Cutslut

by Kim Jones

  39

  WINTER

  I’m spent.

  Sated.

  Blissfully content.

  You know… all those awesome things you are when you’ve just been fucked hard. Kissed softly. Held tenderly… Good romance novel shit.

  That’s me.

  Lying on the bedroom floor.

  Unsure of how I got here.

  Not giving a damn.

  Focused on the scruffy jaw that nuzzles my neck. The rough hand that slides up and down my hip. That massive arm-pillow beneath my head.

  “There’s a club party this weekend,” Jinx says, his mouth close to my ear. “Starts at the bar, then everyone is coming here for the after party.” I suppress a groan.

  He lifts his head to look at me. Raising a brow, he studies me with those half-mast gray eyes. “You gonna play nice? Or do I need to find a cage to lock you in?” I know he’s referring to my bullshit fight with Dallas. It’s the first time he’s mentioned it since we left Regg’s three days ago.

  I knew Jinx could never find out that I assisted in taking Luke’s journal. So I decided to take something less important, because he was watching me so closely. It was too easy to slide his wallet from his baggy jeans. Then the Prospects. And it was Dallas who’d stolen Luke’s and passed it to me. I hid them in the sleeve of my sweater. Left them in the freezer when I got the frozen peas for my eye and now everyone believes it was just a joke. Not the girl who committed an unforgivable sin—like taking, “the book.”

  But he’d overreacted. Grabbed me. I wasn’t angry. I’m still not. I’m pretty sure guilt over him losing his shit and fisting my shirt is the reason he’s avoided the topic up until now. And since I’m dealing with some guilt of my own, I can’t hold what he did against him.

  “Me and Dallas are good. It’s Luke who I think is still pissed at me.”

  Jinx smirks, his eyes falling to my lips that he traces with the tip of his finger. “He’s not pissed. His pride was hurt, but he’s over it.” Thoughtful, he drags his finger to the fading bruise at the corner of my eye. “You say the two of you are good. I’m not so sure I believe that.”

  Rolling my head so I’m looking at the ceiling, I shrug. “Believe what you want. I’m not lying. She hit me. I deserved it. As far as I’m concerned, the shit is squashed.”

  “What shit?”

  I shoot him a sideways look. “I called her out.”

  “That’s not why she hit you though, is it?” He’s a smart fucker. “You told her you wouldn’t help her. That’s what pissed her off.” An observant one too… “What was that about?”

  I could tell him. But there’s a bitch code all women within the MC live by. It’s unspoken but understood. It doesn’t matter if you like the woman or not. You don’t rat each other out to the men. Even the smallest, most insignificant thing can be taken out of context. But something like this? Stealing the book? That shit will start a fucking war.

  “Nothing really. She thought I owed her an apology. Wanted me to do something to make up for calling them out. It was bullshit. Just a test to see if I would. I didn’t.” It’s not a complete lie.

  “What did she want you to do?”

  I smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Yes. I would.”

  Releasing a breath, I untangle myself from beneath him and stand. “Sorry, sweetheart. Some things just aren’t any of your business.” Even if it was, I wouldn’t tell him. There’s something satisfying and warming about having this secret with Dallas. It makes me feel like, for the first time, I actually have a place in this life. A respected place.

  Rolling to his back, he crosses his arms behind his head and looks up at me towering over his deliciously naked body. A crooked smile plays on his sexy as sin lips. “I can fuck the truth out of you.”

  No. He couldn’t. But my body still heats at his promise. I want more of him. I can’t get enough. So I give him an offer I know he can’t refuse and I won’t regret.

  “You’re more than welcome to try.”

  Spending the rest of my life with Cain was my greatest fear when I arrived here. Now, six weeks later, my greatest fear is a life without Jinx. Maybe that’s why even though the clock is ticking and I have less than two weeks left here, I can’t find the will to leave.

  I should be long gone, or at least have some sort of plan in place. But every time I try to focus on getting away, Jinx looks at me. Like he’s looking at me now. Causing my temperature to rise to dangerous levels.

