Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2) (20 page)

“Haven’t you figured anything out yet, baby?” he asks, his voice gruff but sweet.

“Like?”

“You’re the one in control here. You fuckin’ own every part of me. Sure, I own your body, but
fuck, baby
, you still own my heart,” he murmurs.

I look at him in surprise, remembering that conversation from so many years ago where he said I had his heart. He’s had mine, too.
Always
.

“Okay, Bates,” I breathe.

“Yeah?” he asks, giving me a boyish grin.

“Tomorrow, before our shifts,” I confirm with a nod.

“I’ll get my fuckin’ back piece, too. Fury will be so pleased,” he chuckles. “He’s been on my ass for years for that shit. Bugs the fuckin’ shit out of him that I haven’t fallen into line like everybody else.”

“Why haven’t you?” I ask, trying to dig deeper into all that is Bates.

He’s still the same person he was ten years ago, but now, he’s more closed off to the time we’ve spent apart. He never talks about it. Never mentions anything about his past. All I know is that he did some things in the Marines that now give him nightmares.

I want to know everything about my man. He is that too, there’s no sense denying it or trying to discourage it. He’s mine and I’m his. Soon, we’ll be permanently branded with each other’s names and the world will know just how deep we are in with each other.

“Why haven’t I gotten the Notorious Devils club ink?” he asks, repeating my question. He turns from me, but only to watch Stella, then he speaks.

“I had plans on getting ink in the Marines. All my brothers and I were going to get matching shit. Eighteen and stupid and all that. We had plans to do it as soon as we returned to the states. One of the guys was an artist. Drew it all out, looked fuckin’ badass. I was the only one that came back to the states from that group alive,” he says. My heart breaks for him.

No wonder he has nightmares. He lost his friends—apparently all of them. I don’t say anything. I want him to continue. He’s never been so open with me.

“Got the design still, but I’ll never put it on my body. Maybe I should in memory of them. Fuck if I know. Anyway, I never wanted
Notorious Devils
on my body because the last time I planned shit out, everybody got blown the fuck up.”

I can’t stop the tear that trickles down my cheek, or the next one that follows. I sit up and crawl on top of him, straddling his legs and cupping his cheeks with my hands, forcing his head to face me. I look into his deeply haunted eyes and I smile sadly.

“Let’s create new memories with ink. Let’s do your Devil’s tattoo and our names. I’m so sorry you lost your friends,” I whisper unable to speak any louder. His hands wrap around my thighs and he squeezes.

“The nightmares, sometime they’re about them,” he says. I feel blessed he’s opening up to me.

“Yeah, baby, I’d imagine that’s not something a person forgets.”

“Never.”

I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his scent and just holding him. My poor man. The hell he’s seen. The hell he’s endured. I’ll never be able to make him forget that shit from his past, but hopefully one day, the memories won’t be so vivid.

Hopefully, I can help create such a happy and wonderful life that he’s unable to dwell on all that other shit
. I hope that I can
. I pray that with each other we can help ease the hurts and hells we’ve endured. That in each other we can find a peace and live a happy life. I know that with Bates by my side, it’s entirely possible.

Sniper

Family day.

It’s not something I know much about. But this afternoon, I truly experienced it. After Stella rode her bike until she was exhausted, dirty, and ready for dinner, we all went inside. It felt good, my woman cuddled up against me and my daughter playing in the warm sunshine. Stella is that, too.
Mine
. My daughter, as she always should have been.

Brentlee gets Stella bathed while I BBQ our dinner. I don’t cook, never learned, but I can man a grill, so that’s what I’ll do for them. Burgers, grilled corn, and potatoes.

“That smells awesome,” Brent says, carrying a clean pajama clad Stella in her arms.

“Brambugers,” Stella cries before she wiggles out of her hold to dash to the table. I chuckle as I plate her food for her.

“Thanks, baby,” Brentlee murmurs, taking Stella’s plate and setting it down in front of her.

Once we’re all seated, I wrap my hand around her upper thigh and squeeze. She turns and gives me a cute lopsided grin.

