The warm weight against my back is suddenly ripped from me, and my eyes widen as I let out a short scream. Sloane is being hauled out of bed by a police officer. I pull the sheets up my body to cover myself as best as I can.
There are several police surrounding us in the room, and one of them tosses a folded blue paper at me. I recognize him as the highway patrol officer, Houston. I open the to see it’s a warrant.
“What is this?” I ask quietly.
“We have reason to believe that these men are transporting illegal arms and drugs. This is a warrant to search the premises.”
I hear Sloane grunt from his place on the floor, an officer’s knee lodged in his back. “Can I get some fucking pants on at least?” he growls.
Another officer throws a pair of pants in his face, and I hear his muffled words. “You need to get up, ma’am. We’re starting here, first,” an officer says, his eyes pinned to where my hand is holding the navy blue sheet against my naked breasts.
“Can I please have some privacy to put some clothes on?” I ask.
I watch as three of the officers smirk, including Houston. One flat out smiles, and another has the nerve to look at me with pity.
“Sorry, sweetheart, no can-do. We don’t want you trying to cover anything up for your husband now, do we?” Houston states.
I open my mouth to speak, unsure of what I’m going to say, when Sloane’s enraged yell fills the room. “You fucking pieces of shit. Let my wife fucking put some clothes on. You know she knows fucking nothing about anything. She’s innocent.”
I watch as Houston kicks Sloane in his ribs, causing him to groan. “Shut your fucking mouth, convict.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper as I close my eyes and take a gulp of air, trying to get some damn balls.
The only man who has ever seen me naked is my husband. Now, I’m about to show it all, every single part of me, to a room full of police officers.
I stand on shaky legs with the sheet still wrapped around me, hoping I can get past these men to the drawer of Sloane’s nightstand, where I know he has at least a t-shirt and maybe even gym shorts stowed away. Maybe I can get by without showing anything at all.
As soon as I’m standing, Houston reaches out and grabs the sheet, yanking it from my body and forcing me to stand, shocked and frozen still, in front of them. I hear Sloane rustling around on the ground, but I can’t look anywhere but at the officer in front of me.
“Didn’t know you boys could get such pretty pussy in your beds. Knew I’d get you eventually, Imogen,” he laughs coldly.
I hear Sloane’s voice muffle something that sounds like fuck you. I feel so pathetic for not moving, but I can’t. It’s as though my feet are physically cemented to the ground. “How about I fuck her pretty little mouth?” he asks before he laughs. “You know Bayard promised me that much.”
My eyes widen and my feet finally react to his words, my brain telling me flight or fight. I’m too weak to fight any of these men, so I flight. I’m not fast enough, though. Houston wraps his hand around my bicep and halts my movement.
“James,” the one who looked at me with pity warns.
“Oh, shut the fuck up. She’s a whore, just like the rest of them. She’s used to sucking strange. She’ll be fine,” he spits. “Sluts are sluts, society or club ones.”
“You’re a goddamn idiot, James,” Officer Pity growls.
My heart races and I can feel my breathing shallow as panic consumes me. I’m going to be raped, right here in front of my husband, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. I have a feeling all of the other men are being detained as well, including whoever stayed over after the party.
“You need another report in your file like a whole in the head. You better just back the fuck away. I have a feeling Mrs. Huntington won’t just accept your scare tactics. Plus, I’m standing right here, and I’m more than willing to testify against your dirty ass.”
Houston’s hand releases me immediately, and I rush over to Sloane’s dresser, grabbing the first black shirt I can find and, thankfully, a pair of athletic shorts he keeps around. Once I’m covered, I feel stronger, like somehow the vulnerability of my nakedness is now gone, and I can think again.
“You all right, Mrs. Huntington?” Officer Pity asks.
“No. My husband has been kicked, is being held on the ground naked, and we were ripped from our sleep. I certainly am not all right,” I snap. I watch as Sloane looks toward me and grins.
“How about I escort you down to where we’re holding everyone, and you can join your… friends, there?”
