Page 14

Demi

“I’m not a whore,” I blurt out, suddenly feeling exposed as Klutch’s eyes roam over my naked body. Heat rushes to my cheeks as the reality of what we just did crashes over me.

Klutch laughs, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. I narrow my eyes at him, mortified that he finds my embarrassment amusing.

“Think I know that, baby. I popped your cherry,” he says with a smirk.

I gasp, my mouth falling open. I know he did not just say that. “You can’t just?—”

My protest dies as his lips crash against mine, swallowing my words. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and just like that, I’m melting again. God, how does he do this to me? One minute I’m ready to tell him off, and the next I’m putty in his hands.

Before I can gather my scattered thoughts, he scoops me up like I weigh nothing. I squeak in surprise, my arms looping around his neck as he carries me into his bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I squeak again when my ass hits the cold granite countertop.

He doesn’t answer, just reaches into the shower and turns on the water. Steam starts to fill the small bathroom as he adjusts the temperature, his muscled back flexing with every move he makes. The sight of all those tattoos covering his skin makes my mouth go dry.

When he turns back to me, his eyes are dark and hungry. “Ready for round two?”

“I don’t think I can—” I start, but he’s already lifting me again. He steps into the shower with me in his arms, then slowly lets my body slide down his. I feel every hard inch of him against me, including his already hardening length pressing against my belly.

“Klutch,” I breathe as the warm water cascades over us.

“Let me take care of you, Blue,” he murmurs, reaching for his body wash on the shower rail.

I watch as he squeezes some into his palm, then begins to lather it across my shoulders, my chest, my breasts. His touch is gentle, almost reverent as his soapy hands glide over my skin. I close my eyes and lean into him, savoring the sensation of his hands on my body.

“Turn around,” he croaks, just as affected by what he’s doing as I am.

I obey, and his hands move to my back, my shoulders, down to my waist and the curve of my bottom. He kneels behind me, washing my legs, my calves, my feet. There’s something intensely intimate about being washed like this, almost more intimate than the sex we just had.

When he stands again, I take the body wash from him. “My turn.”

A smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he watches me pour the soap into my hands. I start at his chest, my fingers tracing the designs inked into his skin. A crown over his heart. The Grim Reaper on his ribs. Words in what looks like Spanish curling around his shoulder.

“What does this say?” I ask, tracing the lettering.

“Family above all,” he translates. “Got it with my dad when I turned eighteen.”

I nod, continuing my exploration of his body. My hands move lower, over the ridges of his abs, the sharp cut of his hip bones. When my soapy hands smooth over his now fully erect cock, he hisses through his teeth.

An idea forms in my mind. I’ve never done this before, but I’ve heard enough from McKenna to know the basics. Before I can talk myself out of it, I drop to my knees in front of him.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, his voice strained.

I look up at him through the spray of the shower. “Show me how.”

His eyes darken at my words. He wraps his hand around himself, guiding the tip to my lips. “Open,” he commands.

I part my lips, and he slides just the head of his cock into my mouth. It feels strange at first, the weight of him on my tongue, but it’s not unpleasant.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his free hand tangling in my wet hair. “Now take a little more.”

I do as he says, letting him slide deeper into my mouth. His groans spur me on, and I begin to move, bobbing my head as I take him in and out.

“Use your hand,” he instructs, guiding my fingers to wrap around the base of his shaft where my mouth can’t reach.

I follow his lead, stroking and sucking in tandem, learning what he likes. It’s empowering, seeing this strong, intimidating man at my mercy.

“Fuck, Blue,” he groans, his grip in my hair tightening. “I’m gonna come.”

I expect him to pull away, but instead, he holds me in place. “Swallow it,” he commands, his voice ragged.

Before I can process his words, hot spurts of his release flood my mouth. I swallow reflexively, the taste salty and bitter but it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever swallowed.

Just as I think we’re finished, Klutch yanks me up from the shower floor. In one quick motion, he leans me against the tile wall and surges inside me. I cry out at the sudden intrusion, still sensitive from earlier.

