvin’ man a stew, sugar.”

  “Max,” I hiss with mixed irritation and embarrassment.

  The other men chuckle but keep their heads down and continue to eat.

  “We’re not stopping for food again until we’re back at home. This has to hold you over. Eat.”

  I decide not to go crazy on him for the way he blatantly told me that I was too skinny. I’ve always been skinny. Nothing’s changed, and odds are, it will never change. Maybe if I were going to have kids someday, but I have zero desire to do that. No, my childhood was screwed up just enough that I don’t ever want to have my own children. I wouldn’t know what to do with them.

  I’m not like my brother. He’s always been loving and nurturing. He always took care of me, and still does, even to this day. That’s not to say that I don’t like kids, I do. I adore them, actually. I loved helping Kentlee with Bear as a baby; but to have my own? I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how to be a good mother.

  I start to eat, getting halfway through my burger, fries, and shake before I feel like my stomach just might explode all over the restaurant.

  “Good?” MadDog asks from next to me.

  I look up and am surprised to notice that we’re alone at the table again.

  “They’re waitin’ by the bikes. Wanted to make sure you got your fill,” he shrugs.

  “Thank you. I—I’m—” He holds his hand up to stop me from continuing on.

  “I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. Not used to this shit,” he murmurs.

  “What shit?” I ask, tipping my head to the side.

  “Women who have obviously been mistreated. I don’t know how to handle a woman with care. It’s been too many years since I had to, and even then, I wasn’t very fuckin’ good at it,” he grunts.

  I look at him, a mixture of emotion going through me. The first being surprise. I’m surprised that he’s admitting that he doesn’t quite know how to handle a woman with care. That says a lot about him as a man. And then I’m also surprised because, although he is gruff, he’s been very kind, and he’s yet to scare me.

  “You’re fine, I promise,” I say as I stand up from my seat.

  We walk out of the restaurant together and toward the five men waiting on their bikes. There is so much more that I need to tell MadDog about my situation, about Kyle, but not yet. Maybe soon, when we’re alone, but not right now. Right now, I just want to get as far away from him as possible.

  “You need to call Sniper,” MadDog says as I climb behind him on his bike, strapping my helmet on.

  I ignore him. I do need to call my brother—but I don’t want to. So, for now, I’m not going to.

  I wrap my arms around MadDog’s waist and hug his back closely, feeling the heat from his body against me, and closing my eyes as he roars away—further away from Kyle. Further away from hell.

  Nine fuckin’ hours with Mary-Anne’s body pressed against my back is too much for my cock to handle. I’ve never been so happy to see my clubhouse come into view. I should take her to my own house, but she’ll be safer here.

  Once I’ve parked, she slides off of my bike with a hiss and a groan. I grin to myself, knowing exactly how she’s feeling after a long ride.

  Then my thoughts turn, and I wonder what it would be like to kiss those sore thighs all better. I shake my head. It doesn’t matter, because it’s not going to happen. She’s younger than my own fuckin’ kid.

  “What happens now?” she asks, her blue eyes wide and scared, focused completely on me.

  It makes me wonder what those eyes look like when she comes—do they widen with surprise? Would they glitter with mischief? Would they fucking melt? Christ. I need to get laid. It’s as simple as that. I need some fuckin’ pussy.

  “Now, you go inside the clubhouse, I find you a room, and you sleep until tomorrow morning. Then we’ll sit down and you’ll tell me exactly who this cock-fuck is,” I grunt before I start to walk away from her. I freeze when I feel her hand wrap around mine.

  “I just want to say thank you, MadDog, for everything,” she murmurs.

  “Max,” I grunt before I turn around to face her. She doesn’t say anything, looking at me in confusion. “I like it when you call me Max. Nobody but Kentlee does.”

  I watch as her lips tip in a small smile before she steps e
ven closer to me, so close that I feel the brush of her tit against my forearm. I stand frozen, balling my hand into a fist so I don’t reach out to touch her, which would only lead to me fucking her right here in this parking lot, not giving a damn who sees.

  “Max,” she breathes huskily. I wonder if that’s how she’d say it when her pussy was full of my cock.

  “C’mon,” I grind out as I turn and walk, keeping her hand in mine and practically dragging her behind me.

