Flamed with Courage: Notorious Devils (Cash Bar Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  I hear the door open, then click closed before the lock is put into place. My thighs tremble in anticipation. Free walks up behind me, his fingertips gently grazing my ass. He lets his fingers fall from my skin and I hear rustling from behind me, then his hands grip my ass before he tugs me backward.

  My breath hitches when I feel his tongue slide through my center. He sucks on my clit, his tongue flicking me. I groan when he fills my pussy, fucking me and pulling me against his face.

  My fingers grip the sheets beneath my hands, and I hold on as I press against his mouth. His scruff feels so good, scraping against my inner thighs, my eyes roll into the back of my head at the sensation.

  Free returns his attention to my clit. I cry out as I climb closer and then I let out a growl in frustration as he releases his hold on me and removes his mouth from my center.

  “Settle down, Kitten. I’m going to make you feel good,” he chuckles.

  I want to slap him for laughing at my expense, but I’m too turned on, too on edge, to protest or even form a sentence. Then my eyes slide closed as I feel the head of his cock against my sore center. He slowly slips inside of me, filling and stretching me until he’s completely to the hilt.

  Free stays buried deep inside of me as one of his hands slides up my spine and grabs ahold of my hair. His other hand slips around my hip until I feel two fingers against my clit. Free tugs my head back, forcing me to arch, which changes the angle of the way he fits inside of me.

  “I want to see my name, I want to see who owns you, Kitten,” he growls.

  I suck in a breath when he pulls almost completely out of me then slams back inside. He moans, swiveling his hips behind me. Then, without warning, he repeats the motion, except this time he doesn’t pause, his thrusts come quick and unyielding. My eyes slide closed as I attempt to relax. Each pump of his hips causes my body to freeze up at the slight pain.

  Free’s fingers begin to work my clit, they move just like his cock does, hard and fast. It’s all too much. There’s so much sensation rolling throughout my entire body. I want to beg him to stop, and to keep going, all at the same time—if I could form words that is.

  His soft grunts and the sound of our skin slapping together as it meets fills the room. I whimper as I climb closer toward my climax. It feels like it’s going to be too big.

  Arching my back even more, I push against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as his cock touches this perfect place inside of me. I let out a sound between a cry and a scream as I come. My thighs shake, hell my entire body shakes as the climax consumes me.

  “Fuck,” Free curses behind me. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” he chants.

  Then I feel him quickly slide out of me before warm spurts of liquid land on my lower back, and between my ass cheeks. His heavy breathing, mixed with my own, fills the room, replacing the sounds of our slapping skin.

  “When you’re healed, I’m painting my ink with my cum,” he announces from behind me.

  I feel his fingers spread the liquid around my back, then between my ass cheeks. I almost attempt to pull away when I feel him gently rub circles against my back entrance, but I’m too worn out still trying to catch my breath, so I stay relaxed and still as he hums behind me.

  “You look so fucking pretty, painted with my cum, Kitten. This ass is especially pretty. I bet you’ll look phenomenal with my cock deep inside this sweet ass, too.”

  He tugs my head back by my hair, his grip never wavering. Turning my head to the side, he leans over, careful not to let his chest touch my shoulder. His lips press against mine and his tongue fills me, as his finger slips into my back entrance. I initially jerk away from him, but his grasp in my hair won’t let me go far, and his tongue in my mouth feels too good to try.

  His finger slides in and out of me, slowly fucking me as his tongue moves in and out of my mouth. It doesn’t take long before I’m meeting his strokes, enjoying the way he’s filling me. It’s official, I love the way he touches every part of my body.

  Releasing his mouth from mine, he slowly slips his finger from my entrance, and I can’t hold back the whimper, shamelessly wishing he wouldn’t stop.

  “Gotta keep you wanting more, Kitten,” he grins, with a small tap to my ass.

  “I’ll reschedule our house shit for tomorrow, let me clean you up and you can rest,” he murmurs.

  He disappears out of the room and a few minutes later he has a warm cloth and is wiping my ass and lower back of his release. He leans over me, pressing his lips to the side of my neck. “I got some shit to do. You rest, and I’ll come get you before dinner.”

