A loud noise causes me to jump. I sit straight up, my hair a ratty mess, and my body bare. The loud noise happens again, and I realize that it’s someone at the door. I glance to Sloane’s side of the bed, but he’s gone. The pounding noise sounds again, and I hurry to grab Sloane’s discarded shirt from the night before and a pair of panties.
Looking through the peephole I gasp at who is on the other side. Pulling my brows together, I answer the door just as the man lifts his hand to bang on my door again. “Can I help you?” I ask immediately.
“Hey there, Mrs. Huntington,” he says smoothly.
It only takes me a second to realize it’s the highway patrol officer who pulled me over. I don’t respond as I stand at the door and just look at him.
“Sloane’s probation officer is on his way. I suspect he’s got some drugs in this place, maybe some guns too,” he murmurs as he places his hand on my stomach and pushes me to the side.
He walks into my living room and looks around. “Alone tonight?” He smirks.
“What do you want? There’s nothing in here, and I didn’t invite you in,” I state.
He grins, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to invite me anywhere. Your husband is an ex-con on parole, this is his residence, and I can walk in here any fucking time I want to.”
His cocky grin is too much, too wide, and way too sure of himself. I wrap my hands around my stomach as I press my lips together. Another man walks inside and he looks from me to the cop.
“Tell me you did not drag my fucking ass out of bed for a home visit about a model prisoner and model parolee?” he grumbles.
“Excuse me, what’s happening here?” I ask quietly from my place against the wall as I try to tug down Sloane’s shirt.
“Sorry ma’am, I got a report from this officer that he has suspicions that your husband had a weapon and illegal drugs on the premises,” the probation officer murmurs.
My eyes dart from man-to-man and I nod. He explains that he has the right to check the place. I glance at the clock and notice that it’s three in the morning.
I don’t know where Sloane is. I watch as the two men go about searching my house. Then they request access to my bedroom. I give them a nod, even though I don’t want them anywhere near my room.
A few minutes later, they emerge, and the probation officer shakes his head. “Sorry for disturbing your sleep, ma’am. Nothing was found.” He then turns to the police officer. “The next time you wake my ass up at two in the fucking morning, your shit better be solid.” He turns and walks out of the door, leaving me alone with the officer.
“He’s a lucky fuck,” he murmurs as he walks closer toward me. My back is pressed against the wall. He gets so close that I can feel the heat of his body, and I shiver in disgust. “Next time I bring him back, he’ll find something. This was just a dry run.”
“What do you want?” I whisper.
He grins as his top teeth sink into his bottom lip, “Sweetheart, I want what was promised to me. Bayard has all but disappeared, and I’ve yet to have those sweet lips wrapped around my cock.”
I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. He leans forward a little more and wraps his hand around the outside of my thigh. “Your lips are going to be wrapped around my cock. Your pussy is going to strangle me, and then I’m going to fuck your ass, Imogen. Sweet little society slut like you, I bet it’s going to be fucking fantastic.”
I press my lips together to keep from throwing up in his face. His hand moves to the inside of my thigh, and I press my legs together as my heart starts to race. “As soon as Sloane’s ass is locked back up, I’m taking what Bayard promised me,” he whispers.
“Do you mind taking your hands off of my wife, officer?” Sloane’s voice roars through the room. The officer, Houston—according to his name badge—smirks, not looking away.
“Yeah, I’ll take my hands off of her, convict—for now,” he grunts before he pushes away from me and walks away.
I stay with my back against the wall as my knees shake, threating to buckle beneath me.
I watch as Houston walks up to Sloane, so close that their noses practically touch. Sloane doesn’t say anything. His jaw ticks and his fists clench at his sides. His green eyes track Houston’s every move.
Houston grins his cocky fucking grin. “Watch your back, Huntington. Your wife’s got a sweet little body. Can’t wait to fuck the shit out of her when you’re all locked up,” he cackles before he walks away.
Once the door closes, I watch as Sloane’s body jerks, then he walks over and flips the lock. I don’t move from my spot against the wall as he starts to stalk me. “What the fuck just happened here?”
