16. Another Leash
ANOTHER LEASH
KITTY
It’s too bright in here. With an irritated groan, I kick off my comforter and growl into the pillow while throwing an aggravated middle finger at the orange ball of fire burning through the window.
I forgot to close the blinds last night, and now I won’t be able to get back to sleep.
Only birds and masochists get up this early.
A repetition of nails clawing against wood joins in my misery. Keg’s ominous scratches ripple across the room like daggers hitting their mark into my brain with every rip—rip—rip.
“KEG! Please stop it, you asshole.” Rip—rip—rip.
Frustration bleeds from my pores. Tossing aside the pillow, I sit up, defeated.
The little mass of fur lets out a meow as he tries to scrape a hole in the door.
“You’re an indoor cat,” I remind him. Like I need the blow of another man trying to flee the room as soon as the sun comes up.
I slip off the bed and pull on the jeans and t-shirt I left in a heap next to the bed when I climbed into it only a few hours ago.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room, I poke my tongue out at the reflection and tug off the blue wig sitting lopsided over my head then scrub my fingers under my eyes to remove the smeared eyeliner.
You’re a mess, Kitty. I swipe up my phone, and a cringe tugs at my brow reading the last texts I sent.
Me: Tim, stop being mad at me. It’s lame and no fun.
Me: I need a dog lead.
Me: Ignoring me is a bitch move.
Ignoring is a bitch move. I’d know. I’ve been doing it to Cutter for over a month now.
That shit takes effort. Every time I see the man, my instincts are to go bask in his fucking presence.
Love is a sickness that’s supposed to heal over time, but I’m just getting sicker.
And as much as I hate myself for using Tim as a balm for the wounds Cutter left, it just nicks deeper that it’s not Cutter touching me.
The fucking ache and unfairness of it all is growing inside my chest like a fungus.
A soft knock at the door sends Keg scurrying to the purple chair in the corner of the room, and my heart gallops.
Cutter wouldn’t knock , I tell myself as I take the couple strides to the door and grip the handle.
It’s not him. With a twist, I pull the door open, ignoring the disappointment slithering into my bones.
Tim’s lean frame fills the space I’ve created, his brow pinched, lips thin.
“You know I don’t like it when you call me Tim,” he says, holding up his phone. “I was on a run last night and just got back.” I know better than to ask what kind of run.
Widening the space, I outstretch my hand, inviting him in. He hesitates for a heartbeat of a second before checking down the hall and entering.
“You are a Tim,” I remind him with a raise of my brow.
He’s told me too many times to call him Chris, but that makes things too personal.
This isn’t going anywhere. We use each other’s flesh as an outlet.
It’s good enough for every brother in this place to fuck around so it’s good enough for me. Keep telling yourself that.
“If parts of me have been inside parts of you, you should call me by my given fucking name, Kit.” Blowing out an exasperated breath, he scoops up a pile of my clothes from the chair and dumps them in the laundry basket near the door to the ensuite before dropping his ass into the seat.
“You’re a slob,” he informs me. Keg has moved to the bed, lying flat, his limbs outstretched, enjoying the sun I tried to escape.
“I like mess.” It’s comforting. Something I can control. This is my space. Half the clothes he dumped aren’t even dirty.
“Don’t I know it,” he scoffs, and I don’t mistake the dig.
“Did you come here to be an asshole or…?” I play with the waistband of my jeans, biting my lip. I see it in his hooded eyes the moment my question registers.
Lust.
It’s such a powerful chemical when shooting through the veins, erasing rational thought. I’d spent years being tempted by the drug-like allure that had left me broken and weak. Had left me an addict.
“I didn’t come here to get you off, Kit.” The husky notes in his tone tell me he may not have come for that but it’s now playing out in his mind.
Grinning, I drop to my knees in front of him, sliding my hands up his spread thighs. “Let me get you off instead, then.” I lick my lips for emphasis.
“Don’t.” He moves my hands away, shaking his head.
A bark of laughter booms from my chest. Holding up my hands, I smirk. “I’m not going to beg to suck your cock, Tim. Get out if we’re done.” Standing, I fold my arms over my chest and stare at him, waiting.
“You’re a real cold bitch, you know that?” he snaps.
