Vicious Cycle (Vicious Cycle #1)(62)

Not only did I have to contend with Alex, but Cheyenne seemed more than willing to ease my pain. Whenever I’d tried to avoid Alex’s come-ons by hanging out at the clubhouse, Cheyenne was thrusting her tits in my face or coming around the bar to rub herself up against me.

Basically, it was hell, pure and simple.

When I pulled open the back door, the ruckus coming from the front room met me with a deafening roar. I was glad to hear it since it meant the poker game was still in full force, and I could try to burn off some of my excess energy.

I slid behind the bar and grabbed another beer. After I popped the top, I took a long gulp. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex seated at the round table, cards in hand and multicolored chips in front of her. Slowly, I lowered the bottle as I took in the rest of the guys and old ladies. Rage rocketed through me as I got an eyeful of tits and junk. My bottle crashed onto the floor as I stalked across the room to the table.

“What the f*ck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

Gazing up at me through her lashes, Alex shot me an innocent look. “Playing poker.”

I cocked my eyebrows at her. “I think you forgot one of your adjectives, Teach. You’re playing strip poker.”

Crazy Ace rose out of his chair, his nipple rings gleaming in the light. “And damn if she isn’t a hustler. We thought she’d be buck naked by the first hand, but she’s beating us all.”

Bishop, being a smug motherf*cker, had the nerve to give me a knowing wink. “Yeah, but we got her this round.” Nudging Alex’s shoulder, he said, “You owe us one piece of clothing, babe. Take it off.”

When Alex’s hands came to the button on her shirt, a raging inferno colored my vision red. Without a second thought, my hands flew out to the table edge, flipping it over and sending cards and poker chips through the air. “Game over,” I growled.

“I still have to pay up, Deacon,” Alex snapped before having the audacity to pop open the buttons on her shirt, revealing a lacy black bra.

Just like a f*cking caveman, I reached over, grabbed her by the waist, and then hefted her over my shoulders. “What are you doing?” she demanded as I started stomping away from the table. When I didn’t respond, she smacked my ass. “Answer me, Deacon.”

I didn’t say a f*cking word until I was in my bedroom. After I kicked the door shut behind us, I stalked over to the bed and dropped her on it. As her body bounced on the mattress, she hissed like a little hellcat.

“What the f*ck were you thinking?”

She glared up at me. “I just wanted to have some fun.”

“By letting my brothers see you naked?”

“I was winning,” she challenged.

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a f*ck. No one in this club sees you naked. Do you understand me?”

“And why not?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Don’t question me, woman.”

“So don’t tell me what to do!”

To silence her smart mouth, I crushed my lips against hers. Instead of meeting opposition, I felt her return my kiss, her hands coming up to grip my hair, tugging at the strands. In a flash, I covered her body with mine, slamming her onto her back on the mattress. I had this desperate need to claim her, not as some territorial bullshit but out of a stronger emotion. She was my complete and total opposite, but somehow we completed each other. She was the strong, compassionate, stubborn woman I needed to soften out my rough edges. She brought out the best parts of me—the ones that so often had been hidden in the past. For her, I wanted to be a better man, a better father, a better brother, and hell, a better human being.

Alex brought me out of my thoughts by widening her legs invitingly. I didn’t waste a moment slipping my hips between them. As our tongues battled against each other, I rubbed my growing erection against her core. When she groaned into my mouth, I grabbed her arms and shoved them over her head.

Jerking my lips from hers, I glared down at Alex. “You are mine. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she panted.

Keeping her arms pinned with one hand, I let my other hand come to her breasts. “These tits are for my eyes and my pleasure only. You got me?”

“Yes, Deacon. Only for you.”

After giving her nipple a teasing pinch, I brought my hand between her legs to cup her mound. “And this * is for my eyes, my fingers, my tongue, and my cock only.”

A shiver ran through her at my words. “I only want you. You and only you, Deacon,” she replied.

As I loomed over her, my hungry gaze fell on some of the yellowish bruises that remained on her neck and chest. Just like that, my wood began to deflate. Jesus, what the hell had I been thinking? Dragging her back to my bedroom and mauling her like a caveman after she’d just been attacked and almost raped three weeks ago. “Fuck, Alex. I’m sorry.”

When I started to pull away, her hands flew up to cup my face. “No, don’t stop!” she cried.

I shook my head as shame washed over me. “I’m sorry for treating you so f*cking disrespectfully after what you’ve been through.”

“I’m not broken, Deacon. I’m the same woman I was before the attack—the day you had me up against a wall, ready to f*ck my brains out.”

“I know that.”

“Then why are you treating me this way?”