Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

JAMES

We don’t have sex in the truck, and not because I say no. I was completely and totally ready to rock and roll on the side of the seemingly abandoned highway.

Now, sitting in front of the big cement block building, I can’t help but wonder if maybe we should have stayed at that strip club.

Flicking my gaze down to my hands, I wring my fingers together as I think about walking into that place. It’s unknown. Everything about it is unknown to me. I can’t help but think about the men, the ones who were at the club the other night. Rev.

Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this. Although it’s not like I had much of a choice. But now I’m thinking that I should have possibly fought harder for a different outcome. Nash clears his throat beside me, and I lift my head, shifting my gaze over to him.

He’s staring straight ahead at the building, but he’s not making a move to go inside, either. I wonder if we’re both feeling the same sense of dread and maybe even regret. I open my mouth to ask him if he wants to go somewhere else, but he speaks before I can get the words out.

“This is only temporary. Once shit is figured out and settled down, we’ll go from there.”

Nash keeps saying that. Go from there . Figure things out . As if we aren’t going to be side by side when whatever this stuff is, is finished. Which we most definitely are because this man isn’t going to make me fall for him and then just walk away from me. Nope. Not freaking likely.

“Okay,” I whisper.

I don’t say what I am truly thinking, which is that the only figuring out that I want to do is what position and where. Because at the end of the day, I don’t think I care where I am as long as I’m beside him.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed that I would have instantly fallen for a man, any man, let alone the one sitting beside me. My whole life, all I’ve wanted was to belong, and while the parents who raised me gave me the love they could, I never felt whole.

I never felt as if I belonged.

I do now. In this truck, with this man.

Without another word, he pushes the door open, and then I watch as he walks around the front of his truck, stopping at my side of the door before he tugs it open. He holds his hand out, palm facing upward.

I try not to let out a heavy sigh as I slip my fingers into his warm, waiting palm. His skin is rough, and goose bumps break out over my body as I think about the way it feels on mine. I want it. I’m not sure why I’m this worked up, but I cannot get enough of this man.

When he stops walking, I don’t realize it, and my feet stumble forward a few steps before I straighten and face him. His chin tips slightly so that he can look down and connect his gaze with my own.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

Nash doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he releases his grasp on my hand and then lifts his palms to cup my cheeks. He shakes his head once before he closes his eyes, and I part my lips, closing my own eyes as I eagerly wait for his touch.

But his mouth doesn’t press against mine. Instead, I feel his forehead rest against my own. He lets out a heavy sigh, and I’m not sure why, but it weighs on me. I can tell there is some kind of internal struggle happening, and I don’t know what to do for him.

“You’re safe here. I will ensure that. These men will all know that you are off limits. I’ve never had a woman like this before, so bear with me.”

I don’t get the chance to ask him what exactly that means. I feel like I need clarification, lots of clarification, but I don’t get that. Instead, he drops his hands, shifts his face so that his lips brush mine, and then reclaims my hand and turns toward the building, tugging me behind him.

We walk into the room, and I’m immediately assaulted by the darkness of the space and the room in general. This is not what I had imagined. I can’t really remember the times I visited my mother at her clubhouse, but I feel like I would have locked this memory away in my pocket if it was anything like this.

The room is dark. The walls are painted black. That’s how dark the space is. And I’m not sure what I expected to see hanging on said walls, but it wasn’t black-and-white photos of motorcycles framed with honey-colored wooden frames.

My god, it’s sexy.

Although the black-and-white photo part shouldn’t surprise me, considering the strip club was all black-and-white photos. There are two pool tables to the side of the room, both with dark- blue felt. There is even a supple leather sofa against a wall and several pub tables with chairs along the sides of the room.

The middle is completely clear, almost like it’s meant to be a dance floor. But when my gaze scans the room and lands on the bar, my breath hitches. The top is a deep, rich wood that is shiny and spotless. Behind the bar are wooden shelves that hold dozens of colorfully displayed bottles of alcohol.

Everything in this place is rich and masculine. I love it. “Did you decorate?” I ask, still taking it all in.

Feeling the warmth from Nash’s hand on the small of my back, I tear my eyes from the room and look over my shoulder back to him. He searches my gaze with his own. Then his lips slowly curve up into a smile.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I did.”

It’s my turn to smile. “I can’t wait to see your house. I bet it’s fantastic.”

He chuckles, his eyes lighting up and sparkling as he watches me. “Yeah, it’s good. First place I ever put any real effort into. Never cared before.”

Dipping his chin, he touches his mouth to mine. Then he straightens before he guides me down the main hallway, past an office, and straight to the door at the back end of the hallway.

He opens it and walks inside, stepping to the side to let me pass.

His room is heaven.

I cannot believe that this is real and that a woman didn’t do this. His walls are painted light gray, but his bedspread is a deep hunter-green and velvet with tobacco-colored pillows.

There is one huge print hanging above the bed. It’s a skeleton riding a motorcycle. The headboard is a dark wood, with a matching nightstand, and directly across from there is a dresser with a television hanging above it on the wall.

