Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PIGGY
I need to talk to her about why I came here. It wasn’t just to fuck, although I won’t complain about that part… ever. As much as I don’t want to bring this shit up, it is what it fucking is, I guess. And it needs to be discussed.
With our legs tangled together, I gently glide my fingertips up and down her bare back as soothingly as possible before I speak. She’s soft and warm, her body practically melded into mine, a sensation that I didn’t realize I’d missed so much until now.
“You wanna talk to me about Dante Barone, Mill?”
She lifts her head, and when her eyes find mine, the only way I can describe her expression is… terrified. She doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, she places her palms on the center of my chest and pushes up, straightening her elbows, her eyes never leaving mine.
“What?” she hisses.
Arching a brow, I clear my throat. “I’m guessing you know exactly who that is, then?”
She presses her lips together and rolls them a few times, then closes her eyes before she exhales a long breath. When she opens her eyes, she starts to shift away from me, no doubt feeling the need to cover up, to put some kind of armor or barrier between us.
I don’t let her.
I wrap my arms around her. I like her naked and close. I wonder offhandedly if I could keep her this way, if she would let me lock her up in my shitbox place just like this—naked, satisfied, soft, and sweet. I fucking love it.
“I don’t want to talk about him, but I’m going to have to,” she murmurs.
Her words come out strained, almost as if she has to force them out because they almost pain her to say them aloud. I tuck her hair behind her ear. It’s wild and sexy, tangled from my fingers, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“I think it’s time to go ahead and tell me why you’re back and what he’s doing here.”
“He’s here?” she asks.
My lips twitch into a humorless smile. “You know he is.”
“I do,” she exhales. “I’ve sensed it for a few days at least.”
I let out a hum while pulling her a little closer.
I don’t like her face being so far from me, even if the view of her tits is magnificent.
I’m a little surprised, with her being in Vegas for as long as she has, that she didn’t get them done.
Not that they need to be. They don’t. They’re fucking perfect as they are. Always have been.
“Who is he?” I demand. Though I can’t stop thinking about her tits, I need to focus on the task at hand, then maybe the tits when she’s finished explaining the situation.
“Dante Barone was a man I met at the club in Vegas. I didn’t know he was a real mobster. I just thought he was playing at one. He was wining and dining me. I didn’t usually date men who came to the club. That was always a strict rule of mine, but he was persistent.”
Her words piss me off, but not because there was another man in her life.
I mean, in all honesty, that pisses me off, too, but that’s not something I can be mad at.
I’ve been with countless women. It’s because she didn’t normally go with men from the club, yet broke her rules because he pushed it.
She relented and then had to run for her life.
“Why did you break your rules?” I ask.
I want to know what it was about this piece of shit that made her agree to date him. That made her break her personal rules. I want to know what the fuck was going on with him, and then I want to know what the fuck she saw.
Because she saw something she shouldn’t have. I know without a doubt that’s what fucking happened. I can feel it in my bones. There is no way he’s followed her this far just because he likes fucking her. This goes deeper than that.
“He was persistent. I told you.”
Persistent. There is more than that. “Millie,” I warn. “You’re going to need to give me more than that.”
She presses her lips together before she lets out a heavy breath. I can tell she doesn’t want to tell me any of this, but I don’t give a fuck. I want to know what the hell is going on so I can come up with a game plan.
Because there will be a game plan.
I am going to kill that motherfucker. I didn’t like him when I pulled him over, and I like him even less now.
“He is flashy. He has money and loves showing it around. He loved showing me off, too. It was fancy parties, connections, all that. But I was still hesitant, and then he invited me to a party one night. I didn’t want to go. It was my only night off, but he was beyond persistent. He was insistent.”
My lips curve up into a grin. “And that’s when you saw something you shouldn’t have?”
“He got a phone call on our way to some penthouse party. He made a detour. I don’t know where exactly we went, but it was out in the desert. Nothing was around, not even a damn streetlight. It was pitch black.”
Arching a brow, I wait for her to finish even though I want her to get to the fucking basics of what happened. I think it’s about time I fucking know exactly what the hell is going on and whom I need to protect her against.
“A car pulled up and stopped. They were facing one another, lights bright, and I couldn’t really see who was what. Dante got out, told me to stay put. The other men got out as well. There were three of them. Three against one. That’s insane, right? But then something happened.”
She pauses and inhales a deep breath, then lets it out slowly as she shifts her face closer to mine.
