Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
SAMMIE
I shift on the bed and startle. A muscled, tatted arm holds me captive.
As I lie perfectly still, my fuzzy brain scrambles for an answer, then remembers.
I’m in Deuce’s bed after a night of toe-curling, outstanding sex.
The best sex I’ve had—since the last time we had sex.
Three orgasms, maybe four. I lost count.
Another first, along with knocking on Deuce’s door last night after I swore I wouldn’t.
Doesn’t say much for my willpower, but I can’t say I regret it. More like I can’t wait till it happens again and again. No, no, and hell no. This whatever it is can never happen again, and that’s exactly what I plan on telling Deuce when he wakes up.
A man like him has a different woman in his bed every night, and there’s no way I’m becoming one of them or letting on how much I enjoyed whatever this was, or how much I might be feeling for him. Again, no, no, and hell no.
The knock on the door jars me out of my thoughts.
“Deuce?” Gruff. Hard. Ace.
My back stiffens, and he knocks harder this time.
Then again and it sounds like he uses his fist this time. “Hey, fucker, wake the hell up.”
Deuce shifts on the bed. His thigh rubs against mine, and my insides tingle. Not good. Not good at all. I roll toward the edge of the bed, and his arm hooks around my waist, dragging me back.
“Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?” His raspy growl hits my core and spreads throughout my body.
I try to untangle myself from him, but his arm tightens, pulling me into his side, and then under him. “We can’t.”
“Little late for that, babe.” He knees my thighs apart and runs the length of his cock over my center, making me shiver.
I push at his chest. “No, you don’t understand. We can’t.”
“Sure we can, ‘cause I’m gonna get in you so deep, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”
A door slams then. “Hey, Deuce, you up?” Ace’s voice is much clearer, much closer.
Deuce stiffens, then jackknifes off the bed. “Shit!” he hisses.
“Deuce?”
“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute.”
I stifle a laugh as he scavenges the floor for his jeans then hops one-legged into them. He turns to me and puts his forefinger to his lips, which wasn’t unnecessary. The last thing I need is Ace finding me naked in Deuce’s bed.
DEUCE
I shove my dick in my jeans, then palm it, but the fuckin’ thing won’t relax, so I zip up best I can, then run my hand through my hair and pad into the living room.
“What the fuck you doin’ here?” I ask with plenty of attitude, but of course my VP is unfazed. “And how did you get in?”
“We had keys made for all the rooms up here when we put in the new locks.”
Note to self, find out who else has a key.
“You could’ve knocked.”
“I did knock, more than once. What’s got your balls in a twist?” He gives me the once-over. “You look like shit. Were you sleeping?”
“Yeah, yeah, after all the bullshit last night, I was fuckin’ beat.”
Ace holds up his phone. “It’s almost noon. I called you a few times, but it went straight to voicemail.”
Of course it did, ‘cause I silenced it. Something I never do, no matter who I’m with and Ace knows that. I always have my phone on, and I always answer my phone. Except when I’m balls deep in a woman I have no business being with.
Ace goes into the kitchen. “You got any coffee?”
“No.”
“Just wanted to tell you there were no more problems last night. The guys are already downstairs working, but me and Fist just got here since you said we could sleep in.”
“Yeah, right.” I look over Ace’s shoulder and see Sammie’s tank top draped over the back of the couch.
“You sure you’re feeling all right?” Ace narrows his eyes. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine.” I turn toward the door, hoping he gets the hint.
“Remember that time back in the day when we took those four chicks to that shitty motel in Margate, and you popped all that Ecstasy? Found you the next morning sprawled out on the bed with both of them taking turns sucking your dick.” Ace laughs at the memory.
“Anyway, that’s what you look like right now. ”
“Just need some sleep.” I have Ace halfway to the door when he puts on the brakes and plucks Sammie’s tank top off the back of the couch.
He hits me with a shit-eating grin. “You got some hot tail in your bed, huh?” He shakes his head.
“What did you do, call one of those cunts from the Royal Flush? Shit, I hear they make house calls.” He spins around and heads toward the bedroom.
“Who is it, Crystal or Ginger? Or maybe both. Shit, let me say hello.”
I grab his biceps and yank him around. “It’s not them. Now get the hell outta here.”
“Geez, calm the fuck down.” He shakes me off, then curls his lip. “And take a fuckin’ shower; you smell like pussy.”
I yank the tank top out of his grip. “Yeah, yeah, just get gone.”
I slam and lock the door behind him. Not that it’ll do much good since I forgot to get the key from him.
I push off the door and head to the bedroom with one thing on my mind.
