“You know, I fucking hate schedules and paperwork, but it’s a good idea. Okay, I’ll get that done today and posted. If for any reason you can’t watch the woman you need to on your designated day, then you let me know. I won’t be scheduling anybody in the evenings, because you’ll all be home with your women, right?”
I don’t miss the fact that his question is aimed right at me. I don’t respond though. After the discussion I had with Ivy today, I’m not sure if I’m even welcome at home anymore. I decide that I’ll just tell whatever prospect that’s assigned to Ivy and the kids to stay at my place twenty-four-seven. At least until Ivy and I get our shit straightened, or not. Fuck. Just thinking about my life right now, about my relationship with her gives me anxiety.
MadDog slams his gavel down and it causes me to jump. “Camo, stay,” he grunts.
The rest of the guys leave and I’m left along with MadDog. He doesn’t speak, watching me for a few long minutes. “You’re doing the shipment this weekend in Humboldt with, Roach?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“You gonna tell me what the fuck is happening between you and your wife?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. I don’t say anything, unsure of what to tell him exactly. He doesn’t need to hear about my sex life, about my desires. He isn’t Grease, and we aren’t friends like that. “Mary-Anne is worried about her. Says she hasn’t even talked to her in weeks. She came in here the other day, first time I’d even seen her in months and she looks like a completely different person.”
“She’s been working out,” I shrug.
MadDog doesn’t speak. He waits, as is his way. He’s a good man, a great fucking leader, and someone I’ve always looked up to. He also has a picture-perfect marriage to his wife, Mary-Anne, and I honestly don’t think he’d ever understand my dilemma.
“Not the same people as when we met, Pres,” I murmur.
MadDog lets out a bark of laughter. “Do you know how many of you fools have said that shit to me about their Old Ladies? I swear to fuck we need to have some kind of marriage counseling in this fucking place. No fucking shit you aren’t the same as when you met. None of us is, and that’s a simple fact. You either work on what you got, or you need to let it go.
“Now, I don’t know what’s going on with you, and I really don’t think I need to know. But you have a family, and you need to figure out what the fuck you want. Do it fast, because the way I see it, you’ve been missing a hell of a lot.”
He doesn’t let me respond. He stands and walks out of the conference room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I close my eyes and images of my boys and Rosalie pop into my mind. What have I missed? A hell of a lot I’m sure. I need to be better to them, and for them. I just need to figure all this other shit out at the same time too. I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m going down and I don’t know how to pull myself back up.
I don’t go home like I should. I don’t check on Ivy or the kids. Selfishly, my feet carry me to the place I should stay away from—the place I cannot stay away from. Walking over to the couch I sit down and my eyes find a threesome. I don’t know either of the girls involved, they’re rotated so often in here.
One is sitting on a brother’s cock, riding him slowly, while the other is facing her, but sitting on his face. My cock aches. The two women lean forward and begin to kiss. The entire scene is sensual, sexy, and although I don’t think Ivy would ever do anything with another woman, it still makes me hard.
My eyes move from them to see Pixie staring right at me. She’s peeking over a guy’s shoulder while he holds her up, her legs wrapped around his waist. Another man is at her back and they’re fucking her in tandem. One fucking her cunt, and the other her ass, back and forth. She smirks at me before her eyes slide closed.
Standing to leave, something else catches my eye. A woman is lounging on another couch that’s against the opposite wall. I watch as one guy eats her pussy while the other fucks her face, he’s straddling her chest, his knees pressed into the top of the couch and his hands braced on the wall while he fucks her mouth.
The sight of them causes me to sit back down. I imagine Ivy, a man bringing her pleasure while I fuck her face. It turns me on. The thought of her being so stimulated by another person, other than me, making her lose every single inhibition for the pure fact that she’s so fucking on edge. The thought of me taking control and telling that other person how and where to touch her—instructing him on how to make her come. Goddamn.
