Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Bane
Leaning back on the couch, I swirl the amber liquid in the half-empty bottle of Jack in my hand and stare as it spins around like a liquid tornado.
The clubhouse is quiet tonight, most of the brothers having gone to Kitties for the night to watch our new headliner shake her ass, much to Gator’s dismay.
“Here.” Destiny slides next to me, pressing her body against mine. She passes me a joint. “This’ll help more than that.” She nods at the bottle.
I take it from her and place it between my lips, inhaling deeply.
Holding the smoke in my lungs, I close my eyes, waiting for the weed to quiet the voice in my head that keeps whispering Frankie’s name, to dull the ache in my chest that hasn’t eased since she walked out that fucking door a week ago.
Destiny’s hand slides up my thigh, palming my cock through my jeans. Her lips find my neck, hot and wet. “I missed you,” she whispers against my skin.
My eyes snap open. “Shut the fuck up, you’re ruining my fucking buzz.”
She squeezes my cock, her eyes challenging. “Make me.”
Fisting my hand in her hair, I yank her to my mouth and kiss her roughly. Not because I want to, but because I need her to shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear her voice, don’t want to think at all.
She whimpers against my mouth, and I tear away from her, suddenly disgusted with myself.
“You’re a fucking dumbass.”
Looking up, I find Foxy standing in front of us, arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed to slits.
“Yeah, well,” I take another swig straight from the bottle. “Tell me something I haven’t heard before.”
“Frankie will—“
“Don’t say her fucking name!” I snarl, pain slicing through my chest. I don’t want to hear about her, I don’t want to think about her. She walked out without giving me a chance to explain. “Fuck her.”
Foxy sighs, shaking her head. “She’ll come to her senses, Bane. And when she does, do you want her to find you like this?” She lifts her lip in disgust, glaring at Destiny. “With her?”
The clubhouse door swings open, and I blink hard, certain I’m hallucinating. But there she is—Frankie, standing in the doorway, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt. She looks beautiful and devastated all at once.
“I must be more fucked up than I thought,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes. But when I look again she’s still there, moving toward us with hesitant steps.
Her eyes go to Destiny pressed against my side, and the hurt that washes over her face feels like a knife to my gut. I should get up, should shove Destiny off me, but I don’t. I double down, determined to hurt her as much as she’s hurt me.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I growl, tightening my arm around Destiny’s shoulders.
Tears well up in her eyes. “You’re a mess,” she says brokenly.
“I’m happier now,” I sneer, pulling Destiny closer and squeezing her tit roughly. “Got a real woman now who knows how to take care of her man.”
A sob breaks past her lips and one at a time the tears fall down her cheeks. I hate myself for it, but I can’t seem to stop the venom pouring out of me.
“You were a lousy lay anyway,” I add, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth.
Destiny laughs, running her hand up and down my thigh. “I told you he’s always comes back to me,” she says, the shot fired right at Frankie. “It’s my pussy he’s addicted to, bitch.”
“Exactly,” I lick my bottom lip, even as my stomach revolts against the words. “If you don’t want to watch Destiny suck my dick, you might want to leave.”
“I hate you,” Frankie sobs running out of here completely destroyed.
“I’m done,” Foxy announces, her voice cold as ice. “I’m done trying to help your stupid ass.” She storms off after Frankie, slamming the door behind her.
The moment they’re gone, I shove Destiny off me so hard she tumbles to the floor.
“What the fuck?” she shrieks.
“Get out,” I rasp, hating myself for what I’ve done.
“But—“
“I said, get the fuck out!” I roar, hurling the bottle of Jack against the wall.
Destiny scrambles to her feet, backing away from me with wide eyes. “You’re fucking crazy,” she spits before running out.
I drag myself upstairs to my room at the clubhouse and slam the door, sliding down it until I hit the floor.
Fuck all these bitches. I don’t need their shit.
