Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(68)

Yeah, Tegen had shaken his shit up. How f*cking unexpected and random had that shit been? Christ. The woman f*cked liked she talked. Dirty. Hard-core. Even when they’d reversed positions and he was the one doing the f*cking, it was still her taking him for a f*cking ride, taking it all.

The more he thought about it, about her, about the two of them together, the more he felt his body responding.

Fuck.

He found himself fully erect, leaning back on his bed and wrapping his hand around his cock. Closing his eyes, he pictured her, Tegen, straddling him in the woods, her hard green eyes staring directly into his, her lips parted, her small hands gripping his pectoral muscles as she lifted her hips, slammed her hips down, lifted, slammed, lifted, slammed. Then she was grinding, back and forth, faster and faster, quick circular motions before lifting her hips and slamming them down.

And then later, in his bed, their limbs entangled while he took her from behind…slow, smooth, thrusts…harder and harder but never faster.

And then when she’d come…just from kissing him.

Just from…f*cking…kissing…him.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, still pumping his hand as he released all over his stomach.

He lay there for a moment, letting his breathing return to normal, then blinking back the last lingering haze of orgasm, he slowly sat up.

When was the last time he’d jerked off? He couldn’t even remember. Why use your own hand when you had mouths and pussies at your immediate disposal? And after just f*cking some bitch, too?

“Jesus, f*ck, Teacup,” he muttered, scrubbing his palms over his eyes. “What the f*ck did you do to me?”

She’d f*cked him. Literally and figuratively. He was f*cked.

She was all he could think about. He wanted her back, back home, back in his bed, just back, back, back.

He was so consumed by his thoughts that when his cell phone began to vibrate, he jumped. Cursing, he leaned across his bed and grabbed it off his nightstand.

Dad: Where the f*ck are you?

Cage glared down at the text message from his father. Home, he typed in. Another moment passed and his phone vibrated again.

Dad: You stupid? We got handouts today.

No, he wasn’t stupid. He’d known, he just hadn’t cared. But…

“Fuck this shit,” he muttered and jumped out of bed. Getting drunk wasn’t working, f*cking wasn’t working. He might as well stop by the club and see what runs his old man had in the works. Maybe once he put Miles City in his rearview, he could forget this shit with Tegen, forget how pathetic he’d been, and hopefully forget her entirely.

? ? ?

“Vegas,” Deuce said. “Who wants it?”

“Legal prostitution? Count me in.”

Cage glanced down the long rectangular meeting table to where Tap was seated. The guy lifted his arm and held up two fingers.

Eying Tap, looking annoyed, Deuce palmed one of the file folders in front of him and slid it down the table. Tap’s arm shot out and snatched it up. Leaning back in his chair, he started leafing through it.

“Dirty,” Deuce continued, holding up another folder. “As usual, you got Philly and—”

“No.”

All eyes shot to Dirty, who was shaking his head. “Can’t do it. Can’t leave Miles City right now.”

Deuce cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? You mind sharin’ why?”

Dirty continued shaking his head. “Can’t.”

A couple of the boys burst out laughing until Deuce’s fist slammed down hard on the table and the room went silent.

“Is this still about Ellie?” Deuce asked. “’Cause you already f*ckin’ know Mooresville ain’t touchin’ her. We set his shit straight, yeah?” Deuce glanced to Mick, who nodded.

“He ain’t touchin’ her,” Mick confirmed. “Had a nice long chat with the f*cker myself. He gets it, knows he needs us ’bout as much as we need him if he wants to keep livin’ in f*ckin’ luxury.”

“We told him the bitch is off-limits,” Cox added as he cracked his knuckles one by one. “Told him with my fists a few times too. He gets it, brother. You don’t gotta worry.”

“Prez,” Dirty said hurriedly. “Maybe we could talk? In private?”

Cage cocked his head to the side and stared at the guy. What the f*ck was up with him? Something was different about him. Something other than the fact that he’d been showering and shaving.

Holy shit.

“Dirty,” he said, drawing all attention to himself. “You f*ckin’ Ellie?” All eyes shot right back to Dirty and simultaneously widened with surprise.

Ellie was hot, but from what Cage remembered she had a damn stick up her ass. The bitch wasn’t any fun. At all. He’d f*cked her once way back when and never had any inclination to go back for more. But Ellie and…Dirty?

What the f*ck?

“Dude,” Anger said. “You’re tappin’ that shit, ain’t ya? That’s what the pretty boy look is all about, yeah?”

Cage watched as Dirty’s expression went from uncomfortable to scared shitless, looking like he was about to bolt. Deuce saw this and gave a quick nod.

“After the meeting, we’ll talk,” he said tersely and Dirty, looking relieved, slumped back in his chair.

“Ripper,” Deuce said, back to business. “You’re headed out to Cali next week, right? I’m gonna need you to swing by Oakland and—”