Honest to fuck, I don’t know if I can ever tamp this desire down. This need. I don’t know where it came from or why. It’s what I want—with or without Ivy, it’s what I want—and I hate it. The last thing I want to do is hurt my wife, and yet, that’s all I’ve been doing.
The hours tick by. Homework has been completed, the boys are playing a board game, Rosalie is in her room, still pissed at me, and I find myself staring out into the backyard. There’s a knock on my door and it breaks me out of my mindless staring. Walking over to the door, I check the peephole and am surprised to see a man with a Devils cut standing in view.
Slowly, I open the door and peek through the crack. The man looks at me and gives me a blinding white smile. He’s really cute, short brown hair, clean shaven, dark eyes, and a dimple. “Ivy?” he asks.
“Um, yeah?” I actually almost giggle. His deep voice is too sexy when he says my name, and I can’t help myself.
“Pres sent me over, we’re supposed to be watching all the Old Lady’s houses during the day.” I open the door a little wider, surprised that he’s said during the day, but it’s already turned into evening. “Camo told me that he wouldn’t be around at night much and that I could camp out on your couch.”
My stomach sinks at the knowledge that there is something happening that the club. Whatever it is has required round the clock protection, and we’re not important enough for West to come home at night for? What the absolute fuck? My husband is a damn dick.
“I’m Derek,” he grins.
He turns around to show me his prospect rocker and I let out a breath, feeling more at ease. I should probably call West just to make sure that this guy is legit, but screw him. However, I’m not going to just let someone in my house, not with my kids home, without verifying that they’re who they say they are.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my phone and call MadDog. I hate to bother him in the evening, but I have to be sure.
“Hey, Ivy,” he rumbles, his deep voice sounding so smooth over the phone.
“There’s a prospect here. His name is Derek. He said that he’s supposed to stay here as protection when West isn’t around,” I murmur.
A moment of complete silence passes before MadDog speaks. “He didn’t come home?” he asks.
“It’s fine. I didn’t really expect him to,” I whisper, trying not to cry.
“Derek’s good, babe. He’s one of us. You or the kids need anything at all, you call me, yeah?”
I agree, and then thank him before ending the call—knowing for a fact that I would never call on him for anything.
Opening the door a bit wider, I smile and ask Derek to come inside. “I need to go to the grocery store tomorrow, but I have leftover turkey enchiladas in the fridge, and tons of chips and stuff in the pantry, you’re welcome to help yourself.”
Derek grins, that sexy sweet grin again, and I swear I almost melt into a puddle. He steps closer to me and I suck in a breath, holding it as his hand comes up, cupping my cheek. “I’m good, babe,” he murmurs.
Dammit, his voice is smooth and deep, and his eyes are completely mesmerizing. I need to get away from this guy, far, far away.
“Umm, well, whatever you want… you can have,” I stammer.
I watch as his eyes smolder. “Whatever I want?” he rasps.
His gaze drops to my chest before he brings it back up and licks his bottom lip. Damn. I need to run.
“Umm,” I breathe. He breaks out into a huge smile.
“Go to bed,
Ivy. You’re a marked Old Lady. I didn’t expect you to be so gorgeous though,” he states, dropping his hand as he takes a step back.
Blinking up at him, I take a step back, then another. “You didn’t?” I chance asking.
He shakes his head. “Not in the slightest. If you were mine, I’d be in that bed with you every fucking chance I got.”
My eyes widen at his words and I gasp. Derek chuckles and aims his panty melting grin at me again. Turning around, I don’t say a word and I hurry to the boys, announcing that it’s time for bed, all the while I can hear Derek chuckling behind me.
The boys are easy to put to bed, they require a hug and kiss each, and little else. Their lights go off, and their eyes close as they quickly fall into sleep.
Rosalie, on the other hand, is a different story. She’s like me. She’s a thinker, her mind going a million miles an hour. Knocking on her door, I hear her tell whoever she’s talking to goodbye and then a few seconds later her door opens.
“Who were you talking to?” I ask as I enter her space.
