Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2) (37 page)

“I haven’t seen you in over ten years, now you want money?” I ask before I bark out a laugh.

“I’m dyin’,” he says. I suppose I should feel sorry for him, but I don’t.

The sick son of a bitch tortured his family, us, our entire lives. Both my sister and I ran away just to get away from him. Mary-Anne’s still gone; she’ll never come back, and I don’t fuckin’
want
her to.

“Get off my property,” I demand. “You’re a drunk and an abuser.”

“I’m the only dad you have,
syn
,” he says.

It pisses me off. Calling me
son
in Russian. Pretending I’m anything but a way to get more cash for booze.

“I’m not your fuckin’
syn
. Get the fuck off my property or I’ll kill you myself,” I grind out. He takes a step back.

I watch as he goes over to his piece of shit car and flips me off. He calls me a son-of-a-bitch and I laugh. I’m his fuckin’ kid, and he’s a little bitch, so if the shoe fits…

“Are you okay?” Brentlee asks as soon as he drives off. I close the door, securing the lock.

“I’m fine,” I grunt as I walk toward our room.

I strip out of my jeans, leaving them in the middle of the floor before I slide between the sheets. Brentlee follows and even discards my shirt she had been wearing.

“What’re you doin’?” I ask as she crawls up my legs. She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she takes my cock in her mouth.

I lift my hand and slide it through the side of her hair, gripping it with the intention of pulling her off of me; but when she sucks hard, I can’t. Instead, I thrust my hips up as my cock hardens in her mouth. She hums and I close my eyes, enjoying the vibration. When I feel like I’m close, I yank at her hair and pull her from me.

“I want to make you come,” she pouts. It makes me laugh.

“You will,
tigritsa
, calm,” I grin. “Hands and knees,” I order. I watch as her body shivers before she turns over and presents herself to me—
hands and knees
.

“I hope that pussy’s wet,” I grunt before I slam inside of her.

Zero warning.

I fully enjoy the gasp and yelp that escapes her mouth at my sudden entrance. Her body is mine. Her pussy is mine, and I feel it adjust to my cock perfectly. I wrap one of my hands around her throat while the other I wrap around her shoulder.

“Make yourself come while I fuck you,” I say before I pull out and slam back inside of her heat.

I fuck her,
mercilessly
.

I take out my frustrations about my father on her pussy. I lose the ability to speak, my animalistic grunts filling the air as my cock fills her. My fingers tighten around her throat and her shoulder, surely bruising her, but I don’t give a fuck.

I need this. I need her body to sooth my beast, and I’m not soothed, not yet.

I feel my balls slapping her fingers as she works her clit. Closing my eyes, I feel. I don’t think—
I just feel
. I feel her pussy swollen around my cock, hugging me tightly.
My pussy
. No man will ever see it, smell it, or touch it again.
It’s all mine.
She tightens around me as she cries out hoarsely with her release, but I’m not done. I don’t know if I will be anytime soon.

When her fingers stop touching her clit, I remove my hand from her shoulder and slap her ass.

“Make yourself come again,” I grind out through gritted teeth.

“I can’t,” she says shakily.

“Do it, or I’ll do it for you,” I warn.

The arm holding her body up collapses, but I don’t stop ruthlessly fucking her. I just wrench her hips up and continue to take her. She’s wet and warm, so fucking good. I never want to leave. I feel her fingers go back to her clit, and she works herself up again.

When she screams, I can tell there’s a little agony mixed into her pleasure, and I can’t help but smile. I feel like a sick fuck for it, but I am a sick fuck. Or I can be, at times. She’ll learn. I slap her ass again and command her to keep going.

My cock is in no hurry to come.

I’ve fucked her already tonight, I’ve been drinking, and I’m good and pissed at my dad. It could take a while to get me off. While I wait, I want her to be boneless from her own orgasms.