  It’s the night of the club party. He’s wearing his cut. Low hanging jeans. White long-sleeved Henley. His hat backwards. The chain around his neck has a silver, diamond shaped pendant hanging from it—the number thirteen embossed in bold letters. And as I drink him in, he’s devouring me.

  He starts at my pink heels. Moves up my naked legs. Pauses at the hem of my shimmering, gold dress that is dangerously short. To the low neckline that scoops beneath my breasts. Across my collar bone. My lips that match my heels. Then finally to my eyes.

  When he holds my gaze without blinking for longer than I’m comfortable with, I shift on my feet and brush a wayward strand of hair from my face. “What’s wrong?” I ask, almost innocently.

  Biting his bottom lip, he surveys me from head to toe one more time and shakes his head slowly. “Not a motherfuckin’ thing.”

  My thoughts go crazy at the possessiveness in his tone. His stare. I lick my lips. Suppress a moan. Thinking of all the places he’s going to touch me tonight. Kiss me. Lick me. Fuck me. Why the fuck do we have to go to this damn club? And why the hell do they have to come back here?

  He’s in front of me now. His knuckles grazing the side of my breast. His lips pressing softly against the corner of mine. His scent—that masculine, rich, heady, expensive cologne infused scent of his, permeating my senses. Making me drunk. Dizzy. Wet.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I whisper, barely stifling a moan.

  Taking my hand in his, he brushes my knuckles with his thumb. Pulls me along side him as he moves toward the door. His strides fluid. His eyes focused. His voice reluctant and regretful as he mumbles under his breath.

  “I know, baby. I fuckin’ know.”

  The nightclub is packed. The music is loud. The drinks flowing. The atmosphere electric. And all I can think about is ripping the face off of every bitch who gives Jinx a onceover as they pass. When I steal a look at him, I’m pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing about all the men who are openly ogling me.

  Jaw tight. Teeth clenched. His barely contained rage is obvious in the thick veins that pulse in his neck. When a guy says something about my legs being around his neck, I swear I hear Jinx growl. And it only makes me that much more possessive of him. That much hotter. Hornier.

  Though the place is crowded, people seem to move out of our way as we walk through the room and toward the VIP section that’s roped off in the very back. This, I’m used to—that aura of power that demands respect. Only this time, I feel butterflies knowing that, in this moment, I belong to the man who has my hand firmly clasped in his.

  “There the fuck you are!” Dallas yells, pulling at the hem of her tight, black dress as she clambers off her stool. The Prospect who unclasps the velvet rope to let us in, pales when Dallas nearly loses her footing. When she straightens, he lets out a relieved breath.

  “You good?” Jinx asks, his mouth at my ear. Shivers. Motherfucking shivers. I nod because I can’t seem to find my voice. “I’ll get you a drink,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze before releasing it. I turn and watch him walk back through the crowd, my body instantly missing the warmth of his.

  “I never thought you’d get here!” I look down at Dallas’s small form and smirk. She’s pretty buzzed. And it’s barely ten.

  Grabbing my arm, she pulls me past the overstuffed couches and flashing neon tables to a small crowd of women—all ol’ ladies or club affiliates.

  “Winter, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Winter.” I get a few no
ds from Dallas’s introduction but most of them ignore me—too caught up in some shitty gossip or talk of a pencil dick none of them will be allowed to fuck, because these women belong to the club.

  “How’s your eye?” Dallas asks, screaming at me over the music—no doubt in hopes others will hear. And ask. And she’ll get to tell the story of how she punched me in the eye. Whatever makes her feel better.

  “It’s good. Thanks.” I manage a smile. It widens when I feel a hand on my back and a familiar cocktail is offered to me.

  “Blackberry martini. Exclusive only to you.” I turn and Jinx’s arm instinctively wraps around my waist. Taking the drink, I wink at him over the rim. “Any surprises in this one?”

  He grins. “No beautiful. Just lots of alcohol. You’re gonna need it.” He arches his eyebrow toward Dallas who is chanting along with the song, “Shots.” Meanwhile, I’m still reeling because he called me beautiful. And to hide the effect that word has on me, I take a gulp of my drink. It’s perfect.

