Down & Dirty: Dex (Dirty Angels MC Book 8)

by Jeanne St. James

  “I’m not fucking up anything. We women have a right to know.”

  “You’ll know!” he yelled. “Just give us a fuckin’ minute to deal with it.”

  Ivy stared at him for a few long moments, then turned back to her computer. She typed furiously onto the keyboard and a couple minutes later she slammed her hand on the desk and sat back again. She turned green eyes to Dex. “Got it.”

  “Write it down for me, will ya?”

  Ivy’s lips were flat and her jaw tight as she scribbled down the address onto a sticky note. Then she slapped it into his palm.

  “Get this dealt with,” she said.

  Dex stared down at the little slip of yellow paper in his hand. “Gonna, sis. Promise.”

  Ivy nodded.

  “Can you hold down the fort? Call in some of the part-timers?” He lifted the note up. “Apparently, got a bit of a ride ahead of me.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “Do what you have to do.”

  He leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of her hair. “Love ya, sis. Wouldn’t let anything happen to you or Jag Jr.”

  She snorted. “Jag Jr.” Then she sighed, placing a hand over her still flat belly.

  “You happy?”

  Ivy raised soft eyes to him. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Don’t know ‘bout that.”

  “I do.”

  Chapter Nine

  Three times in one fucking day he found himself standing in front of a fucking door banging on it to get the fuck in. He was tired of this bullshit.

  No sleep. No food. No nothing.

  He was at the end of his fucking rope.

  She needed to answer her damn door and she needed to do it soon. If she didn’t...

  If she didn’t, he was taking matters into his own hands. And if she called 5-0 because a biker was breaking into her house, then so fucking be it.

  “Open this fuckin’ door,” he yelled.

  She was home. She had to be. He had spotted her BMW in the garage when he peered into the little window of the garage door.

  He had driven over three hours down the freezing cold Turnpike to get to her place. He had stewed every minute of those three fucking hours and would camp out on her front stoop until she answered.

  He knew she lived here. Besides the car parked in the garage that probably still had his DNA on the backseat, her last name was on the fucking mailbox in this typical upper middle-class neighborhood.

  Suddenly the door jerked open and Brooke stood in the doorway in a white bikini, the bright color contrasting against her taut tan skin. Her hair was gathered messily on the top of her head and she had an open robe hanging off her slim shoulders.

  But that gaping robe didn’t hide how hard her nipples were. He could see their outline poking through the thin fabric of the bikini top. A top that barely covered her fucking tits.

  Jesus fuckin’ Christ, did she wear that in public?

  Who wore a bikini in December anyway, for fuck’s sake?

  She was also wearing a... scowl.

  “What are you doing here, Dex? I left for a reason. I didn’t expect you to follow.”

  Dex looked past her into what he could see inside her home. It was a modern one-story house with open floor plan and high ceilings that looked professionally decorated.

  Which made sense.

  While not huge, it still screamed that the person who lived there didn’t have to live on a tight budget. Or in a room above a clubhouse.

  “Fuckin’ didn’t answer my texts or calls.”

  She plugged her hands on her hips and arched a brow. “And since when do I answer to you?”

  His nostrils flared as he sucked in oxygen, trying to tamp down his temper. “Done with me, right?”

  “What?”

  “Done with me. Had your fun. Done fuckin’ me. Done with your little fact-findin’ mission. Just done. Right?”

  Brooke opened her mouth, a look crossed her face he didn’t recognize, then she said, “Right. Time to move on. Move past all of this.”

  “Move on,” Dex repeated, his heart thumping heavily in his chest.

  “Yes, I’m sure you’ve done it plenty of times. Thought better of doing something after you did it? Decided it all wasn’t worth the aggravation?”

  “Something,” he grumbled. “You mean someone?”

  Wasn’t worth the aggravation. Was she talking about him? Or finding her father?

