Chapter 11

Hound

“Hey, man. I’m Hound.” My proffered hand hangs in the air as the younger Cerberus member looks at it in disgust. “Okay.”

I draw out the last word as I turn to grab a cold beer from the fridge.

“Nothing personal,” he mutters. “But you won’t be around long enough for us to spend time getting to know you.”

“That so?” I lean my ass against the counter and tilt my beer to my lips.

“Yeah.” He grabs his own beer out of the fridge. “Plus, there’s no one here that’s going to risk pissing Kincaid off by hanging out with you.”

I know he’s joining all the other guys outside in the garage. They all seem to gravitate in that area.

Word of my fuck up with Gigi has clearly spread from Dallas to New Mexico, and the cold shoulder I’ve gotten from all of the three members who aren’t out on a job is just the way it’s going to be for a while. What they don’t understand is I have staying power and no plans to go anywhere anytime soon. I hope they change their tune when they realize that Kincaid has enough faith in my skills that even after what I’ve done, he’s allowing me to work for him.

Emptying my first beer in one long swallow, I grab another from the fridge and head to my room. The Cerberus clubhouse isn’t super fancy, but it’s efficient. My room has a bed, dresser, and a full bathroom. I couldn’t ask for much more.

I’m in the middle of stripping out of my jeans and t-shirt when my phone chimes. I smile without even thinking about it. Isabella is the one thing that can always bring me out of any funk.

Izzy: What are you doing?

I fold back the covers and climb between the sheets before responding.

Me: Getting ready for bed.

Izzy: You’re such an old man!!

Me: But you love me anyway.

Izzy: With my whole heart.

Me: What are you doing?

I wait and wait for her to respond. A picture precedes her next text. I immediately save the shot of her smiling to my phone. Big green eyes and silky, black hair. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

Izzy: Heading out with some friends.

I clench my fists knowing the kind of trouble she can get into.

Me: Be safe and have fun.

Izzy: ALWAYS!

I almost tell her how much I miss her. I almost tell her I wish we could be together sooner than I know we can be, but doing that will only drag her current good mood down. I’m a big enough person to shoulder the weight of our separation all on my own.

Instead, I go through my phone, looking at each and every picture she’s texted me and the handful I’ve stolen from her social media profiles. The joy of seeing her pretty smiling face in all the pictures is almost enough to forget about the pain caused by the distance and time that separates us.

***

The safety is off on my Glock before the intruder can even get the bedroom door closed. I presumed this would happen. After being ignored so rudely by the MC members that are here, I’ve waited for their retribution. It wouldn’t come in the form of murder, but I figured a late-night roughing up was in my near future.

What I don’t expect is the hiccup and feminine giggle.

I stash the handgun back under my pillow and watch as Gigi tries to be quiet as she walks across the room. I should tell her to leave, not let her get any closer, but that’s something I don’t have the strength to do. I can’t let anything progress, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t let her get close enough to smell her perfume.

She giggles again when her knees hit the end of the bed. Two soft thumps, presumably her shoes falling off, echo around the sparse room.

The scent of liquor on her breath makes it to my nose long before the soft floral scent of her perfume. That doesn’t hit until a few seconds later, and rather than it being off-putting, the combination is intoxicating. My cock thickens, even further from the realization that she’s brave enough to sneak into my room.

Even though there’s limited light in the room, I can see her bright smile and the dark smudges of her makeup under her eyes. I want nothing more than to fuck her so hard she cries, making it run in streaks down her cheeks.

I wait until she’s halfway up my body before speaking.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Startled, her eyes widen as far as the alcohol will allow, and she gazes around the room as if the voice could’ve come from anywhere else but under her.

She pats around, her eyes clearly not adjusted to the darkness. Her hand slides over my cock, and I growl.

“I’m going to see how far I can take that huge dick of yours down my throat.”

Jesus, that sounds like the best thing in the world right now.

A glutton for punishment, I let her stroke me over the thin sheet. Up and down, with soft grips near the base and the tip, I let her continue until I’m half a second away from making another bad choice.

“Stop,” I hiss and still her hand on my cock. “You know damn well I’d snap that pretty jaw of yours before you even made it halfway down.”

“What a way to go,” she coos. “If you’re worried about hurting me, you can always just hold it straight up so I can bounce up and down on it.”

“You need to go.”

Please don’t go.

“I’m so wet for you,” she says ignoring my orders. “I’ve been thinking about the way you fucked me in that alley.”

What a coincidence, I’ve been thinking of the exact same thing since I turned off the light this evening.

“It’ll still be a tight fit, but I bet I just slide right down.”

I keep my grip on her hand, right over my cock, even when she wiggles her fingers to try to get free. I know she has no intention of leaving, so letting her go is only a ploy so she can touch me somewhere else. God, do I want to let her do just that.

“You need to go,” I repeat.

“I need you.”

“Not gonna happen, Gigi. Now get the fuck out.”

I hate the sound of her swift intake of air, but I release her hand instead of pulling her against my chest, exactly the opposite of what every single instinct in my body is telling me to do.

“You’re an asshole,” she whispers, but she doesn’t say it in a hateful tone. She purrs it like the sultry sex kitten that she is.

Instead of moving further away, she inches closer. Rum, her choice of liquor tonight washes over me. I love the smell, knowing it probably makes her pliable, even more open to anything I’d like to do to her. I hate the smell for the exact same reasons.

“Seriously, Gigi.” I roll out from under her and climb off the bed. “The last fucking thing I need is Kincaid finding out you’ve been in here.”

I flip the light on. Big fucking mistake. Sprawled out on my bed in a tight green dress, Gigi fucking Anderson has her knees bent with her legs open. No. Fucking. Panties. I’m staring at the direct proof of that tight, slick seam she mentioned earlier.

I grip my dick.

She licks her lips.

It’s sloppy, not as sexy as I’m sure she thinks, but her wet mouth has more appeal than this damn job does.

“So,” she slurs. “You think he’ll be mad if he finds out I’m here?”

I narrow my eyes at her, already knowing where she’s going to take this. I remain silent, waiting for the drunken blackmail.

“You can fuck me, and he can never find out, or you can deny me, and I’ll tell everyone I run into what a great fucking lay you were tonight.”

“Not a chance.”

I grip her by her upper arm and pull her off of my bed. On the way to the door, I scoop up her shoes and press them to her chest until her free hand reaches up to hold them.

“Blackmail doesn’t work for me, beautiful.” I swing open the door, praying someone is there, someone to serve as a witness to me throwing her out. The hall remains empty. “You’ll only be wasting your time if you try to pull this shit again.”

I shove her out of my room and close the door, locking it this time for good measure.

“I hate you,” she seethes from the hallway.

“I hate me, too,” I mutter.

Stripping out of my boxers, I hit the shower. To prove how much I despise what I’ve just done, I clamp my balls in my fist to the point of pain as I say her name and shoot my load down the drain.