  I hum, my eyelids feeling heavy before they finally completely close. I can hear him rustling with his clothes behind me, but I can’t move, I’m too tired—too sated.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FREE

  Leaving a naked, sated, Whitley alone in bed, is not something I ever want to do. However, I need to get my assignment for the week from Snake. Now that shit around here has changed, and some of the brothers are headed down to the states, all of our schedules are different than they used to be.

  Knocking on Snake’s office door, I wait for him to call me in. I hear him clear his throat then he tells me to enter. Sitting on his lap is his wife, Ginger and I’m sure I interrupted something, especially since her face is beat fucking red.

  “I’m going to go ahead and go. Evalyn should be up from her nap now,” she mumbles as she stands from his leg. Ginger hurries toward the door but stops right next to me. Looking up at me she smiles. “How is Whitley, does she need anything?” she asks.

  “She’s okay, branded her today,” I smirk.

  Ginger’s eyes round in surprise and her mouth drops open slightly. She starts to say something, then clamps her lips closed. “Well since she’s one of us, if she needs anything, you just let me know,” she smiles.

  Her face is all tight now though, and I don’t understand it. I don’t get an opportunity to either, she scurries out of the room closing the door behind her.

  “You branded her?” Snake asks, his own eyes wide with surprise.

  Walking over to the chair that’s across from his desk I sink down, stretching my legs in front of me. “I did,” I say almost challengingly.

  He shakes his head, “Brother, that shits pretty much fucking permanent. You don’t really know her.”

  “I took her out of that house. I took her away from everything she knew, and I brought her here. I’m responsible for her,” I announce, irritation obviously laced in my voice.

  Snake clears his throat, closing his eyes in a slow blink, then reopens them. “She ain’t Gemma, brother. You don’t need to try and save her. Just being rescued from that place she’s got the club at her back, with or without your brand. Don’t make her an Old Lady just to try and make your conscience feel better about Gem.”

  I grip my fists tight, trying not to go off on my president, and my best friend. “I know she’s not Gemma. I don’t even feel guilty when I’m with her, Snake. I enjoy being with her and getting to know her. She’s a sweet girl,” I grind out.

  Snake chuckles. “She’s a sweet girl, she can’t be more than twenty. You keeping her so that you can make her into what you want, the way you want?” he asks.

  His insinuation pisses me right the fuck off. I can’t even call him on it, because he’s not fucking wrong. I want to ease my guilt about Gemma, by protecting Whitley and keeping her safe. I also want Whitley to be exactly what I desire, to take me the way I am and the way I give it. That makes me a fucking dick, and I’m completely aware of it, the thing is, I don’t really care.

  I shrug, and his eyes narrow. “Not in the habit of allowing my men to hold women hostage, Mason,” Snake growls. I blink when he uses my real name, but I don’t show any other reaction.

  “You can ask her if I’m keeping her hostage, she’ll tell you the truth. I’m not. What I am is keeping her and protecting her. She’s got no education, she’s been living in that compound for the past three ye
ars, what will she do in the outside world, Prescott?”

  He grunts at the use of his own real name, throwing the pen in his grasp across his desk. I watch as he stands, placing his fists on his desk and leans forward.

  “Listen to me. If you think for one fucking second that I can’t take her to some women’s shelter in Calgary with the rest of those bitches, you’ve lost your goddamn mind,” he growls.

  I stand as well, placing my fists on my hips and narrow my eyes, clenching my jaw and trying to keep my shit together.

  “You try and take my woman from me, my Old Lady, you’ll have a fight on your hands that you may not live to see the end of. Don’t fuck with me, Snake. I’ve claimed her. Next to the club, she’s the most important thing in my life. Do not ever try to get between me and her. How I treat her, her role in my life is of no consequence to you. All you need to know is, she wears my brand,” I growl.

