Chapter 12
“Will you be here for dinner?”Cilla asked, hoping her disappointment didn’t show in her voice. It was the third night that Patriot had declined dinner with her, citing “club business” was keeping him away from her.
She could hear a heavy sigh on his end of the line, and she closed her eyes, forcing back the tears burning to escape. God! She hated that the first hurdle in their brand-new relationship, and her first thoughts are “he changed his mind”, “he’s disgusted with me”, “he wants to be with Jaime.”
And the worst one: “He saw me naked, and now he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
That one burned so damn hot that it had left blisters, and she couldn’t stop picking at the thick, white scars left behind.
…disgusted…
…cringed….
Damn. It had been over three weeks since that party at the club house, and those ugly words still had space in her mind. Problem was, she had no idea how to silence them, not when, at the time, they’d felt so…accurate.
But he’s done so much to prove that he isn’t disgusted.Would a man who was disgusted by her have sex with her so much? Would he take his time, kissing, caressing, and touching a body he didn’t find desirable?
He would if he was used to following orders, fucking random women, and hiding his true feelings behind a gruff exterior….
No. Patriot wasn’t that kind of man. Besides, what reason did he have to fake being attracted to her? She was a nobody to the club, she wasn’t of any importance to the Unchained or to anyone, really. So, he couldn’t have any hidden motives for wanting to be with her. The secrecy wasn’t helping matters. He’d explained why they couldn’t tell anyone about their relationship, and she hated that she understood, but that didn’t mean she liked being his secret. Yeah, there was that moment when he brought it up that she believed he was embarrassed to be seen with her, that his club brothers and the club women would call him out for sticking his dick in Petunia Pig, but Patriot had taken his time, showing her that he really meant what he’d said about eventually staking his claim.
She just had to be patient. God, she hated Jaime for taking what should be an amazing beginning to her happily ever after, and turning it into something that made Cilla’s stomach twist.
She just needed to remember that Patriot wanted her. She needed to remember that he was a man of honor, and that he was choosing to be with her.
Yeah…but he’s also with Jaime….
Ugh. That freaking voice! It needed to shut up, already. Patriot didn’t want to be with Jaime…even though his circumstances required him to “play nice”—whatever that meant. But for how long? How long would she have to wait before she could climb to the top of the clubhouse and shout out that Patriot was hers?
But she had to keep the deepest longings of her heart in the dark, because Patriot just haaaaad to be the good guy, helping a damsel in distress. Would Jaime take the opportunity handed to her to try and get her claws into Patriot?
Yes, that bitch would.
Ugh and damn!
“Baby, I wish I could be there, because I miss the fuck out of you, but….”
“Club business,” she finished for him, suddenly hating those two words. She clamped her mouth shut around the question: Does this business involve Jaime, because he wouldn’t answer her, and she’d be left hearing what he didn’t say, and it would run in circles through her mind.
Hoo-boy, she was a mess.
He grunted, cursing under his breath. “Yeah, baby. Believe me, if I could be there with you, eating your food, then eating that sweet pussy, I would be. But something came up and it needs addressing. Once this is handled, we’ll spend a week enjoying each other, and that means naked, in my bed, sweaty and satisfied.”
Her body, not giving a shit about her self-deprecating thoughts, twitched to life, her core heating to scorching at the memory of his talented mouth on her clit, and that beard abrading the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, and his teeth, nibbling?—
“You there, baby?” he asked, wicked humor in his voice.
She snorted, rolling her eyes. Damn, the man was a smug bastard. But damn, did he earn the right to be a little arrogant about this oral skills.
“Yeah, I’m just sorry that you’re going to miss my homemade baked mac and cheese. I put cubed ham in it, for that extra savory factor.” It was a recipe she’d learned from Stephie’s mom, who’d made it a lot because it was cheap, and she could feed an army with one batch.
He groaned, that sound arrowed straight to her cooch. She squirmed on the hard plastic chair in the diner break room, wishing she was at home by herself where she could work out her sudden neediness with her newly purchased battery-operated boyfriend. It was the first time she’d bought one, which made actually shopping for one an eye-opening experience. Who knew there were so many different kinds of self-pleasure devices. Sizes, speeds, silicone or glass or rubber…. It was a mistake to use Google, that was for sure. It had taken her over three hours of searching and beating back a full body blush, but she’d finally bitten the bullet, and bought the simplest one she could find.
She just hoped it didn’t let her down, because Patriot set the bar for orgasms, and she was scared she’d only ever feel that good when he was the one giving them to her.
“Fuck, baby, that sounds delicious.” He cursed again, and it took her a moment to realize he was talking about food and not her vibrator. “Hey, darlin’, I got to go, but save some of the mac and cheese for me. I’m hoping to come by in the morning, and I wouldn’t mind eating you for breakfast, then having the mac and cheese for brunch.”
