Chapter 8 #2
My cock stirs at the memory, and I wrap a hand around it, giving in to the fantasy for a moment. I imagine her on her knees in front of me, looking up with those big dark eyes as she takes me in her mouth. Imagine her bent over my desk, ass red from my palm, begging me to fuck her...
A knock at my door interrupts the fantasy.
"Yeah?" I call, shutting off the water.
"They're back," Amsterdam's voice comes through the door.
"Be right down," I reply, grabbing a towel.
I dress quickly in jeans and a black t-shirt, not bothering with shoes. As I head down the stairs, I hear Violet's laughter—bright and genuine—and something in my chest loosens.
She's sitting at the bar with Cruel, both of them nursing beers, her with her back to me. Cruel sees me first, a knowing smirk crossing his face.
"Look who finally decided to show up," he announces.
Violet turns, and the smile that lights up her face when she sees me hits me right in the heart. She's wearing my t-shirt, knotted at the waist over her jeans from yesterday, and her hair is windblown from the ride.
She's never looked more beautiful.
"Hey," she says, suddenly shy, like she's remembering everything we did last night.
"Hey yourself." I move behind the bar, grabbing a beer of my own. "Cruel keeping you entertained?"
"He's been giving me the Dungeon MC crash course," she says, grinning at Cruel. "Though he refuses to tell me how any of you got your road names."
"Club secret," Cruel says solemnly. "You gotta earn that kind of information."
The way he says it makes her blush, and I wonder exactly what he's been telling her about the club—about me.
"How was court?" Violet asks, changing the subject.
"Kid got off," I say, taking a pull from my beer. "Best part of my job, telling a nineteen-year-old he's not going to prison for the next fifteen years."
Her eyes soften. "That's amazing. I forget sometimes that you do that—help people, I mean. Ashley's always talking about how good you are at your job."
There's admiration in her voice, and it makes me stand a little straighter. "Not all my clients are innocent," I admit. "But everyone deserves a fair shake."
"Even the guilty ones?" she challenges, but her tone is playful.
"Especially the guilty ones," I counter. "System's stacked against them from the start."
Cruel snorts. "And here comes the social justice rant. I'm gonna head out before it gets going. Got stuff to handle."
He claps me on the shoulder as he passes, leaning in to murmur, "She's a keeper, brother. Don't fuck it up."
Once he's gone, it's just Violet and me. She sips her beer, looking at me over the rim of the bottle, eyes dark with meaning.
"I liked your note," she says. "Short and sweet."
"Should've woken you up to say goodbye properly," I reply, moving closer.
"And how would that have gone?" She sets her beer down, leaning forward slightly.
"Something like this." I close the distance between us, tangling one hand in her hair and pulling her to me for a kiss. She opens for me immediately, a soft moan escaping her as our tongues meet.
When we break apart, she's breathless, cheeks flushed.
"Your face," I say, gently touching the bruise. "How's it feeling?"
"Better," she assures me. "The painkillers help. And Cruel's been keeping me distracted."
"Oh yeah? How's that?"
She shrugs. "Stories about the club, about you. He's a good storyteller."
I make a mental note to find out exactly what stories Cruel's been sharing. "He seems to have made an impression on you."
"He's nice," she says simply. "Not what I expected from—what did he call himself?—'the club's enforcer.'"
"Cruel's complicated," I tell her. "But he's the best man I know. I trust him with my life." I pause, considering how much to share. "He's also the one who's going to help me deal with your ex."
Her expression falters. "Santiago—"
"Whip," I correct her, voice low. "When we're talking club business, it's Whip."
She swallows, nodding. "Whip. I don't want you getting in trouble because of Derek. He's not worth it."
"It's not about what he's worth," I say, taking her hand in mine. "It's about what you're worth. And no one puts their hands on what's mine."
Her eyes widen at my possessive tone, but I don't miss the way her pupils dilate, the slight catch in her breath.
"Is that what I am?" she asks softly. "Yours?"
I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. "After last night? After the way you came for me, calling my name? Yeah, Violet. Hell yeah you're mine."
She shivers, her free hand coming up to clutch my arm. "And what does that mean, exactly?"
"It means I take care of you," I tell her, pulling back to look her in the eyes. "It means I protect you. It means when you're ready, I'm going to fuck you so good you forget every man who came before me."
Her lips part, eyes heavy with desire. "And if I'm ready now?"
I feel a surge of heat at her words, but I shake my head. "Not here. Not with the brothers coming in and out. When I finally have you, I want you all to myself."
"Fine," she sighs, feigning disappointment. "I guess I can wait a little longer. I've waited years already, what's a few more hours?"
Her words hit me like a gut punch. "Years?"
She blushes, looking away. "I might have had a crush on my best friend's hot older brother since I was eighteen."
I tilt her chin back toward me. "And why am I just hearing about this now?"
"Because you've always treated me like a kid," she says. "Like Ashley's annoying little friend who you had to tolerate."
"That was an act," I admit. "Had to keep myself in check somehow. Don't think I didn't notice you, Violet. Every time you came around, every swimsuit at the pool parties, every short skirt at family dinners... I noticed all of it."
Her breath hitches. "And now?"
"Now I don't have to pretend anymore." I trace my thumb across her bottom lip. "Now I can show you exactly what I've been thinking about doing to you all these years."
The door to the clubhouse bangs open, and we spring apart as Ripper, the club president, walks in with Kane, one of the full patches, at his heels. They're deep in conversation, but Ripper pauses when he spots us.
"Whip," he acknowledges with a nod. "This must be the girl Max and Cruel have been talking about."
I place a possessive hand on Violet's lower back. "This is Violet. She's staying with us for a while."
Ripper looks her over, taking in the bruise on her face with narrowed eyes. "Someone do that to you, darlin'?"
Violet stiffens but holds her ground. "My ex. Won't happen again."
"Damn right it won't," Ripper says, looking at me meaningfully. "Club's got your back now."
"Appreciate that," Violet says, and I feel a swell of pride at how she's handling herself.
"Whip, need to talk to you," Ripper continues. "Club business."
"Give me a minute," I tell him, turning back to Violet once Ripper and Kane have moved to the back room. "I've gotta handle this. Why don't you head upstairs, take a shower if you want? I'll be up as soon as I can."
She nods, understanding in her eyes. "Go do what you need to do. I'll be waiting."
As I watch her walk up the stairs, hips swaying enticingly in her jeans, reality hits me hard. I'm in deep with this woman. And I wouldn't have it any other way.