  “When you need another one, let him know.” He points to one of the Prospects who meets my gaze with a nod.

  I frown. “Where are you going?”

  “You get to party, sweetheart, but I actually have to fuckin’ work.” Even through his playful tone, I can hear the hint of disappointment. “Luke needs me out back. I’ll check in on you in a little bit. Have fun.” His eyes narrow a little and his voice hardens slightly. “Just don’t do anything to piss me off.”

  I grin at that. “Like what? Run?”

  “Exactly,” he mutters, fixing me one last time with his hard look before disappearing back into the crowd.

  Run? In this overly-guarded clusterfuck? I wouldn’t get past the door. But there’s some fun to have that doesn’t involve that. Like getting drunk. Dancing my ass off. Stealing everyone’s shit.

  “Yo!” I yell to the Prospect. He jerks his chin at me and I lift my glass. “Make it a double.”

  Jinx lied. There’s something special in this drink. There’s got to be. Because I’m fucked up like a lab rat. Granted, I have been throwing back doubles for the past couple hours. But I’m a professional! I should be able to handle my shit.

  When my buzz started to kick in, the need to steal something intensified. I got bored just as quickly. It was the same shit—keys to a Chevy. Wallets with little or no cash. Bic lighters. Chapstick. And I had more cigarettes than was smoked in Vietnam.

  So I started training Dallas and Red to pick pockets. That was more fun. Especially when they got caught. Swore their innocence to the club and we got to watch as the victims were ushered out in a not-so-nice manner.

  “Welp…” I slur, tossing an arm over Dallas’s shoulder. “Did ya get it?”

  She slumps in defeat and looks out at the man on the dance floor who still has his wallet. “No…fucker caught me.”

  I turn to Red whose kickass leather dress makes my nipples hard. “Whatta bout you?” Red holds her fist out, opens it and a set of keys dangle from her middle finger. We all cheer.

  “My feet hurt,” I groan, contemplating taking the bastards off like almost every other woman in the club had already done. I glance longingly over at the couches that have filled up since I’ve been here.

  “You wanna sit?” Red asks, not waiting for my answer before bulldozing her way through a few girls and glaring daggers at the people seated on the couch closest to us. When that doesn’t work, she calls in reinforcements. Soon, a patch holder is offering some kind of coupon to the people who quickly un-ass themselves.

  We swoop in and immediately fall back onto the cushions—propping our feet on the glowing table in front of us that changes colors every few seconds from purple to blue to green. A waitress brings us each a glass of ice water and we greedily accept. I lift mine to the camera in thanks, knowing Luke and probably Jinx are watching.

  Looking around, I notice Delilah is missing. Actually, I haven’t seen her in a while. “Where’s Delilah?”

  “It’s after midnight, which means it’s Sunday, which means she’s somewhere with Bryce, getting her ass spanked,” Dallas explains. We all nod in understanding. And a little bit of envy. “Hey…” Dallas’s head rolls to the side to face me. “I’m really glad you came. I mean, not just tonight. But…you know.”

  I cut my eyes at her. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yeah, but I’m still glad. I like you. Not just cause you got me the book, either. Thank you for that, by the way.” I nod once. She’d told me Maddie had found what she was looking for and managed to resolve the situation before it became a real situation. At least I’ve done something worthwhile since I’ve been here.

  “I agree.” Red peeks her head around Dallas and shoots me a genuine smile. Drunk, but genuine. “Pierce made it sound like you were a complete dick. Hell, he had us hating you before you got here.”

  Gulping down the rest of my water, I try not to focus too much on what she said, but Red has diarrhea of the mouth tonight. “He said you couldn’t be trusted.”

  “And that you were a selfish fuck who cared about no one but yourself.” Apparently Dallas has diarrhea of the mouth, too. “Nothing but a whore lookin’ for a dick to help you get what you wanted.”

  My blood cools.

  “A cold-hearted trashy whore,” Red clarifies.

  My stomach sinks.

  Dallas continues. “Who would fuck our ol’ man at the first opportunity.”

  My eyes sting.

