Cutslut

by Kim Jones

  “I’m not going to San Diego with you.” I sound more confident than I feel.

  Pierce doesn’t bother to even look at me. “Yes. You are.”

  “No… I’m not.”

  “Until this dies down and I’m confident Madness isn’t going to do something stupid like retaliate, you’ll be staying with me in San Diego.”

  “You just said—“

  “I want to be confident. I won’t risk your life at someone’s word.”

  “You just want to control me.” He doesn’t deny it. “I can take care of myself, Pierce.”

  He rolls his eyes and loosens his collar. “Don’t be ridiculous, Winter. Just because you shot a man doesn’t mean you can take on an entire motorcycle club.”

  I flinch at his words. Jinx stiffens beside me. “Pierce,” he warns.

  Pierce snaps his gaze to Jinx. He takes in the two of us sitting close on the couch. My head against Jinx’s shoulder. “Don’t go there with me, brother. She’s not any of your business.”

  “I’m sitting right. Fucking. Here!” I yell, losing my shit. “I’m not your business either. Stop treating me like a child.”

  Pierce lifts his brows in amusement. “Stop acting like one.”

  “Goddamn control freak,” I mutter, standing and stomping out like the petulant child I’m not.

  “Flight’s at six, sweet pea,” he calls after me.

  I flip him the finger. “Go fuck yourself.” Then I think to myself…

  I won’t be here.

  49

  JINX

  When I hear the bedroom door slam behind Winter, I shift my attention to Pierce. “You’re doing it again,” I say, drilling holes into him. He doesn’t look the least bit concerned.

  “Doing what?”

  “Being an asshole.”

  He laughs and lifts his glass to me. “Cheers to that, Jinx. Not all of us get to be the hero in this story.”

  “You’re gonna push her away. Again.”

  Pierce shakes his head. “No. Not this time.”

  I lift a brow. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes. Because I’m not letting her out of my fucking sight.”

  I just stare at him. Wondering how a man as smart as him can be so stupid when it comes to women. I know he needs control. That it’s somehow ingrained in him. But why the fuck doesn’t he find a woman who enjoys that shit? Who wants to be told what to do. And leave people like Winter, who deserves some fucking slack, the hell alone.

  A part of me died a little when I heard that gunshot. Not just because I feared I lost the woman I love, but because of the look on Pierce’s face. He was completely broken. In that moment, he aged ten years. I don’t want to ever see that look again. But some shit he’ll just have to figure out on his own. I’ve tried to help him, but I’m not getting anywhere.

  Because of him, I was going to let her go. I was going to lose the woman I love because her brother was hell bent on controlling her life. She wanted freedom. I was going to give it to her. Even if it ripped my fucking heart out.

  Sacrifice.

  Because I’m a hero and shit.

  But I’m selfish, too. She’s not going anywhere. Not because I want to control her like Pierce, but because I know what it is she really wants—to be with the man she loves. And that motherfucker is me. I’ll give her the choice, though—always—but I’m pretty confident she’ll choose me. Like I said, I know my girl.

  My girl.

  Fuck that feels right.

  “Winter stole that money to buy a new life away from Cain,” I start, ready to get this shit over with so I can be with her.

  Pierce’s back stiffens. I wait for him to turn around and look at me before continuing.

  “He caught her. Tattooed his patch on her back. Beat the fuck out of her. Held her against her will for two years. Made her do shit with men for his own personal gain. Belittled her daily. And treated her like an object instead of a person.” I pause to catch my breath. Trying to reign in my anger.

  Pierce hides his reaction well. But the skin on his knuckles is bone white as he grips the glass tight in his hand.

  “Today she finally got away from that sadistic motherfucker. Stood up to him. All on her own because she knew if she asked for your help, you’d give it no questions asked. She didn’t want you involved. Was scared Madness would retaliate and something bad would happen to you.

