CHAPTER EIGHT

Seated at the far end of the dining room table, I watched Cage stomp into the kitchen, past the island that separated the cooking area from the dining area, and grab the closest chair, next to Cox. Fuming, he sat down hard and slumped backward, his thick arms folded across his chest. I knew that look, had seen it a million times on his face growing up alongside him. And if I hadn’t already heard Deuce laying into him, as if everybody in the house hadn’t, I would have already known that was exactly what had happened.

I actually caught my emotions start to lean toward him in sympathy and the urge to touch him, to comfort him arose, the strong feeling every bit as familiar to me, as natural to me as when we were children.

Before he’d—

Oh no, I wasn’t going to feel bad for him like I used to. No way. Cage was a slut and dumbass, and it wasn’t my fault Deuce liked to remind him of that every other second.

Deuce was next to storm into the kitchen, giving out glares as freely as he breathed. As much as I appreciated all the man had done for me financially, he had such a serious caveman complex that I was loath to comprehend what Eva saw in a man that was just so…

I glanced back at Cage, then again to Deuce, and shut down my line of thought. I knew exactly what Eva saw in Deuce. It was the same thing I saw in Cage. It was the reason I kept sleeping with ZZ. They were all just so…

Men. They were fucking men. Hard-core, badass, live by their own set of rules…men.

Goddamn, I was such an idiot.

Taking his seat at the head of the table, Deuce gave everyone his signature once-over, then he growled, “Eat.”

And eating commenced.

I rolled my eyes.

“Tegen?”

I glanced to my right where Kami was offering me a large bowl of mixed vegetables, looking more like a vegetable model than a mother of two, a wife of a heavily tattooed biker just passing a dish full of food. Tall, waif-like, blonde, blue-eyed, and beautiful, Kami was a runway’s wet dream.

She smiled at me. “It’s nice to see you at dinner, T. You should come home more often.”

Forcing a smile, I accepted the bowl. Avoiding all carrots, I took a small helping before dishing my brother out an equally small, carrot-free helping, and then passed it to Danny.

“Carrots are good for little kids,” Danny said, frowning at Christopher’s plate.

“Carrots are fucking disgusting,” I retorted, my bad mood rearing its ugly head.

“Carrots are fucking disgusting,” Christopher mimicked and Cox burst out laughing.

“See,” I said, smiling sweetly at Danny. “He agrees.”

Danny glared at me, her icy blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Oh, shut up,” she said, sounding every inch like the valley girl she resembled.

“Momma!” Harley cried, looking properly horrified. “You said shut up is a bad word!”

“Mommy tells Daddy to shut up all the time,” Diesel said, pointing at Kami.

“She tells him way worse than that,” Devin muttered.

Ripper started laughing, only stopping when the fork Kami threw at him nearly hit him in the face.

“Hey!” Danny snapped.

“Damn, Ripper,” Cox said, snorting. “You’re so pussywhipped you need your old lady defendin’ you?”

“Cox, don’t speak,” Kami said. “It makes you less hot.”

“Shut up isn’t a bad word,” Ivy said matter-of-factly. “Goddammit is a bad word.”

“It is a bad word!” Harley insisted.

“It is not!” Ivy screamed.

“Stop it,” Deuce growled, looking at his youngest daughter. “You don’t need to be sayin’ it either.”

Ivy’s face contorted into what I liked to refer to as Danny’s prissy angry face. “You like her better than me!” she screamed. “You wish Harley was your daughter and not me!”

Harley grinned at Ivy. “Papa loves me best,” she said, her tiny voice sugary sweet.

Eva closed her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Nobody loves anybody more than anybody else. Everybody loves everyone the same.”

Cage snorted and Deuce turned his glare on him while Ivy stuck her tongue out at Harley, who scowled back at her.

“Fuck me,” Deuce muttered, picking up his beer and taking a long swallow. Setting it down, he looked at Eva and pointed his beer toward her stomach. “That kid in there better not be a girl. And will someone give me the motherfuckin’ salt?”

“You put enough salt on already!” Eva yelled.

I tuned out after that, listening but not really, pushing my food around on my plate as the bickering continued much the way it always had. Nothing had changed, not even with the latest wave of bikers and old ladies-to-be.

Just another generation of aspiring criminals and the sad, pathetic women who will love them despite their inability to keep their dicks in their pants.

