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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SAINT
L eading her back to the clubhouse, I notice she’s quiet and wonder whether what she’s just experienced was too much for her, while being slightly disappointed. Surely a Fed should have a stronger stomach than that?
“You need a drink?” I offer, as we enter the empty bar.
She glances at me, then shrugs. “I could do with a shot of Jack.”
Happy to play bartender, I lithely jump over the bar, taking down a bottle and picking up a couple of shot glasses. Laden, I lift the hatch to bring the bounty out. Without giving her the option of drinking here or in my room, I just make my way to the stairs, glancing behind me to make sure she’s following, slowing my pace to ensure she can keep up. Once inside, I motion her in, and kick the door shut behind me. I go to the desk, place the glasses down, then pour two shots. Looking around to pass one to her, I see she’s already made herself comfortable, leaning back on my bed, and something inside me loosens at just how good she looks propped up against my pillows.
Am I mad that one of the prospects we let into the club, a man who we hoped we could learn to trust, had betrayed us? Fuck, yes. But although I put the club first, and loyalty to my brothers above all, part of me wants to fall to my knees and offer thanks to a deity in which I don’t profess to believe in that she’s here with me now, and not suffering the fate that Gris, Skunk , will currently be going through.
While torn, as one of my brothers had sponsored him, there had been a part of me that believed her outrageous story from the start. It was a dick move to suggest that Tempest should bring her down to the barn, to face the unpleasantness without warning. But that’s me, I’m not representative of my name in any way. I should have been named after a devil.
It’s only now I’m realising the implications. Though she didn’t see the death blow and will never be party to the location of Skunk’s grave, she’s seen enough to upset her law-abiding tendencies. If there was ever a chance Bullseye would let her loose, pat her back and see her on her way, that’s gone now.
How could I snuff out the brightness in her eyes, or watch another brother end her? The way she held her own tonight, took everything Skunk throw at her, and managed to convince my brothers that he was the immediate enemy and not her, had aroused feelings inside me, admiration for sure, but also the confirmation of that strange thought I’ve been having that she’d make one hell of a good old lady.
She takes a swallow of the Jack I pass to her, clearly savouring the taste on her tongue before she swallows. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand, then goes back for another taste. Her expression is unreadable, her eyes fixed on the wall opposite the bed.
I’m veering from wanting to apologise to her for putting her through any distress, for not stepping up, or explaining when Freak shackled her to that fucking chair it was a ploy to get the traitor to talk. Said approach though must have been terrifying and has me wanting to wrap my arms around her and hold her. She had to have been scared out of her wits, but it hadn’t shown on her face. I remember the way she’d stoically sat there, only sparing a glance at me that had spoken volumes about her thoughts, and how those must have centered around the idea that I’d betrayed her.
I’m out of my depth here. Even if there was a possibility I could make her mine, I’m not sure how to traverse that barrier my inaction has raised between us. I’ve no fucking idea how to break the silence or whether we can ever come back from my lack of defence, leaving her to the mercy of my brothers.
Then she takes another sip of her drink, sighs heavily, and says, “You know, I envy you.” Not expecting that comment, I raise my brow. In response, she sits forward. “You’re black and white, there’s no grey.” Again, I’m perplexed, and my expression shows it. Looking at my face, she offers a half-smile. “In my world,” she shakes her head, then corrects, “in the world I was in, even with solid proof, there’s no guarantee the bad guy would get what was coming. It would depend on the lawyer he could afford, and whether the judge was one of his family’s golfing buddies.” Raising her head, she meets my eyes and raises her half-empty glass as if in salute. “I know Skunk committed the worst sin in your eyes, he betrayed the club. And he’s going to get the final justice for it.”
Dumbfounded, I ask, “And you’re okay with that?”
Ruefully, she rubs the reddened side of her face where the bastard had hit her. “Surprisingly, I am.” Just as I’m about to question the veracity of her statement, she gives a half-smile and shrugs. “Just for a moment there, I’d feared there was a chance that Skunk would convince you he was innocent. Probably like the proverbial drowning man sees his life flash in front of his eyes, my thoughts suddenly gained clarity. All my life, I’ve tried to do what’s right, and it’s never gotten me anywhere. I’ve protected bastards whose views I never agreed with, was willing to step in front of a bullet for them because it was my job. And when it all went wrong, instead of my comrades rallying around me, they stepped away, leaving me to fend for myself and in the sights of people who wanted revenge.” She shifts down the bed, reaches over and her hand touches mine. “I envy you, Saint. You’ve got brothers who support you, I never had that.” She huffs. “I was a woman fighting to find my place in a man’s world,” she breaks off and snorts, “before that, I was just a person trying to discover if I was worth a damn to anyone. I found out early bad guys get away with shit if they’ve got money and lawyers.”
