Loving Nicole (Savage Brothers MC #3)(37)

I open the door to find a rather haggard, beat up brunette in wrinkled jeans and a faded yellow t-shirt. Not my taste on a normal day. She’s slim, though, and if I ignore the wrinkles in her face and the sunk in haunted look around her eyes, I’ll enjoy her.

“You called for a maid?” She asks and her voice is husky. Probably from a four-pack a day habit judging by the smell of her. I’ll have to bathe her. There’s no telling what I could catch from her otherwise.

“Yes, my bedroom and bath need cleaning. You may start in the bathroom.”

She takes off in the direction of the bath pulling along a cleaning cart. I tag the Do Not Disturb hanger on the door, close it and lock it. Why can’t maids in hotels wear the black costume? It would be so much more appealing.

“What is your name?” I ask her following her into the bath area. She jumps. Oh look, I think I scared her. She has no idea how scared she should be.

“K…Kayla,” she whispers turning to look at me. Upon first glance I would have imagined she was in her late thirties. Now I can see that she’s just had a rough life. She’s probably late twenties at the most.

“Kayla, tell me. Do you have a man at home?”

“I…I have a boyfriend.” Her eyes are dark and probably her best feature. They go wide when she sees me push the cleaning cart back out into the main area. She looks afraid, which is good. She should be. Still, does she not notice the suit and the expensive diamond on my hand? She should consider herself lucky that I am lowering my standards this once.

“That is a shame.”

“It is?” She slides to the side like she’s going to get away from me. It’s cute. They always run at first.

“Does he give you pleasure, Kayla?”

“I…I don’t think we should be talking about this.”

“I want to f*ck you, Kayla.”

She freezes and a blush enters her cheeks. Hmmm…that might be new. Even when I took Melinda’s virginity she didn’t blush. Perhaps I misjudged the pretty little Kayla.

“I…I can’t. I’m in a relationship.”

I take out my wallet. “I can afford to be generous. Plus, your boyfriend need never know.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Let’s get the money out of the way? Shall we? A thousand dollars and you’ll be on your way in an hour, maybe two.”

“I…a thousand dollars?”

“Do we have a deal?”

“You’ll wear protection?”

Oh please. Like I would ever sink into her unprotected. She scrubs toilets for god-sake.

“It will be a hardship, but I shall.” I reach around her to turn the shower on. She jumps as my arm brushers hers.

“Okay,” she whispers and the tear that falls from her eye makes my dick throb. Time to let the beast out to play.

I harshly place her so she has her back to me. I pull that hideous faded shirt off her and throw it to the floor. She gasps but unfortunately does nothing to fight me. She’s wearing a plain white bra underneath. My first instinct is to destroy it. Instead, I unlatch and throw it to the ground. I grab a hand full of her hair, pulling her neck to my lips. I bite—not hard…not gentle. My nose curls in disgust, she smells like cleaning chemicals.

“I’m going to f*ck you so hard, pretty Kayla, I will ruin you for any other man.”

“Why…why me?”

“Take your pants and underwear off.”

She hesitates for a minute and I pull her hair harder. “Give me what I want, any way I want it and you can take home five grand.”

“Five grand?” She gasps, but I notice she is taking her clothes off more willingly.

When she is finally naked, I push her into the shower.

“Clean up. When you come out there will be clothes and perfume waiting for you. Do not keep me waiting.”

She looks shocked. She has no idea the game she signed up to play. While she’s in the shower, I lay out a red silk negligee that I often had Melinda wear for me. I also lay out her perfume. My dick is rock hard at the thought of punishing the bitch. Well, as close as I can come until I have Melinda in my hands again.

And…I will have her in my hands again. She will pay.





Chapter 23




Nicole


The club has been transformed; it looks nothing like it normally does. I don’t know who was in charge of cleaning and preparing for the service, but it does look beautiful. Still, I hate everything about it. I’m sitting in the front row, Bull on one side of me and Dancer on the other, with Carrie beside him. I can hear the tears being shed throughout the room.

I’m not crying. I have no tears left. I’m holding my man’s cut in my arms. Our son kicks inside of me, he’s been kicking nonstop since the service began. It’s like he can feel the emptiness around me and is just as upset. Can he feel the difference in the air I’m taking in? How it is thin and insubstantial? How it does nothing to sustain me. Instead, the air burns my lungs. Each breath feels as if I am the one now dying.

I stare at the black granite urn on the pedestal in front of me. Frog’s is a navy blue urn in an almost matching design and on a pedestal, too. I can’t grieve Frog. I can’t even try. My heart and mind is too consumed with Dragon. The service just broke. The members are talking, they’re laughing or telling stories. Remembering Dragon and Frog in their own way and trying to hold onto them a little longer. I can’t. I’m two steps away from falling completely apart. I can’t do this; I can’t let go of Dragon. I can’t survive even a day without him, let alone say goodbye. He’s been gone close to a week now. If it was going to get any easier, surely it would have in that time.