  “Remember how it felt the first time you killed somebody?” I hold my thumb and index finger and inch apart. “Well, she came this close to killing a man today…her fucking birthday. Something you haven’t even acknowledged.”

  I stand and close the distance until my boots touch the toe of his shiny fucking shoes. He struggles to hold onto his pride as he glares at me and asks, “So I’m supposed to just let her go so she can end up with some other piece of shit? I want more for her. I always have.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t make this shit about you.”

  “Well what the fuck are you asking for, Jinx?” he asks, his temper rising.

  “Asking?” I shoot him a cold smile. “I’m not asking for shit, brother. I’m telling you. Cut her some fuckin’ slack.”

  Something in my expression has his eyes widening. “You son of a bitch,” he whispers in disbelief. “Are you in love with her?”

  Not wanting to hear a lecture on his sudden revelation, I walk away. But not before telling him the truth.

  “You goddamn right I am.”

  50

  WINTER

  “I’m taking this…and this…,” I say to myself, stuffing random shit in a duffle bag I found in the closet. I’m getting the hell out of here. Even if I have to pistol whip Pierce to do it. I’ve held a gun. Shot a man. I can handle it.

  “Hey baby.”

  Baby.

  It still gets me.

  Like someone flipped a switch, all my anger dissipates. God, I love this man. Now I’m going to leave him. Like a dumbass. But if I stay here, Pierce won’t leave me alone. And I’ll end up resenting Jinx for being so amazing and making me fall in love with him.

  Releasing a breath, I force a smile and turn to face him. That smile spreads into a wide grin when I see the look of disgust on his face as he surveys the damage in his closet.

  “I was just getting some stuff together,” I say, trying to hold back a laugh.

  “You couldn’t do that shit without doing…,” he says and gestures with his hand around the small space. “This?”

  Eyes on me, he then drags them up and down my body. “Really?”

  “What? It makes a cute dress!” I’d put on one of his button down shirts. Accessorized it with a thin, pink belt at the waist. Pulled on some pink Converse and piled my hair high on my head. Hell, I thought I looked good.

  “Stop wearing my shit.”

  “Did you come in here to fuss at me?”

  “No.” He clears his throat. “I came in here to give you this.” From the inside pocket of his cut, he pulls out an envelope. “Happy birthday.”

  My birthday…how had I forgotten?

  Curious about my present, I look from it to him before taking the envelope. I catch a whiff of something masculine. Bringing it to my nose, I sniff.

  “Smells good.”

  Jinx rolls his eyes. “Just open it.” I’m not sure why he’s so damn annoyed. I sniff it again just to piss him off. It’s some kind of men’s cologne. Definitely not Jinx’s though. The scent is familiar, but I can’t place it.

  Sliding my finger beneath the flap, I open it up and find several things inside. The first is a plane ticket to Barbados. For tonight. I look up at Jinx in disbelief. I know he said he’d help me, but I never thought…

  He nods toward the ticket. “I got a friend there. Him and his wife will be there to pick you up and help you get adjusted.” He studies me a moment before lifting his chin. “Keep going,” he says, his voice low. Almost sad.

  I look down at the other items. A house key. Bank account information. Passp
ort…I flip open to my picture, then smile at the name beneath it. “Summer Payton?” I grin up at an annoyed Jinx. “Payton makes fake passports?”

  “Him and Clay. They played paper-rock-scissors for your last name.” He flicks his finger at the document. “You see who won.”

  I sniff the envelope again. Yep. That’s Payton’s cologne. Hard for me to forget it after having him spooning me two nights in a row.

  “I thought they were good kids,” I tease.

  “They are. But they ain’t saints, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart.

  My eyes burn. “What about you…? Us?” I ask. Sadness filling my voice. My gut. My heart.

  “I told you not to fall in love with me, Winter,” he says softly.

  “I didn’t,” I lie. Because my pride won’t let me say otherwise.

  “Bullshit.”

  I smirk. “What? You think I’m in love with you?”

  “I know you are.”

  “How?”