Halfway through the horrible ordeal, my endurance nearly shot, the doorbell rang. Ivy shot out of her chair and raced through the kitchen, screaming, “I’ll get it! I’ll get it!”

My head started pounding.

“Hawk is here!” came the high-pitched scream from the foyer. “Hawk is heeeeere!”

The pounding in my head worsened.

Hearing his father’s name, Christopher’s green eyes widened. “Daddy!” he shrieked, jumping up to a standing position in his chair.

Ivy came skidding back through the kitchen, Hawk’s booted feet pounding the linoleum behind her. Surprisingly he was freshly shaven, his mohawk trimmed, and not wearing his usual leathers but instead a clean pair of jeans, a plain black T-shirt, and his Horsemen cut.

“Brothers,” he said gruffly, nodding toward Cage and Cox, then Ripper. He stopped next to Deuce and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Prez,” he said, his voice less stony, his face suddenly full of emotion and something else I couldn’t quite place.

I knew there was deep history there. Deuce had scooped Hawk off the streets decades ago, the same as he had with Cox, Ripper, and Dirty, and the bond between them all was more of a father/son one than Deuce had with his own son.

I glanced at Cage, watched him see the silent exchange of respect between the two men, watched him try to steel his expression before he let the hurt show, but I’d known him too long. I had always had my eyes on him and knew every nuance of his face, what every twitch or appearing line meant.

I was still staring at Cage the way I’d always stared at him, everyone else forgotten, when a pair of thick fingers snapped in front of my face. I blinked, my eyes refocused, and found everyone around the table staring back at me, Cage included. And Danny was smirking at me. Fucking bitch.

My face hot with embarrassment, I glanced up to the owner of the fingers.

“How’s your mom?” Hawk asked while scooping Christopher off the chair and into his arms.

“None of your business,” I snapped. Hawk’s eyes hardened.

“Tegen,” he said quietly, his tone hard. “I get it, baby, I do. You fuckin’ hate me, you hate us all, and I don’t blame you. If that was my mama who’d gotten shot, I’d be hatin’ on everyone too, but she’s the mother of my son and I gotta right to know how the fuck she’s doin’.”

I reacted. Jumped up, shoved my plate forward, pushed my chair backward, and got up in Hawk’s personal space. I didn’t even come close to his height or stature but I’d already been on the verge of a nervous breakdown before he’d shown up, and Hawk had only added fuel to the burning fire.

“Fuck you!” I spat. “You ruined her! You ruined me! My own mother doesn’t even know who I am!”

In Hawk’s arms, Christopher’s face fell and his bottom lip quivered but there was no stopping me once I started. Not even I knew how to accomplish that.

“Tegen!” Deuce bellowed.

“You and Jase!” I screamed, ignoring Deuce and shoving my finger into Hawk’s hard chest. “You both destroyed her, along with this fucking club full of drug dealers and murderers!”

Christopher burst into tears, followed closely by Harley, and feeling like shit, damn near tears myself, I spun away from Hawk and ran from the room into the foyer, pausing while I desperately tried to remember where I’d left my backpack. Cursing myself and my never-ending stupid emotional breakdowns, I ran through the living room into the family room, and locked on my bag.

Snatching it up off a beat-up old leather recliner, I turned to run, heading straight through the front door and to my mother’s car, which would take me far, far away from this house full of awful people who did nothing but hurt one another and destroy lives.

Except I didn’t get very far. I turned to run and instead of running, I smacked into a wall of muscle. Two arms curled around me, one hand pressed firmly against the small of my back and the other slid up into my hair, tightly fisting a handful of dreads.

The smell. I knew it instantly. I’d never forgotten it. Sweat and leather, cigarettes and exhaust fumes, and…Cage.

My stupid heart swelled, my body warmed and—

Oh, fucking shit, no.

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed, pulling away, nearly ripping several of my dreads out in my pathetic attempt to dislodge him.

“Shut up,” he growled, yanking me back up against him. “You’ve got all those kids back there cryin’ their eyes out. Yeah, everyone knows you’re hurtin’, Teacup, but…”

Teacup.

Why would he still call me that after all these years, after everything that had happened? I hated it. I hated it so much. All it did was remind me of when we were kids and he’d been so sweet to me, paying attention to me when no one else would.