“There was an argument. One of the three men tossed a bag to Dante. He caught it, opened it, and rooted around inside before he lifted his head. The three men were all shouting, asking for what they were owed. I didn’t understand it, and it didn’t matter if I did, because within just moments, all three men were dead. ”
“Dead?” I ask. “How?”
She shifts her face, moving a bit closer to me, but doesn’t kiss me. My cock twitches at the thought of her mouth on mine. I could fuck her again, and again, and again. I’ve never been this turned on before. I can’t remember the last time my body was on edge like this.
It’s only been about thirty minutes since I was hard, and I could go again. I feel like a teenager and definitely not like a forty-two-year-old man, an old man. I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking her right now, not when she’s just told me that Dante killed three men in front of her.
“He shot them all. Then just dragged their bodies a few dozen feet off the side of the road and left them in the desert to rot.”
“And the car?” I ask.
I’m now completely invested in this story, even though I still want to fuck her again. I’m not sure any part of this story would make me want to be anywhere else but inside her. I’m completely fucking gone for Millie, always have been, but I feel deeper—stronger than I ever did before.
“He called some men to take care of it. I didn’t ask for details.
I assumed they were going to burn it, crush it, or something.
But we went to that party, and he acted like nothing happened.
And when I wouldn’t go to his place, when I wouldn’t invite him to mine, he threatened me.
Said if I tried to break things off, he would do to me what he did to those men, and nobody was going to miss some whore of a stripper. So I ran.”
Indeed.
She ran.
Straight to me… in her own way.
MILLIE
I watch as he processes everything I’ve just unloaded on him. As much as I want to ask him a million questions and demand that he respond to everything I’ve just said, I don’t. I don’t say a word as I wait.
His lips curve up into a grin as his eyes search mine. “You ran to me,” he says.
I can tell he feels very proud of himself. He probably should—because he’s right. I did run to him, or at least to the club. But if I’m being completely honest with myself, I definitely wanted this to happen.
All of it.
Him and me.
“I ran to you,” I whisper.
“But in your own way, because Millie Monroe doesn’t just ask for help.”
Axton’s lips grin wider. He laughs softly but doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he glides his hand up the center of my spine, curling his fingers around the back of my neck before he gently pulls me forward, our lips touching.
His tongue slides across the seam of my lips, and I whimper at the sensation. He hums, then gently tugs my head back, his eyes focused on mine in silence. Then he smiles, just the corner of his lips pulling up when he does.
“No, I don’t,” I whisper.
“Yeah, Mill. It’s been a decade, but I know you.”
“What do I do?” I ask softly.
He could tell me just about anything right now, and I’d do it. I’m not sure what the right move is, though. I want to know his thoughts. And I want to know just how much he wants me, because if he says the club can watch me, or I can go on lockdown, then I’ll know this is just for fun.
Although what the hell else would it be anyway?
I’m not sure why it would be anything other than fun. We don’t know one another anymore, even if the sex is really good, like beyond amazingly good.
“You go to work. You live your life. And I protect you.”
I slide my tongue along my bottom lip and wet the skin there before I clear my throat. I don’t know how exactly to respond to that. I don’t. Instead, I stare at him, waiting for something more to come, because he has to have more up his sleeve than that.
“Axton?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.
He releases his grasp on my hair, his hand shifting back down my spine, his fingers curling around my waist again as he holds me close to him.
I can feel his warm, hard body pressed against mine, and I want him again. I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way, that I should be discussing the future, the protection, and Dante Barone, but I can’t help myself.
I want him. I want more.
“I’m going to work?”
He hums. “I won’t take any of that from you, Mill. The club is in charge of security at the Gilded Room now. You’re safe inside those walls, and I’ll be coming to your apartment when I’m not on duty.”
“When you are?” I ask.
“I’ll have a guy on your building. That asshole isn’t coming anywhere near you.”
I’m not sure if I should feel protected, relieved, or what. I’m really not sure what I feel right now. I don’t know how to categorize all of this. Does he think this is fun? Is this more? Could it be more? Could it be nothing? Is it a favor to an old friend?
And if I ask him any of those questions, I’m going to come off as completely desperate and possibly a little crazy.
So, instead of bombarding him with questions, I shift my face forward and brush my lips across his.
Then I rest my cheek against his chest and breathe.
Closing my eyes, I send a hope and a prayer to whomever or whatever is listening that this can be the end of something bad.
And at the same time, the beginning of something beautiful.