I nod, but don’t take a step, and I certainly don’t take his offered hand. “How about you let my husband stand up so that he can join the rest of his friends?” I ask, arching my brow. He shakes his head with a grin and tells the other men to do as I’ve requested.
I ignore the looks as I walk over to Sloane. Sinking to the ground I help him with his jeans. Once I bring them up his body, I gently tug his zipper up, and button the top button. I’m careful, and then rise to my feet, my eyes focused on his.
“Thank you, sunshine,” he murmurs.
I press my lips to the center of his chest before tipping my head back and giving him a wink. Then I turn, with my head held high, and walk out of the room toward the bar, where I have a feeling everybody else is located.
“Nerves of steel, woman,” the officer chuckles behind me.
“Your friends are jackasses,” I announce.
He laughs even harder, and I feel his fingers wrap around my wrist before he tugs me to a stop, gently turning me around to face him.
“They absolutely are. They’re also all my superiors, and your husband is possibly in deep shit,” he states.
I nod, ignoring his words. If he hadn’t recognized me for who my family is, then the outcome would have been much different. Sure, he may have felt badly, but he wouldn’t have done anything to stop it. He’s not good, either. In this building, there is no good or bad side; they’re all bad, just wearing different uniforms.
I see Bobbie and walk straight over to her. She’s is sitting at a barstool, and when she notices my clothes, her eyes widen. There are mostly whores, party girls, and a few Old Ladies in this room, which means they’re keeping the men separately.
“You okay, honey?” Bobbie asks.
“I am,” I murmur.
“You look shaken,” Serina says from my other side.
I don’t know her well, just that she’s an ex-clubwhore turned Old Lady, but she wraps her hand around mine and gives it a squeeze.
I cough, clearing my throat, “There was an incident, but everything is okay. I’m okay.”
“Fucking pieces of shit. You know they won’t find anything, right? Our men are not stupid,” Serina practically growls.
“Let’s hope not,” I state.
I glare daggers at the fuck who tried to assault my wife. I’ll have his goddamn job for that shit—or maybe I’ll fuck with him personally. I’m getting really fucking sick of seeing this prick around. I grin to myself at the thought. Yeah, forget his job, I’ll fuck with his life instead. Piece of shit woman abuser.
The men and I are all lined up against one wall, hands cuffed behind our backs as the cops search the place. All of the police officers, except for two that are placed in charge of watching us, take off and spread out. They aren’t going to find shit, except maybe some recreational drugs—none of which are in my room, unless they plant them there.
An hour later, Houston returns, looking pretty pissed off. He, along with his partner, start to un-cuff us.
“I’m guessing you didn’t find what you were looking for?” I smart off.
His head snaps up and he spits on the floor before he speaks. “Watch your goddamn back, you piece of shit.”
I don’t say anything else, not wishing to agitate him further. I have plans for him, plans that will bring him to his knees. All of the police officers leave with very little fanfare, and the men all stomp toward the bar area, toward women or drinks or both. I don’t want drinks. I want Imogen, and I want to make sure she’s okay.
Walking into the bar, I see her sitting with Serina. She gives me a smile and scoots off of her chair, walking toward Grease, I assume. Imogen turns to me. Expecting to see a look of disgust in her eyes, I’m surprised that she’s smiling and looks fairly at ease.
“You okay, sunshine?” I ask, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.
Her brown eyes meet mine, and I see a mix of fear, hesitation, and apprehension in them.
“Church in two hours,” MadDog announces in the bar.
I wrap my hand around Genny’s and tug her off of her stool as I start to quickly walk toward my room. I know she is struggling to keep up with me, but I need to ensure that she’s okay. I can’t do that with a room full of people. Once we’re inside of my room, I spin around and walk toward her until her back is pressed against the closed door.
“Sloane,” she breathes as her eyes search mine.
I dip my head and press my forehead against hers, closing my eyes and inhaling her scent before I speak. “I thought he was going to hurt you. I swear to god, Imogen, I’ve never been so scared in my entire fucking life. I was helpless. I couldn’t protect you,” I whisper.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she breathes. I let out a humorless laugh and lift my head from hers.