“Bates,” her muffled screams fill the air. Her face is buried into the bed, and I can’t help but chuckle as I slide two fingers in her sweet, little asshole.

“This is going to be a big one when you finally come again, baby,” I mutter.

“No more,” she whimpers.

“Yes, baby, more. Give me more,” I murmur. I feel a sob escape her throat. The vibrations move against my hand.

I fuck her pussy with my cock, and her ass with my fingers. When she finally does come, it’s so fucking violent that I feel sorry for her. She squeezes me so tightly; it forces my own climax. I gently remove my fingers and my dick from her, not wanting to cause her any real pain. Her body has to be completely sore, tender, and an entire surface of nerves.

“I love you, my
tigritsa
,” I whisper lying next to her, looking at her but not touching her.

I watch as her eyes open. Instead of the anger and hate I thought I might see shining from them, I see nothing but love.

“You needed that?” she asks, not one ounce of anger in her voice.

“I did. I fuckin’ did,” I admit, feeling like an asshole.

“I’m glad I could give that to you then, baby,” she whispers as her hand lifts to cup my cheek. I don’t let her. I take her wrist and press my lips to her palm instead.

“You give me everything I need, babe. I never thought it was possible, that it could be possible, but you do, baby. You give me fuckin’ everything,” I rasp as a tear slides from her eye, down her cheek.

I don’t let her speak again. Instead, I kiss her. I show her just how much she means to me with a long, deep kiss. Then, I pick her up, wrap her in my arms, and I hold her until she falls asleep. I don’t sleep, though.

I think about that wedding ring I want to slide on her finger. The babies I want to plant in her belly. Then, I think about how happy she’s made me. I knew I wanted her. When I had the chance again, I knew I was going to take it, but I honestly didn’t know if she would ever make me happy in every aspect of my life, especially in the bedroom. She’s exceeded my expectations; or maybe she’s just my match and I don’t need anything
but
her.

Whatever it is, she’s enough.

She’s
more
than enough.

I love her
.

Every single part of her.

Brentlee

I
t’s been two weeks since Bates’ father came by in the middle of the night and shook Bates up. He’s been seemingly good, but I can tell something is bothering him. Something just isn’t quite right.

Kentlee breezes through the front door, Ellie on her hip and Bear at her feet. He runs toward Stella’s room, where he knows she’s setting up toys for their playdate. I smile at my sister and take Ellie from her. She’s already beginning to move too much, wanting to run around, instead of crawl, so I want to take my baby cuddles while I can.

Kentlee wordlessly walks over to the coffee machine and makes herself a cup. I take Ellie into the living room and sit down on the brand new sofa I had delivered the day before. It’s a gorgeous dove grey, microfiber and I can only hope that Bates and Stella can keep it somewhat clean for a while.

“This is pretty,” Kentlee murmurs as she sits down on the end.

“What’s up with you?” I ask, noticing how distracted and tired she looks.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out. My eyes widen. Then I look from Ellie, to her in surprise, as she wiggles down from my lap and hurries toward the other kids in Stella’s room. We both watch her in silence until she’s made it inside with her big brother and cousin.

“Don’t you drink that coffee, Kent,” I order. She laughs.

“It’s tea, and I’m having at least one hot tea a day for my own sanity,” she chuckles.

“I’m so happy for you,” I say, trying to keep my excitement to a minimum. But I’m going to be an aunt again, and that is grounds for squealing. Nevertheless, I know how much Kent hates that.

“If you say the word
squee
, I’ll slap you,” she grunts. I don’t hold in my laughter as I almost double over.

“Now, what’s bothering
you
? Because I can tell it’s something,” she says, taking a sip of her tea.

“Something’s wrong with Bates. He’s acting funny,” I say. Then I explain when it all started.

“Who knows? You know how men are.” She shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“Maybe he thinks I want to get married or something,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip. I don’t know where the thought came from, but it’s been brewing.

Marriage
.

It’s like a dirty word to me. I don’t know that I ever want to do it again.