  They continue. Telling me shit my brother told them about me. They’re laughing. Not realizing it’s tearing me to shreds. Probably because I’m laughing along with them to hide the pain. When one of them says he hated for me to be a burden to them like I was to him, I decide I’ve had enough.

  “I’ve got to pee,” I lie, standing so fast I have to reach out for something to steady myself. My hand lands on the shoulder of some chick who offers me a smile and a knowing look. But she doesn’t know. Doesn’t have a fucking clue.

  Unaware of the turmoil I’m feeling, Dallas and Red continue their excited chatter and follow behind me. I snag a cocktail from a passing waitress as we stand near the ropes and wait for a patch holder to escort us. Before she can protest, I’ve downed it and handed her back the empty glass with a look that dares her to say something. She doesn’t. Although I wish she would. I’d do just about anything to distract my mind and my heart from Pierce.

  My blood.

  My brother.

  My enemy.

  His hatred toward me. His bitterness. His malicious intent. Sure he’d said some mean shit before. But how could he force me to be a prisoner of the very people he blasted me to? Had I really wronged him enough to deserve that level of evil?

  I can feel the roll of emotions coursing through me—the ones leading up to my inevitable fall that will undoubtedly shatter me to pieces. I don’t want to cry here. I don’t want to show my weakness. Expose my broken heart. But I’m dying inside. And everyone will soon know it, because I’m not sure I have the strength to hold it in.

  What I need to do is sober up. Get the hell out of here. Stop drowning my sorrows in whiskey, kick these fucking heels off and bolt. Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost sight of who I am. Why I’m here. What I’ve done and what I still have to do.

  I’ve allowed myself to get too close to these people. I’ve made friends with Dallas and Red, who I’d vowed to keep at arm’s length. Tonight, I partied with the Devil’s Renegades—a club I’m not only eighty-sixed from, but who are holding me against my will. They’ll be returning to the clubhouse tonight. A place that’s supposed to be my prison, but has somehow turned into my sanctuary. And then, there’s…

  “Hey baby.” Jinx.

  He’s here.

  In front of me.

  Disrupting my thoughts.

  Looking at me with his brows slightly furrowed.

  Knowing that something is wrong.

  And I didn’t have to say a damn thing.

  Just like my dream guy…
<
br />   I nearly lose it. The urge to be that girl I promised myself I’d never be is almost overwhelming. I don’t want to run away. I want to run to him. I want him to hold me. Hug me. Be silent and strong. For once. Just for the moment. Only tonight, I want to be the girl who falls. And I want him to be the guy who catches me.

  “We’re leaving,” he says, and my entire body sags a little with relief. Keeping his eyes on me, he tells the Prospect, “Tell Luke he can get me on my cell.” Then his hand is at the small of my back and he’s gently guiding me toward the exit.

  Everyone is a blur as we weave through the crowd. I blink furiously to clear my vision—unsure if it’s tears or the alcohol. The moment we’re outside, I’m pretty sure it’s the alcohol. Jinx has to tighten his hold to keep me from toppling over. What the hell is it about fresh air?

  After a minute of just standing—me trying not to face-plant the sidewalk—I finally find my footing. With one hand on my hip, Jinx kneels at my feet and starts to remove my heels. Gripping his shoulder, I stare down at him and slur, “You don’t have to leave.”

  “Hush.” The demand is firm, but not harsh as he straightens with my heels dangling from his fingers. “Can you walk? I don’t want to carry you in that dress.” I follow his gaze to my short dress that will reveal more than just my legs if he picks me up.

  Looking over at the long line of people waiting to get in, who will definitely see my ass if he carries me, I shake my head. “I can walk.”

  He nods once and holds me close to him as we head to the back of the parking lot to his car. His stride is determined, yet he keeps a slow enough pace that I don’t have to struggle to keep up. I deeply inhale the cold air and soon my body that was hot only minutes ago from dancing, shivers from the frigid temperature.

  Jinx helps me inside the car that is already running. It’s so warm in here, but I let down my window afraid if I don’t get some fresh air, I’ll die. Or worse—puke. Tucking my legs beneath me, I curl up on the seat and lay my head on the door.