  “Not just you. Finding my father.” She waved one hand around in the air. “I’m done with this whole thing. It isn’t going to do me any good to chase down the man who raped my mother. It’s not going to change anything. He’s not going to be punished and my mother no longer has to suffer with the memory. Which I’m sure she did every day for most of her life when she looked at...” Brooke stopped, her face paled and she gripped the door. “Me.”

  His gut twisted. “Babe,” he breathed. “Doubt she blamed you.”

  She shook her head. “Go away, Dex. It was fun, but now it’s over.”

  As she shut the door, Dex shoved his boot in its path, keeping her from closing it all the way.

  “Don’t shut me the fuck out,” he growled.

  “Why? Why do you even give a damn? The few times I’ve been around your club members, they just looked at me like I’m a problem they’d like to have disappear. I get that you want to protect your own. I don’t belong in that category. That asshole does. It’s natural to want to protect him.”

  “We ain’t protectin’ shit. We don’t tolerate that kind of bullshit. If we did, it’d make us no better than an outlaw club. We ain’t that. Fuckin’ spent decades to build this club up an’ we’re not about to destroy what we built ‘cause of one motherfuckin’ asshole like Pierce.”

  Brooke blinked and her mouth dropped open.

  Ah fuck.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth at his blunder.

  “You know who it is?” she screamed in his face as she slammed both her palms into his chest, knocking him back a step. “You know! How long have you known? You slept in my fucking bed the last few nights and didn’t say a word. You kept that information from me!”

  “No.” He needed to get inside. He needed for her to calm down and listen to him. Problem was, he had no clue what the fuck he was going to say. No clue how to make this all better. For her. For him. For the club. For the past.

  Her chest heaved as she yelled, “Yes!”

  When she reached for the door again, he chest bumped her. She stumbled backwards deeper into the foyer. He stepped inside quickly and slammed the door shut, pausing just long enough to turn the deadbolt.

  “Get out of my house!”

  “No.”

  “See? That’s the problem with you bikers. You don’t know when you’re not wanted. You don’t know what no means. You just do whatever the fuck you want.”

  “Babe,” he started, his anger rising almost to the point of hers.

  “Don’t you fucking call me that. I’m not a babe. I’m a goddamn woman who should be treated with respect. I’m not an object. A thing.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered and when he reached out for her she scrambled back.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Babe... Brooke. Just let me talk to you.”

  “Talk? You could have talked all those hours when you were in my bed. You chose not to. You knew who my father was and didn’t say shit!” Her screamed words echoed off the high foyer ceiling.

  He took a step toward her. “No! Only had a suspicion. That’s fuckin’ it.”

  She took a step away from him. “But now you know? How?”

  Ah fuck. Now he had to admit he took her hair without her permission. Had a fucking DNA test done without asking her first.

  He was fucked.

  None of this was worth the headache. Why the fuck did he ride over three hours to just east of Harrisburg to have to listen to her flipping out?

  What fucking man asked for this bul
lshit?

  “Babe,” he said softly, trying not to flip his shit.

  “Babe!” she shouted and threw her arms up. “Babe!”

  “Fuckin’ motherfucker,” he muttered, closing his eyes. After a second he opened them to see her hands back on her hips. Which emphasized every one of her curves, the ones he could see from her wearing the bikini, to the ones barely covered by the white silky robe.

  She was waiting for his answer.

  “Got a pool?”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  He took another step forward. “You got a pool?”

  “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “No. Don’t like this screechin’ shit. Came here for a reason. And it wasn’t this.”

  “You came here to tell me who my father was, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you told me. Now you can... get gone.”

  He straightened his shoulders and pulled himself to his full height. He took one more step toward her. Now they were only almost five feet apart. Close enough he could smell her. His nostrils flared as they filled with whatever lotion or perfume she wore. The same scent he ended up wearing every time he’d rolled out of her bed. “Ain’t leavin’.”

