Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  “West,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes.

  “My mom came over. Rosalie thinks we’re splitting up and I couldn’t fucking deny it. I couldn’t tell her one hundred percent that we weren’t,” he rasps.

  Each word is like a punch to my gut, a stab to my heart. My threatening tears fall. I hate this. I hate the way I feel right now, and I hate that he isn’t reassuring me. I hate that he was in that room yesterday and came home drunk late last night. I hate so much—and yet, I love him still.

  “You know what? When you figure out what you want, you let me know,” I state, lifting the back of my hand to wipe my tears away.

  West growls. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Lifting to the balls of my feet, I don’t shout, but I make myself clear when I speak. “Whatever you’re doing at the clubhouse in the free-for-all room that doesn’t include me, figure it out. If you don’t want to be part of this marriage, then you need to let me know. If you have been, or you want to screw whores, then just fucking tell me. Stop hiding shit from me. Stop making me look stupid and stop making me feel worthless.”

  His body stiffens but his eyes lose their anger immediately and soften. The hand that he slammed next to my head moves but I can’t look at it, I can’t look anywhere but his beautiful eyes. We’re hurting each other, back and forth, over and over. It’s heartbreaking.

  “I haven’t fucked anyone but you, baby,” he murmurs, lowering his head and resting his forehead against mine. “Only you, Ivy.”

  I don’t want to get into this right here, in a parking lot, in the middle of town but I need to know and he’s talking. “What do you do in there? What have you been doing the past few months when you’re not home?” I ask.

  The question comes so easily, and yet, I already know that the answer will hurt. “I watch, Ivy.” Three little words, and yet their impact is so much more than I imagined.

  “You watch?”

  He hums, keeping his forehead against my own. “I watch and I imagine whatever bitch in the middle of the room, is you,” he admits.

  I jerk out of his hold, and he lets me go. Stepping around him, I blink. The tears I had are now dried up, and I don’t feel like I’m going to cry, but I do feel confused. I wait for him to continue, knowing that there must be so much more to his confession. It feels like an hour goes by until he finally speaks.

  “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. It’s my fantasy, Ivy, but it isn’t right. You’re the mother of my children. I shouldn’t want that with you,” he murmurs.

  I nod once, trying to collect my thoughts for a minute. Then I inhale deeply, letting it out before I speak. “You didn’t want to tell me. You decided you shouldn’t want that with me because I’m the mother of your children. So, you were going to what? Divorce me so you could enjoy your kink with someone else?” I ask.

  Anger suddenly surges throughout my body.

  What a selfish fucking prick.

  West runs his hand through his long hair before wrapping it around the back of his neck. “How can I ask you, my wife of fifteen years for something like that?” he asks lifting his eyes to me, his brows tugged together in seriousness.

  I want to scream and throw things at him. This man has put me through hell, all over something he felt as though he couldn’t talk to me about.

  The worst part of all of this is that we’ve been together for so long, and I’ve trusted him, until recently, to the point where I felt comfortable enough to tell him anything that crossed my mind. He obviously doesn’t feel the same way about me. He doesn’t trust me with a fantasy so big that he’s contemplating leaving me over.

  Bottom line—He. Doesn’t. Trust. Me.

  “So, you don’t trust me,” I whisper my thoughts aloud.

  West lifts his face and his eyes penetrate my own as I wait for his reply. “Out of everything I just said, your only response is the fact that you think I don’t trust you?” he balks.

  “You’re willing to throw me to the side, toss me away like trash, without talking to me. All of this shit between us, this anger, it could have been avoided if you would have just talked to me, West. But you didn’t, because you don’t trust me. Or maybe, what you’re telling me is bullshit? Maybe you just wanted some hot young pussy to play your kinks out with? Maybe you had no intention of telling me because you’ve decided I’m fat and lazy?”

  I watch as his nostrils flare at my heated words. His face turns red before he speaks. “Shut your goddamn mouth, Ivy. I fucking told you that I didn’t mean a damn word of that. What I said, it wasn’t about you. It was about Tinker and that cunt he was about to brand. I’ve never regretting making you mine, not ever. I’ve never thought you were less than completely gorgeous either.”

  “I can’t trust a word you say to me, West,” I mutter. “Nothing.”

  West throws his hands up in defeat and takes another step back from me. “Fine. Fucking forget I said anything. I’m not letting you go anywhere though, Ivy. If you think that you’re leaving me, you’ve got another thing fucking coming. You’re mine no matter what you want. I own every piece of you.”

  He turns around and stomps away from me. I feel—defeated, deflated, and depressed. Running my fingers through my new soft hair I let out a sigh. Nothing between us was solved today. In fact, everything is worse.

  There doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of our tunnel and that makes me want to cry even more.

  Dammit.

  Why is this all so hard?

  Chapter Seven

  CAMO

  When did life become so fucking complicated and hard? I don’t remember how it happened. One second I was a prospect for a club, a club that offered freedom and no boundaries. The next minute I’m a father of three, and on the verge of divorce.

  My bike rumbles beneath me as I ride through town. I don’t want to go to the clubhouse, and I definitely do not want to go home. So, I just ride. The fresh air of the California mountains swirls around me and I take the time to just enjoy it.

  I don’t know how long I’m gone, but I pull over at a gas station to refuel and check my phone. The sun is already starting to set and I know it must be well past five.

  Once my bike has fuel, I walk away and look at my phone. I have three missed called from MadDog and a couple of texts. Without checking what the texts say, I return MadDog’s call.

  “Where the fuck are you?” he barks.

  I groan. “I’m about ten miles from town. Needed to take a ride. What’s up?”

  “Get your ass back here, church is in ten minutes,” he states before he ends the call.

  MadDog is gruff, always has been, but he’s never been quite so short with me on the phone before. Shoving the device back in my jacket I jog over to my bike and straddle it before starting it.

  I hug the turns and I quickly make my way back toward the clubhouse. Something is wrong and I feel it in my gut. Whatever it is, I hope that it’s something we can take care of quickly.

  The parking area of the clubhouse is completely full when I arrive. The prospect lifts his chin in a greeting as he opens the gates for me. Once I’ve parked my bike, I divest myself of my helmet and leave it on the seat before I jog inside of the clubhouse.

  Tinker is standing at the door that leads into the room we hold church in with a basket in hand. I drop my phone inside before walking toward my seat.

  The place is packed, every member is here and I wonder what in the fuck is going on. As soon as my ass hits the chair, MadDog takes his gavel and slams it down, calling the meeting to order.

  “My wife was approached this morning at the grocery store,” MadDog announces. “Some punk ass kid talked to her about the end of an era and stupid shit like that. Probably some harmless fuck, but I’m not taking any chances. Keep eyes on your families until we’re able to figure this shit out. Right now, we only have four prospects so they’ll be making rotations from house to house.”

  “Pres,” I call out and MadDog lifts his chin to
me. “Some kid approached me and Ivy the other day coming out of Bullseye. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. He was a punk ass. He didn’t really say anything, but he watched me. The way he did it, he was studying.”

  MadDog growls. “Stay vigilant. Keep an eye out and tell your women to do the same. I’d like brothers not on rotation for loading up merch in Humboldt to help out with watching the women too.”

  “Why don’t we do a schedule, that way every woman is always protected?” Torch suggests.

  “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.

  IVY

  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 suc
k 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.