She’s still mad at me about not allowing her to go to the mall, plus, I think she’s pretty upset about her dad. Honestly, she probably has a mix of emotions similar to my own when it comes to her father these days, and I can’t blame her one bit. “Finley,” she shrugs.
“Did you still want to go shopping this weekend with the girls?” I ask.
Rosalie shakes her head. “They can’t go this weekend, but they said next weekend they were going for sure. Riley has some friends she’s meeting there,” she explains.
“And she wants you with her, with her friends?” I ask.
I don’t know any eighteen-year-old that wants their little sister and even younger friend tagging along with their friends.
Rosalie nods and gives me a half smile. “Yeah, Riley’s friends are cool, Mom.”
I run my hand through her soft hair and smile. “Okay, you can go next weekend. The reason I came in is, there’s a friend of dad’s hanging out on the couch for the night. I didn’t want you to get scared or anything,” I explain, much like I explained to the boys.
Her eyes narrow. “Where’s Dad?” she asks accusingly.
Shaking my head, I don’t give her an answer she’s going to like. “Where Dad is, is between him and me, Rosalie. There’s nothing for you to worry about, unless we bring it to you, okay?”
“Bailey said he overheard his mom and dad talking about Daddy. He wouldn’t tell me what they said, but he gave me a hug. I figure it wasn’t anything good,” she sniffles.
I close my eyes as my heart breaks all over again. As if West breaking my heart wasn’t enough, now he’s broken his daughter’s. I wrap my arm around Rosalie’s shoulder and give her a squeeze as my lips graze the top of her head. “Honey, please don’t worry about me and Dad. We’ll get everything sorted.”
“Okay, Mom,” she whispers.
Looking down at her I give her a grin. “Bailey hugged you, huh? How’d that feel?”
I watch as her face turns five shades of red before she whispers. “He smelled so good, Mom. Oh my gawd. It was absolutely perfect. Now, if I could only get him to kiss me,” she smiles.
“I’m going to pretend that you want him to kiss you on the cheek,” I laugh.
“Moooom,” she giggles.
I give her one last hug. “Get some sleep, Rosalie. Please don’t worry about your daddy and me. We’ve been married for a long time, sweetie. We got this.”
I lie.
I boldface lie to my child.
Her face breaks out in a smile and she believes me. Closing her bedroom door, I look toward my own room, but against my better judgment, I make my way back into the living room. I need a drink.
“Thought you were headed to bed?” Derek calls out as soon as I enter the room.
Giving him a smile I shake my head. “I needed a drink? Want a beer?”
“Sure.”
Walking over to the fridge, I grab two beers and a bottle opener, popping the tops before I lift my chin toward the backyard. Derek stands from the couch and together we walk into the cool night and sit down on the deck furniture. I hand him his beer before taking a pull of my own.
“Can you tell me why I need protection?” I ask as I look up at the star-filled sky.
Derek sighs. “All I know is that there’s a possible threat and they don’t know exactly who is making it, or why, or who it affects.”
Thinking about his words, I can’t help but wonder if it has to do with that young kid who approached me at the gym. I debate telling him, but then I decide that I should probably tell West, or maybe my brother, Barry. Bringing my feet into the seat of my chair I rest my cheek on my knees and just breathe.
“I’ll keep you safe, Ivy. You and your kids,” he murmurs.
“How old are you?” I ask, changing the subject.
He lets out a chuckle and leans back in his chair, stretching his long lean legs out in front of him. “I’m thirty,” he shrugs.
“Pretty old to prospect for an MC, aren’t you?” I ask.
His eyes cut to mine and he gives me a serious look which just makes me giggle. “I did ten years in the military. Medically retired, and then spent a couple months drowning in booze and getting into fistfights at Bullseye,” he states. “Ran into some old friends of mine, they were partying at the clubhouse, and they talked me into hanging out. Brought me around the club a few times and I showed an interest in prospecting. Rest is history, I guess,” he shrugs.