  “’Cause I’ll be damned if I ain’t in love with you too.”

  I stare up at him with wide eyes as he closes the distance. Tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Studies my eyes. Drops his gaze to my mouth. Rubs his thumb across my bottom lip.

  “You said you wanted your dream guy to wear something other than black,” he says, gray eyes meeting mine. “Well, I own thirteen different colored shirts. I have six pair of flip-flops. I like holding you when I kiss you. I like holding your hand. I’ll pour your scotch if that’s what you want, and you can have the remote.” He pauses and the corner of his lips tip up a little. “Breathe, baby.”

  I suck in a breath at his command. Then I pull in another. My heart pounds furiously in my chest. I stand on wobbly knees. Trying to concentrate on breathing. On not passing out. On the gentle sweep of his fingers across my cheek. My jaw. Then back to my lip.

  “I’m a package deal, Winter,” he says, his brow furrowing. “My club is a part of me. But it’s not all of me. There’s plenty of room for a challenge.” He smirks at that. “I’ll never take your voice from you. I won’t treat you like you’re less, tell you how to live your life or make decisions for you. I won’t let any other motherfucker treat you that way, either. Not even my brothers…not even yours.”

  Pierce.

  He’s the reason I’m running—now that Cain is out of the picture. But isn’t running from him just as cowardly as letting him control me? And if any man can stand up to Pierce and put him in his place, it’s Jinx.

  “So here I am,” he says, his bored tone teasing. “Your fucking dream guy. Your fairytale. Your happily ever after. Standing in my destroyed closet, confessing my love for you like a goddamn book hero.”

  He takes a step back and runs his hand through his hair. I’ve never seen him nervous. “I’m offering you a life with me, Winter.” He nods at the passport I’m clinging to in my hand, “Or a chance at another life entirely. It’s your decision.”

  Something in his tone tells me it’s really not a decision. I can leave, but he’ll follow. He’s the kind of man who gets what he wants. No matter who he has to pass through to get it.

  I could tell him I want to leave. Force him to abandon his family. His club. His entire life just to make a new one with me. But when you love someone, it’s not always about you. And I refuse to suffer or allow Jinx to suffer just because my brother is an asshole.

  Although there is one thing I want to request….

  “Moped,” I say, my face serious.

  “What?”

  “Moped. You have to ride a moped.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not riding a fucking moped.”

  I poke my lips out. “Not even for me?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you said you’d do anything for me.”

  His brow lifts. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But I’m your dream girl,” I whine.

  “I didn’t say that shit either. I said I love you. Which translates to: you’ll do until some better bitch comes along.”

  “Say it again.”

  “You’ll do until some better bitch comes along,” he repeats. I narrow my eyes. He smiles. “I love you, baby.”

  I beam like an idiot. He watches me with amusement. He’s waiting for me to say it back. He’ll just have to wait. I want to live in this moment just a little bit longer. After all, it’s my fucking fairytale.

  This isn’t about Cinderella and her strange feet that are different from everyone else’s feet in the kingdom.

  This isn’t about Rapunzel and her super strong neck muscles that can support the weight of a grown man.

  This isn’t about Snow White and her seven little men kink—although I’m more like her than the others.

  This story is about me—Winter Tews.

  So cue the music.

  Light the fireworks.

  Pour the scotch.

  Because this shit is really happening.

  This is the ending to a fairytale I never imagined could be mine.

  I give Jinx a pleading look. “One more time?”

  “For fuck’s sake,” he rushes out, exasperated.

  He cradles my face in his hands. Kisses me crazy. Doesn’t pull away until I’m breathless. Then he says it again. “I love you.”

  I only have one thing to say.

  “Ditto.”

  And we lived happily ever after.

  Afterword

  Want to see how the other half live? The whores who are always over looked? Well you’re in luck! I just so happen to have a series featuring them!

  If you haven’t had a chance to read my whore series, you can check out the first chapter of Clubwhore and Patchwhore in the back of this book.