  “There’s nothing for you here, Dex. Like I said earlier, it was fun. That’s it. I don’t owe you shit. You don’t owe me shit. I now know the first name of the man whose... cum created me. My sperm donor. And that’s all he was and that’s all he’ll ever be.” She lifted a palm. “Oh, wait. He’ll be an Angel, right? Until the day he dies. Down and dirty ‘til dead, isn’t that right? Isn’t that your club’s motto? The one you have tattooed on your back, along with the patches that shows your blind ‘loyalty’ to each other? No matter what?”

  “No. You’re wrong, b— Brooke.” He shook his head. “So fuckin’ wrong.”

  “Yeah? How’s that? What are you going to do with this Pierce?” She practically spat out the former club president’s name.

  “We’re gonna handle it,” he said with a calmness he was struggling to hold onto.

  She closed her eyes then barked out a laugh. “Right.”

  “Give you my word,” he said softly, taking one more step towards her.

  She opened her eyes and pinned them on him. “What’s your word worth, Dex?”

  When he didn’t answer quickly enough, she closed the gap between them. As she raised her hands to him once more, he snagged her wrists, holding them tight.

  She tugged them hard but he didn’t release them.

  “You know what your word is worth? Nothing. You’re just a dirty, uneducated, misogynistic biker. That’s all you are. That’s all you all are. Nothing more.”

  A muscle in his jaw popped and he yanked on her arms, but she planted her feet on the tile floor and leaned back.

  “Yeah? Had no problem cryin’ out my name when my dirty, dumb dick was in your fuckin’ pussy.”

  Her face turned red as she tried to pull herself free once more. He was not letting her go. No fucking way.

  But he should. He should just walk away. Especially now that he knew the truth about how she felt about him.

  He was a dirty, uneducated, misogynistic biker. Good enough to fuck for a couple nights, but that was it.

  “Let me go,” she hissed, yanking her arms again.

  He did and she stumbled backwards, but by the time she caught her balance, he was rushing forward, his shoulder down, which caught her right in the gut as he threw her over his shoulder and rushed through the house.

  “What the fuck! Let me go! What the fuck are you doing?” she screamed in his ear, pounding on his back, ripping at his hair.

  He ignored it all, even when his eyes began to water from his stinging scalp.

  Fuck this shit.

  He just kept walking until he found what he was looking for. With one arm still wrapped around her to keep her from falling, he jerked the glass sliding door open, using his boot to kick it wider. Then he saw his second destination, though it wasn’t what he quite expected. He hurried over to the edge and tossed her into the air.

  All he saw was a pinwheel of arms and legs and a cloud of blonde hair before he saw and heard the loud splash.

  He stood against the side, his hands on his hips as she sputtered to the surface of the hot tub. Her wet robe clung to her like a second skin, her nipples hard as diamonds under her suit. She gasped, pushed the hair out of her face, then turned to face him.

  He leaned over to unbuckle his boots, kicked them off, and slipped his cut off his shoulders.

  “Don’t fuckin’ move,” he growled at her as she pushed herself to the corner, wiping water out of her eyes. “Stay there.”

  “Fuck you,” she said, but her temper had definitely cooled off. Just the effect he was striving for.

  He grinned, tossed his cut on a nearby lounge chair and finished stripping himself of his clothes. And before she could get out, he climbed into the hot, turbulent water.

  “Fuck you, Dex,” she said again, her voice now mellow, drops of waters beading on her thick eyelashes and her face as she moved to the other side of the hot tub toward the step.

  He caught her, wrapped one hand around the back of her head and pulled her to him, taking her mouth. With a groan she shoved her tongue into his, trying to take control once again.

  He shoved her against the tub wall, peeling the robe off her. He yanked at the bow at the back of her neck and the one at the center of her back, letting her bikini top float away.

  Her fingers dug roughly into his wet hair and her other hand found his rock-hard dick, which was sandwiched between their stomachs. He thrust into her palm as she squeezed him tight.