“Sloane, I-I-…”
His hand wraps around the front of my throat, and I snap my mouth shut. His eyes are ablaze with anger. “That fuck put his hands on you. He walked into my house and he put his goddamn hands on you, and I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.”
I lift my hand to wrap around the back of his neck as I look into his eyes. “Sloane, he doesn’t matter,” I murmur.
“Like fuck he doesn’t matter,” he shouts.
Lifting up on my toes, I press my mouth against his before I whisper against his lips. “I love you. Please don’t do anything that will take you away from me.”
His hands wrap around my waist and fist in the shirt I’m wearing before his mouth consumes mine. His tongue fills me as he picks me up and presses my back against the wall. I lift my legs to wrap them around his waist as he fumbles with his belt.
My panties are ripped from my body, and then he’s inside of me, filling me. “No man touches what’s mine,” he growls against my mouth as he slams into me.
“Sloane,” I gasp as my fingernails dig into his shoulders.
He grunts, his hips thrusting against mine, his pelvis grinding against my clit, causing me to gasp with each pump of his hips. I can feel my nipples hard against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, scraping against the fabric and sending goosebumps to break out over my skin.
Sloane’s soft grunts fill the air as his body claims mine, my back pounding against the wall with each pump of his hips. “Come,” he demands.
My head hits the wall hard, and I do just as he’s instructed. I come all around him. Sloane groans as his hips thrust with several, hard, quick strokes before he explodes inside of me on a shout. “He touches you again, and I’ll fucking kill him—cop or not.”
He pulls out of me and takes a step back, his hand sliding through his hair before he zips up his pants.
“Your parole officer was here, he searched the house with Houston,” I whisper. Sloane’s eyes lift to me in surprise. “Where were you?”
He shakes his head. “I had some club shit come up and I was only gone an hour. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Let’s go to bed,” I suggest.
He runs his hand over his face and nods. “They got me by the balls, sunshine,” he whispers.
I hurry toward him, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my mouth to his.
“Don’t let them affect you. It’s what they want.”
Sloane’s forehead falls against mine and he exhales. “Love you, Imogen,” he breathes. “Let’s get to bed.”
We walk to the bedroom hand-in-hand, not saying a word. Before we climb into bed, I slide his shirt from my body and drop it on the floor. His arms wrap around me and tug me against his body. It doesn’t take but a moment to fall asleep, and I know why.
At the end of the day, no matter what’s happened, I always feel safe wrapped in Sloane’s arms.
I roll over what seems like minutes later and find that the sheets are cold and empty beside me. With a frown, I sit up and touch my hand to my face, part of my new morning routine to check my swollenness. It actually feels better to the touch, so I slide out of bed and use the restroom before braving a look in the mirror.
I let out a breath as I stare at myself. For the first time in days, I’m recognizable. I look like me, albeit battered and bruised, but my features are mine and they’re staring right back at me.
I can see my eyes are bright and shining with tears at the sight. I let out a scream when I feel a warm hand slide around my waist. I’m so focused on my face that I hadn’t realized he was walking up behind me.
Sighing, I turn my head as Sloane lowers his and brushes his lips across mine.
“What’re you doing, baby?” he rasps.
“Looking at my face. All of the swelling is almost gone,” I murmur.
“Fucking beautiful, sunshine,” he mutters as his hand slips down to cup my bare pussy.
I shiver in his arms. I move to wrap one of my hands around his wrist that’s at my pussy and the other around the back of his neck, touching the back of his hair.
“Sloane.”
“Ride my hand, baby,” he rasps, slipping two fingers inside of me.
He presses his palm against my clit as his tongue snakes out, licking the side of my neck before he gently sucks.
“Oh, god,” I moan, doing what he asks.
Riding his perfect hand, his fingers fucking me and his warm bare chest pressed against my back, I cry out to god, again.
“You’re beautiful, Imogen,” he states, wrapping his hand around my jaw and forcing my face to the mirror, keeping me forward. My eyes fly to meet his instantly. “Look at yourself, baby.”