“And that would be bad because…”

“Scotty Corbin, need I say more? I’m happy just being Bates’ Old Lady. I don’t think I ever want to be another man’s wife ever again.” I scrunch up my nose, but Kentlee shakes her head in obvious disagreement.

“Bates is nothing like Scotty, absolutely nothing like him. And if you ever compare him to Scotty, he will flip his shit. Don’t ever say anything like that again if he’s around,” she says. I nod.

I’ve accidently said similar things and, yeah, Bates loses his shit.

“And Bates loves you. He’s going to propose eventually. If you don’t want to marry him, be prepared to lose him. No man will stay with a woman who rejects him like that.”

“Even if I tell him I don’t want to marry
anybody
?” I ask. Kentlee looks at me like I’m certifiably insane before she speaks.

“
Pride
. You crush that man’s pride, and your relationship won’t survive. Besides, would being Bates’ wife be such a hardship? You’re already living together, his name is on your skin, your name is on his. In the eyes of the club, that means you’re man and wife. Maybe he just wants to give you his last name, too? Do you know he still won’t call you Brentlee Corbin? He hates that you have that man’s last name. If for nothing else, maybe you should just do it to appease his delicately, fragile ego,” she suggests before she giggles.

I think about Kentlee’s words. As opposed to marriage as I have been since my horrendous life with Scotty, I can understand what she means. I hate having the Corbin last name as well. I don’t want to be associated with Scotty or his family anymore. They’re disgusting people.

Would being Bates’ wife be so bad?

I love him, and he loves me. He also loves Stella and treats her as if she is his own daughter. I wouldn’t ever want to lose him. If something that minimal could cause tension between us, I don’t think it’s really worth it.

Kentlee and I spend the morning and afternoon together. The kids play and she rests, something I don’t think she’s been doing a lot of. I think she’s been stressing out about baby number three, as I would imagine I would be too if I had a six month old at home. Once they leave, I put Stella down for a nap and clean up before it’s time to make dinner.

I’m making dinner when I hear the door open and close. A few minutes later, strong arms wrap around my waist. Bates’ lips touch my neck as I stir the ground turkey in the pan, browning it for the enchiladas I’m going to make for us tonight.

“How was your day,
tigritsa
?” he murmurs against my neck.

“Kentlee came over and we hung out all morning,” I say softly.

“Yeah, how’s your sister?” he asks as he steps back from me and walks over to the fridge for a beer.

“Pregnant,” I shrug as Bates chokes on his drink. I turn around and he’s looking at me in surprise.

“What?” he asks.

“She’s pregnant again,” I say, looking at him in question. Why he’s surprised, I don’t know. Fury is always all over my sister.

“That fucker’s too old to have more kids.” He scrunches his nose and I laugh.

“But Kent isn’t,” I point out. He nods.

“He’s gonna be like eighty when those kids graduate high school,” he says. I shake my head and shrug. “I’m totally going to fuck with him on this one.”

“Be nice to Fury,” I chide.

“I will, I will,” he murmurs. I don’t believe him, especially since he’s smirking.

We spend the evening together with Stella, our perfect little family. The more I look at him, the more I watch how sweet he is with my daughter, the more I want to be his wife. I want more of this; I want it forever. I don’t need it immediately, but now I want it. I never thought I did—but this feels so right. So very right.

I want a lifetime of this.

A lifetime of being held in Bates’ arms. I never want him to let me go. I never want his kisses or soft touches to stop. He fills every part of me, emotionally and physically. There is no other man for me but this one who holds me every night.

Sniper

Brentlee is looking at me—
differently
. The apprehension that used to always stay deep in her gaze is gone. She seems lighter, the lightest I’ve noticed since we were kids. She’s at peace. I’m not sure what has shifted, but I can tell she’s completely—happy.

I have thought here and there that she was happy, but she was just happy for a moment. Now she’s content.