Rough & Ready (Notorious Devils Book 5)

by Hayley Faiman

  “I always have, but that doesn’t mean that he’s good for me, or me for him,” I admit. I swear, my heart aches at the admission, the admission that this really could be what’s in store for us, nothing but an ending.

  “The fact that you even said that, that you think that, it proves to me you have the makings of an Old Lady,” Colleen announces.

  “He told me a little about brandings, and that the other men could force themselves on me if I don’t have one. That doesn’t sound like something I could really be part of,” I whisper.

  “Oh, god,” Teeny says, rolling her eyes. “That shit only happens at big parties, and it doesn’t really go down like that. Most of these guys are gentle giants and wouldn’t hurt a woman in this building, especially one who is on the arm of one of their brothers, branded or not,” she says. “Granted, I’m sure he’s still unsure of all the men, since he just moved here a couple months ago from his original club,” she explains.

  “I don’t understand why he’s even part of this club,” I sigh.

  “We can only help you with the club stuff,” Teeny explains. I nod.

  “Whores, what’s that?” I blurt out.

  All three women cough and cringe at the same time.

  “Umm, well, they’re these girls,” Ivy says, flicking her wrist to the women on the other side of the room.

  “Their purpose being?” I ask, lifting a brow. I’m not stupid, and I think I have it figured out, but I want to know for certain.

  “They live here, for free, and pay rent with their bodies. They’re available to any man wearing a Notorious Devils patch, no matter what club they come in from,” Teeny explains in her soft, small, voice.

  “So they really are just that, whores?” I ask with wide eyes.

  “Yeah,” Ivy says, nodding.

  “You take care of your man, you give him what he needs, and he won’t go looking elsewhere,” Colleen announces. My face blanches.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I mutter.

  “It’s part of the life, sweetie, you have to understand that,” Colleen coos.

  “My husband has been out fucking whores for over a decade. I knew he’d been with women, I’m not stupid, but whores? And he wants something with me? Of course, because when he’s had what he wants from me he, can just trot on down here and fuck whoever he wants,” I ramble, my eyes shifting from one woman to the other. Then I wrench my head around and look at the girl I know, without a doubt, that he was with not very long ago—a whore.

  “Cleo,” Ivy says, reaching out to take my arm. I quickly stand and let my chair topple to the floor.

  “No, no I can’t be okay with any of this,” I whisper, horrified as I start to back away from them, visions of whores and Paxton running rampant through my head.

  “Cleo, you need to calm down,” Colleen says as she reaches out for me.

  I can’t take anymore lessons on how to live this life. This isn’t something I want—ever. It’s rude, I know that it is, but I turn and leave the three women who have been nothing but nice to me, and I run back to Paxton’s room. I have nowhere to go, but I know that I can lock myself inside and the only person who can come in is Camo, but I doubt that he will.

  Slamming the door behind me, I flip the lock and press my back to it, sinking to the floor and drawing my knees up, my eyes filling with tears as I think about the sad state of affairs my life has become in the matter of just a few weeks.

  I miss Lisandro and Theo. I miss my boring, predictable life. I miss not knowing where my husband was, and more importantly, I miss not knowing what or who he was doing.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, a-fuckin-gain, but I ignore it—I’m working. Tonight, I’m overseeing the loading up of the guns and dope that will be driven to Denver in just a few days. Thank fuck it’s not my turn to drive that long ass fuckin’ drive. Not only do I not feel like it, I still have Cleo to deal with. I’m on the next rotation, so by then, shit between us should be all good.

  The buzzing starts again and I angrily pull it out of my pocket, punching the green button on the screen to accept the call.

  “What?” I bark.

  “She totally freaked the fuck out, brother,” Camo mutters on the other end of the line.

  “About what?” I ask.

  “Old Ladies were talkin’ to her, I thought it might help. Thought she’d want to get to know them, have a couple beers, hang out. She freaked out, and she’s locked herself in your room. I haven’t bothered her, but I don’t know, man, she looked rattled,” he explains.

