Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

JAMES

Something has changed. There has been a shift, and I’m not sure what it is, but I also don’t think I am ready to question it either. I am enjoying this, all of it. Especially the orgasms, but also the idea of belonging—even if I don’t know what that entails.

Nash wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his side, and I let out a sigh. Cuddling with this man seems like such an oxymoron mainly because if you saw him walking down the street, you would never imagine he would cuddle for even one second, yet here he is, holding me tightly against his side.

Lifting my head, I rest my chin on his chest as I look up at him. His fingertips are drawing lazy circles against my hip. His chin tips down slightly, his eyes find mine, and he smiles softly.

God

I get to see him like this. I know I’m probably not the first woman to see this man this way, but it feels special, nonetheless. “Tell me something about your life,” I chance asking.

He doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, his hand shifts from my hip and slowly slides up my side, then tangles in my hair. My breath hitches when he tugs my head back. His face is still soft and sweet, his eyes searching mine.

“There is nothing you want to know about me, sweetheart.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “Now you know that’s not true, Nash.”

He snorts but doesn’t answer me. Instead, he releases his grasp on my hair and combs his fingers through the strands before he clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice sounds rough and sexy, and I find myself clenching my thighs together and wondering if we could go again, even though I’m sore as hell.

“I have a son. He’s an adult, but I wasn’t there for him when I should have been.”

His confession, admission, whatever you want to call it, surprises me. I’m also not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that. But he doesn’t allow me to ask any questions because he continues.

“I left him with his mother, and I did my own thing. I didn’t know she would be such a gigantic piece of shit and that she would marry a bigger piece of shit,” he states.

“Back then, would you have done anything if you’d known?” I ask.

Something flashes in his eyes. I don’t know what the expression is, but when he speaks, the conviction fills me, and I know he is being one-hundred-percent truthful in his words.

“I would have gone to the ends of the earth so that my boy had a good life. I have tried to make up for it by being his friend as an adult and being the grandfather his kids deserve.”

I love that. It also tells me everything I need to know about him. This man is a man. “Your parents, were they good to you? Not the ones who were biologically yours, but your grandparents.”

He knows all about my life, and I’m not sure how I feel about that, but it’s nice having someone who understands, even if it’s weird that he knows so much about me when I know hardly anything about him.

“They were good, but they clearly were trying to right all of the wrongs that were my biological parents.”

“So, they were overly… everything?” he asks.

I hum, then decide I don’t like this conversation anymore. Dropping my chin, I touch my lips to his chest, to the center. “They were overly everything,” I whisper against his skin.

“Not a kid anymore, sweetheart. Gonna have to give me a bit to get back up.”

Lifting my head, I can’t believe that he said that. He chuckles, his eyes dancing at his words or maybe my shock. “I don’t know. You were amazing. No boy I’ve ever been with has made me feel the way you have.”

He snorts. “First of all,” he says on a growl, “I’m not a boy. I’m a fucking man, which is why I can make you feel fucking amazing. Secondly—” His hand finds its way back into my hair before he snaps my head back. His blue eyes are no longer sparkling and calm. They’re now stormy and full of fire, which makes him about a million times sexier. “The last fucking thing I want to do is hear about any other dick anywhere near your body while you share my bed. That includes the past, and there better fucking not be a present.”

My eyes widen at his words, and it’s at this moment that I realize he isn’t just jealous. He’s also possessive, and why that makes my center ache, I do not understand. But it does, and I want him to touch me there.

“That includes fucking Rev. I saw the way he fucking looked at you.”

And Rev did look at me. He also spoke to me. I did not like the way he did it. Sure, he’s hot, too, like if I had never seen Nash, if I had never been with Nash, then maybe I would give him a second glance. But now? Not at all, not even if this weren’t happening between me and Nash.

Rev is icky, and he’s an asshole. So, I’m good with never seeing or touching him—ever.

“He may have looked at me, but I didn’t even see him.”

That is not a lie.

Rev doesn’t hold a candle to this man at my side. Instead of trying to convince him with my words, I pull his wrist from behind my head, and when I do, he releases my hair. Guiding his hand between my legs, I feel his fingers against my center.

“Do you feel that?” I ask.

He doesn’t respond. His eyes darken as he stares at me. His lips press into a thin line as I continue. My next words come out breathily, mainly because his fingers are between my thighs. They’re touching me, and that makes me breathless.

“You’re inside of me, Nash. There’s no room for anyone else. I know you don’t know me well yet, but I’m loyal. And I know I started out trying to work an angle, but I have no angles now. Not anymore. I’m trusting the process, whatever that looks like.”

NASH

This shit cannot work, and I cannot whatsoever catch fucking feelings. I’ve had a lot of short-term relationships over the years. In none of those did I even feel an ounce of jealousy the way I do with her.