My eyes move from his face to mine, my hips still jerking in his hold, riding him and bringing myself closer toward a climax.
“Do you see just how beautiful you are?” he asks. I try to shake my head, but his grasp is too firm. “My wife, more beautiful today than ever.”
“I’m still bruised, still marked,” I say, denying his words.
“Yeah, you’re marked, right here on your hip,” he grunts as his hand falls from my chin to wrap around and squeeze my tattooed hip. “But I’m talking about your face, sunshine. This face, it’s the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. Rendered me speechless when you were fifteen years old, and still renders me fucking speechless now. A couple bruises won’t change that.”
“Baby,” I whisper as I turn my head and press my lips to his.
My orgasm quickly consumes me, and my thighs shake, my pussy pulsing around his fingers and my tongue slipping inside of his mouth. He lets me be in control of the kiss until my body finally relaxes against him.
Sloane removes his fingers from inside of me, and in one lightning fast thrust, replaces them with his cock—to the hilt. I let out a gasp and tilt my hips for him, throwing my head back and bracing my hands on the edge of the vanity.
“Your face renders me speechless, you’re so goddamn beautiful, Imogen. But like this, your pussy filled with my cock, you’re spectacular. Arch back for me a little more, sunshine,” he softly asks.
I do. For him, I do, and I always will.
I lift my face and lock eyes with his. Watching as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, he completely focuses on me, on my eyes, and on my face as he slowly fucks me. Sloane is in control now. He gave that to me last night, but not anymore.
My breasts sway with each thrust from his hips. His eyes glance down and his teeth press further into his bottom lip as his fingers squeeze my hips a little tighter. Driving his cock up inside of me causes me to shiver in delight.
“I plan on filling this sweet pussy of yours with my cum, sunshine, and filling your belly with my baby,” he rasps as his gaze shifts from my breasts to my eyes again.
I open my mouth to speak, but Sloane leans over and bites my shoulder, making me moan.
“Touch that pussy, Genny. Make yourself come,” he demands.
I shiver and release one of my hands from the vanity to press two fingers against my clit.
“C’mon, sunshine. Come on your man,” he murmurs against my ear.
Without another word, he lifts his chest from my back and starts to fuck me with earnest. I let out a cry as my fingers stroke myself fast and hard, with one purpose and one purpose only—to come. Our gazes stay connected as he takes from me, takes my body like only he can. I let him. I offer it to him.
I come around him in a high-pitched squeak before I let out a low groan. My entire lower-half goes completely limp. Sloane wraps his arm around my waist and holds me up while he drives up inside of me a few more times before he releases his own groan as he fills me with his cum.
“Goddamn, Imogen,” he rasps as he slips out of me.
Without another word, he turns and starts the shower, holding his hand out for me. I place my palm in his and, together, we shower.
“I want you to come with me tonight, sunshine,” he murmurs as he massages my scalp with shampoo.
“Tonight?” I ask on a moan.
“Patch-in party at the club,” he states.
I feel as though ice has flooded my veins. I start to shake my head, but he spins me around to wash the soap out of my hair, totally ignoring my freak-out.
“Sloane,” I whisper once my hair is clean. He ignores me again, spinning me back around to condition me.
“I want you to come with me, Imogen. Everyone knows what happened to you, and nobody gives a fuck that your face isn’t perfect. I want you at my side because you’re my Old Lady, and it’s your earned place; but I also need you there because I love you.”
I close my eyes and allow him to spin me once more to wash the conditioner out. I, personally, would let it soak for at least ten more minutes, but he’s being sweet, so I’m not going to bitch about it. When the conditioner is rinsed, I lift my head and look into his green eyes, eyes that are waiting for my answer.
Bringing my hand up to cup his wet jaw, I smile softly. Then I lift to my toes and press my lips to his before I wrap both of my hands around his shoulders and press my breasts against his chest.
“If you need me there, baby, that’s where I’ll be—always at your side, always where you need me,” I whisper.
