Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(15)

“This place is a shithole, Keely, and it’s not my dirt that’s making it that. You don’t hire a cleaner to scrub down an outhouse.”

Her head tipped to the side. “It’s your home.”

“It’s a shithole where I crash and watch TV every once in a while.”

“Then find someplace nicer. You got the money. A pad where you’d like to hang and keep nice.”

He was not moving.

He had a reason to stay and until that reason was no longer, he was staying.

And no matter he spent the last four hours fucking and getting fucked by Keely Black, a dream he’d dreamed for twenty years, she didn’t have a right to understand that.

“Babe, you wrung my balls dry. I don’t even think I got the energy to lift my head from this pillow. I definitely don’t have the energy to spar with you about somethin’ stupid like where I crash, which don’t mean dick. Give a man a break.”

That brought back her smile.

He’d seen zero of those in seventeen years.

And it sucked just how damn good it felt having it back.

“Right, I’ll quit busting your balls … this time. But when I come back, honey, you best have clean sheets.”

His fingers dug in again. “You’re not comin’ back, Keely.”

Her head tipped to the side again. “I’m not?”

“No. It was fuckin’ great, but all the same it was still fuckin’ stupid.”

“I’m focusing on the fucking great part,” she told him.

“Keely, do not fuck with me, with this, with where we’re at, which I’m takin’ from shit you’re sayin’ means as much to you as it does me. It was great, babe. Fantastic. Fucking spectacular. But it’s a one-time thing. I’ll bring you your checks. You got me. You’ll never lose me. Your boys are so deep in my heart I’d take a bullet for them. But this, what we did, is done. You with me?”

That was when it happened.

That was when Keely kissed him again.

Not deep or long, but it was wet. She touched her tongue to his, giving him a hint of her nectar even as he still had the taste of her pussy on his tongue.

Then she pulled away.

“Okay, Hound,” she whispered. “Whatever you say.”

He rounded her with his arms, allowed himself to give her a hug with a squeeze, then he rolled her off him and rolled the other way.

He hauled his ass out of bed, muttering, “Get rid of this condom and then I’ll get your clothes.”

She said nothing.

But by the time he got out of the bathroom, his bed was empty.

He found his jeans, tugged them on and stalked down the hall.

She was pulling her hair out of the back of her top, but was otherwise fully dressed except her shoes and jacket, when he hit his living room.

It was not lost on him that the bone choker had not moved from her neck the whole time they were fucking.

No, and just looking at it right then made him want his face in her neck, her ass in his hands, and his dick buried in her up to the hilt.

She slid her feet into her shoes, swinging her jacket on at the same time, before she tossed a big smile his way.

“See ya later, cowboy,” she said as she walked to his door.

He crossed his arms on his chest.

She looked down at his chest and smirked.

“Best tats in the Club,” she whispered, her hand on his doorknob. “Walking work of art.”

He tensed his jaw so he wouldn’t rush her, nab her and chain her to his bed.

Her gaze lifted to his. “Now I know that’s more ways than one.”

“Stop bein’ a pain in my ass,” he grunted.

“Pain’s in my ass, cowboy,” she shot back still smiling, but it went another way and he felt that way drive up his balls. “And I like it like that.”

With that excellent parting shot, she disappeared out his door.

Hound growled at it.

Then he went to it, locked it and walked right back down the hall.

He couldn’t even look at his bed with its sheets that were fucked up and not from him sleeping in them.

So he turned his back on it and fell to it.

He swiped his face with his hands, and when he was done doing that, he kept them there.

“Fuck me, that was a huge fuckup,” he muttered into his palms.

This was true.

It was also the best four hours of his life.

Bar none.



The next day, after taking care of his usual morning business, Hound did not strip his bed and wash his sheets.

Oh no.

Fuck no.

He went to the store and spent five hundred dollars on a new set.





A Woman Who Loves You The morning after he bought his sheets, Hound’s alarm clock sounded.

He did not hit snooze.

He turned it off, rolled out of bed, went to his bathroom, took a piss, washed his hands, brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face and under his pits then he went back into his bedroom to pull on some jeans, a tee, some socks and his boots.

He headed out, nabbed his keys, unlocked his door, walked through it and down the hall to the door beside his.

He didn’t hesitate to insert the key in the three different locks, open them and let himself in.

He also didn’t hesitate to walk across the stuffed-full room that was a lot cleaner than his because he did pay a house cleaner to come in to that pad once a week, dust, vacuum, mop, clean the bathrooms, change the sheets and take out and bring back the laundry.