“Don’t call me that!” I continued to struggle, doing nothing but hurting myself trying to get free.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed, half walking, half dragging me back through the living room while I carried on my pointless struggles.

“What’s wrong with me?” I yelled, my renewed anger drying my tears, shielding my emotions from the one person on earth who had the ability to tear them down in an instant if I weren’t careful. “You’re what’s fucking wrong with me! Your mess of a club is what’s wrong with me!”

Cursing, Cage slammed my body hard up against the hall closet. Grabbing the sides of my face, he forced me to look up at him. Glaring down at me, his teeth clenched, he bent down, bringing us nearly nose to nose.

“Would you please just fuck off!” I hissed.

“Don’t say another motherfuckin’ word,” he growled. “Time to fuckin’ listen, you mouthy little bitch.”

“Why the fuck would I listen to you?”

“Because!” he roared and spittle flew in my face. “It’s about damn time you listened to someone! It’s been years, babe, fuckin’ YEARS that you’ve been walkin’ around life with a chip on your shoulder. You been takin’ it out on everyone around you, shittin’ on the entire club, shittin’ on your mom, makin’ everyone feel even worse than they already do, when you and I both know this shit ain’t even about your fuckin’ mom and it’s about fuckin’ time you owned up to your own bullshit!”

Oh no, no way in hell was he going to get away with this!

“Don’t even,” I snarled. “Don’t you dare think any of this has to do with you!”

But Cage, being Cage, ignored me.

“You’re still feelin’ me, Teacup, and you’re still pissed that I fuckin’ stiffed you all those years ago, ain’t you?”

“No!” I snapped. “I don’t give a shit about you!”

Cage stared down at me, his brown eyes shifting as his gaze swept over every inch of my face. I stared up at him, feeling all of it. Every horrible, rotten, piece-of-shit feeling that came with being around Cage.

“No?” Smiling bitterly, his face suddenly dropped and his lips brushed across mine.

It felt like a sucker punch to my chest. Quick, swift, painful, and utterly unfair. My walls, the same ones that had taken long, painstaking years to erect, fell instantly, and like paper, listlessly floated to the ground.

What? I couldn’t…even…think…straight. Not when he was holding me like this. I could only stand there and shudder through the feelings, the too much of it, the too little of it, all of it, all of him…too close to me, too far away. Never enough.

“You wanna test that theory, you crazy fuckin’ bitch?”

He was already tilting my head to give him better access. I fucking knew that if he kissed me, I would cave completely and end up kissing him back.

“You want me,” he growled.

I shook my head wildly. “No,” I said breathlessly. “No!”

His hand slid from my cheek, straight down over the top of my breast, and landed on my side.

“Yeah,” he growled softly as his right hand slid even lower. “Yeah, Teacup, you do.”

In a moment of sheer panic, just as Cage’s lips met mine, I acted fast, ducking, pushing, and spinning all at the same time, effectively dislodging myself from him.

“You fucking asshole!” I screamed and out of pure frustration, both emotional and sexual, I swung. My backpack flew across the foyer, hitting Cage square in the face. He caught it as it fell, whipped it to his right, and glared at me, nostrils flaring.

Realizing what I’d done, not knowing how he was going to react, I panicked. Whirling around, I ran in the opposite direction, back through the living room, the family room, then yanked open the screen door and fled into the darkness.

I didn’t have my backpack, meaning I didn’t have my cell phone or my mom’s car keys. Which also meant I had no means of transportation or way to call for any, and if I kept running aimlessly, I would more than likely soon be lost in the wilds of Montana.

Just as I was considering either slowing down to get a good look at my surroundings or just giving up my race to nowhere entirely, I heard the distinct sound of heavy, booted footsteps pounding the hard ground behind me.

“Why won’t you just fuck off!” I screamed, coming to a halting stop and spinning around.

Cage came skidding to a stop and nearly lost his balance trying to avoid crashing into me.

“Tegen,” he growled. “Stop your fuckin’ shit, right the motherfuck now.”

“Go away!” I demanded.

His chest expanded as his nostrils flared and he looked so much like his father, only not as hard, his features were softer, his eyes not as cold. His arm lifted, he took a step forward, and I scrambled backward.

“Don’t touch me,” I warned.

“Fuck that,” he growled and his arm shot out, his hand closing around my forearm. He yanked me forward, bringing me flush against him, holding tight to me much the same way he had indoors, and tighter still until I had no choice but to look up at him. “You’re goin’ to shut the fuck up for once and do as you’re told.”