  Also, if you’d like to become an exclusive member of Kim Jones’ House of Whores Facebook Group, you can do so by clicking here and requesting to join!

  Thank you for reading!

  -Kim

  CLUBWHORE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “That’s right…you know how I like it, baby.” For fuck’s sake…come already. “You’re so big.” Good thing I practiced my Kegel exercise this morning. “I love how you dominate that pussy.” Blah blah blah.

  The great thing about being on your knees while getting pounded from behind by a drunken biker who closes his eyes in hopes that it will lessen the guilt he feels in his chest because you aren’t his wife? You don’t have to look at the bastard. For example, right now I’m studying the shitty job my manicurist did on my nails.

  As if he can sense my boredom, I finally feel him pull out moments before warmth spreads across my ass. I throw in a few grunts and groan for the hell of it, while he pumps his cock with one hand and kneads my ass with the other—like I actually enjoy that shit.

  My name is Delilah Scott. I used to be referred to as Scotty D—weird, I know. But around here I’m known as just plain old Delilah. I guess it’s easier to bang a chick named Delilah rather than one named Scotty. By the way, “around here” is the Devil’s Renegades’ clubhouse in Hattiesburg, Mississippi—my place of employment.

  I call myself an entrepreneur. I use my skills, body and brains to make my way in this world. Sure, I do it in a manner that some would consider unethical, but who gives a shit what they think? And the “they” I speak of are the ones who call me a whore. In reality, I’m not.

  Whores get paid for sex. That’s not what I do. I get paid for providing company to lonely men. If that entails having sex, fine. I consider it an extent of my gratitude to the men who I enjoy being around.

  “That was great, babe. Always is.”

  I look over my shoulder, offering a wink and a sultry smile to the man who’s just come all over my back. “Pleasure was all mine.” And really, it was.

  Even though this man isn’t a Devil’s Renegade, he’s a friend to the club. Therefore, he’s a friend to me. I don’t generally get pleasure out of fucking married men and this was no different. I was assured that he’s in the middle of a divorce.
I’m not so sure it’s true. But, looking at the bigger picture, I’m glad I could be of service. In turn, I’ve been of service to the Renegades. And that always pleases me.

  I stay on my knees while he dresses--not wanting it to be awkward when I cringe at the way his dried come pulls at the tiny hairs on my back. With his pants zipped and his cut back on, he slaps my ass and leaves the room. Hell of an exit. I mean, nobody has ever done that before.

  One of the great things about living at the clubhouse is the en-suite bathroom I have all to myself. Okay…so maybe it’s not that great. But it is an added bonus. I have two hundred square feet designated especially for me. A nice, spacious bedroom with a view of the backyard, equipped with a king-sized bed, a vanity, dresser, closet and a bathroom with a whirlpool tub. The Renegades know how to take care of their own.

  Luke Carmical, president of the Hattiesburg chapter, has always made me feel comfortable, safe and appreciated. Not once has he ever looked at me like I was beneath him. In addition to his hospitality and my room and board, he pays me three hundred dollars a week. In return, I provide around-the-clock pleasure for anyone who walks through the clubhouse door, keep the place clean, and make sure there’s always hot coffee and cold beer.

  Not a bad gig for a whore, huh?

  Even though the men are great, the same can’t be said for some of their ol’ ladies. I know a lot of people say “They’re just jealous” to make themselves feel better, but really, they’re just jealous. They don’t like the fact that I’m here with their men. They don’t like that I’m loved by the guys. I’m easy to get along with, outgoing, fun and I’m not too hard on the eyes either. That alone is enough for them to hate me.

  I’ve never slept with any of the chapter members who have wives—contrary to popular belief. I’ve been with a few from other chapters, but they’ve all been in open relationships. Most of those men like to share me with their wives too—something I’m definitely not opposed to. I don’t consider myself a lesbian due to the fact that I would never have a relationship other than sex with a woman. It’s just business, really. And speaking of business, I have shit to do.