“Oh.” I press a hand to my head. Fuck me. My brain feels like it’s being severed in two. I’ve been hungover plenty of times, but goddamn. I feel like I’ve been hit by a goddamn Mack truck.
“Oh, fuck.” A warm mouth wraps around my cock, and I lift the sheet.
Destiny’s eyes lift to meet mine, and she grins around a mouthful of my cock.
“Fuck.” Falling back on the bed, I fist her hair in my hand, guiding her up and down my length as images of Frankie’s face flash in my mind.
Destiny’s mouth suctions around me like a Hoover.
Then the image of Frankie crying flashes to the forefront of my memory. “I can’t do this.” Tightening my fingers in her over-processed hair, I yank Destiny off my dick, and I shove her away. “You need to go.”
Her brows snap together. “I don’t understand. You begged me to come in here last night. You said—”
“Get out!” I growl.
Hurt lashes across her face. “Fuck you, Bane. This is it. I’m done with you.”
Jumping out of bed, I charge towards her.
Her eyes round to saucers as she scurries back.
Caging her against the door, I wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze.
“Don’t act like I fucking owe you something, whore.
You’re not my woman, and you never will be.
You’re here to fuck and suck dick. That’s it. ”
Her nails dig into my arm, drawing blood as I squeeze tighter.
My eyes drop to my hand around her neck, and I yank it back. “Shit. I—” What the fuck am I doing?
I move away from her slowly. “I’m sorry.”
Destiny sniffles, touching her neck. “Fuck you, Bane.” With that, she opens the door and hurries out of my room.
What have I done?
Stumbling to the bathroom, I lift the toilet seat and puke my guts out, heaving until there’s nothing left but bile.
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I turn on the shower and step inside.
The water does little to wash away the self-loathing, but at least I don’t smell like a walking brewery anymore.
After brushing my teeth twice, I throw on clean jeans and a black T-shirt and head downstairs, needing something to take the edge off. Hair of the dog and all that shit.
The clubhouse is quiet with everyone still passed out after their night at Kitties but my mother is behind the bar, wiping glasses with a towel, her face set in hard lines.
“Son,” she says coldly, not looking up.
“Ma,” I reply carefully, sliding onto a stool. Her tone makes it clear she’s pissed, but I’ve got no fucking clue what I did to earn it.
“Can I get a shot of Jack?” I ask, rubbing my temples.
She slams a glass down in front of me, her blue eyes narrowing to slits. “You know, I never thought the son I raised could be so goddamn cold.”
My eyes widen. My mother only swears when she’s fighting mad.
“Not sure what you’re talking about,” I mumble, though I have a sinking feeling I know exactly what’s got her riled up.
She throws her dishcloth at me, hitting me square in the face. “Foxy told me all about how you hurt that poor girl.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What girl? What the he-heck are you talking about?” I catch myself before cussing at my mother.
“Frankie!” she shouts, her voice echoing through the room. “She was here yesterday! And you... you used that whore to drive a stake through her heart!”
My stomach rolls again for a completely different reason. “Oh fuck.” I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots. I just keep fucking up. I thought her being here was a dream—a drunken hallucination.
“Yeah,” my mother sighs, her anger deflating as she sees the realization dawn on my face.
“I don’t know what to do, Ma,” I whisper brokenly. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. This gut-wrenching, soul-crushing pain that comes from knowing I’ve hurt the one person I can’t stand to lose.
“Do you love her?”
“Yes.” The word is out before I even have to think about it, and I know it’s true. I love Frankie. I love her smart mouth and her stubbornness. I love how she stands up to me and how she melts in my arms. I love everything about her, and I’ve fucked it all up.
“Then go get her back,” my mother says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“She hates me, Ma.” The memory of Frankie’s tear-streaked face as she told me she hated me is burned into my brain.
My mother’s lips curve into a mischievous grin. “That didn’t stop you before, honey.”
I lift a brow as an idea starts to form.
No, it sure as fuck didn’t.