Oh God…no.

No.

Hell no.

Why wouldn’t he stop touching me? I couldn’t think straight when he touched me.

“How many times have I gotta apologize for somethin’ I don’t even fuckin’ remember?” he continued. “You really gonna stay mad at me forever?”

Yes!

“Yes!”

“Why?” he yelled. “You still love me, Teacup? Still waitin’ on me, babe?”

Rage, white-hot, bubbled up inside of me and strength born from anger gave me enough momentum to wrench free from his grip. As he reached for me, I screamed at the top of my lungs, my arm flew forward, and the palm of my hand cracked across his face. Cage froze, just went completely still, and stared at me.

“You think I love you?” I spat, slapping my palms against his chest and, with every bit of strength I had, shoving him backward. “I fucking hate you! Being with you was the worst thing that ever happened to me! It was that fucking awful. You were so pathetic, I barely even felt you inside of me, your cock is so small. You only lasted two fucking seconds, and you have the nerve to think I LOVE YOU? You disgust me! You are the most worthless piece of shit to ever walk the planet and I fucking hate you!”

• • •

When he’d left the dining room to run after Tegen, it had been for two reasons: one, to save her from the wrath of his father, and two, because the crazy bitch had made every single kid at the table burst into tears. She needed to know that shit wasn’t right, her behavior was fucked-up, that she couldn’t just continue to badmouth everyone associated with the club.

Especially when all that hate she’d been spewing for all these years had very little to do with her mother. That shit was all on him. So, first he was going to tell her how ridiculous this hard-on for hating him was, that he’d been only nineteen years old, for Christ’s sake, and what the fuck had she expected. This shit had been going on way too long and it was well past time she shut the fuck up for two goddamn seconds and let him get a word in, let him apologize, because, fuck yeah, he’d been a dick, he knew it, everyone knew it, and it was time they aired it out.

Then he was going to fuck her. He wasn’t sure why he was always so suddenly fuck-happy around her, but fuck, there it was.

Maybe because she made him goddamn crazy with her fucking bullshit, to the point where he wanted to punch a motherfucking hole straight through her pert little face. But he didn’t really want to kill her, so punching a hole through her pussy seemed like the next best alternative.

Or maybe it was because he didn’t remember the first time they fucked and every encounter with her since then had come with a box of misery wrapped up in a big bow of despair.

Or maybe it was because he couldn’t fucking stand seeing the woman, who as a girl had looked upon him like the sun had rose and set with him, now looking at him like he was the biggest piece of shit she’d ever met.

Like his father looked at him.

So, yeah, he was going to tell her off, set her straight, and then fuck her so damn hard she forgot not only that she hated him but her goddamn name as well. And then he’d walk the fuck away, leaving her begging for more.

At least, that had been the original plan until she’d refused to shut the fuck up. Until she’d slapped him across the face. Until she’d continued to run her mouth, every word coming out of it making him feel like a bigger piece of shit.

Cage lost it. His brain blanked out and his emotions took control. The next thing he knew he was tackling her, forcing her down to the ground, onto her back, yanking her flimsy green tank top up, baring her small breasts, roughly palming them before grabbing handfuls of her long skirt and shoving it up over her ass. He ripped her underwear to one side and pulled open his leathers.

“I’ll remember this time, bitch,” he gritted out, palming his cock.

“Fuck you, asshole,” she said angrily. “Fuck you!”

Seething, bursting at the seams with anger, more than sick of this bullshit with her and not really aware of what he was doing but at the same time aware that she wasn’t fighting him, he grabbed her calves, bent her knees, and pushed her legs open, maneuvering his hips so the tip of his cock hit her pussy. Sliding it over her slit, he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Fuck you?” he shouted. “You fuckin’ got it!”

He pushed hard. Pulled back out and pushed harder. Pulling back out, he pushed again, finally sliding inside of her. Three more times and he was fully seated, her pussy clamped tightly around him as he glared down at her.

“You feel that, you mouthy little cunt? You feel my small fuckin’ cock stretchin’ your shit wide open?”

Pulling nearly all the way out of her, he slammed back inside.

Tegen’s lips trembled and her eyes squeezed shut. Cage watched a tear slide from her left eye and down the side of her face, disappearing into her hair. His thoughts took a tire-squealing turn in a different direction and he stopped moving and just stared down at her. What the fuck was he doing? Had he lost his fucking mind?