“Today has been perfect,” I grunt. She smiles even wider.

“It has,” she nods.

I don’t think about this morning, how I almost lost my entire life in the blink of an eye. I don’t think about my stubbornness or hers. All I can think about is fuckin’ her in that dirty garage of mine; then spending the day with her and Stella.

I think about how I opened up a bit more, telling her a little of my past. In all honesty, I want to bury it all, but I can’t. Shit like that always has a way of rising to the surface.

I don’t let Brent clean up dinner when we’re finished. This is my night to take care of her. I plan on doing that, from the dishes to the bedroom. It’s all for my woman—to show her how happy I am that she’s agreed to be solely mine, agreed to wear my name. Tomorrow, she’s going to be branded, and I couldn’t be happier.

“Bates,” she calls out from the bedroom just as I’m putting the last piece of silverware in the dishwasher.

I don’t answer her call.

Instead, I close down the house and walk into our bedroom. I let out a groan when I see her. She’s on her knees in the middle of the bed, her body completely bare. Not one stitch of clothing covering her. I turn and close the door behind me, flipping the lock. I take off my cut and hang it on the door handle before I quickly strip out of my clothes.

Brentlee doesn’t move. Her eyes are fixated on me. They roam over my body and I can feel them on my skin like a caress. Just her hungry gaze turns me on.

“Spread your legs. Touch yourself,” I order. She visibly shivers.

I watch as her hand travels down between her tits, down her stomach, and between her thighs. She’s hesitant, and I stare as she begins to gently touch herself. I wrap my own hand around my cock and squeeze. Her small gasp fills the room, her eyes focused on the hand squeezing my dick.

“Are you?” she asks.

“Yeah, baby. I’m gonna stroke my cock while you play with that pretty pussy,” I grind out.

It’s taking everything inside of me not to throw her down and pound inside of her with all of my strength. But I want her worked up. I want her on the brink of insanity. I don’t say another word as I watch her, as I stroke my dick at the sight of her. I know when she starts really getting into it. Her fingers shove up inside of her cunt and she grinds down against her palm. I love it when she does that against my hand. I moan as her tits sway.

I close the distance between us, on the edge of blowing my load.

“Open up, baby,” I murmur. I watch as Brent’s eyes open wide. “Suck my cock and finger-fuck yourself.”

She wrinkles her nose slightly at my gruff words, but she doesn’t protest. Instead, she leans over, wrapping her hand around my thigh and keeping the other between her legs. She opens her mouth and I shove my dick down her throat. I don’t give her time to acclimate, like I did earlier.

I wrap my hand in her hair and hold her face still. I don’t need her to move a muscle, I just need her to take me. I fuck her mouth—her throat. Her hand is moving hard and fast between her legs, and I groan.

Fuck, she’s so hot.

When she starts to whimper and buck even harder I know she’s close. She’s tipping over the edge. I’m close, too. I thrust into her hot mouth a few more time before I yank her head back and pump my hand along my dick. I come in long, white spurts all over her gorgeous tits while she cries out her own release, her body stone still and her eyes rolled back inside of her head.

I hold her upright until her eyes open and meet mine. She has a little smile on her lips as I maneuver her to lie down on her back. I don’t lay down next to her. I straddle her hips and look down at my woman. I take my hand and rub my cum into her skin—across her gorgeous tits and even around her nipples, making them hard with my calloused touch.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” I murmur as I continue to rub my cum into her body.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice sounding tired.

“Branding you,” I shrug. She chuckles softly.

“You do know once I take a shower this will all be washed away, right?”

I grin shaking my head once before I stand. She’s given me an idea.

I walk over to my jeans and snag my phone. Turning around, I make my way over to her. Brent’s eyes are nothing but slits, her lowered lids watching me.

“Now I can look anytime I want to,” I murmur before I start snapping pictures. Her eyes widen and she reaches up to snatch the phone away from me, but I jump back.

“Bates!” she cries.

“Smile pretty, baby,” I laugh.