He grins before he lowers his head and captures my lips with his in a soft kiss, still careful not to cause me further pain. Though my face has lost most of its swollenness, it will still take weeks and weeks to heal completely.
“Pleased as fuck, sunshine,” he grins.
We finish our shower and then Sloane makes me breakfast. It isn’t anything fancy, just eggs, bacon, and toast, but I can’t deny that watching him cook for me in the kitchen is something that I will never, ever forget as long as I live.
“What time do I need to be ready?” I ask when he sets my plate in front of me.
“Nine,” he grunts as he walks around the kitchen island and sits at the barstool next to mine.
“I wish I had time to visit your mother for another bruise hiding makeup tutorial,” I mutter before I cover my mouth as my eyes widen, just having realized what I’ve actually said to him.
“She that good at it?” he asks, shoveling some eggs into his mouth, seeming unaffected.
I nod before I take a bite of toast and then speak. “She is. You couldn’t even tell I had a bruise by the time she was done with me.”
“This will be the last time in your life you’ll ever have to worry about it,” he growls.
I place my palm on his forearm and squeeze him gently with my fingers before nodding.
“I love you, Sloane.”
“Love you too, baby,” he murmurs, turning to his plate and finishing his food.
We don’t speak for the rest of our meal, and then he informs me that he has some more club shit to do. He says he’ll be back around eight to get ready for the party, and I need to be ready to roll by nine. I agree.
Before he walks out of the front door, he kisses me, filling my mouth with his tongue. I taste the promise of later, and I know that tonight we’re going to have fun, even if that fun doesn’t start until after the party is over.
“Pack a little bag, we’ll stay in my room at the club tonight,” Sloane announces before he slams the door behind him.
I blink and turn to my bedroom. I need to call someone for help. I can do my makeup, but I’m not an expert. I wonder if my mother-in-law would travel this far to help me, and then I decide I need to just stop being a pussy bitch and call the other Old Ladies. I consider these women my friends, so I need to stop keeping them at arm’s length.
I don’t even have to guide my bike as I go to the clubhouse from my house. It’s an easy ride, something that only takes a few moments. If I wanted, I feel like I could close my eyes for the entirety of the trip.
MadDog should have the scheduling done by now, so I can give it to Genny. I also want to get a man on her while I’m gone working. I’ll never allow her to be home alone again.
I’ll never leave her vulnerable like that again, not ever. She’s been left vulnerable too many times as it is.
“Hey, brother,” Texas booms as I walk into the main bar area of the clubhouse.
I lift my chin at him and glance around the room. I’m not surprised to see Serina draped over a naked Grease. They’re both passed the fuck out. I shake my head as I walk over to the bar and ask the prospect for a bottle of water.
“Taking it slow tonight?” Texas asks.
“Got a piss test in an hour,” I chuckle.
“At least it’s not tomorrow,” he laughs, toasting my water with his beer bottle. I let out a sigh and his brow furrows. “You doin’ okay?”
“I am, really good. Imogen and I are trying for a baby,” I admit.
That bite of panic that I expect to consume me at the words that have just left my lips, it isn’t there.
“Yeah? Congrats, brother. I hope your swimmers take,” he grins, slapping me on the back.
“Me too,” I admit, jutting my chin out.
Texas watches me for another beat before his face goes serious and his voice dips low. “You have any issues with your sobriety, we’re here for you, brother. Not one of us wants to see you fail, wants to see your marriage fail. We were all concerned when Genny left the way she did; would be a million times worse she took your kid with her.”
“Yeah, we actually talked about that last night,” I admit.
I’m not one to really talk about my feelings and shit much, but being sober has kind of forced that out of me lately. It’s brought all my feelings to the surface. On more than one occasion, I’ve felt like I might explode if I don’t get my shit out.
“Everything good?” he asks when I don’t expand.
I nod with a grin and clap him on the back before I stand and head toward MadDog’s office.
I knock on the door and wait for him to call me inside before I walk in. He and Mary-Anne fuck like rabbits, and there’s no way I want to risk walking in on them. Though I’ve heard it’s hot as hell, I’m not really into watching my prez fuck his pregnant wife.