“How’d you get hurt?”
He clears his throat for a moment, then he speaks. He tells me about his last tour to Afghanistan, about the bomb that killed his friend. He tells me that the same bomb shattered his hip when he was thrown into the air and landed hard on his side. His story is gut wrenching and I reach out to wrap my hand around his forearm as he’s telling it, to not only show him support but to brace myself as well.
“You need to get to bed, Ivy,” he rasps.
I tip my lips in a smile and shake my head. “You already told me that once,” I whisper.
“I’m telling you that so that you don’t make a mistake.”
My brows tug together in confusion. “Mistake?”
He lifts his chin with a sad smile. “Yeah, babe. You’re sweet, too sweet, and right now, I want a taste. You need to get your ass upstairs. All that you are, he’s not going to just let that go, he’ll fight to the death for it.”
I stand, shaking my head. “No, he won’t Derek, but that’s sweet,” I smile.
Without letting him respond, I do as he suggested. I take my ass upstairs. I change into my pajamas and I slide between my sheets. Closing my eyes, and for the first time ever, I imagine what it would be like to have another man smiling at me rather than my husband.
I imagine what this other man’s touch would feel like. I feel shameful and slutty, but the whole scenario also makes me feel sad. I miss West, the West that I remember, the man I fell in love with and loved for the past fifteen years—I miss him.
My phone alerts with a new notification and I glance down, rolling my eyes when I see who the new text is from. If he thinks I’m responding to a text message after he didn’t come home last night, again, he’s got another thing coming. I shove my phone in my back pocket before returning to mop the kitchen floor.
I feel like a cleaning maniac, and I probably am. I usually am when I’m pissed off—and right now I’m downright fucking pissed. I’m thankful that the boys ran down to my mother-in-law’s house for lunch and that Rosalie has cheerleading practice at school.
Otherwise, they would be a party to my bad mood. It’s bad enough that poor Derek is being subjected to my temperament. He left the house about ten minutes ago to hang out on the front porch and I do not blame him one bit.
My hands are deep in the soapy water as I swish the mop pad around, wringing it out and imagining that it’s instead West’s neck. Something heavy lands on my shoulder and I spin around to find Derek standing righ
t behind me.
“Called your name, babe. You were on another planet,” he murmurs.
I lift my chin and try to keep from crying as I look into his warm eyes. He shakes his head once and squeezes my shoulder. He opens his mouth to say something but the front door slams and causes me to jump back. Derek pulls his gun out of the holster at his side and raises it as he walks toward my front door.
Standing in the kitchen, I toss the wet mop cloth into the sink and hold my breath. What feels like an hour later I hear male voices murmuring and then West and Derek walk in from around the corner. I narrow my eyes on West but keep my mouth closed. I understand enough about the club life to know that you never start shit with your man in front of a brother, especially a prospect.
“You can go ahead and take off for the weekend. Be back at six Monday morning,” West grunts.
Derek’s concerned gaze meets mine for just a second before he confirms West’s order and then walks out of the house. We stay completely silent, staring at each other until we hear the front door click closed.
“Why’d you even bother coming back here? I thought it was your weekend to work at Humboldt?” I ask, sounding just as bitter and angry as I feel.
“Traded schedules,” he murmurs.
West’s brows tug together and he lets out an exhaled breath. I watch as his fingers run through his overly long, dark hair as he looks down at his boots. This is it. We’re over. This fight is just not worth it to me anymore—not when I’m the only one fighting.
“Nothing happened.”
I don’t think. I’m too irrational to think. Quickly, I close the distance between us and I pound against his chest with my fists. West wraps his hands around my wrists, gently but firmly, to stop me. “Ivy,” he whispers.
“I’m sick of it, West,” I announce. My tears have all dried up, I have none left to cry. “I’m sick and tired of you announcing that nothing is happening. Not when you’re down there and where you should be is at home with your family. Not watching some whores fuck your friends.”
Rough & Real Page 7