“What are you going to do with them?” she whines. I shake my head before I snap a few more.

“When I have to go out on a run, these are what I’m gonna use to jack off,” I announce, tossing my phone onto the floor before I pick her up.

I carry her to the bathroom and start the shower for us.

“What?” she breathes.

“Can’t fuck anyone else, don’t want to either. Just gonna whack it to my
tigritsa
,” I say.

It’s the truth, too. Losing her would end me. Free, easy whore pussy ain’t worth it. I want my woman to be so fuckin’ happy she can’t remember the past ten years, not a single fuckin’ day of them. That means I gotta keep my dick in my pants. Ain’t that much of a fuckin’ hardship to do that.

I wash my seed from her tits, frowning as I do it. I want it to be as permanent as the ink she’s going to get tomorrow. I want every part of her to smell like me. I want every person who crosses her path to know that she’s mine.

I dry her off with a towel before I carry her to the bed, all of it in silence.

“I love you, Bates,” she whispers as she settles her ass into my crotch and her back against my chest.

“Always been you, baby. You have my heart. I’ve always loved you,” I admit before I kiss her shoulder.

We sleep. Unaware of what the future will bring, but willing to face it head on—together.

Brentlee

T
he sound of buzzing needles fills the space, and I shiver at the idea of getting these tattoos. Bates doesn’t want just one tattoo branding me as his. No, he wants two. One of his road name,
Sniper
, the other of his legal name,
Bates
.

How I let him talk me into this, I don’t know.

That’s a lie. I do know. It was the look in his eyes when he asked me, the happiness that filled them. I couldn’t deny him, not when he looked so fucking happy and then relieved.

Now, I’m standing in a tattoo parlor waiting for my turn. I still don’t know exactly what I want. I honestly don’t care. Whatever makes Bates happy, that’s what I want. It may sound silly, naïve, and passive, but it’s what I want. His happiness.

“Bates, brother,” a man says walking up to us. He’s got long hair pulled up in a man-bun, just the way Fury wears his, and he’s covered from neck to knuckles in black inked tattoos.

“Hey, man,” Bates grins as he shakes the man’s hand. “This is my woman, Brentlee,” Bates introduces. The man grins.

“You’re the famous Brentlee. I’ve heard of you,” he chuckles. “They call me Dragon,” he says, shaking my hand.

“Are you a Notorious Devil?” I ask quietly. He chuckles.

“Naw, but I do all their work; so I guess I’m kinda honorary, you’d say,” he laughs before he turns and walks to the back of the parlor.

Bates wraps his hand around mine and pulls me behind him as he follows. We pass people getting work done—arms, legs, hips, backs and chests, all on display and getting adorned with what will hopefully be masterpieces.

We follow Dragon into a little room, and Bates closes the door behind me.

“What and where, babe?” Dragon asks.

“I have absolutely no clue,” I confess with a shrug. He starts laughing.

“You want Sniper somewhere, yeah?”

“Sniper and Bates. Script, girlie, but that’s all I know.”

“Snipe, you want a tramp stamp of that shit? Great viewing pleasure,” Dragon chuckles. I scrunch up my nose at the idea of a tramp stamp.

“Fuck, no. How about Sniper on her hip and Bates across her ribcage, wrapping around where her heart is?” he murmurs. I gasp. It sounds so pretty.

“How you want me to weave that shit in, flowers? If you say butterflies, I’m kicking your ass out,” he announces. It makes me giggle.

“I hate butterflies. How about a pretty feather, Bates, and an arrow underneath? The hip I’ll just make black scroll, girlie and delicate?” Dragon asks. I smile widely. It sounds so cool. I look up to Bates and he grins.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts.

That’s what I spend the rest of the afternoon doing, getting my man’s name inked on two separate places of my body.

The tattoo needle feels like hundreds of little ant bites; it’s annoying, but it doesn’t hurt. I’ve had worse pain inflicted on me, so this is nothing. Dragon finishes the hip piece in what seems like mere minutes. Then he has me sit up and lift my shirt on the opposite side.