Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(20)

Aggravated, I pushed up and off him and dropped to my knees between his legs. Freeing him from his boxers, I took him into my mouth. ZZ threaded his fingers through my hair, digging into my scalp, grabbing fistfuls and pulling as hard as he could.

Yes. I needed this. Pain to make the pain go away.

“Prez,” ZZ said, sounding strained. “I don’t care how many years he’s been running shit through the Cali territories. If you send that motherf*cker out here, I will put a f*ckin’ bullet in him.”

Still working him with my mouth, I glanced up at him. He had to be talking about Ripper. Ripper had a house in Los Angeles.

“You think I give a motherf*ck about him bein’ your son-in-law?” ZZ hissed. “I ain’t workin’ with him. Not f*ckin’ now, not f*ckin’ ever.”

I took more of him, worked him harder, lightly grazing him with my teeth, all the while watching him.

“Yeah, I f*ckin’ got this shit,” he said hoarsely, looking down at me through hooded eyes. “Listen, Prez. I gotta go.”

Releasing my hair, he grabbed his phone and tossed it aside.

The next thing I knew his hips punched up, sending his dick down the back of my throat. Gagging and cursing, I pushed backward only to have him grab my upper arms and haul me up and onto his lap again.

“How was your date?” he sneered, smelling strongly of liquor.

“It wasn’t a date,” I shot back. “I was at Hayley’s.”

“Yeah?” he said, and laughed. “You expect me to believe she wasn’t tryin’ to hook your ass up with one of those dick-suckin’ friends of hers? Those f*ckers who got pussies where their *s should be?”

He kissed me before I could respond, a brutal kiss, all teeth, biting and sucking on my lips, popping blood vessels, and splitting skin. I closed my eyes, reveling in the pain. I wanted it rough tonight, to make me forget for a few minutes what the span of years could not.

I needed to focus on something, anything but the nagging memories.

I kissed him harder, this time plunging my tongue into his mouth, and a throaty, pleased growl erupted from the back of his throat. “We f*ckin’ dirty tonight, baby?” he asked.

“Yes,” I mumbled against his mouth.

“Good,” he grunted, shoving me off him and face first onto the couch. Behind me, he pulled down his boxers and then he pushed against my backside.

“Break’s over,” he muttered.

“Make it hurt,” I whispered into the couch, letting my tears fall freely now that he couldn’t see me.

“Not a f*ckin’ problem,” he whispered back.

CHAPTER SIX


Cage pulled up to his father’s house, a log cabin that could no more be considered a cabin than a New York City penthouse could be considered an apartment. He cut his engine and glanced up at the home that, for the most part, he’d grown up in, and let out a long-suffering sigh.

Because neither he nor Danny lived at home anymore, weekly dinners were a thing now, mandatory by way of Eva, who was insistent that they all spend some quality time together.

For the most part Cage appreciated her efforts, loved her for trying so hard, but dinner at the West home almost always ended in catastrophe, usually because of his stubborn-as-f*ck father always giving him shit. He couldn’t do anything right in his old man’s eyes. Nothing. As far as his father was concerned, he was a useless * who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

Forget that it was him who, when his old man was off doing whatever the f*ck he felt like and their mother was off drinking herself to death, Cage was taking care of Danny. Then later, after he brought Eva home with a difficult pregnancy, he’d left Cage to pick up his slack. And even later, when his old man couldn’t seem to hack it yet again, Cage had been taking care of Ivy too.

Yeah, Deuce liked to conveniently forget all that. It always came back to sex.

And, what the f*ck ever, his old man was a hypocrite. Just because, now, the * wasn’t sticking his dick in everything that showed his old ass any interest didn’t mean it had always been that way. Before Eva, Christ, even during Eva, Deuce had been f*cking bitches left and right.

Cage never understood that. When you had a woman like Eva, hot as f*ck and willing to do anything his old man wanted, loved the bastard even, why the f*ck would you stray from that?

If he had a good woman, an old lady dedicated to him and the club, someone with a clean past who didn’t spread her legs for every motherf*cker out there, he’d never touch another woman.

Shaking his head, Cage swung his leg over his bike and started for the porch.

The door was unlocked, so he kicked his boots off in the foyer and headed left through the living room. In the family room, he found his youngest sister, Ivy; his three-year-old niece, Danny and Ripper’s daughter, Harley; Cox and Kami’s kids, Devin and Diesel; and to his surprise, Christopher, Dorothy’s four-year-old son, all seated around the flat screen TV. With the exception of Christopher and Harley, they all had controllers in their hands, their eyes glued to the violent video game on the screen in front of them.

He nudged his little sister’s leg with his foot. “Yo, princess,” he said.

Ivy glanced up and her perfect little face split into a huge grin. “CAGE!”

The next thing he knew she was in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, squeezing the holy shit out of him.