Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER

EIGHT

JAMES

Nash spins around and walks out of my apartment, slamming the door closed behind him. But I didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared at my words. I’ve never been into that whole daddy-kink thing, but there’s something just so naughty about calling that man daddy .

Sure, he’s old enough to be mine, maybe even older, but the way I feel about him is in no way daughterly. Instead of chasing after him the way my body begs for me to do, I force myself to slowly walk to the door and flip the lock into place before I unpack all the bags.

I’m thankful for the distraction and spend the rest of the afternoon organizing my things, washing and conditioning my hair, then eventually gathering my courage to go in search of food.

I press my lips together before I tug the apartment door open. The music wafts up from downstairs, and I know that the club is open. I’m not sure I want to see women dancing naked on stage, but at the same time, I may not have a choice.

And the idea that I may not have a choice because I might be one of those women one day does not vanish from my thoughts. In fact, it is in the forefront of my head, playing on a loop just like the sexy beat of the music as I follow the hallway down to the kitchen.

Something flashes in the peripheral of my eye when I turn a corner. It’s a window, and through that window, I can see the entire audience and stage. Everything is black and hot pink.

It’s beautiful and looks luxurious.

There are also huge black-and-white pictures on the walls of women in Playboy bunny costumes or just completely naked. I recognize some of the faces as celebrities. Then, something shiny draws my attention to the stage.

There is a woman dancing. She’s wearing a rhinestone-encrusted G-string with blinged-out sky-high heels. She’s completely topless, her breasts on display for every man staring at her, and they are doing just that.

I think if a bomb exploded, not a single man would even flinch.

They are her captivated audience.

Turning away from the stage, I decide I need to get some food. Maybe I’m hallucinating because I am feeling just as captivated by this naked dancer. I’ve never thought about stripping, bad or good. It’s never been at the forefront of my mind one way or the other.

Now I’m wondering what it’s like to be up there. To have all those eyes on me. But is adoration by a bunch of strangers really what I want? Or is there only one man who I want watching me right now?

I already know the answer to that. I want this man, this singular man, to look at me the way those men are looking at that woman on stage. I want Nash to obsess over me. Not just so that I’m under his net of protection, but because I’m that attracted to him.

It’s not even a manipulation thing any longer. I just want him to want me like that. It’s only been a couple of days, but I cannot keep this man out of my head or off my mind. It’s only been a few hours since I last saw him, yet I miss him, which makes me feel immature.

But I’ve never been one of those boy-crazy girls. I’ve never really felt that desire to be around someone twenty-four-seven or craved that ache between my legs from their intrusion.

God.

I want him inside of me. I miss it like a living, breathing thing.

I’m lost inside my own head as I place my palm against the swinging door that leads to the kitchen and push it open. As soon as I step onto the tile floor, I’m brought back into the moment.

It’s loud.

There are pots and pans clanging everywhere. Men and women are yelling and moving about the room. It looks nothing like the place where I had sex this morning. The calm, quiet place where I ate omelets with Nash after said sex… said amazing sex.

Stepping to the side, I hug the wall and wonder how I’m going to get anything to eat here. I’m clearly not going to be able to rummage around for a little snack. Biting the corner of my lip, I turn away and head back out of the kitchen.

Immediately, I decide that tomorrow, I’m going to try to go to the grocery store and get some food for my room, because I don’t want to do this again. Some cheese, cold cuts, crackers, and maybe cookies could go a long way up there.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I move through the hallway, heading back up to my room, when I hear a voice that I don’t recognize call out my name. Turning my head, I see a man dressed in a leather vest and jeans, much like Nash. But he’s clearly not Nash. He’s a touch more weathered but still handsome in his own way.

Turning to face him fully, I tilt my head back and look up into his eyes. “Yes?” I ask.

He smirks, his golden-brown eyes searching mine. “What’re you doing down here, babe?”

“I was going to get something to eat. Nash said I could come down here…” My words trail off, but the man across from me, his eyes widen at them, so I shut up and I don’t continue.

“He did, did he?”

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to answer that question or not, so I don’t. Instead, I give him a smirk and take a step backward in an attempt to show him that my part in this conversation is over. He doesn’t take the hint, though.

“I’m Bugsy. Come on, and I’ll get you fed.”

I’m not sure how I feel about him.

Not at all.

Instinctually, I want to run back to my room, mainly because I don’t know anyone else here, just Nash. But he’s gone, and it’s not like he told me to stay away from everyone else. He didn’t. This man is from the same group. His vest is almost identical to Nash’s.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He jerks his chin, then turns and walks away. I’m not sure where he’s going because he waltzes right past the kitchen. I follow behind him, though, now a mixture of hunger and curiosity.

Bugsy walks back up the stairs, although this is a different staircase. When he turns to the right at the top of the stairs, I notice that the hallway is the same as the one my apartment is on. My room is at the very end of the hallway.

Instead of continuing down the hall, he stops at a door. He jerks his chin as he pushes the door open and walks inside. I expect to find an office, maybe another apartment like mine, but neither of those is what I see in front of me as I step into the room.

