“I’m going to put my mouth and tongue on you, baby. Can you handle that, or will it hurt too much?” he asks as his lips kissed down the front of my shirt, making his way toward my breast.
His lips pull my nipple in his mouth through the material, and I can’t hold back my groan. I arch my back in response, loving the way he feels against me.
“I think I can handle it,” I whisper as his hands pull my panties down my legs.
I feel his fingers caress my thighs as he lightly spreads them open and settles his body between them. Slowly, his lips travel down my stomach, and I feel his nose nuzzle my belly button before he kisses my mound and then my clit.
“Paxton,” I gasp, my fingernails raking through his short, cropped, dark hair.
He slowly slides his tongue over my core and apologizes with his mouth until I come all over him. My first real orgasm since he left me, eight months ago. It is bliss. But it is also bittersweet all at the same time.
I haven’t forgiven him, and I will never forget the way he used my body. I’m ready to move on, though. I know that it has something to do with what he’s seen or done while he was gone, and not a true representation of the man he is.
Hurdles happened in life, and this is just that. Gram taught me that. She taught me that people do stupid things, but they can feel regret and sorrow for them, so we must always look past the stupid things and into the heart of the person.
I fall asleep, thinking this is a new beginning. I can move on from yesterday, if this is the man I have for the future.
When I wake up later that afternoon, he’s gone.
Every trace of him is just—gone.
Even his cell phone number is disconnected.
The only thing he left was a note.
I will only continue to hurt you baby. I can’t do that.
I love you too much.
Be Happy.
Paxton
That selfish bastard.
I cry until I can’t cry anymore. I stay holed up in our townhouse for four weeks, until rent is due and I can’t pay it.
He never once tries to contact me in those four weeks.
So I have no other choice. I leave.
ELEVEN YEARS LATER
I look out at the grounds of my new clubhouse in Cali. It’s dark, but not as dark as it is in Idaho. It’s a different environment altogether here. There’s a party happening inside, but I’m not interested in the bullshit tonight. Pussy and booze aren’t on the forefront of my mind. I have one thing and one thing only on my mind—Cleo.
In fact, Cleo dominates my thoughts on a regular basis. For the past eleven years, she’s been in my mind. She’s my biggest regret in life.
Shit’s going down with The Cartel, and her safety has been at the top of my mind, lately. Fury, my old Prez in Idaho, thinks I need closure with her, or some shit. Honestly, I just need to know that she’s safe, and that my foul shit doesn’t leak onto her—again.
As soon as this war bullshit is handled, I’ll be on my way, and she can be on hers. I’m never going to live peacefully, not with the demons that swirl around inside of me, but she can. I aim to keep her not only breathing, but doing so safely.
“You got your shit locked down tight, brother,” Texas says as he walks up behind me.
I nod, unsure of what he wants me to say. I don’t talk about myself to anyone—ever. If he’s coming to me for information on my personal life, he’ll be disappointed as hell. Even if I was a man who shared his burdens, it wouldn’t be to a stranger; it would be to one of my closest brothers, Fury or Sniper, not to this guy.
“I’m ex-military. Medic, actually. Served two tours in Afgan and two in Iraq. You need to unload any of that shit you got inside of you, I’m here. You wanna unload it to a shrink, I got a good one. You wanna unload a few rounds into some targets, love doin’ that shit, so I’m down,” he murmurs as he sits down next to me, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.
“That obvious I served?” I chuckle, trying to brush off his offers.
“Your haircut don’t lie. It’s not regulation, but it still don’t touch your collar, if you were wearin’ one. Plus, I see those demons that haunt your eyes every day I look in the fuckin’ mirror,” he grunts.
“Not into sharing my feelings, but thanks,” I say.
“Not asking you to talk about your feelings. Those demons aren’t simply feelings, Torch. They’re living, breathing things. If you’re not careful, they will grow inside of you and kill the remainder of the man you once were.”
“That man died when I was twenty years old. The demons can’t kill him. He’s been gone over a fuckin’ decade,” I growl as I stand up.
