Chapter Ten
Bella
How could I be so naive? Of course, Clay wouldn’t be interested in me. Why would he be? It has to be a setup of some kind. Or else a really fucking big coincidence.
I pace back and forth, considering my next move. The door swings open, banging into the wall behind it and taking me by surprise. Clay’s frame fills the doorway, his nostrils flaring as his chest heaves. He’s angry, why should he be fucking angry? It’s my life they’ve destroyed and for what?
I grab my bag angrily and start throwing my belongings in, but he grabs the bag furiously and tosses it on the floor. My jaw twitches as I stare at him, my hairbrush gripped tightly in my hand.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he demands.
I’d usually retreat, but right now, I’m sick of being taken for a cunt. Sick of being the victim. Sick of her fucking with my life.
“Pah, really?” My brows arch. “Seriously?”
His frown deepens, his expression concerned, like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
“You aren’t fucking leaving,” he growls, snatching the trousers I’d just picked up out of my hand.
“Wanna bet?” I turn, grabbing the bag from the floor and returning it to the bed.
“Not a chance are you leaving here without explaining what the hell happened.”
I scoff. “You’re really asking me that, like you don’t know. You’re gonna play dumb?”
He runs his hands through his already dishevelled hair. “Yes, because I have no idea what the hell just happened.”
“So, you don’t know Imogen?”
His brows knit together, more confusion playing out, and I begin to doubt my theory. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep, calming breath whilst I gather my thoughts.
“Who the fuck is Imogen?” he asks.
“Wow, so the bitch standing in the bar with Slayer, you’re just going to pretend you don’t know her?” I snap, grabbing my phone charger off the bedside table and throwing it into the bag. “I mean, I know I’m naive, but don’t treat me like I’m fucking stupid.”
“You mean Brandy?”
“Brandy . . . Imogen . . . whatever you wanna call her. That’s the dirty little whore who stole my boys.”
He grabs both my arms to prevent me from packing any more of my shit, and I look down to the floor, my bravery beginning to waver.
“Look at me, beaut.” His voice softens, and I shake my head vigorously, refusing to make eye contact.
“So, Brandy is the other woman?” he asks.
I nod, my lip trembling. He moves me to the bed, pushing the bag aside and encouraging me to sit down.
He kneels in front of me, dipping his head to catch my eye.
I turn away again, refusing to let him read me like a book. He’s too good at it.
“You knew all along.” My voice cracks, giving me away.
“Beaut,” he says firmly, but I still don’t look at him, “I didn’t know.”
I take a deep breath. I can’t let him blindside me again. After all the lies with Red, how am I ever supposed to believe him?
“You expect me to believe that?” I ask, finally looking at him. “You expect me to believe that she just walks in here with Slayer, and you didn’t know she’s been banging my husband and playing happy fucking families?”
“Yes, I do, because I don’t keep tabs on every fucking whore who walks through these doors. I don’t care whose cock they’re riding. They work for the club, that’s it. What they do in their own time is their business. They get paid to dance and fuck the brothers.”
I cringe at how their life here works, that one club whore could ride everyone and nobody cares where she’s been. I can’t hide the disgust from my face.
“So, not only has my husband fucked her, but you’re all riding her?” I ask, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Great.”
Now, it’s his turn to laugh, but I’m not amused.
“Did I say something funny?” I growl, as I stand up, pushing past him.
“Damn, I wouldn’t fuck Brandy with a ten-foot pole, I wouldn’t touch any of the club whores. Fuck me, their fannies are baggier than a Tesco’s carrier bag.” He comes up behind me and places his arms around my waist. “But damn, jealousy looks sexy as hell on you.”
I feel my cheeks redden, and I’m grateful he’s stood behind me so he can’t witness it.
“I . . . I’m not . . . I am not jealous,” I stutter, getting angry with myself.
“Your body is deceiving you, beaut,” he growls close to my ear, making my skin prickle with need. Fuck, he’s right.
I move out of his reach and turn to face him. “Whatever. You think you’re so fucking irresistible.”