“Are you sure you did all of this on your own?” I turn to face him.

He’s watching me, his back leaning against the door. He pushes off the door, closes the distance between us, and wraps his fingers around the side of my throat. His thumb slides up the center of my throat, and then he leans forward and touches his lips to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me.

“I decorated it myself, sweetheart, and if you want to change anything, then you just do that.”

I melt.

NASH

Lifting my head, I take a step backward. My eyes focused on her. I’m ready to christen this fucking place right here and right now. She slides her tongue along her bottom lip, then sinks her teeth into her flesh as she looks back at that bed.

I imagine her laid out completely naked on that velvet blanket. I want it. Right fucking now. As if she can read my mind, I watch as she takes a step backward, then another. She begins to strip. It’s not much of a show, but it’s fucking everything.

She lifts her shirt off, pulling it over her head before she tosses it on the floor, then her bra is discarded. Next, she shimmies off her shorts and panties and kicks off her shoes. I don’t move or speak because what she does next genuinely surprises me.

I watch as she climbs onto the bed, her body sliding across the velvet blanket. She’s sitting up, facing me. Her thighs spread as slowly as honey, giving me the perfect view of her pussy.

One of her elbows is on the bed, propping her up in a way where her back is arched, and I can see every inch of her. Watching her, I let out a groan when her fingers slip down the middle of her chest and her belly and then dip between her legs.

They glide through her folds once, twice, three times. With a grunt, I shrug out of my cut, laying it down across the top of the dresser before I kick each one of my boots off. I don’t take my eyes off hers.

There is nowhere else in the world I would rather look right now. My entire focus is on her and her fingers moving between her legs. I swear to fuck, it’s absolutely amazing in every fucking way.

Reaching behind my head, I grip my shirt in between my shoulder blades and tug it off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. I don’t look to see where it lands. I can’t. As I move toward the bed, I unbutton my jeans and shove them down, along with my boxers, before I step out of them.

I’m hard and ready for her. Curling my fingers around my cock, I gently stroke myself as I move closer to her. Standing at the side of the bed, I stroke myself two more times. I can’t stand it much longer. If I continue to watch her and jack my cock, I’m going to come all over her instead of inside of her.

Crawling onto the bed, I reach out, wrapping my fingers around her wrist. Gently, I guide her hand away from her pussy. Flicking my attention from her face to her cunt, I stare at her pink damp pussy, taking it in and knowing it’s mine.

“What do you want?” I demand.

Her trembling exhale fills the air, but I don’t look away from her spread legs. “You, Nash,” she whispers.

“Yeah?” I ask, and she hums in response.

“What do you want from me?” I ask.

She doesn’t skip a beat. Not a fucking second. “I want you to make me feel good because you’re the only one who can make me feel that way.”

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

“Yeah, James. You want my mouth, my cock, or my fingers first?”

Because she can have them all any goddamn time she wants them. Maybe I could see how bitches could manipulate someone. Because I would do just about anything for this woman in front of me. I’ve already killed for her, and I’d do it again without blinking. I would fucking slay goddamn dragons for her if that’s what she needed me to do.

“I just want to feel you, Nash. I don’t care how that comes.”

“As long as you do,” I say with a chuckle.

She lets out a low, breathy moan. “I need you.”

I’m sure she does. In all fairness, I need her, too. My balls ache, and my dick is begging me to be inside of her. I need the same relief she does. Releasing her hand, I reach down and grip the back of her thigh, spreading her a little farther. Her arm moves backward, her elbow stabilizing her.

My hips shift forward as I align myself with her center and slowly slide inside of her. “Stay up like this. I want you to see just how I fill you, sweetheart.”

Her lips part slightly, then she tips her chin and looks down her torso to where our bodies are connected. Slipping my hand between us, I press my thumb against her clit and begin to move it in slow, firm circles.

“Nash,” James whispers. “That feels so good.”

With a grunt, I move my thumb faster and harder, and I don’t look away from her face. I watch her, wanting to see every fucking emotion that crosses her features. When her body trembles, I know she’s close.

Then she begins to buck, fucking me as I stay as still as possible, my own resolve slipping with each and every roll of her hips. But I want her to come before I move. I want to feel her cunt milk me.

“ Oh god , Nash. I’m going to come,” she cries out.

I know it’s genuine because it’s this guttural cry that bounces off the walls around me, and then I feel it. I feel her pussy clamp down around me before it pulses. Trying to milk my cum from my own body.

As if on cue, I pull my hips back, pulling almost completely out of her and then slam back inside. Moving my hand from her cunt, I curl my fingers around the back of her thigh, and I hold her open as I fuck her.

It’s harder than I’ve ever fucked her. I can’t help myself. My control has completely dissolved. I have to own her. Every fucking piece of her. Which means I need to be inside of her. Irrationally, I feel the need to fuck her so fucking hard that she feels me for days. I want her sore, always, so that she never forgets that her cunt belongs to me.

So I do just that.