“Brother, he ain’t gone. Not completely. You don’t wrestle with those demons, fight them back, then yeah, he’ll be fuckin’ toast—but he’s still around. Buried deep, but he’s there.”
“How you figure?” I snort.
“Cause you got a whole club in Idaho that loves you, thinks of you as blood and not just because you wear that cut. You got their women frettin’ and textin’ and worried about you—buggin’ the shit out of MadDog. But then again, you got MadDog, too, don’t you?” He doesn’t say anything else.
Instead, he stands before he snubs out his smoke, turns, and walks away. I don’t watch, listening as the door closes behind him. I continue to look out at the darkness ahead of me. It’s fuckin’ pitch-black, and I inhale the cool air around me.
I never thought I’d be livin’ in California, not ever, but Cleo’s here. It’s her home state, and I knew I’d find her here. It wasn’t hard. Found her using fucking Facebook. I shake my head, thinking about her profile and her profile picture. It’s a picture of the side of her face. She’s smiling, that much I can see, and it’s windy, her mass of red hair flying around.
Her account is private, smart girl, and I’m half tempted to get someone to hack into her shit so that I can look at her pictures, mainly so I can see if there is a man in her life. I shouldn’t give a shit if she’s got a man. I’ve nailed so much pussy since leaving her that I would be ashamed if she knew the exact number. Still, she’s technically my wife, and I can’t help my curiosity.
I pull up her address, using my phone. It’s in Sacramento, three hours away from me. I can’t do a drive by tonight, but I need to see her. Being in the same state as Cleo, being just a couple hours away from her is making me antsy. The last time I was this close to her was when I was stationed in Texas and we were living together.
When I left her I went back to my base and requested barrack housing, explaining that we’d separated. It killed me to know she was so close, yet I wasn’t in a good place to be near her. I didn’t breathe easy until she left and moved back to her home state.
I have to know what I’m walking into in offering my protection—no, demanding it. She’ll accept, too, my shy girl. I’m sure she’s exactly the girl she was when I married her all those years ago. I can’t see that part of her changing. There’s no way she’s changed; not like I have. She lived a hard life before I even met her, and it didn’t make her coldhearted or uncaring. In fact, she was always the exact opposite.
“Texas said that you needed company?” a sweet voice calls out from behind me.
I tip my head to the side, craning my neck around slightly to look at who is walking up to me. It’s a pretty young thing, dark hair and eyes. She’s a whore, wearing nothing but some scraps of material to cover her tits and pussy. She’s probably freezing her ass off out here, but she won’t complain, not to me—not to a brother of the Notorious Devils.
“Not tonight, honey,” I murmur.
“Okay,” she nods and turns to walk away.
I watch her pert ass cheeks as she goes, thinking that I probably should have taken her up on her offer. However, I’m not feeling stable right now; the last time I fucked someone when I felt this way, I hurt her a fuck’ve a lot.
Swore I wouldn’t do that shit again—ever.
I wake with
a start. Closing my eyes, I listen for a noise. There isn’t anything, until I hear my neighbor’s door slam, and then they start screaming at each other. I turn my head to the side and groan. It’s seven in the morning, which means my neighbors just got off of working the night shift. They’re drunk and arguing, which will lead to them being drunk and fucking. It’s a cycle I’m used to, and I don’t want to be around.
Hurrying to the shower, I bathe and then dress in record time. I don’t have to be to work today, but I do have a brunch date, and I better get a move on it or I’m going to be late. I hurry to my crappy, maroon sedan. Well, it’s not so much maroon anymore as it is a lovely, oxidized, former maroon color.
I drive through the city, annoyed at the traffic and wishing I would have never moved back here. I should have stayed in Texas, but there were way too many memories there. Texas holds both good and bad memories. In the end, even the good ones felt tainted, so I left. I came back to the only other place that I’ve called home, Sacramento.