  He broke the kiss, breathing hard, pressing his forehead to hers. “Just a filthy, stupid fuckin’ biker. Sure you want this dick inside you?”

  “No.”

  He pulled back a little to glance down into her slate blue eyes. “No, you don’t want it? Or no, you ain’t sure?”

  “No, I want it,” she breathed.

  “Sure? ‘Cause I’m pretty fuckin’ dirty. An’ dumb, too.”

  She closed her eyes and her hand on his dick paused mid-stroke. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

  “Don’t take your fuckin’ anger out on me. I didn’t do shit.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t wanna do you wrong, babe. Swear it.”

  “So do me right,” Brooke murmured into his ear, tracing the tip of her tongue around the outer shell.

  His large hands grasped her waist and set her ass on the edge of the tub, the water sluicing from her body. She was glad she had a six-foot privacy fence around her yard and sunroom since she was sure what they were about to do would shock the neighbors otherwise.

  Funny, she had missed him being in her bed last night. This biker who she’d called dirty and uneducated in her frustration.

  He was neither of those things. However, she didn’t know him that well. In fact, hardly at all. They hadn’t had any deep conversations during or after their sex sessions. She hadn’t wanted to get to know him better and he hadn’t pushed it. He’d been satisfied to just lay next to her quietly in the darkness of the motel room.

  But now, for some reason, she regretted wasting that time.

  “Get your bottoms off an’ spread your thighs,” he growled.

  He was giving her orders. One night apart and he’d forgotten who was in charge.

  It wasn’t him.

  “You take my bottoms off,” she ordered, staring down at him as he stood there naked in the center of the hot tub. His cock was clearly visible under the surface of the rolling water, bobbing up and down with stream from the jets. His wet body, covered in colorful tattoos, glistened. The gold rings that pierced his nipples reflected the sunlight shining through the glass panels of the sunroom.

  They made her mouth water.

  He wasn’t gentle, not at all, when he jerked her bottoms over her ass and down her legs, toss
ing them to the floor behind her. She bit back a gasp when he dug his fingers into her thighs and shoved them part, giving him enough room to get his head between them, the stubble of his beard scraping the tender skin of her inner thighs. Giving him enough room to suck her clit into his mouth. His teeth scraped across her sensitive nub making her hips jump.

  And then those ringed fingers—those long, long fingers—found her core, pressing deep, finding that spot that made her drop her head back and her mouth gape open as the air rushed from her lungs. Lifting her hips, she groaned when he was not gentle at all. Hell no, he wasn’t. He was rough and demanding with his mouth, his tongue, his fingers.

  But she needed to keep her wits about her. Remember who she was. Not let him roll over her, drown her.

  He reached up and snagged her nipple, gripping it roughly and pulling it as hard as she’d done to him so many times in the last few days. He twisted and pulled, causing a shock of lightning to race through her. She gipped his head and shoved it deeper into her pussy. He tried to pull away but she held him fast.

  “Make me come,” she demanded.

  The two fingers he had inside her curled and stroked, and she did her best to fight her climax. She wanted him to work for it.

  She didn’t want it to be easy; she wanted it to be worth it.

  She wanted to see if he was willing to put in the effort to please her, not just himself.

  Though, she had to admit, he hadn’t been a selfish lover at all back at the motel. Not once. In fact, she’d been the one who’d been selfish by taking whatever she could get from him for the short amount of time she was getting it.

  And he had never complained once. Anything she threw at him, he had accepted.

  It couldn’t be that simple. This Dex. This man who had forcefully picked her up and carried her out here, reminding her that she couldn’t always be in control.

  Even if she wanted to be.

  Sometimes she had to let go. Allow someone else to lead.

  But again, she wondered: why him, why now? This point in her life when everything had begun to crumble. Her neat, organized life had come crashing down around her when she lost her mother. When she discovered her mother’s secret.