  I need to get her inside, settled in a room, and locked away from me—from my hard dick.

  The clubhouse is in full swing—tits and ass, green and booze filling the space—but I’m on a mission, and that mission is to get Mary-Anne locked away safely. Then I need to get my cock taken care of, so I don’t fall into her bed.

  I hear Mary-Anne’s intake of breath behind me. I’m sure she’s surprised at what she sees, but I’m not stopping. I’m not giving her a chance to let any of this shit she’s seeing penetrate in that pretty little head of hers.

  If I had my way, I’d lock her up in her room and not allow her out; but she’s a twenty-seven-year-old woman. Eventually, I won’t be able to stop her—tonight, however, she’s going to her room and staying there.

  When we arrive at my bedroom in the clubhouse, I throw the door open and drag her inside, slamming it behind us with a kick of my boot.

  “Max,” she says, her voice sounding breathy and winded.

  “This is my room. Nobody will bother you here. Just lock the door behind me and I’ll come get you in the morning to talk,” I grunt.

  “Wait, you’re leaving me here?” she asks with wide eyes. Fuck, those wide eyes, they’re killing me.

  “Yeah, you need to rest.”

  “But,” she says, her bottom lip trembling before she steps toward me.

  I don’t want her to touch me—I fucking like her touch too much already. Her hand raises and touches my chest. Even though I’m wearing a shirt, it’s as if she’s burning a hole through the fabric. Fuck.

  “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

  I shake my head once. I can’t stay, not in here. Not alone with her. Not as hard as my cock is, and not with the way her wide eyes are looking at me, and looking to me.

  “You’re safe here,” I grunt before I take a step back from her.

  Turning around, I walk away from her without another word or backward glance. Everything inside of me calls me to stay with her, to hold her, and to reassure her that she’s safe and that she can trust me.

  Everything except my dick.

  My dick wants inside of her so badly I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself. I haven’t felt this way since I was a punk ass, hormonally raged teenager. I need to get away from her. If I don’t, I’ll scare her and possibly hurt her.

  “Hey,” a whore says as I make my way up to the bar.

  It’s the same little blonde that gave me a horrible as fuck blow job yesterday. She’s batting her long eyelashes at me and pouting her red painted lips. She’s fuckin’ young, younger than Mary-Anne, and I wonder what in the actual fuck am I doing here? Shit.

  “I’d like another taste,” the girl whispers with a sly grin. I motion for a beer and ignore her before taking a pull from the bottle.

  “You need some lessons before I’d let your mouth on my cock again,” I murmur. Her eyes widen as her mouth gapes open slightly.

  “Excuse me?” she screeches, sounding offended. Fuck me—I do not do female drama.

  “Heard me,” I mutter.

  “I cannot believe you just said that to me,” she says, puffing her fake tits out.

  “How’s that? Seeing as I’ve been getting my dick sucked since before you were born, I’m a little more versed in what good head feels like. I’m telling you, you need fuckin’ lessons,” I bark.

  “Here I was just surprised you could get it up to begin with, now you’re criticizing my abilities?” she says, her voice shrill as shit.

  “Wow, you’re a special kind of bitch,” I hear from behind me.

  I turn around to find Mary-Anne standing with her hand propped on her hip, her leg jutting out, giving off attitude for fuckin’ days. I lift my eyebrows in surprise as I stand.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the little whore screeches, yet again. Christ, these damn bitches are obnoxious.

  “None of your business. Get the fuck away from me before I have you dragged outta here,” I say, my eyes never leaving Mary’s. “What are you doing down here?” I ask, arching a brow in question.

  “I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to,” she says, lifting her shoulder in a shrug.

  “Wanna get drunk?”

  “Yes. Please, yes,” she sighs.

  I reach over the bar and grab a bottle of tequila before I lift my chin toward my office. I’m not sitting at the bar with her, drinking with the shit that’s going down in the clubhouse. I’m also a selfish fuck, and I can practically feel my brothers salivating over her with each step she takes in the bar.

  I want her to myself, those blue eyes completely focused on me.

  For hours.

  Days.

  Fuck me—maybe even years.