I park the car, shaking off the cloud of memories from the past, sliding out of the driver’s side seat. I then hurry into the little café, where I know my date is waiting for me.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a rush as I walk over to him and press my lips to his cheek.
“You’re late,” he scolds with disapproval before his face completely changes and he gives me a wide smile. “But I could give a shit. You’re here, I’m here, and we have antipasto coming,” Lisandro announces with a flourish of his hand.
I hide my smile, knowing that Lisandro likes to use fancy words, antipasto being one of them, which is just what he calls appetizers.
“Lis, seriously it’s so good to see you,” I whisper, dashing the tear from my eye.
“You need to come and work for me. That attorney you work for is an asshat. Come sell diamonds,” he says, purring the word diamonds as he usually does.
Lisandro is my best friend in the whole world. I’ve known him since the day I moved back to Sacramento. We met at this exact café. I was a pathetic mess, a crying pathetic mess, and he walked right over to me, sat his flamboyant ass down in the seat across from mine, and we’ve been friends ever since.
Three years ago, he fell in love with Theo. When he did, his lover moved him out to Redding, California. Theo is a pharmacist. He took a position in Redding, grabbed onto Lisandro, and they’ve never looked back, except an occasional visit to me and Lisandro’s grandmother. They live two hours away. Redding isn’t the smallest town in the state, but it’s not the biggest, either. Lisandro became bored as hell, quickly, so he opened a jewelry store.
“He’s an asshat, but working there pays the bills. Honestly, it’s fine,” I sigh.
“He used you, Cleo. He fucked you and then pretended it never happened. Now you’re like this nothing to him, and that’s exactly how he treats you,” Lis growls.
“I was young and stupid. It’s my fault, too,” I whisper.
“You were twenty, still fresh from your failed marriage, and he knew it. He knew how to get into your pretty pink panties, so he did it. He’s twice your age, Cleo,” Lis points out, though I already know the story. I was there.
Just the mention of my failed marriage still sends pain slicing through me as if it happened only yesterday.
“I’ve been there ten years. I can’t just walk away,” I sigh, trying not to think about Paxton. Though, now that he’s been mentioned, my thoughts will probably drift back to him all day long. Great.
“You can; and with his clientele, you should,” he states.
It’s true. My boss’ clientele is pretty scary. He’s a criminal defense attorney, and while, usually, his clients are criminals of the white collar variety, that’s not always the case. Still, even the white collar criminals scare me.
To be honest, it doesn’t take much to frighten me. I’m a complete and total wimp. I don’t know how I’ve lived alone almost my entire adult life, not when I’m pretty much terrified of my own freaking shadow.
“It’s not that simple,” I grumble as a waiter brings over our antipasto. Today, Lis has ordered brie covered in a sweet fruit spread with crackers. Sinfully delicious.
“It is. You walk in, give two week’s notice, and hopefully he lets you go on the spot. You pack your meager belongings, or just your clothes, and you come to my house where I have a guest suite with your name on it. You live there for as long as you wish, or until you can’t handle the way I scream when Theo makes me come. Its completely up to you,” he shrugs as he spreads brie on his cracker and then pops it into his mouth.
I can’t hold back my giggle at his words. First off, he doesn’t have a guest suite. It’s a small bedroom and nothing else; the bathroom is down the hall. Secondly, his screams would probably drive me out on night one.
“Lis,” I sigh. He shakes his head before pinning me with a serious stare.
“I’m not fucking around, Clee. That guy is an asshole, his clients are fucking terrifying, and you live too far away from me. I have the ability to help you, and I want to. Think about it,” he urges. I gulp as I nod.
“Okay, yeah,” I agree.
“I swear, you’re worse than a toddler,” he chuckles.
“Whatever.”
“Have you been out on any dates?” he asks, changing the subject to another matter that I do not wish to discuss.
“Lis,” I warn.
“It’s been a decade,” he points out.
“It’s not as if I’m sitting around waiting for him to come home. I doubt he even knows where I live. I know that I don’t know where he is. It’s just…”
“He’s your Theo,” he whispers.