She squirmed again, ignoring Dana who’d glared into the break room at her on her way by to the employee bathroom further down the hall.
“Okay,” Cilla murmured. “I’ll see you in the morning?” God, she hoped so. Her body needed him to fulfill all those promises he was making.
He chuckled, as if reading her desperate thoughts.
“Be naked and wet for me, baby, because I’m not gonna have the will power to keep from getting inside you the moment I see you,” he rasped, his voice velvet steel and dirty sex.
Shouts in the background reminded Cilla that Patriot was with the club brothers, doing whatever it was that was keeping him from her.
“Right, I’ll see you in the morning, baby.”
He hung up before she could utter a response, or even think one up.
Staring at her cell phone as the screen darkened, and then went blank, Cilla once again wondered if she was making a mistake letting herself get all up in the feels with Patriot, a man who could have anyone he wanted, and probably had.
Was it safe to keep giving herself to him? Was it safe to allow her feelings for him to deepen, or should she pull back and let things remain casual—just really good sex for as long as he kept coming around? At least until he got tired of banging short and chubby, and realized he wanted tall, trim Barbie again.
That’s not fair, he hasn’t shown any signs of losing interest.
Then again, they’d only been…seeing each other for a week. There was still time for him to roll over in the morning, look at her in all her repugnant glory, and head straight for his bike without looking back. And it was only a boon for him that no one knew that he and Cilla were together.
Was this all a ploy? Was he screwing her in secret while he was waiting for Stallion to get back so he could claim Jaime instead?
That’s not fair to you. You deserve this, a voice, that sounded suspiciously like Stephie’s, admonished her, making her pout internally. Besides that, Patriot had made it pretty clear that he was into her, and that he wanted her as his ol’ lady. Would a man as honorable as he was lie about something so important?
Gah! She wanted to say no…but she hesitated. Old, ugly voices from her past rose up to drown out the sound of her heartbeat. The same voices that made her life so miserable, she’d nearly dropped out of school, wanting to leave everything behind. But Stephie hadn’t let her, and so she pushed on, suffering the slings and arrows, and bullying and the unearned hatred…and when she crossed the stage at graduation, she lifted a single finger to the audience, and then walked right out of the auditorium.
The next five hours of her shift at Millie’s passed like molasses in winter, and when Cilla finally clocked out, she nearly ignored her cell when it rang, not wanting anything or anyone to interrupt her evening of Netflix and a frozen Red Baron pepperoni pizza.
After the day she had, she wasn’t up to making mac and cheese, so Patriot would just have to fill up on her for breakfast and brunch.
She smiled, biting her lip at that thought.
Checking the screen, she felt both happiness and concern when she saw it was Stephie.
Stephie had been busy lately—with work and her new man, and all that came with dating a member of an MC.
Am I dating a member of an MC?Was that what she and Patriot were doing? Yes, they were fucking, Patriot called her his woman, but he had said he was going to put her on the back of his bike and a kutte on her back, which she knew from Stephie and overhearing the club women, was a big deal. None of the Unchained let just anyone on the backs of their bikes. Hell, even Horde made Stephie ride around in a “cage”—his truck—before they got serious. Once they agreed to be exclusive, Horde took her for a ride on his Harley, and Stephie cried ugly tears of joy afterward.
Answering, Cilla said, “Finally come up for air?”
Stephie snorted and Cilla could practically hear her friend roll her eyes. “Mr. Dawson is a lazy fuck, so I’ve been doing all the work. You’d think that the number of years he put in to get his degree, that he’d actually want to do the job,” Stephie grumbled.
Stephie was a paralegal at a local law firm, and her boss was riding the coattails of his more successful partners, which meant he didn’t put a whole lot of effort into his own cases, which meant Stephie was stuck doing all the actual research and leg work to compile the information needed for the legal documents. Her asshole boss ran her ragged most days, and when she had time off, understandably, she wanted to spend it with Horde.
“I don’t know how his partners don’t know that he isn’t actually working. Does he fake working by sitting at his computer, playing solitaire when they stop in?”
Stephie huffed, and Cilla could hear rustling sounds, like Stephie was putting her coat on.
“I have no fucking idea. All I know is that I am getting the hell out of here, and I am in desperate need a drink with my bestie. Meet me at Cool Hands?”
Cilla snapped her mouth shut on her automatic “no.” Usually, she hated going out and being Stephie’s wingwoman, but now that Stephie was happily locked to Horde, maybe tonight they could just have one-on-one time without the humiliation of trying to help her friend get laid.