He closes the gap between us, backing me to the wall. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, but my mouth is dry, and I swallow hard. He places his hand above my head, encasing me in, then pushes his face a few inches from mine.
“If I was to kiss you,” he whispers, his eyes searching my face.
My breath catches, and I close my eyes, anticipation coiling tight in my stomach.
When his lips finally brush mine, soft, teasing, barely there, a low moan slips out before I can stop it.
I open my eyes and find him watching me, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face.
“Fuck you,” I spit, the need to push his buttons strong.
He arches a brow and runs his other hand up the side of my body. My heart races in my chest. “Chicken shit,” I whisper, biting on my lower lip.
His lips come crashing down on my own, and I open, letting him in.
His tongue collides with mine, savouring every twist and turn.
I cross my legs as the burn between them builds.
He breaks the kiss staring down at me, sliding his hand down my body, gently parting my legs.
My breathing’s heavy, craving his touch, but his fingers brush against me.
The smallest contact nearly makes me combust like a horny teenager on the spot.
I let out a small moan, and he smirks, leaning in closer to my ear.
“Are you sure you’re ready to play this game?” The low rumble of his voice sends shivers to my core.
“Try me,” I croak, my voice barely audible.
“I’m going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours so hard, you’ll never think of that douche bag ever again.” He hums, nibbling on my ear.
“You just going to talk me to death or use that dirty mouth for something else?”
He grabs my backside and lifts me off the ground, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. I let out a little squeal as he pushes my body up against the door, feeling the length of him pressing against my jeans.
He holds me in place with his hips as he lifts my vest top over my head and pushes the cup down on my bra, revealing my nipple.
It hardens instantly, and he blows on it.
Smirking, he grips it between his fingers, rolling it, and my hips automatically arch up.
Clay hums his approval and lowers me to my feet, furiously trying to undo my jeans.
He pops the button, and I make quick work of shimmying them down past my hips, stepping out of them one foot at a time.
I feel the heat pooling between my legs as his hand glides down my abdomen and under the band of my thong.
His fingers slide through my folds with ease, and my juices coat him.
I throw my head back, savouring his touch.
Clay kisses along my neck as he rubs my clit purposefully, and I feel myself building as he slides his hands away.
“No chance,” he smirks, slipping his fingers in his mouth. “Fucking delicious.”
I groan in frustration at the lack of contact, and that stupid grin is back on his face.
“Patience, beaut,” he whispers delicately in my ear, unclipping my bra and sliding it down my arms. “I want to feel your pussy clench around me as you come.”
He lifts me again, carrying me towards the mirror before placing me on the floor and turning me to face it.
My cheeks are flushed, and I feel the sudden urge to cover myself, so I wrap my arms around my body.
Clay takes my arms, pulling them to my sides.
He moves his own hands along my body and cups my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers, my head drops back to his shoulder and all embarrassment ebbs away.
“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, as he watches my reaction tentatively in the mirror. I relish under his praise. “You are so fucking beautiful. Never hide away from me.”
He moves in front of me, trailing his hand down my body and sliding my underwear down my legs.
He grabs my leg and rests it on his shoulder, his nose in line with my pussy, he inhales deeply before grabbing my arse and bringing me towards him.
His tongue darts out, tasting me. I grab his hair to stabilise myself as I feel everything come alive with his expert tongue.
My hands tangle in his hair as I feel myself beginning to quiver against his mouth.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” he says, pulling away. My throat is dry as I drink him in, watching him through hooded eyes as he runs his tongue up my abdomen.
He kisses me, his tongue dancing with my own, the taste of my want evident.
I moan against his mouth. I’m not sure how much more I can take of this little dance.
I run my hands down his T-shirt ‘til they land on his jeans, feeling his manhood straining against the denim, satisfied that I’m having the same effect on him.
Undoing his jeans, his cock springs free, and I smirk against his kiss. No underwear. Now, this I could get used to. He pulls back, grabbing my wrists.
“Wait, I need a condom,” he says breathlessly, reaching over to the drawer.