“Warm me up then,” I tease.
A squeal rings through the air from mtas he launches himself out of the chair and shoves me backward onto the bed, sending poor Keg running again.
Rough hands tear open my jeans and shimmy them down my thighs.
I lift my ass to aid the process, thanking myself for foregoing panties.
As soon as the fabric leaves my skin, his hands force my legs apart, and his mouth presses against me.
I let out an unrestrained moan of pleasure.
Tim knows how to eat pussy. So does Cutter.
He grabs hold of my thigh as he feasts on me hungrily, every inch licked and savored like he can’t get enough.
My hands grip his hair, my hips grinding, needing more.
Closing his lips over my clit, he sucks.
My heart races as a warm swell of pleasure pulses through me and Cutter’s image comes to life in my mind.
No. No. “Yes!” I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut.
As soon as the pleasure dissipates, shame floods in like an unstoppable wave. I can feel it beneath my skin, taking root and crawling into my soul like an infestation. When I open my eyes, his hands are at his zipper, and my legs close involuntarily.
An unamused smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You ever going to let me fuck you?”
A tear leaks from the corner of my eye and tracks a wet path down my cheek. “Hold you?” He scoffs. “Spend the night?”
Silence.
I can’t form words.
“Fuck, Kit. He doesn’t deserve you.” The air leaves my lungs as a stone lodges in my throat. Pushing off the bed, his lips twist into a sneer. “And you don’t deserve me.”
I should say something—I want to say something, but I’m mute. I’m sorry.
“Another day, another party,” Diamond announces with a crinkle of her lips, placing a bowl of chips on the table.
Her hair is extra poofy today, and she reeks of hairspray.
A breeze carries in from the open fire exit door, bringing in a fresh scent of summer rain and ruffling Di’s dress with tiny rosebuds scattered over it.
“This party is special.” Rogue grins, slipping into the seat next to me.
She places my beer down and swigs a mouthful of hers.
She’s had a constant glow about her lately, and I envy her for it.
Reciprocated love gave her that glow. Although I hate seeing her and Callan making out all the time, I’m ecstatic for them.
Rogue already felt like a sister, and now Callan is making it official.
My eyes dart to her ring as she holds the neck of her bottle, tapping the metal against the rim.
“How do you feel about Tim getting his patch?” Diamond asks me, keeping her tone low, her eyes sweeping the club to make sure no one is listening.
It’s still early. The club is only half full.
Soon, it will be wall-to-wall with leather-clad bodies.
We are tucked away at the back in Daddy’s old spot.
A strum of grief twinges my heart thinking about him.
Diamond doesn’t take a seat, and I wonder how she manages to stay in heels running around this place like a mother hen.
The woman is built differently. Leaning against the wall, she almost knocks the picture of the dogs playing poker from its hook and starts fiddling with it to get it straight.
“He deserves it. I’m happy for him. What’s it matter to me?
” I shrug nonchalantly but sound defensive even to my own ears.
Diamond keeps my secrets and knows about me messing around with Tim, but that’s all it is: a distraction.
And now, he’s going to become a patched brother if the rumors are to be believed.
Things will become more complicated, so the less they dwell on the thought of us becoming something more, the better.
“You don’t deserve me.” His words rattle around my brain. I’d said something similar to Cutter years ago. And look at me now, still fucking hung up, still waiting, still heartbroken. What a fool I am.
Folding her arms, Diamond blows out a breath. “Well, he’s nothing like his brother, at least. Hopefully, we won’t be seeing his naked ass in the halls going at it like a jackrabbit with any and everything.”
Rogue snorts out a laugh. “Why can’t that man close a door or find a bed?” She shudders, shaking her head. “I’ve seen more of his ass than my own.”
“Sweetheart, I once caught him in the pantry with two women,” Diamond says, closing her eyes. “One, he was fucking, and the other one was fucking him with my rolling pin.”
“Shut up,” Rogue and I screech in unison.
“I’m serious. I had to throw away everything on the shelves below waist height just in case fluids contaminated it.”
“What about the rolling pin?”
“I wrapped it up for him and gave it to him from secret santa.”
Rogue clutches her stomach, rapt with laughter. “Imagine the splinters,” she chuckles, wiping a tear from her eye.