“Cool Hands? Isn’t that the new pub in Scranton?” Cilla asked, wondering why her friend wanted to go someplace new when she usually wanted to stick to local watering holes where everyone knew everyone else.
“Uh…yeah. It’s new. I’ve actually been there a few times because Horde said something about the club investing in it.”
Ah. Now it made sense. “Is Horde going to be there?”
Stephie snickered. “Sadly, no. He’s doing ‘club business’ with another brother, and I wouldn’t mind a night without him. He’s amazing, and I really like him, but he’s in-freaking-tense. Tonight, will just be me and my bestie, sipping fruity drinks, eating greasy apps, and jawing about everything we’ve missed in the last few weeks.”
And man, do I have a lot to tell Stephie…. But she couldn’t. Not yet. And she felt like a big ol’ bitch, keeping secrets from her best friend.
“Their chicken nachos and hot wings are fucking fire,” Stephie added, knowing Cilla was a slut for good nachos.
Actually, that sounded pretty amazing, and it wasn’t like Patriot was coming over. He had “club business.” Maybe he and Horde were in the same place. Shrugging, Cilla headed toward her car, her mind on what she should wear to a pub.
“Meet you there?” Cilla asked, unlocking her car door, and slipping inside.
“Yeah. I’m gonna Uber because after dealing with Dawson’s shit this week, I need to get a little more than buzzed.”
Chuckling, Cilla got more details from her friend, ended the call, and headed home to shower off the diner, and change.
It wasn’t two hours later, and she was pulling up in front of Cool Hands. The pub was in one of Scranton’s older buildings on the outskirts near the railroad hub. It looked like it had once been a warehouse for storing whatever was moved by train, but had been refurbished for commercial use. Now, it was a teeming pub. If this was one of the Unchained MC’s legitimate businesses, they were doing well.
Cilla met Stephie at the door, and the women embraced. God, she missed her friend. Stephie, obviously having been to Cool Hands before, dragged Cilla behind her to the bar where two bartenders were serving up drinks like booze vending machines. The place was so crowded, even for a Friday, that Cilla couldn’t see a damn thing about the place other than the ceilings were cliché industrial, with exposed wiring, girders, and pipes, and the floors were stained concrete.
Stephie ordered a sour apple martini, and two shots of tequila, and Cilla decided that if Stephie was shooting tequila, then she needed to be the sober one. She ordered a diet Coke with lime. Drinks obtained, Stephie lead the way through the throng to set of three tables in the back corner. Apparently, because this was an Unchained bar, it meant that those associated with Unchained needn’t worry about finding a place to chill.
One of the three tables was full, and Cilla only recognized three of the eight people: Sasha and Tasha, and Cluster, who was proudly wearing his club kutte. However, Sasha and Tasha were proudly wearing barely anything. Low tops, high skirts, and higher heels, they were ready to strut right down the street and pick up a customer for the night, but Cilla wasn’t going to say that, even when they caught sight of her, sneered, and began murmuring about her behind their hands. Like Cilla didn’t know what they were saying. At least Cluster looked like he was on duty—his gaze was sharp, his head swiveling from one side of the pub to the other, as if watching for trouble. His cell was on the table right in front of him, probably within easy reach for if he needed to call in reinforcements. As if knowing she was looking at him, Cluster’s gaze swung to her and widened.
Um…. Her suddenly sweaty hands slid down her sides and around to her belly, making sure she wasn’t getting lumpier under the heat of the room.
Cluster blinked, ignored Sasha, who was pouting and saying something to him, and then he picked up his cell.
Stephie poked Cilla in the side with her elbow and tossed her head, not so subtly reminding her that they were headed toward a table, and they were there to enjoy themselves.
Tonight, Cilla wanted to take some of the confidence she’d gained in bed with Patriot, and flaunt it a little, so she was wearing the dress she wore the night she met Patriot. Dark red, clingy, baring a little boobage, and tight in all the lumpy places. But she knew that Patriot saw those as curves, and that he loved them, had worshipped them over and over again.
Forcing a smile she wasn’t quite feeling, Cilla lifted her chin at the twins and Cluster in greeting, the turned toward where Stephie was now sitting, at the table furthest from that group. Cilla nearly kissed the woman in relief. She’d come to tonight to enjoy her friend, and she didn’t want to deal with the twins, and whatever drama they were looking to stir up.
“So, where are these amazing nachos you promised?” And, she’d have to change her order, because diet soda wasn’t going to cut it.
When the waitress arrived with their drinks, Cilla ordered a Jack and Coke, ignoring Stephie’s softly chanted, “Tequila, tequila.”
Once Cilla had her drink in hand, Stephie laughed and raised a shot glass, tossed the liquid back, and announced, “God, I missed you, bestie—now let’s get stupid!”