Page 14 of Blackbeard (Blackjacks MC #2)

After lowering the volume on my phone, I tiptoed over and flung my arms around him. God, I was more drunk than I thought, but at least I didn’t care. About anything. And it was so liberating .

Dad was in his own little world with his club.

I was here, married to a very sexy man I was definitely attracted to. But betraying him was inevitable. So, he would hate me after that.

I even tried to call Torch, hoping he would be available to hookup. Just like old times. He didn’t answer his phone either.

But none of it mattered when my head was so light, I could just float off into the atmosphere.

Burying my face in Blackbeard’s neck, I breathed deep, inhaling the salty musk of his skin, earthy leather, and the tang of gasoline. He kept his hands straight at his sides and made no move to touch me in return.

“What took you so long?” I mumbled, nibbling at his earlobe. He angled his head away from me, out of reach. “I’ve been waiting ages for you to get back.”

Finally, Blackbeard pried my arms from his neck and stepped to the side, distancing himself.

“I made a pitstop at Hot Shot’s house to see how he was doing,” Blackbeard said. “The stitches in his leg are holding up, but he needed new bandages.”

Guilt twisted in my stomach, but I squashed it. That was the cost of a turf war. People got hurt when bullets started flying.

“I’m glad to hear it. Would you like me to send him a care package? A get well soon card and some chicken noodle soup?”

I was being a brat and I knew it. Sympathy was a slippery slope and I couldn’t afford to lose my footing in this game.

Blackbeard’s eyes darkened.

“I think he doesn’t want to see you right now. Especially when you have this attitude going on. Don’t pester him. He needs to rest. Let the painkillers and antibiotics do their job.”

“If you say so.”

He took my wrist and pressed a small black box into my hand.

“Here’s your ring. So you can stop nagging me about it.”

I opened the box’s lid and found a stunning ring inside, laced with half a dozen diamonds, twined around a vivid green emerald. It must have cost a fortune. I slipped it onto my finger, admiring the way it dazzled in the light.

I never gave much thought to marriage. Didn’t have any girl friends to talk to about stuff like that, and conversation in my father’s club never turned to gushing over dresses or wedding venues.

But I had to admit, I liked the way Blackbeard’s ring looked on my hand. Vain as it may sound. It didn’t mean anything more than a pretty trinket to appease me, but I could pretend. I was good at that.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” I said softly. Then I clasped the ring to my chest. “Does this mean we get to have sweaty, sloppy newlywed sex?”

Blackbeard scoffed and skirted around me, making sure no part of his body even brushed against mine.

“Does your libido ever take a break?”

“Nope,” I replied.

He surveyed the living room, littered with a pack of empty beer cans, then his gaze scanned over me.

“You’re drunk,” he said.

“Only this much.” I held up my thumb and index finger to indicate a pinch. “You’re a very lucky man, you know that?”

“Why? Because I married you?”

I twisted and toyed with the ring, rocking back on my heels.

“Because of your family. Your club. There are a lot of people in this world who have your back.”

My throat grew tight and my voice cracked on the last word.

What the fuck? Why was I getting emotional? This never happened. I didn’t let anyone see me cry. Ever. And Blackbeard was my enemy, my target. I definitely couldn’t afford to crumble in front of him.

I shook my head and pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes. Stuffing down this tsunami of emotions I wasn’t supposed to feel.

“Popeye cares about you,” Blackbeard said.

I exhaled a dry, humorless laugh, fixing a smile in place.

“Sort of. In his own way, I guess. But according to Baby Doll, everyone can see that my daddy sacrificed me like a useless little pawn. ”

“Fuck,” Blackbeard sighed. “I knew you two had done some damage to each other.” He cupped my elbow and led me into the living room. “Sit.”

“I’m fine,” I protested.

“Glad to hear it. Now, sit.”

I plopped onto the couch, draping my arms over my head with a lazy, cat-like stretch. The hem of my T-shirt rode up my thighs, revealing the lacy edge of my blush-pink panties. Blackbeard’s gaze skittered up my bare legs for a split second before he sat on the couch beside me.

Curving his tattooed fingers around my ankle, he guided my leg into his lap. Pressed his thumb into the soft flesh of my instep, massaging in slow, measured circles.

My head was fuzzy, my thoughts sluggish from pickling my brain in all that beer. I should have known better than to lower my inhibitions. All I wanted to do was curl up in Blackbeard’s lap and cuddlefuck the night away with sweet, sappy sex.

But that wouldn’t get me the upper hand in this power dynamic. The only time this man had been willing to fuck me was when I first walked in his door, to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson. There had been nothing gentle or soft about it.

I scrambled to get myself back into that character of an obnoxious wife he didn’t like.

“If you rub a little higher, you’ll find heaven,” I said.

Blackbeard dug his thumb into my foot. I whimpered and tried to pull away, but his fingers clamped tight around my ankle and I couldn’t escape.

“Ow! That hurts, asshole.”

He eased up on the pressure again, but he didn’t let go of my ankle.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“ Nothing, ” I spat. “That’s the point. What does a girl have to do around here to get some dick? Parade through the house naked?”