“Mine,” he growls, fucking me hard against the cold wall. The water continues to pour over us as he pounds into me, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through my body.

It doesn’t take long before I’m clinging to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as another orgasm builds. When it hits, I throw my head back against the tile, his name spilling from my lips.

He follows me into bliss a moment later, his hips jerking erratically as he groans and comes inside me.

As the fog of pleasure clears, realization dawns. “Wait,” I gasp, shoving at his chest. “We didn’t use protection. I’m not on the pill!”

Klutch shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal. “If you get pregnant, we’ll deal with it.”

Anger flashes through me. How can he be so cavalier about this? “Deal with it? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Blue—”

“I wouldn’t get rid of my baby if I was pregnant,” I snap, suddenly defensive of a child that doesn’t even exist.

He silences me with a hard kiss, then drops his forehead to mine. “That’s not what I meant, baby. But I’m glad to hear you confirm that you wouldn’t want to kill our kid. I mean, if there was one.”

I relax slightly, the fight draining out of me. “Oh.”

“I promise I’ll put on a wrap from now on,” he says, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks, my lips. “It’s just that one taste of this sexy mouth and I lose all fucking rational thought.”

My cheeks warm at his declaration. He’s so open, holding nothing back. It’s not something I’m used to; not something I do.

“We should finish up,” I tell him.

He shakes his head and steps back, letting me off the hook for changing the subject. After finishing up and we get dried off and dressed in silence, the weight of what just happened, what could happen, hangs between us.

I’m just slipping on my purple Converse when a sharp knock sounds at the door.

Klutch frowns, moving to answer it while I finish tying my laces. I hear McKenna’s voice before I see her, high-pitched and worried.

“Where is she? Is she okay?”

Before Klutch can answer, Kenny barrels past him and spots me sitting on the edge of the bed. She rushes over, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Thank God! I was so worried when I went downstairs this morning and saw your door boarded up. I had to hear from Pee Wee about your apartment.” I can hear the disapproval in her voice. Guilt hits me hard. I should have called her last night, told her what happened.

Wait. Did she say my door was boarded up? I blink in confusion. “The door was boarded up?”

McKenna pulls back, her eyes wide. “You don’t know? The front door looks like Not-Handy Manny tried to fix it.” I almost laugh at her reference of the cartoon show but am still too confused to find the humor in it.

I turn to Klutch, who’s leaning against the doorframe with Pee Wee looming behind him. “Someone boarded up my place?”

He nods, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Sent a prospect over last night to secure it. Didn’t want anyone else getting in.”

A wave of gratitude washes over me. I don’t know what I would have done without him these past twenty-four hours. He’s been my rock in the middle of this storm, and I barely know him.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

He gives me a slight nod, his eyes conveying it’s not a big deal. But it is. To me.

Pee Wee clears his throat. “Hate to break up the moment, but we need to get to church, brother.”

Klutch straightens up and the shutters come down. He’s no longer the sweet guy who has been taking care of me. He’s Klutch. SAA of the Bastard Saints MC. A chill rushes down my spine. One that he notices instantly.

“Give me a minute.”

He crosses the room to where McKenna and I are sitting. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to my lips, soft but possessive. “I won’t be long.”

As soon as the door closes behind them, McKenna turns to me with wide eyes. “Oh. My. God. Spill. Now.”

My cheeks go hot. Shoot. I turn my head away from her, but it doesn’t make the lie any easier. “There’s nothing to spill.”

“Bullshit,” my best friend scoffs. “He just kissed you in front of Pee Wee like it was the most natural thing in the world. And your hair is wet and so was his, which means you showered together, which means...” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Fine,” I sigh, unable to keep the smile from my face. “We slept together.”

She squeals, bouncing on the bed. “I knew it! Was it good? He looks like he’d know what he’s doing. He has that whole ‘I’ll ruin you for other men’ vibe going on.”