  No telling what those women told her; shit she probably didn’t want to hear. Knowing our conversation earlier, it probably has to do with whores. I haven’t fully explained that to her, hoping she’d just let it go.

  “I got a coupla hours here still. She’ll have to wait,” I grunt, feeling like an ass the second the words spill from my lips.

  “Right. I’ll keep an eye out if she ventures out again, but I doubt she will,” Camo mutters before he ends the call.

  I close my eyes for a second and shake my head. Fuck. I thought I had her closer to working on this shit. Closer to understanding me, my life, and what our future could be.

  Watching the shit being taken off of the freight ship and put into the waiting truck, I let my mind wander, I let myself think. Maybe we’re just way too different? Maybe I should just let her go.

  Goddammit.

  “You good?” Soar asks.

  “Nope,” I admit.

  “Need to talk about it?” he asks, his usually jovial demeanor gone.

  “Don’t have a pussy, so no, I’m good.”

  “Don’t have to have a pussy to talk about shit, especially with a brother,” he murmurs.

  “Wanna talk about why you’re high all the time and you fuck everybody but your hot as shit wife?”

  “Nope,” he grinds out.

  “Didn’t fuckin’ think so.”

  It takes another hour to finish loading the truck, and Soar and I drive back to the clubhouse in silence, the whole four hours. By the time we pull into the parking lot and back the truck into the warehouse, it’s after four in the morning.

  I climb out of the truck and stomp into the quiet clubhouse, making my way to my room. It only takes a second for my eyes to adjust and land on the curled-up ball in the bed. She has to work today, but I don’t give a fuck right now. We’re hashing this shit out.

  I slam the door closed and flip the light on. I watch as her body jerks awake, and she sits up with her wild red hair and big green eyes, her chest heaving with her startled breathing. I stomp toward her and ignore her gasp, along with her trembling body.

  Wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, I grip her hair in my fingers and wrench her head back, lowering my face to hover above hers, and I press my lips to her soft ones, taking her in a hard, bruising kiss.

  His lips. Dammit, they own me, every part of me. When I gasp, his tongue slides inside of my mouth and owns me all over again. I should pull away, kick his ass out, but I can’t. I don’t know that I could ever truly walk away from him. I think my body wouldn’t allow it. I hate myself for it, too. I was ready to run, then one kiss and I’m rendered his all over again.

  “Shit stops now, Clee,” he whispers against my lips.

  I lift my hands and try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge, except to press his knee into the mattress and climb onto the bed and over the top of me. He leans down, forcing me onto my back as he stares at me, just millimeters from my face. I can feel his breath fanning my skin with each exhale.

  “Paxton, or should I call you Torch?” I ask, lifting a brow.

  “You’ll call me Pax. I’m your Pax when my dicks inside of you, sweetheart,” he murmurs as his nose slides alongside mine.

  “That’s not going to happen,” I say weakly.

  “Yeah, baby, in about fifteen seconds,” he whispers before his lips touch mine again. Again, I melt.

  My entire body trembles as his warm p
alm slides beneath my sleep tank and gently wraps around my breast. His fingers find my nipple and lightly tug on the tight bud, which forces a moan to escape from my mouth as I wrench my head back.

  “Pax,” I breathe.

  My top is roughly hauled off of me, and my shorts pulled off seconds later. I open my eyes to see Paxton on his knees dropping his shirt to the floor and unbuckling his jeans in front of me. My eyes widen when he pulls them down over his hips, along with his boxer briefs, and wraps his big hand around his hard length.

  “Spread your legs, sweetheart,” he whispers.

  I shake my head. It’s been so long, and I’ve always been so shy in bed, never one to just show off that part of my body. My legs tremble as his free hand slides up the inside of my thigh. Wrapping his strong fingers around me, he presses my thighs open. My eyes widen as he lowers down in front of me, his mouth at my center Then his eyes flick up to meet mine.