He’d just attacked her!

Cursing, he went to move, ready to pull out of her and get the fuck away from her, when her eyes suddenly flew open and she reared up, grabbing hold of his biceps and squeezing.

“No,” she breathed.

For a moment they only stared at each other, unblinking, not moving.

But while he was staring down at her, into her almond-shaped bright green eyes, taking in her milky white skin glowing in the moonlight, and seeing her lips, pale pink, parted, breathing in…and out…and in…and out, her breath quickening the longer he stared.

He felt a new feeling, one he didn’t recognize. It was lust, but not the sort of lust derived from a giant pair of tits bouncing in front of his face, or because his cock was getting stroked through his leathers, or because some bitch’s skirt was riding up and he was getting a sneak peek of ass.

It wasn’t anger- or adrenaline-fueled. He didn’t know what it was.

But his body did. It recognized something in her and responded in kind, excitement filling his stomach. He breathed in again, suddenly recognizing these responses, remembering them, but also knowing it had been a hundred women ago the last time he’d felt them.

“Teacup,” he rasped, reaching up to cup the side of her face. “You’ve never let me say it before, babe, but I really am sorry for what I did.”

“No, you’re not,” she whispered, trying to turn away from his grip on her face. His thumb shot out under her chin and locked her in place.

“Yeah,” he continued. “I am. I was nineteen. I was a fuckin’ asshole and it shouldn’t have gone down like that. For your first time, baby, you deserved a lot fuckin’ better than me.”

Her mouth fell open and his thumb, already on her chin, slid inside and pulled her bottom lip down.

When she said nothing, made no protest either verbally or physically, just stared up at him unblinking, he quickly bent his head and covered her mouth with his. His tongue slid inside and a soft moan escaped her throat. Her mouth opened further for him and his hand moved, gripped her hair, while the other ran down her back, over her hip, and under her thigh, stopping on one small, firm ass cheek, and squeezed.

Ah, damn. He remembered now, remembered why he’d loved fucking women. That damn feeling—the anticipation, the burn, the need to touch, to taste, to take a female over, to rule her body, outside and in. Not just to come, but to make her want to make him come, to make her want it so bad she worked for it.

“Cage,” she whispered frantically, trying to shove his cut off his shoulders. He pushed off her long enough to shrug out of it, to pull his T-shirt up over his head and toss it aside, and then he was back on her, his mouth closing over a freckled breast, pierced through the nipple.

Sucking first the nipple into his mouth, and then nearly the entire breast, ahh, fuck him. He’d always loved big tits, fat and heavy, with a lot to grab and squeeze. But being able to fit all that flesh inside his mouth and just suck?

It was fucking hot. And what was even hotter, Tegen was mewling—little panting, breathy whimpers. Her hands were in his hair, gripping, pulling, and she arched her chest, pushing more of her into his mouth. Her legs wrapped around him, her thighs cradled his waist, and she ground herself over his cock in jerky, circular motions.

The anticipation, the burn, the need to touch, to taste, to take a female over, to rule her body, outside and in. Not just to come, but to make her want to make him come, to make her want it so bad she worked for it.

He slid an arm beneath her and, holding her close to him, rolled them so she was on top of him. Bracing her palms on his chest, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Astride him, she breathed hard, staring down into his eyes.

“Take it,” he said hoarsely, grabbing her hands and interlocking their fingers.

When she didn’t move, he lifted his hips, circling them, eliciting a gasp and a squeak from Tegen. Her pussy clenched and her slim fingers squeezed around his much thicker ones.

“Take it,” he growled, jerking his hips up hard. “Fuckin’ take it, Teacup.”

Even as her mouth opened in a silent moan, her eyes narrowed.

He stared up at her, hoping she’d keep her mouth shut, hoping she’d take what he was offering her, hoping like hell she’d let go of all that hate and give them what they both wanted.

Jesus, he hadn’t felt anticipation like this in so goddamn long.

“Please,” he groaned. “Just fuckin’ take it, babe.”

Her lips split into a smile and his breath caught. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen her really, truly smile and, fuck him if it didn’t transform her completely.

But before he could recover, she started to move. Faster and faster until…

And then she took it.

She worked for it—she worked him hard—and she took it all.