“Yeah, sunshine, it fucking is my fault. Anything that happens to you because of the club, because of my involvement with it, anything I can’t protect you from is my goddamn fault.”
I gaze into her pretty brown eyes as she lifts her hand and cups my cheek. “You cannot control the actions of other people. In this building or outside of it. I was scared, terrified even, but just like you couldn’t control Graham’s actions, you could not control that police officer’s,” she says gently.
“If that other one hadn’t said anything, nobody would have stopped him,” I mutter.
She wraps her other hand around my waist, and my body does a tremor as her hand touches my bare skin. “I know he wouldn’t have, but it still wouldn’t have been your fault, baby.”
This softness from her, I haven’t had it in so long. I didn’t earn it. Now, it’s too much; she’s too fucking sweet, and it makes my goddamn heart ache. I lower my head again and press my lips to hers. Without hesitation, she opens for me. Though I don’t deserve it, I take from her anyway.
I yank her pants down. I unzip my own, pushing them down past my ass before I bend slightly and pick her up by the backs of her knees. I slam inside of her tight cunt, with one hard thrust. Her head falls back and hits the door with a thud. I kiss her neck, licking and sucking as I drive into her, surely bruising her back as it slams against the door.
“Sloane,” she groans as her nails dig into the flesh of my shoulders.
“Fuck, sunshine,” I murmur, fucking her even harder.
Imogen’s pussy flutters, and I can tell she’s climbing closer—but I’m not ready for her to come yet. I bite down on her neck, and she shivers in my arms. Goddamn, she feels so good—so good. “Don’t come yet,” I murmur against her skin.
“Sloane, I’m close,” she pants.
Reluctantly, I pull out of her completely. She growls, which causes me to smile. Picking her up, I walk a few feet closer to the bed and toss her there before kicking off my pants. I watch as she removes her shirt.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip at my wife, spread out completely naked, flushed from my cock. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful—that is, until she actually comes. That is fucking gorgeous.
I crawl up the bed and gather her in my arms, not wanting to fuck her from behind, needing to have her brown eyes focused on mine.
On my knees, with her tits pressed against my chest, and her eyes connected to mine, I wrap my arms around her back. Then I lower Imogen onto my cock.
Holding her still and against my body, I lift my hips and surge inside of her tight heat. Her legs instantly wrap around mine as I hold her body flush against my own.
“I love you, baby,” she whispers, lifting her arms to wrap around my neck and holding the back of my head with her hands.
“Nobody touches you, nobody but me,” I growl.
She shakes her head as tears fill her eyes. “Never,” she whispers.
I wish I could stay buried inside of her forever, but when her pussy starts to flutter again, I don’t try to stop her from coming. I want to feel her squeeze my cock and take her pleasure from me.
That’s exactly what I do, and she presses her lips to mine as she shakes against me with her climax. I pull her down on my cock a few times, swallowing her cry as my release shoots deep inside of her, marking all of her as mine.
Unable to hold her up much longer, I lie us down on the bed, slipping from her pussy before I pull her against my side. Imogen doesn’t speak. Her head rests on my chest, and her fingers gently stroke my side.
“This, what’s between us, it feels so different than it did before you went away, and even from when we were first together,” she states.
I lift my hand into the back of her hair and tug her head so that I can look into her eyes.
“We’re not the same people we were when we were kids. And we sure as fuck aren’t the same people we were three years ago,” I mutter.
“You make me happy, Sloane. I never thought I would say that again, but you really do. I love you more today than I ever have.”
Running my fingertips over her lips, I sift them through her hair at the side of her head and search her eyes. My wife, this woman whose heart is bigger than anything I could ever imagine. The way she accepts me, loves me, and has forgiven me is beyond anything I could ever imagine possible.
“Love you, Imogen, more than you could ever know,” I admit.
She smiles before she presses her lips to my chest and lays her cheek against me. I hold her for as long as I can before I have to get up to meet the rest of the brothers for church.