  “When I tell you to spread your long legs so that I can see your exquisite pussy, I expect you to, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his warm breath touching my center.

  “Paxton,” I say as my face heats. I know I’m blushing.

  “Love that you’re thirty fuckin’ years old and you still blush,” he rumbles before his tongue snakes out and he licks my entire entrance.

  My hands fly to his hair, feeling the soft strands with my fingers, something he didn’t have all those years ago, when he was in the military and wore his hair in a traditional high and tight. I grip the strands as he nuzzles my clit before sucking it between his lips, his teeth grazing me.

  “Holy shit,” I cry out, lifting my head slightly as my mouth falls open.

  One of Paxton’s hands slides up my waist and cups my breast, his fingers toying with my nipple while the other moves to where his mouth is. Two fingers fill me as his mouth moves to focus on my clit.

  “Oh, god,” I moan as I roll my hips to accept his fingers inside of me, my eyes rolling in the back of my head.

  I’m so close, on the verge of my climax as his tongue flicks and he sucks my clit over and over again, his rhythm feeling delicious but not enough to send me over the edge. My thighs start to shake as I climb closer toward my release, and I let out a cry as he completely releases me, his fingers taken from my center, along with his mouth.

  “Ready for me, baby?” he asks as he lines his cock up with my center.

  I can feel the head pressing against my entrance, and I’m so ready for him, I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready in my entire life. I want it now; I want him now. I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t—but right now, I don’t care. Those stormy blue eyes are looking at me, and I see my Pax in them. The man-boy I had twelve years ago, he’s still there.

  He slowly sinks inside of me, hooking his arm beneath my knee as he does, spreading me wider for him with each centimeter that fills me. My teeth bite down on my bottom lip as I try to relax and allow him inside of me.

  “Fuck, you feel good, sweetheart,” he whispers when he’s inside of me completely. His free hand slides beneath my head, and his fingers twist in my hair.

  “Pax,” I whimper. I need him to move, or do something, anything.

  “I don’t fuck as sweet as I used to, baby. You gotta tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he murmurs against my ear.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  Paxton’s hand beneath my knee presses that leg against the mattress, and I am surprised that it doesn’t hurt, as I’m not extremely flexible. Then he rears back, pulling almost completely out of me before he slams into my core with a moan.

  “Goddamn,” he grunts as his fingers tighten in my hair. “Look at me.”

  My eyes open and I look directly into his light blue ones. His dark hair has fallen slightly, and I suck in a breath at the serious look that’s etched across his face.

  “I was a fucking fool—for years, a fucking idiot,” he announces before he repeats his move, slamming back inside of me a bit harder with each thrust of his hips.

  I lift my arm and wrap my hand around the side of his neck as he continues to drive into me, deep and hard. My entire body moves with each down stroke, but it feels so much better than I’d ever imagined.

  My fingers tighten at his neck, and I grip onto him, holding him as my body climbs higher and higher with each drive forward of his hips.

  “Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he asks.

  I bite my bottom lip and nod, unable to find the words to speak. He grins as the hand holding onto my leg slides down my thigh before his thumb presses against my clit, circling me. A loud moan escapes me, and I gasp, my whole body locking up with my release.

  “Fuck,” he curses, moving his hand from my clit to join his other hand fisting my hair.

  Then, with wild abandon, he fucks me hard and fast. There’s no rhythm to his movements, and I don’t care. Each stroke feels like I’m in heaven. He suddenly stills above me and lets out a long deep groan before shoving his face in my neck.

  Paxton’s lips softly kiss my neck, licking and gently nibbling my skin as he lazily slides in and out of me, causing me to moan in delight.

  I wrap my hand around his shoulders and hold onto him, unsure of what to do, unbelieving that this has even happened—especially after I cried myself to sleep.

  “We should talk,” I whisper.

  “You on the pill, sweetheart?” he whispers in my neck.