Blackbeard remained unflinching despite my verbal attack. He continued to rub ceaseless circles in the bottom of my foot, his fingers caging my ankle in a light, firm grip.

“I haven’t heard you mention your mom,” he said. “Is she in the picture at all?”

I snorted.

“She left when I was five. Zero maternal instincts. Hated being a mother from day one. Having a biker for a husband didn’t help.”

Why was I telling him all this? Apart from the club, I didn’t talk about my personal life with men I slept with, and they didn’t care enough to ask.

But with Blackbeard, everything seemed to just slip out unintentionally. I could blame the booze, but I usually held my liquor better than this, so I didn’t have any excuses.

“That must have been difficult for you,” Blackbeard said with a hum of sympathy.

Something deep and cold and dark in my chest melted at his words. I glanced away, fidgeting with my ring.

Dad didn’t talk about Mom very much, and there were no other women in my life. I got along well enough with his club, but being the only woman among a herd of savage men was often rough and isolating.

The bunnies that passed through the clubhouse tended to keep me at arm’s length. Being the President’s daughter, I held a position in the club that granted privileges they would never have access to. So I couldn’t blame them for the resentment they harbored toward me in that regard.

A few of the Forsaken had wives at home, but we didn’t have much in common. They were busy raising kids, keeping a house, while I was sleeping around, unattached, and stirring up trouble with the boys.

I tried not to think about how lonely it really was to be a princess sometimes.

“Any siblings?” Blackbeard ventured. “Aunts, uncles, cousins?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

Suddenly, his touch wasn’t soothing anymore. It was suffocating. I needed to get away. I needed another drink.

“You have an opportunity to make some new friends here,” Blackbeard said after a pause.

I sputtered a laugh.

“You’re joking, right? Crash looked like he was ready to spit in my face.”

Blackbeard clucked his tongue as he smoothed his hand up my calf.

“And whose fault was that?”

I huffed.

“Okay, fine, so I didn’t exactly make a great first impression with him. But Baby Doll wasn’t giving off warm and fuzzy vibes when I tried to chat with her.”

“She never does. That’s not her style. I’m sure you weren’t a saint, either.”

I sulked.

“I’m your wife. You’re supposed to take my side.”

He shook his head.

“That’s where you get things mixed up, princess. As my Old Lady, you treat my club with respect. You blindsided Crash, then you went after Baby Doll. Next time, don’t come in like a wrecking ball and maybe you’ll find people are more receptive to you.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“Do you really believe that would work?”

Blackbeard shrugged, sweeping his thumb back and forth over my calf.

“It won’t be an overnight success. But you’re only making life harder for yourself right now by pissing people off. If you want to belong here, you have to earn it.”

A touching speech, I thought. Useless advice though. I’m the bomb that will bring the Blackjacks to their knees when this is all over. Blackbeard had a family and a club that I envied. But I could never be part of that. My people were waiting for me back home, with Dad and the Forsaken.

Blackbeard patted my leg and waved me off.

“Go on,” he said. “Go to bed. Get off my couch, I need to sleep. It’s late and your hangover will be brutal in the morning.”

“But it’s so far to the bedroom,” I whined, plastering myself against his chest. My T-shirt was thin enough that he would definitely feel my nipples through the fabric. If he could resist that, he had nerves of steel. “Can’t I just stay here with you?”

“Not a chance.”

Blackbeard rose to his feet, grabbed my arm, and hauled me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. The world reeled, spinning dangerously, and I swallowed a groan. Bile seared the back of my throat.

He swatted my ass, the meat of his palm hot and heavy through the sheer lace of my panties. My core clenched with need.

“Like I said,” Blackbeard added. “You won’t get princess treatment in this house.”

“Fuck you,” I rasped, deeply regretting all that beer I had.

“Maybe when you’re sober, sweetheart.”

My head bobbed as Blackbeard carried me through the house to the bedroom. He dropped me onto the mattress unceremoniously, flicking the sheet up to cover my body. Before he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of his nightstand and froze.

I smirked with triumph, wiggling deeper into the bed.

Blackbeard circled around to his nightstand and picked up the hot pink wand vibrator I’d placed there. It practically glowed in contrast with the dark ink of his tattooed fingers. He flicked it on and a muted buzzing filled the room.

His gaze settled on me.

My mouth went dry with anticipation.

Slowly, Blackbeard leaned over me and braced one hand on the mattress next to my head. My body arched toward him automatically, drawn like a magnet to his masculine sex appeal.

He held up the wand, pressing it lightly to my lower belly. Not nearly close enough to my clit. The vibrations rumbled across my skin. I squirmed with desperation.

“It’s a shame,” Blackbeard murmured. “If you weren’t drunk, I would have made you come. Again and again and again. Until you squirted all over my bed like a good little wife.”

A gasp escaped my lips and fire burned through every inch of my body.

Blackbeard grinned, a flash of teeth in the shadows of his bedroom. Then he turned off the vibrator and tossed it onto the mattress beside me. He chuckled as he walked out.

“Sweet dreams, baby.”