The Scars That Define Us (The Devil's Dust #2)(50)

She presses her lips together tightly. “You don’t know shit about my life.”

I sigh, knowing this chat isn’t going to end well, and head toward the stall to clean myself up.

“I know enough to know you’re a lying, cheating bitch. I don’t need to know much more,” I yell, hoping she hears me from the other side of the stall. She remains silent, and as I’m wondering if she’s still there, I open the door to see a flustered Chelsea. She flexes her hands as if she wants to hit me, making me grin; I’m making her lose control. I walk to the counter and wipe away the little bit of mascara running beneath my eye.

“What I want to know, is if you would have gotten a property patch, would you be biker by weekend, wife who bakes cookies by day?” I mock.

She turns a vibrant red and slaps me across the face hard. My head whips to the side with burning crawling across my face. I raise my hand and slap her back as hard as I can, making her head fling to the side. She gasps, holding her face where I hit her with shock woven into her eyes.

“Hit me again and I’ll tear every one of those extensions from your head,” I threaten, lifting my chin.

“Just stay away from me,” she demands, holding her cheek with her palm.

“You wanted to talk to me, remember? I will stay away from you as long as you stay away from my club.” She raises an eyebrow as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“You heard me. Go find another place where you can pretend like you don’t hate your life. You show up at my club and you’ll wish you hadn’t, bitch,” I seethe with anger.

She slaps the counter in anger before exiting the bathroom. I look in the mirror at my reflection, an image of danger and satisfaction looking back. I grin maliciously; the Devil’s Dust looks good on me.





SHADOW


The sun is casting a glow across Dani’s flawless skin and not being able to sleep, I watch her. My white button-up shirt is way too big for her, hiding her tiny frame within it. She looks adorable as hell this morning.

She’s different since I met her. Once a naive little girl, now she’s a woman as damaged as I am, her innocence and allure her weapon of choice. Who knows what this beautiful creature is capable of?

She was all I could think about on our run. With Bull gaining more connections, we had to meet in person to assure shit went down well with the new buyer. The boys stayed, getting gifts from the other club, which entailed drugs and *. I skipped out.

Dani begins to moan as she wakes, making my cock swell.

“How long have you been up?” she asks, her voice strangled with sleep.

“Not long,” I lie. “Did you have fun last night?” I ask her, brushing the hair away from her eyes. The red mark from her face now gone. I was sitting outside the bathroom waiting for her when a raging Chelsea came out of the bathroom holding her face. I was worried something had happened to Dani so I ran into the bathroom, only to find Dani smiling with a matching red mark on her cheek, but of a lighter hue.

“What happened?” I had asked her.

“What had to happen to keep you and my club safe,” she said fixing her hair. I knew then I was more in love with her than ever, and trusted her more than I ever thought I would.

“I’m sore,” she laughs, taking me from my thoughts. Not only did I f*ck her in the bathroom at the event, I then took her home and f*cked her over the kitchen counter, heels and dress still on; she looked like an angel in that lace. I love to see her in leather, but I might have a thing for her in lace, too. It’s one of both worlds, Heaven and Hell.

“You keep moaning like that, I’m going to f*ck you again this morning,” I threaten.

“I think I’m going to get dressed and go see Babs,” she counters, sitting up.

“You’ve been there every day, babe. She may not wake up for a long time.” I know she cares for Babs—we all do—and what happened was a shitty thing, but she can’t keep doing this to herself; it’s unhealthy.

“I’m going,” she snaps.

I scowl at her, her tone of voice wrong.

“Maybe I should remind you who you’re talking to,” I chastise, rolling her over on her stomach. She peers those emerald eyes over her shoulder. I move the shirt from her ass and around her waist and give her ass a vicious slap.

She moans with the harsh contact and looks over her shoulder again, her green eyes daring.

“I said I’m going.” Her voice is strong and challenging.

I give her ass another slap, this time a little harder. The print of my hand rising on her olive skin makes my dick race with the craving to release itself.

She bucks beneath me. “You’re going where?” I ask.

She looks over her shoulder, her breath heavy with desire.

“I’m going to see Babs!” she yells. I slide my hand down the mounds of her ass and slide my finger into her. I give her ass another hard smack, making her head thrust backwards with a loud moan.

“You can’t control me,” she moans, her voice faltering. I slide my fingers out and position them over the opening to her ass. Her eyes haze over her shoulder with shock written over her face. I’ve never taken her here, but man, do I want to. I thrust my fingers in and out of her * slowly, feeling her grip down on my finger, so I know she’s close.