“C’mon in,” he grunts. I turn the handle before walking inside, then I freeze.
MadDog’s got a kid standing on his thighs while his hand is wrapped around her little belly, and another one is sitting on the floor in a pink dress, an array of Barbies and their clothes strung out all around her. I can’t hide my smile at the sight. It’s cute as fuck, and not what I’m used to with my prez.
“Just wanted to know if that schedule is done, but I can see you’ve got your hands full,” I say with a smile.
MadDog looks up and he gives me a wide smile. I’ve never seen him look so fuckin’ happy. It sends a pang of regret to my heart. If he can be this happy, if he can find his happiness, why couldn’t I be man enough to give that to Genny these past years?
“You asking about a schedule or you looking for an ear to unload on?” he asks, his voice raspy and deep.
“Both,” I admit.
“Riley, girl,” he calls.
Her little head pops up before her body follows and she rushes to her daddy’s side. He bends down low and murmurs to her. She nods her head and then scurries past me.
“She’s gonna run to the kitchen and grab, Mary,” he mutters. “We’ll talk without little ears.”
“Maxfield,” Mary scolds as she walks into the room, not even realizing I’m here. “You sent Riley in there, and she walked right past Grease and Serina, passed out naked.”
“Sorry, sweetness,” he states a with a shrug, sounding the least bit sorry.
“Well, you will be when they’re teenagers and think they can do that shit,” she says as she walks over to little Finley, who is smiling widely at her mama.
“They better fuckin’ not,” he growls.
“Well, they keep seeing this stuff, they think it’s normal, they’ll be acting just like their aunties and uncles,” she says as she wraps her hands around Finley’s middle and brings her to her hip.
“All right, sweetness, you made your point,” he murmurs, wrapping his hand around her hip.
She rolls her eyes and bends down, pressing her lips to his. I feel like a voyeur as I watch them kiss. It isn’t anything deep and overtly sexual, but it’s still intimate.
“I’ll come get them when I’m done here, yeah?”
“Okay,” she breathes as her face completely softens.
I watch as he pats her ass and then she giggles slightly as she slips past me with Finley in her arms, closing the door behind her.
“You’re scheduled to work this week, and every other week. They’ve upped the shipments to weekly. Don’t know why, don’t give a fuck. All I know is that it makes our wallets fatter,” he shrugs. “And I have colleges to save up for,” he grins. “You needed to talk?”
“I want to have a man on Imogen when I’m at the docks,” I announce, watching as he slowly nods.
Then I explain to him about what happened early this morning. I tell him about my probation officer and the officer Houston showing up at my place.
“The fuck you say,” he whispers in a lethal tone.
Normally, it would be something brought up in church, maybe even voted on, and I’d be asking and not telling. This is my wife, and I refuse to take any more chances with her safety.
“The protection?”
“I’ll approve it. You can have one of the prospects watch out for her on those nights. I understand your hesitancy, and I’m cool with that. Nothing wrong with keeping your woman safe. How is she doin’, by the way?” he asks with concern laced in his voice.
“Better. She’ll be here tonight,” I shrug. He doesn’t hide, nor could he probably, his surprise at that announcement.
“How are you doin’?” he asks, switching topics.
I tell him exactly what I told Texas, except he’s my president so I elaborate. I talk to him a little bit about my fears, and he talks me down. He’s good with advice, and he’s been through it all, so I take in everything he says and soak it up. When I leave his office, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
I make my way to my probation officer’s place and do my piss test, knowing without a doubt that it’ll come back clean as a fucking whistle. I’m also going to ask him just what in the fuck went down a few hours ago.
My woman should never have to be woken from bed to deal with that shit. I want to kick his ass and worry about the repercussions later, but I have too much to live for to go back to that hell hole.
I have a woman, a whole slew of brothers, Kipling, and soon, maybe I’ll have a kid of my own. Fuck yeah. I have way too fucking much to live for to pop a dirty test and get sent back to the joint.