Her words are like balm to my soul. She envies my way of life? So maybe I’m pushing it, but perhaps there’s hope. Trying to be nonchalant, I ask, “So you’d like to live on the dark side?”
Chuckling, she shakes her head. “I’ve been so far on the light side all my life, I’ve no idea what I want anymore.” Holding out her now empty glass, I pour another double shot into it. “Tell me, Saint, truthfully, what is your club into?” She barks a laugh. “I mean, you’re going to kill me anyway, why not satisfy my curiosity?”
Put like that, why not? “We have a garage that builds custom bikes, alongside a chop shop.” A quick glance at her face tells me she understands. “We own a strip club,” huffing slightly, I add, “we like to say it’s all above board, no prostitution, but to be honest, what the girls do on their own time is their business, not ours. But,” I plaster a fierce look on my face to press my point, “We’re not into sex trafficking or selling hard drugs.” Though we do help ship them for others to distribute. Omission isn’t a lie, surely?
She huffs. “So, you’re choir boys.” After an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she states the obvious. “Skunk was here to get details of your trade routes between the US and Mexico. Don’t take me for an idiot, Saint.”
“It’s club business,” I snarl. “We don’t talk to anyone outside of the club about what we do or how and what we trade.”
She sits up straight and hisses, “For fuck’s sake, Saint. Let’s not pretend I’m getting out of here. Sure, I could try to escape, but I don’t count my chances as good.” She pauses, and sighs, “Let’s face it, if you hadn’t rescued me, I would already be dead. I’m living on borrowed time. Whatever you tell me, I’ll take to the grave. There’s no reason you can’t satisfy my curiosity.”
I grab her chin. “Don’t keep fuckin’ saying that. Don’t even think it. You’re alive and that’s the way you’re going to stay.”
Again, her eyes look up and then down again. “I know you’re the VP, Saint, but your prez and brothers will have their say. And they all hate me, or at least, what I stand for.”
“What you stood for,” I remind her. “Fuck, woman, you’d have to be crazy to want to go and reclaim your life again. With all the delinquent assholes out there, it won’t be long before one of them puts a bullet in your head. In their eyes, you killed their hero, or, at the very least, didn’t prevent him ending up dead.”
“That will blow over…”
“Want to bet your life on it? What about when one of those morons sees you out and about and decides to get his moment of fame? Could be a month, a year or three from now. Adams was revered amongst his followers and has become a martyr since he stopped drawing breath. Assholes like that never forget. No,” I say firmly. “Phillipa Owens is dead and must stay that way.”
“But I don’t have the resources to take on a new identity and haven’t a clue how to reinvent myself. I’ve no money, even if I had my credit cards, my accounts would be frozen.”
After brushing back my hair, I shake my head. “Can’t let you do that either. A new identity, yes, but we can’t let you leave the club. Not until we know we can trust you.”
Her eyes widen. “So, you keep me here, against my will? You keep me chained to your bed?”
I’m distracted by the way Pippa’s breasts are rising and falling as her indignation increases. As if bored with the conversation, my cock starts swelling. She doesn’t yet know there’s only one way she gets to stay here, and while she wouldn’t be permanently secured to my bed, she definitely would be occasionally. The thought of seeing her tied down and open to my dubious mercy does nothing to calm my errant organ down. Nah, he just does what he wants.
I’m not sure why what I’m going to say and do next feels so right. Before I speak, I run the back of my hand over my forehead to check my temperature is normal and that I’m not coming down with a disease of sort some and rack my brains to try to remember if I’ve recently been knocked on my head. The truth is, the only way to keep her alive is to properly claim her as my old lady, to make the commitment that she’ll be my ride-or-die for life.
Given the seriousness of the situation, I take a moment to think about the pros and cons of taking her as mine. In bed, she won’t disappoint, I can’t wait to feel her pussy clenching around me again, and in the compatibility stakes, I’ve never found a woman who can come close to her. The club bunnies are okay, but when I get off with them, it’s little better than doing the job myself. But her? One feel of hers and I’m already addicted. Outside of the bedroom, I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s intelligent, independent and will always challenge me. Life with her won’t be boring. I’m no Saint, I was given the misnomer because I’m the opposite, a representation of the fallen devil, Lucifer, on earth. And I’m drawn to the broken part of her.
She’s always had to fight, to try to prove herself, but despite everything she’s done or accomplished, it’s never been enough. To me, she’s incredible in her own right.
I’ve never met a woman like her, and suspect I’ll never meet another.
To hell if that pits me against my club.
What the fuck? It’s that last thought that makes me realise just how much I want her to be mine, to have, to keep and to hold forever.