Slipping back under the sheets so Sammie can ride my cock.
Only, when I enter the bedroom, she’s out of bed and half-dressed.
“I was all prepared to hide in the closet.” She waggles her eyebrows, and Ace’s intrusion pisses me off more.
“Not necessary.”
“Really? ‘Cause I got the impression you did not want him to find me here.” She motions to her tank top I’m still fisting, and I hand it to her.
“Maybe, but—"
“I get it. The old ‘don’t shit where you eat.’ Believe me, I understand. The last thing I want is all your guys looking at me knowing what we did.”
I rear back, definitely not liking the sound of those words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means exactly what you were saying, or not saying to Ace. You didn’t want him to know either.”
She wriggles into her top, and for the first time, the sight of her tits doesn’t make me hard.
“For way different reasons.”
“Either way. What happened last night was nice, and if it happens again, fine, if it doesn’t, no big deal, but we don’t need everybody knowing about it.”
Deuce slams his fists on his hips. “What we did last night was nice?”
“You didn’t think it was nice?”
“I thought it was way the fuck better than nice.”
“Okay, yeah, but the fact remains, we don’t need everyone knowing about it, right?”
“Yeah.” I’m agreeing with her, but something seems off. Way off.
“So, what are you arguing about then?”
Good question, ‘cause I don’t fuckin’ know. Calling the sheet-gripping, hotter-than-hell sex we had nice? Then basically saying she didn’t care if we did it again. Fuck, since I woke up, all I can think about is getting her under me again.
“Nothing.”
“Great. I’m going back to my room to get cleaned up, and I’ll see you downstairs.” She heads for the bedroom door, stops and turns to me. “I don’t want to miss the guy delivering the garbage disposal.”
“Right.” In the next second, I hear my door shut, and I’m still standing in my bedroom with half a hard-on, trying to figure out if I just got dumped.
Shit, the sex was nice, and instead of hitting the sheets again, she’s worried about having the garbage disposal installed. Not exactly what I would call sex talk.
I huff out a laugh. “She basically just did to me what I’ve done a hundred times over. The brush-off. The ‘hey, it was great—or in her case, nice—but I’m out, and don’t count on it happening again.’”
She screws my brains out, swallows my cum, and yet I still feel fucked over. And not in the good way.
SAMMIE
I enter my room, extremely proud of myself. For once, I wasn’t the victim, a role I never planned on playing again. I stood tall and threw words back at Deuce he’d probably said a hundred times over the years.
“Hey, babe, it was great, I’ll call you.” Never calls.
“Hey, babe, you know this was good, but it was a one-off.” Never calls.
“Hey, babe, I’ll call you the next time I wanna get my dick wet.” Never calls and has something thrown at his head.
Yup, I handled that like a pro. The look of shock and disappointment told me I played it perfectly.
I head for the bathroom, strip off my sleep shorts, pull my top over my head and pause.
I press it to my nose and inhale. Deuce’s unmistakable scent.
Damn. I fling it to the floor and turn on the water hot as I can stand it, then let it pelt over me.
I wipe the water from my face and realize it’s mixed with tears. Yeah, I might have played it perfectly, but what I said and what I feel are completely different. Deuce showed another side of himself in bed. I noticed it the first time when we had our crazy sex behind the bar.
His hard features soften, and a vulnerability washes over him that I didn’t think would be possible for an outlaw. A quiet introspection I don’t see with the other Kings. Deuce is a man who feels deeply no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
Then last night, the way he burst into my room afraid something or someone was hurting me—it was crazy.
Crazy because I never had a man react that way.
Usually, it’s me cleaning up the messes the males in my life make, not the other way around.
That in itself was eye-opening, but the way he gathered me in his arms last night, so gentle and caring, so unlike the persona he portrays with his brothers.
Like when I asked him about the scars on his back.
He gave me short, clinical answers, but his eyes betrayed his hurt.
Then he used sex to change the subject, accompanied by multiple orgasms. Something I never experienced before, and yet he brought me there every damn time. Not that I’m complaining.
Yes, Deuce touched me in a genuine way, but I know I did the right thing. We still have the responsibility of The End, and there’s no way I’m letting my emotions interfere with its success. We have to see each other every day.
I glance down at my ankle monitor. I don’t have the luxury of leaving. I have to be patient because nothing and no one, including Deuce, could get in the way of my future.
I lean against the tile and let the water sluice over me. I presented all good, valid reasons why Deuce and I would never work. Practical and sensible.
Then why does it hurt so damn much?
When the water chills, I turn it off, towel myself dry, and my phone vibrates with a message. I swipe at the screen, then grip the phone and stare at the device.