“I tried with other men,” I murmur.
“You tried with your asshole boss, that doesn’t count,” he grunts.
“I tried with Brad, too. You remember him, don’t you?”
“He was a pussy. That was you being safe, knowing it wasn’t going to amount to anything,” he points out as he smothers another cracker. I’ve lost my appetite completely with this topic of conversation.
“He was nice,” I defend.
“He was a pussy, and you know it. Don’t try to kid yourself,” he mutters.
Luckily, Lisandro doesn’t mention anything else. Changing the topic to his store, he talks about the new inventory and shows me pictures of the beautiful pieces he’s picked to carry. When our brunch date is over, we decide to go on a walk and do some shopping. Lis loves to shop, and I just love to be with my best friend.
“You know I didn’t bring up all that shit to be a jerk, right? I do it because I love you, and I want you to be happy,” he whispers later that afternoon, leaning against his car.
It’s late, and he’s going to head back to Redding—back to Theo and his life there. I already feel the loss of my friend, the only person in my life that knows absolutely everything about me—the good, the bad, and the really ugly.
“I know,” I sigh, biting my bottom lip as I look down at my shoes.
“You deserve to be happy, blissfully happy. I’m your best friend, and yet, I’ve never seen you that way,” he continues.
I nod, closing my eyes tightly before he slips his fingers beneath my chin and lifts my head up. Slowly, I open my eyes and look into his dark brown ones, his concerned dark brown ones. He cups the side of my face and brushes his thumb across the apple of my cheek before he rests his forehead against mine.
“You are the most beautiful woman I know. Inside and out, Clee. You deserve so much happiness in your life. I want you to explode with it, sweetheart. You’re breathing, but you’re not living. I fucking hate that for you. Come to Redding, make a new start,” he whispers.
“I tried that when I came back to Sacramento,” I admit.
“No, you didn’t. You came back to a place that was familiar so you could lick your wounds. It’s time, sweetie pie. You have to move past him and move on. He’s not coming back to you; and honestly, I don’t think he should. He’s a piece of shit.” I sti
ffen at his words, feeling defensive, but refusing to speak out. “He is. He did something unspeakable to you, and then he left you high and dry. He’s not worthy of you.”
“We were young,” I whisper on a tremble.
“But you aren’t young anymore. What’s his excuse now?”
I shake my head, refusing to speak, knowing that if I do, I’ll cry. Lisandro shakes his head as well, but it has nothing to do with wanting to cry and everything to do with the torch I obviously still hold for my husband, Paxton Hill.
“Talk to you soon, sweetie pie. Stay safe and think about coming to Redding,” he whispers, releasing his hold on my cheek and bending down to brush his lips against my forehead.
I nod and give him a shaky smile as he sits down in his car. I have no intention of moving, though I don’t know why. I really have nothing for me here in Sacramento, except exactly what Lis said—familiarity. My parents are gone; any friends I had as a child have all moved on with their lives; and my boss is a dickhead.
Smiling I hurry to my shitty car and head home, not wishing to be out past dark. I’m a scardy cat, and a homebody all wrapped into one.
Once I’m locked inside of my apartment, I decide to draw a warm bath, pour a glass of wine—which will also be my dinner—and then go to bed. My plans are perfect for this Sunday evening. My plans are also pathetic, but I have no desire to do anything else.
Climbing on my bike, I have one mission today, and one only. I’m going to check on Cleo Hill, my wife. Fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve seen her; but with the threats of The Cartel and the unknown of their reach, I have to protect her. I don’t know why I feel the urge to do so right now. It wasn’t as if I protected her during our short time together. I was the one that hurt her.
Fuck.
Just thinking back to that time makes me feel like a piece of goddamn shit. That’s exactly what I was, and what I am. The only excuse I have for myself is—war. War is so fucking complicated. The shit I saw, the shit I did, and the shit that happened around me was too much for my twenty-year-old brain to process.
Rough & Ready (Notorious Devils Book 5) Page 2