I need to scrape her off and get rid of her. Otherwise, I’m not going to be able to let her go, and in that same mindset, I am going to ruin her life in the process. She’s too fucking vibrant to ruin with this darkness.

Slipping my fingers from between her legs, I use my cum to paint her lips. “You look pretty with my cum on your body,” I say, changing the subject.

She trembles against me, then she climbs on top of me, straddling my hips. Touching my thumb to her sensitive clit, I watch as she hisses right before her eyes slide closed. I’m going to have to take my time because I can’t get hard instantly anymore.

That thought pisses me off, mainly because I have never wanted to fuck a woman as badly as I want to fuck her, over and over. And then over and over again. Seeing her sitting astride me, her entire body on display, an offer for me to take…

It does something to the primal being inside of me. She’s mine. I want to fucking keep her, and not just for a few months. James closes her eyes. Her head falls back between her shoulders as she begins to roll her hips. Keeping my thumb against her clit, I take in the show.

“Nash,” she calls out, her voice shaky as she lifts her head. She doesn’t stop rolling her hips, though, even when she continues speaking. “No other women in your bed either.”

I almost burst out laughing. But I don’t. Instead, I give her a smirk before I tell her god’s honest truth, even if that makes me seem weak or whatever. Clearing my throat, I keep one hand on her clit. The other, I wrap around the side of her throat.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I have enough energy for anyone else right now. Even if I did, I only want you.”

Her face tints pink, her eyes search mine, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, tugging on it before she speaks.

“I like you, Nash. A lot.”

Fuck.

I need to turn fucking tail and get the fuck out of here, but I couldn’t even if I truly wanted to.

And I don’t.

Not really.

Sliding my hands from her throat, I cup her cheek and glide my thumb across her cum-painted bottom lip. “I like you, too, sweetheart. A hell of a lot.”

Before either of us can say anything else, there is a loud knock on the door. Lifting my head, I look at the closed panel of the door, waiting for it to fly open. It doesn’t, mainly because I locked the fucker.

Then I hear Bugsy’s voice on the other side. “Pres, we got a fucking problem.”

Shit.

James scrambles off me. I don’t even have to push her off. She understands the urgency. Knifing straight up, I throw my legs over the bed and walk toward the door. I’m bare-assed fucking naked, but Bugsy has seen it all and more over the years.

Looking back at the bed, I make sure that James is covered. I may not care if Bugsy sees me bare-dicked, but I have a fucking problem with him seeing James. Which is almost laughable considering the last woman I casually dated we shared a couple of times.

“What is the fucking emergency?” I bark as I wrench the door open.

His eyes widen before his lips curve up into a grin, then flick behind me to the bed before coming back to meet my own. “Sorry to interrupt, but we got a fucking problem.”

“What is the problem?” I ask.

He clears his throat, and I expect him to say something like one of the girls is pissed off at another girl. Or that maybe one of the customers was handsy. But what he says causes my brows to rise.

Because how in the fuck did this happen so goddamn quickly?

“We got a representative here from the Southern Mafia.”

How in the fuck?

“Where is he?” I demand.

Bugsy jerks his chin in my direction before he continues. “He is in a room, safely held.”

I know exactly what fucking room that is. It’s the room attached to my office. Only he and I know about said room, and it’s for a purpose such as this. I had some bookshelves put in. They open to a secret room that is plain. There aren’t any windows, and there sure as fuck isn’t any carpeting.

“Let me throw on some pants. Keep him warm.”

Bugsy smirks then takes a step backward. Closing the bedroom door, I turn to James, who is watching me with wide eyes. Grabbing my clothes off the floor, I start to dress, but I can feel her gaze on me as I do. She’s watching my every move, and I’m under no illusion that she hasn’t heard what is going on.

I tug my jeans up, and she shifts in the bed as I button them. Lifting my gaze to meet hers, I realize that she’s not being quiet for any other reason than she’s absolutely fucking terrified.

I abandon my T-shirt on the floor, move toward the side of the bed, and sink down next to her hip. The sheet is pulled up to her neck, her eyes are wild, and I can practically smell the fear radiating off her. This isn’t a fucking tactic either. She’s scared.

“The Southern Mafia is here,” she whispers.

“They are,” I confirm.

She shakes her head, her eyes still as big as saucers and filled with absolute terror. She swallows, but I don’t let her say anything else. I cup her cheek. My gaze searches hers, and I try to show her just how calm I am.

“They are here, but they will not touch you, sweetheart. Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I have more information.”

She reaches up, wrapping her fingers around my wrist at her cheek. “I signed myself over to them, Nash. They are here to collect.”

My lips twitch into a smirk as I lean forward and touch my mouth to hers. “Finders fucking keepers, James.”