  I follow behind Max—Max. Though I’ve called him this a time or two, I’ve always thought of him by his road name, MadDog. I have to admit that I like thinking of him as Max. It’s less harsh and gruff than the other name. While he comes off as both of those things, I also think that there’s more to him. I’ve now seen a softness to him that has surprised me. I like it a hell of a lot.

  I watch his ass as we walk, his jeans molding him perfectly, as if he had them tailored to fit and showcase the most alluring parts of his body. I try not to stare, but I fail miserably.

  We walk into his office and he turns around, my eyes still focused on his pants now zeroed in on his crotch. I wonder what lies beneath his zipper. Everything about him is so big and powerful, I wonder if that part of him is as well.

  Max clears his throat. I look up to see that he’s grinning, obviously catching me ogling him. My face heats in embarrassment, and he chuckles before he turns to his desk and pulls out two empty shot glasses from his drawer.

  I watch as he pours two shots of tequila and then hands me one of them. I swallow the liquid without a thought, hissing as it burns my throat on the way down. Max shoots his as well, his eyes staying focused on mine.

  “Why couldn’t you sleep?” he asks, taking my glass and pouring another round.

  “My mind was going crazy,” I shrug.

  “Tell me about him,” he says, handing me a full shot.

  I take it, noticing that the burning is less this go around, and my lips are starting to tingle. I can’t remember the last time I got drunk—when I was twenty-one, maybe.

  “Kyle works in finance, wears suits, drinks wine, and enjoys eating at nice restaurants. He bought me flowers and was so nice to me,” I say, exhaling a shaky breath before gladly taking the third shot that Max offers me.

  “Until,” he prompts when I don’t continue.

  “Until he met Bates,” I admit on a whisper.

  “The fuck’s he got to do with anything?” Max growls.

  I shake my tiny shot glass at him to show that I’m empty and in need of a refill. He sighs heavily but does it for me. After I shoot the liquid down, only then do I continue.

  “He started calling me names, treating me differently after he met Bates. Maybe he thought I was trash after he discovered my brother was in an MC? I don’t know, but then he hit me,” I whisper the last sentence and jump when I hear glass shatter across the room. I lift my eyes to see Max’s chest rising and falling with his heavy, labored breaths. “It was just twice and they weren’t that bad, I’ve had worse,” I hurry to say.

  It’s the wrong thing to say. I know this because he begins to crowd me, walking toward me. I retreat until my back hits the wall and there’s nowhere else for me to go. I flinch when I see his hand lift, but then he c
ups the side of my neck. I let out a shaky breath when his thumb traces my bottom lip.

  “He’s dead. So is that piece of shit you call a father,” Max’s voice rumbles.

  “Max,” I breathe.

  His head dips closer to mine and his lips are so close that they’re practically brushing against my own.

  “They. Are. Dead. Mary-Anne. No man touches a woman like that. No man touches a good woman like that and then breathes clean air.”

  I suck in my lips, pressing them together before biting on my bottom one as I look into his fierce blue eyes. I lift my own hand and wrap my fingers around the back of his neck, tangling them in his longish hair.

  I can’t look away from his eyes. They have me held hostage. His warm breath fanning my face and the way he’s so serious, so convicted in his anger toward Kyle and my father, it makes me want so much more from him.

  I’ve never met a man like him before, who cared so much about how I was treated, nobody other than Bates; even he left me to fend for myself—though, I know he did it to save himself. I’ve never blamed him for it, not once.

  “Max,” I say before I move from the wall and press my body against his.

  I’m not sure why I’m doing it, I only know that I like the way he feels against me.

  “You start this, sweetness—you start this and I’ll finish it,” he says, warning me, and yet, I’m not turned off. In fact, I’m that much more turned on by him.

  “I’m a big girl,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, the shit you been through? You aren’t thinking straight,” he growls as his eyes narrow in on my lips.

  I release them from my teeth and part them just to watch his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare with want.

  I’ve never been this girl before. I’ve never thrown myself at a man. Yet, here I am—unabashedly, unashamedly, and unrelentingly throwing myself at him; at a man who is older than my father; a man who is rough and hardened by life; a man who is everything I have never desired before, except I desire him more than I’ve ever desired another man—in my life.