  I freeze at his question before I jerk in his hold, but he acts as though he doesn’t even notice, still lazily moving his hips, filling me with his semi-erect cock.

  “Yeah, I am,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Good. Nothin’ else to talk about then. This, it proves there’s something between us that needs to be fed,” he announces. He lifts his head and gingerly releases my hair before holding himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t squish me.

  “There’s plenty to talk about.”

  “You don’t want to be part of this life I got here, Clee? That’s cool. You don’t have to come to shit, except a couple family parties a year. Some brother’s Old Ladies are like that,” he shrugs as he pulls out of me and rolls to his back. I watch as he removes the rest of his clothes, his boots and jeans. He then gathers me in his arms and pulls me halfway on top of him, his legs tangling with mine.

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask, lifting my head.

  “Some of the Old Ladies don’t come here unless it’s a family party. Don’t know why, maybe they don’t like the scene? Maybe they don’t like the whores, the sex, or the booze; or maybe their men don’t want them here. Fuck if I know their personal shit. You wanna be that way? Then it’s cool,” he announces.

  “We’re going to revisit this, after we talk about whores, and after you tell me the last time you were tested for STIs and if I need to get a test done myself, since you just took me unprotected,” I say bitchily.

  “Not used to this attitude from you. Though, would like it a hell of a lot more if you weren’t here thinkin’ I’d even take a slight chance at hurting you like that, Cleo,” he spits. “Get tested every year. Never fuck bitches, whores or otherwise, without protection.”

  “Me?” I ask, raising a brow.

  “You’re my fuckin’ wife. I’m thirty-two years old, babe, and I ain’t using a fucking condom with my goddamn wife,” he growls.

  “Paxton, I’m not comfortable with all of this. I don’t think I can just turn a blind eye, not to the women,” I say.

  “What is it you think this will be between us, exactly?” he asks, gripping my hair tightly and tugging my neck back for me to look at him.

  “I don’t know. This group of yours, this life, I don’t know anything about it. But I’ve seen those women, and I know that they’re available to you, for you. I can only imagine that you’ve enjoyed that perk of your new life and quite often. And what exactly do you do for money? And how did I not know that your job in the Air Force had to do with explosives and that you’re called Torch? I don’t understand any of it; and what I’m
coming to learn, I don’t like very much,” I say as my chest heaves. My breathing becomes erratic as I completely and totally freak out in a panic.

  “You need to relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs. His fingers start to sift through my hair in an attempt to calm me.

  “I can’t,” I admit, clenching my jaw.

  “What I can tell you is that you don’t need to worry about how I make money, just know that I make it and I make more than enough to take care of you. I’ve fucked women in the past. I haven’t been a saint, sweetheart. And I didn’t tell you about my job in the Air Force because I didn’t want you to worry. It was dangerous—really fuckin’ dangerous,” he murmurs calmly.

  “I’m thinking your job now is the same, since you’re mixed up with The Cartel.”

  “I’m not mixed up with them, babe. Personally, I can’t stand the fuckers, and all the shit they’re threatening or attempting to do is fucked. We don’t mess with women and children; not like they do. It’s why I was worried about you. They’re unpredictable,” he explains. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to understand him, but knowing that I don’t and probably never will.

  “I don’t know you,” I blurt out.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you. I loved you so much, but did I really? Because how could I if I didn’t even know your job, anything about your childhood, or even how you liked your coffee?” I ramble.

  For whatever reason, I can’t seem to stop talking to him. Maybe it’s because he’s right here and he’s calm and willing to talk back with me, instead of getting pissed off and walking away. I don’t know; but if he’s going to be open, then I want it all—as much of it as I can get.

  “Whatever you want to know, Cleo, we have time now,” he murmurs.

  “Do we? How much?” I ask, looking into his light blue eyes. They’re relaxed and sated from earlier.

  “Our whole lives, sweetheart,” he mutters as his nose runs alongside mine.

  “How long before you go to those women without telling me? Or will you just always go to them,” I ask as tears fill my eyes.