  Turning away from him, I stomp toward the door. “Free,” he calls, and I force myself to freeze, waiting for him to speak. I keep my back to him, and my hand on the doorknob. “Just, don’t do this just for Gemma. That part of your life is over. Whitley deserves a little happiness, she’s been dealt a shit hand, brother.”

  I don’t ask him for more details, or how he knows what exactly my woman has been dealt in life. I walk out of the room, abandoning my mission of finding out my duties for the week. He can fuck himself. Maybe I won’t do fucking shit. Maybe I’ll just find a place for me and my woman and fuck her all week long.

  Fuck him.

  I don’t go back to my room like I want. I’m afraid that I’ll angry fuck Whitley and I don’t think her pussy could handle me at full strength right now. Instead, I make my way toward the bar and motion to the prospect for a beer. Once he hands it to me, I take a pull and close my eyes.

  “You ain’t fuckin’ your new Old Lady,” a voice points out from next to me.

  Glancing to the side, I smirk at Crooner as he settles in the seat next to me. “Neither are you,” I point out.

  “Hayden’s working, fucker,” he chuckles.

  I take another pull from my beer before I blurt out a question. “How come everyone was all for you and Hayden, yet me and Whitley? It’s suddenly fucking concerning? They’re the same fucking age.”

  Crooner, presses his palms flat on the bar top, his eyes looking directly into mine. “We got a completely different story, brother,” he says keeping his voice low. “And I got a completely different past.”

  I grunt, lifting my free hand to scrub it down my face, feeling my stubble prick my skin. “Doesn’t matter. She’s mine. My Old Lady, my property. She deserves respect. And I deserve the respect I earned from making her such. If someone doesn’t like it, they can keep their goddamn mouth shut. She’s fucking marked,” I growl.

  Crooner nods, “She’s yours, brother. She’ll get nothing but respect from me, but just remember, Snake saw everything you went through. The rest of us just know bits and pieces of your story, but he saw it all, brother. He’s just looking out for your best interest, as a friend, not a president.”

  Standing, I finish downing my beer. Taking a step away from the bar I clear my throat.

  “I know, and the fucker of it all, he ain’t wrong,” I admit, then walk away.

  WHITLEY

  Something warm trails up and down my spine, and my eyelids flutter open to find Free sitting on the bed next to me. He’s staring straight at me, but I can tell that he doesn’t see me. He’s focused on something in his mind, on his own thoughts. I don’t bother interrupting him, his gentle strokes against my back, it feels too good to interrupt.

  “We’re house hunting tomorrow,” he murmurs, finally breaking his silence. I nod, still unsure if I should speak. His fingers continue against my spine as he talks. “My president thinks keeping you for myself is wrong. He thinks this all has to do with my past, the way I marked you so quickly.”

  I wait a few beats, but he doesn’t say anything. “Does it?” I finally ask.

  Clearing his throat, he nods. “It does, but then again it doesn’t. I know you aren’t her. I know that I’m not the same person I was all those years ago, but I still feel guilty. I still feel like if I help you, if I protect you, then maybe that will lessen my guilt.”

  “Will you tell me about her, about what happened?” I chance asking.

  He’s in a reflective mood, and I want to know exactly what happened to this girl that makes him think he’s held responsible.

  He shakes his head, his fingers moving down to my ass, and then drifting completely away from me. “Doesn’t matter. It’s the past.” He shrugs, looking away and directly toward the window.

  “But I think it does, Free. It affects everything you do, it affects us, and what everyone thinks of our relationship. You won’t even tell me your name,” I whisper as tears swim in my eyes.

  “She only called me by my name, is that what you want to hear? If you do it, it’ll remind me of her,” he growls, standing up from the bed.

  I watch as he walks over to the window, looking out at the forest in the near distance. Slipping out of the bed myself, still naked from earlier, I walk toward his back. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I press my front to his cool leather covered back.

  “Baby,” I rasp. “I’m not her. I’ll never be her, but you’ve marked me, I think I deserve to know your name. I think I deserve to know the name of the man I let inside of my body.”

  He turns around in my arms, so quickly that I’m thrown off balance. His hands wrap around my hips and he holds me steady as he tips his chin down, his dark eyes looking deeply into my own.