“Enough of fuckin’ talking,” I growl, then pull her back down on the bed. In one smooth move, I’ve my lips on hers, my tongue demanding entry. For a moment, she resists, trying to keep me out, but when my hand snakes up under her, no my T-shirt and encircles her breast, she capitulates, and allows my mouth to ravish her. Her nipple feels perfect as I roll my fingers around it, making it peak. She’s so damn responsive. If I ease up on the kiss, I know she’ll try to resist, but her body doesn’t lie in the way that it responds to me. And the kissing? Fuck, I was in high school when I last kissed a girl, a mouth was the last part I was ever interested in unless it involved lips surrounding my cock. But her taste? Swallowing her moans? Hell, it’s addictive. Exchanging saliva has never been at the top of my agenda before, but now I’m not quite sure how I’d live without it.
“Need to see your tits,” I lift my lips from hers only to gasp, then before she can protest, I’ve taken hold of the T-shirt and ripped it up and almost over her head, pausing at her squeak of pain, and slowing to carefully ease her injured shoulder through the armhole.
Now her breasts are revealed to me, I pull myself away from her mouth and apply my attention to the nubs that swell from her brown areoles. Her moans, her gasps, her grip on my hair as she uses it to pull me closer, just ramp up my arousal so much, I can feel precum already leaking from my dick.
I can’t wait. I nuzzle my way down her stomach, then, feeling the material of her /my sweats blocking my way, I rear back, and in one smooth movement divest her of the offending garment. Of course, she’s commando underneath, surprise, surprise, I had no pretty panties to offer her.
“Saint, no.” She tries to protest in that moment I’ve lifted my lips from her, but it’s halfhearted at best, and when I place my mouth around her needy already swollen clit and this time when she grips my hair, it’s not to pull me away, but to press me closer, I know while mentally she hasn’t accepted my ownership and dominance over her body just yet, on an animalistic level she needs me.
I suck, lick, insert one, two, then three fingers insides her, plying her with multiple sensations, playing with her g-spot while my tongue and teeth torture her clit. It’s not long before she rewards me with screams, shouts, and a rush of fluids flooding my mouth.
Before she can come down from her climax, my dick’s pushed inside her, her own lubrication easing the way for me to press in to the hilt.
She’s got me so turned on, I can’t be gentle. I’m rough as I plow into her, pulling out, then slamming in, over and over.
“Saint, Saint.”
Her pussy doesn’t lie as it urges me on until she starts to convulse around me. I try to hold on, but she’s trying to milk my dick, and my resolve flies out the window as I come inside her, so hard I see stars.
I’m breathing fast to recover, having proved the first time wasn’t a fluke, in fact it was even better. She is what I want forever. Sex this good for the rest of my life. It’s not until she starts pushing at me that I realise I’ve put my whole weight on her. Giving mercy, I slide onto my side, pulling her with me.
“You’re mine,” I state adamantly. “You’re going to be my ol’ lady and stay by my side. If we’re lucky, I’ve already put my baby inside you. If not, well, I don’t mind keeping on trying.”
“Saint,” she gasps.
“Don’t fight it,” I warn her. “If you’re not on the same page as I am now, well, I’m going to give you every chance to catch up. But being mine keeps you alive.” I pause and huff a laugh. “You’d really prefer a bullet to your head than becoming mine? My property?”
She inhales loudly and then gives what sounds like a reluctant sigh. “How long until you rush out of the room and leave me?”
Oh fuck. I deserve that. “Pippa, darlin’, that first time with you blew my fuckin’ mind. I felt more than a sexual release, and that fucked with my head. It wasn’t you I was running from, but that you’d made me feel for the first time in my life. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so like a coward I ran. I never wanted an ol’ lady. I never wanted to be tied down. But when you came along you showed me, I was just waiting for the right woman.” I pause, scared for one of the few times in my life. “Say yes, Pippa. Say you’ll be mine.”
The elephant in the room is that even if she agrees, the club will have a hard job accepting her. But that’s a fight to come once I know there’s something to don armour for.
She’s quiet for a moment as I hold her in my arms, loving that she isn’t trying to pull away. If anything, she snuggles in closer. I give her time to process my words, hoping to fuck she comes up with the right answer.
Finally, she breathes out a long sigh and tells me, “The sex is good.”
“The sex is out of this fuckin’ world,” I growl.
Silence settles again, but I suppress my urge to try to persuade her, that would be the actions of a better man than I. Instead, I start thinking of ways to force her to comply, the idea of keeping her tied to my bed, for example, though I’d use fur-lined hand cuffs, I wouldn’t want to hurt her. And silk ropes, just long enough for her to get to the bathroom, making sure to leave no knives lying around, of course. I even start looking for anything sharp she could use to improvise to cut those, as yet, mythical restraints. The point is she’s mine. Mine to love and care for, even if that means protecting her from herself.