My spine straightens.

What the fuck?

There is a hot-pink pole on a stage to one side of the room, much like the one downstairs, except on a much smaller scale than the whole floor. Then, there is a bed angled in the corner to face the pole—a bed with no sheets or pillows, just what looks like a rubber, fitted sheet.

There is also a leather loveseat pushed against the wall that faces the pole. And in the center of the room is what I can only describe as a sex swing. It’s hanging by ropes from the ceiling and looks like a seat with cushions, except it’s clearly a showpiece facing the couch and bed. This is for sex.

Jesus.

I open my mouth to tell him that I need to leave, that I need to get the fuck out of here, but Bugsy begins speaking before I can hightail it out of there.

“This was the only unoccupied room other than your apartment.”

I almost ask him if he really thinks this space is less awkward than my own room, but I decide against it. Instead, I stay ready to run. He takes a step toward me but, thankfully, doesn’t reach out to touch me. I’m not sure how I would react if he did.

“It’s easier to call down to the kitchen if they have a place to deliver the food. And this is a normal delivery place for food.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nod once. “Okay,” I whisper.

I’m in so much trouble. I can feel it bubbling up from deep within my belly.

NASH

Leaning back in my chair, I lift my legs and slam my boots down on my desktop. I’m not sure how to navigate this shit. I am in charge of this club, and yet I’m not. It’s an odd place to be, especially since I’m supposed to be fucking retired. I’m clearly not retired, though, and the original chapter has been in over its head for a while.

Lifting my phone to my ear, I wait for King to pick up. I could call the president of the club, Atomic, but I’d rather call and talk to my own son. It only rings twice before he picks up. I have more than one reason for calling, but I’m going to handle business first.

“Hey,” he mutters into the phone.

“How is the war going?”

He lets out a chuckle. “It’s just been discovered that there are some serious issues. Southern Mafia is fucking pissed. They also said that one of their trucks was vandalized, but only a single piece of merchandise was compromised.”

I snort. “It was compromised to the goddamn fullest, too.”

“That was something I didn’t need to know,” he says with a grunt.

Laughing, I shake my head, although I know he can’t see me. “But you wanted to know if I tasted that, and I did. I liked what I tasted, too, so not sure what’s going to happen there.”

“Again, not something I need details on. You know both of her bio parents are gone, yeah?”

I could lie and tell him that shit doesn’t matter. That she won’t give a fuck, but I don’t know if she will or not. She’s young, she’s made a whole mess for herself, and it’s not something she’s going to be able to walk away from easily, even with my protection.

“And how does the Southern Mafia feel about their merchandise being missing?” I ask, shifting the conversation.

There is a moment of silence. Then he clears his throat. “The driver claimed he had no clue who or what ambushed him. But I don’t know how long that story is going to hold up. They are busy right now at war with the Demon Guns. If they’re all still breathing after the smoke settles there, we may have a problem.”

“And what do you want me to do with her until we know?” I ask.

He lets out a groan. Then, his voice is low as he speaks. “Do what you want, but don’t give her the life that Vixen was trying to save her from. Even if she did it the wrong way, that woman was trying to save her daughter.”

He’s right.

And Vixen did do it the wrong way, but she was desperate, and I understand that. As a parent, there is no amount of betrayal that I wouldn’t commit to save my son. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect Elvis and my grandchildren. Nothing.

“James is safe with me. There’s nothing to worry about there,” I say.

“Except maybe me getting a little brother or sister?” he asks, barely able to contain his laughter.

I snort as well because wouldn’t that be fucking something? “I’m not delusional, fucker. First off, I would be over sixty when the kid started school. Secondly, James is twenty. No way in hell is she going to want to settle down and have kids with an old fuck like me.”

And that’s the sad truth of it all. The time when I could have done that, settled down with one woman, made babies, and created a life the way my son is doing, that part of my life has passed for me. There is no going back, and I’m good with that.

“Okay, Dad,” he mutters. But it sounds like he’s saying okay just to shut me up. I almost tell him to fuck off but decide against it.

“Now, tell me how my grandsons are,” I demand, changing the subject.

He chuckles, and the conversation easily transitions to Brendan and Chase, my two grandsons. I don’t like to say that any one kid is perfect, but they are. They are fucking perfection, and I would fight anyone who told me otherwise.

“Are you coming for Chase’s birthday?” he asks.

“Text me the date and everything. You know I’ll be there.”

Elvis clears his throat before we hang up, and I wait for whatever it is he has to say. “Dad,” he calls out. Still, I wait in silence. “Thanks for being such a good father and grandfather. I know we both missed out when I was younger, but I’m glad we’re where we are now.”

“Couldn’t ask for a better kid,” I state.

Then I end the call. Otherwise, I’m going to cry like a goddamn pussy, and neither of us wants that. Closing my eyes, I tip my face to the ceiling and try not to think about James. I try not to think about her body, about her smile, and about the way her warm, wet cunt feels wrapped around my cock.

I try. And I fucking fail.