I laugh, shaking my head at her insanity. “It was...” I pause, searching for the right word. “Perfect.”

“Details, bitch! I need details!”

For the next hour, I give her a heavily edited version of last night and this morning. I tell her about finding my apartment trashed and Klutch bringing me here.

“What about you?” I ask, eager to get the attention off of me. “Did you stay here last night too?”

A smile spreads across her face. “I stayed at Pee Wee’s place.”

My eyes widen. “You slept with Pee Wee?”

“Not in the biblical sense,” she clarifies, rolling her eyes. “He was a perfect gentleman, if you can believe it. Slept beside me all night and never made a move.” She pushes out her bottom lip in a pout.

I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms.

Before I ask what was the point in taking her home with him if he wasn’t going to make a move, the door swings open, and Klutch and Pee Wee step inside. The meeting must have gone well because both men look relaxed, though Klutch’s eyes immediately seek me out as if making sure I’m still here.

Pee Wee walks over to McKenna. “Ready to go, darlin’? I’ve got errands to run.”

McKenna hops up, grabbing her purse. “See you later, Dems. Call me if you need anything.”

After they leave, Klutch sits beside me on the bed. “You okay?”

I nod, leaning into his solid warmth. “Just thinking about work tonight. I should go.”

He stiffens beside me. “You’re still planning to work?”

“I need the money, Klutch,” I remind him. “Now more than ever.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his jaw working as if he’s grinding his teeth. “Fine,” he finally says. “But only if you let me put a prospect on you for protection.”

I pull back to look at him. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“It’s not up for negotiation, Blue,” he says firmly. “You either let me put a man on you, or you don’t work at all.”

I want to argue, to tell him he has no right to dictate my life, but the truth is, after what happened to my apartment, I’m scared. Having someone watching my back might not be such a bad idea.

“Fine,” I concede. “But he stays out of my way.”

Klutch relaxes slightly. “Deal.”

The Underground is packed when I arrive. The prospect Klutch assigned to me, a young guy everyone calls Rookie with shaggy blonde hair and too many tattoos, shadows my every move, staying just far enough away to not be obvious but close enough to step in if needed.

I’ve been slinging drinks for about three hours when I spot a familiar figure hunched at the end of the bar. My heart does a flip.

Dad.

I make my way over to him, ignoring a customer trying to get my attention. “Dad!”

He looks up, his face breaking into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Dems?” His brow burrows as he glances around the arena. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m working here.” Looking him over, he looks terrible. Worse than how I found him a few days ago. The bruising has turned a sickly yellowy-green, and there are dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He reeks of cheap whiskey.

“Where have you been?” I demand, keeping my voice low. “I’ve been worried sick.”

His body deflates. “Around. Laying low. Trying to figure things out.”

“Figure out what?” I growl. “You get yourself into all this shit with Frankie. You put it on me to bail you out and you just go and disappear?” The au-fucking-dacity. I shake my head in disbelief. “What’s really going on, Bobby ? The apartment was trashed.”

He has the decency to look ashamed now. “I know. I’m sorry. But I promise I’m going to fix things.”

A chill runs down my spine at his words. “What does that mean? What are you planning?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he says, patting my hand. “I’ve got it all under control.”

That’s the last thing I want to hear from him. My father having “things under control” usually means disaster is right around the corner. As pissed off as I am at him, he’s still my dad and I don’t want anything to happen to him.

“Dad, please,” I beg, leaning closer. “Don’t do anything stupid. Let me help. I’m making good money here. Maybe we can work something out with Frankie?—”

“It’s too late for that,” he cuts me off, his eyes darting around nervously.

“You don’t know that!”

“I’ve got to go,” he says suddenly, sliding off the barstool.

“Dad, wait?—”

Before I can beg him not to leave, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. I move to follow him, but a hand on my arm stops me.

“Everything okay?” Rookie asks, his eyes trained on my father’s retreating back.

“No,” I admit, my stomach knotting with worry. “Things couldn’t be worse.”