  “You’ll be happy knowing what I allow, and nothing else, Whitley. Circumstances haven’t changed and this mark on your shoulder means I’m sliding in that sweet cunt whenever I please, whether you know my name or not,” he states, his jaw hard and his eyes unyielding as he stares down at me.

  Placing my hands on his chest I try to push away from him, but he doesn’t allow it. “So you’d force yourself on me, is that what you’re saying?” I hiss.

  He smirks, but it’s cold and it frightens me as his fingertips grip me even tighter. Leaning forward he almost touches his nose with mine. “I wouldn’t have to force you, Kitten. One touch from me, you’ll be spreading and begging for more.”

  I jerk my chin to the side, refusing to look in his devilish eyes. He slides his nose alongside my jaw, then up my hairline until his mouth is next to my ear. I can’t hide the shiver that rolls through me or the way my back automatically arches, pushing my breasts closer toward him, silently, stupidly, begging for his touch.

  “See, Kitten. I own you, every fucking part of you. Name or no name, knowing my past, or not. Doesn’t fucking matter,” he rasps.

  I hate him because he’s right.

  My eyes slide closed as I attempt to hide my reaction. I want to cry. I want to scream out of frustration, but mostly, I want to cry. The last thing I want is for him to see even more of my vulnerabilities. It’s obvious he already knows my weaknesses, I just wish that I knew his as well.

  “I’m goin’ for a ride. I’ll bring you back some dinner, see you later,” he states releasing me.

  I open my mouth to protest, but he’s already out the door. Frowning, I step closer toward the window and watch. A few minutes later I see him walk over to his bike. He straddles it, then lifts his face up toward my direction.

  I don’t know if he can see me or not, but I place my hand on the glass, aware that I’m still naked, and my breasts are on full display, only right now I don’t care. Right now, my focus is on Free, and what we are, and the way he makes me feel. I’m falling for this man, this complete stranger, and I hate it.

  A few minutes later there’s a knock on the door, and I quickly spin around, my eyes searching for something to cover myself with. I pull open a drawer and quickly slip on one of Free’s shirts. Shakily, I walk over to the door, slowly pulling it open. There’s a woman standing in front of me. She’
s slim, with blondish brown hair, and a wide smile.

  “I’m Ginger, we haven’t met yet,” she states, breezing past me. “I’m Snake, the president’s Old Lady,” she announces.

  I nod, sucking in a breath. She is probably the most important woman in this club, she’s the leader’s woman, and I have to make a good impression. “I’m Whitley,” I offer, giving her a smile, a fake smile.

  She eyes me, tipping her head to the side before a genuine smile crosses her lips. She straightens her head and then her face gets very serious before she speaks again, “You aren’t alone here. I mean, I know you’ve met Hayden, but I was one of their girls too,” she says.

  My mouth drops open slightly. “You were?” I breathe.

  “I was, until some Notorious Devils out of Northern California rescued me. Had they not found me when they did, I probably would have been lost forever,” she says.

  I nod, guilt swimming up my throat, and threatening to choke me. She was hurt, like Hayden, and I was never touched. I shouldn’t be lumped in with the other women, I never was hurt the way they were. My life was easy compared to their nightmares.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you. I wish I could have known how to stop it all,” I admit, dropping my eyes to my feet.

  Ginger reaches forward and wraps her hand around my own, giving me a squeeze. “There was nothing you could have done, Whitley. Me and Hayden, we’re good, babe. Life has given us this beautiful chance, even after the hell we lived,” she winks. “Now, I want to get to know you, I heard Free claimed you.”

  A genuine smile appears, and I nod. “He did.”

  “Our Old Lady group is small, but we’re fun,” she adds.

  We spend the next hour chatting amongst one another. She owns the bar in town, but doesn’t work there unless there’s an emergency, and lately there has been an influx of construction workers, so they’ve been slammed. I almost offered to help, but then I remember what Free said about me working there. She tells me about Gracie, one of the other Old Ladies that she’s friends with, and her teenage daughter Lea.