The day with Ginger is exactly what I needed. By the time I arrive back at the house, it’s dark, but the back of Ginger’s car is completely full of my new purchases. I have everything I need, I think, at least for the next three weeks or so.

Furniture and bigger items can wait. I’m used to going with the basic necessities anyway, and now I have more than I ever have. It feels almost surreal and extremely fast.

When we pull into the driveway, Ward is opening the front door and I watch him jog toward Ginger’s car. Wordlessly he helps unload the car. Ginger never asked me about our obvious tension earlier, and I didn’t offer any information about it either.

I don’t know what to make of my relationship with Ward, yet. I want to believe that we’ve got a mutual respect relationship, that we’re a partnership. Then, something happens that slams against me, letting me know that we aren’t partners. He is very much the man in charge, and I am very much nothing more than his bed partner, now his permanent bed partner.

“Whatever you need while Crooner’s gone, you let me know,” Ginger offers before she gives me a hug. I watch as she turns around, leaving me alone in the living room with Ward.

“Where’s Easton?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Our tension hasn’t dissipated, in fact, I think it’s actually worse than before I left. I can practically see it, it’s so thick. Ward runs his hand through his long hair, tugging on the ends before his eyes lift to mine.

“He’s asleep. He already ate, and I gave him a bath before I put him down,” he rasps.

I nod. Looking around the room, I have so much stuff to put away, but it can wait. Ward leaves tomorrow, and whatever is between us, I want it gone before he goes. I wonder offhandedly if that’s wishful thinking though, especially since neither of us is talking to the other.

“I’m going to bed, I have to be up early,” he grunts, turning away from me.

I watch as he stomps toward the bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room. My heart aches, it isn’t broken because it would take a lot more to break me at this point in my life, but it is aching with his actions.

Locking the front door, I go about closing the house down. Once all of the doors are locked, and the lights are off, I suck in a deep breath before I make my way toward the bedroom. Wrapping my hand around the doorknob, I press my lips together inhaling through my nose then push the door open.

I expect to see Ward with his back to the door, and asleep. What I don’t expect is to see him with the sheet pulled up to his hips, sitting up with his back against the headboard and his eyes pointed at me.

“Lock the door, baby,” he orders.

Automatically, my body responds, not only do I lock the door, but I let out a shaky breath when I do. I love when his voice is raspy, I love when he orders me to do things, I just plain love him—even when I’m pissed off at him, for the exact same thing.

“You have fun today?” he asks.

I stand stock still, wondering where this conversation is going, and why we’re having it right now. I don’t answer him with words, my words have completely escaped me. I nod. His lips twitch under his beard, his eyes almost glitter as they look at me.

“We need to have a talk,” he states.

I gulp, because I agree, but I don’t want to have this talk. I’m afraid of what is going to be said.

“Take your clothes off, then come over here to me,” he murmurs.

My body locks but my hands are fluid in their movements as I grasp the hem of my dress and pull it over my head. Ward’s gaze stays completely connected to my own as I hook my thumbs in the waist of my panties and tug them down my legs. Then I unhook my bra and drop it down to the floor while I step out of my shoes.

Slowly, I walk toward him, climbing onto the bottom of the bed before I crawl over to his side. He shakes his head and glances down at his lap. Lifting my ass off of my feet, I bring one leg over his hip and rest my center against his pelvis. He tugged the sheet down sometime during my transition and I feel his skin against me.

His hands wrap around my waist and he squeezes. I can’t take my eyes off of his intense gaze. “You said some things today,” he says, he keeps his voice low and gentle. I nod, pressing my lips together and rolling them. “You were wrong though, babe,” he mutters.

My eyes widen before they narrow. “I was wrong?” I ask slowly.

He nods. “Been thinking on it all day long,” he announces. “You are my fuckdoll,” he states.

It’s as if his words have the power to physically assault me. I jerk back. Then I try to scramble out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let me. His fingers tighten around my waist so tight that I know he’s going to leave marks, but it doesn’t stop me from struggling against his hold.

“Stop it,” he barks.

My body freezes at his command and I glare at him, wishing I weren’t so naked, wishing I weren’t straddling his hips, and wishing he wasn’t fucking hard right now.

“You’re my fuckdoll, Hayden. It isn’t a dirty thing, and it isn’t a degrading thing. It’s fucking beautiful,” he states, releasing his grip on my waist a little bit.

“It’s not beautiful,” I spit.

Ward shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, baby. It’s fucking gorgeous. The way you take me inside of you, the way you make me feel, everything about the way we come together is beautiful, even when I’m fucking you. I fuck you here in our room, or on a pool table in the middle of a party at the clubhouse, it’s still fucking beautiful.”

My eyes water at his words, at the conviction in his voice. I want to believe him, but I’m not sure that I can. I’ve been someone’s fuckdoll before, their pleasure toy, and I don’t ever want to be that again. I don’t ever want to be used as a dumping ground for a man’s cum—not ever again.

“I don’t want this. None of it,” I state, trying to push his hands off of my waist.

His grip tightens again, except this time he lifts me slightly and I feel his cock against my entrance. I shake my head, but he ignores my protest and gently pulls me down along his dick. My fingers grip his wrists tighter, and my eyes fill with tears.

“Baby, it’s always beautiful when I’m inside of you,” he rasps once I’m completely full of him.

Sucking in a breath, I shake my head. “Nothing about being a whore is beautiful,” I shout.

Ward flips me onto my back in an instant and I let out a cry as he does. I think he’s going to pull out of me, but he doesn’t, he slams back inside grinding his pelvis against my clit with a growl.

Lowering his face, his lips brush mine before he whispers against my mouth. “Get that fucking shit out of your head. You are not a whore, but yeah, you’re my fuckdoll, baby. Get used to that shit.”

His hands move from my waist, and wrap around my wrists, slamming my arms up and above my head, keeping me hostage. I open my mouth to yell, but his lips press against it, and his tongue fills me. He fucks me, holding my arms as his hips slam against me, his cock driving into me without reservation.

I want to scream and cry and call him names, but I’m completely helpless as he holds me down. Soon, my body starts to climb toward my climax, and I curse myself too, enjoying the way he’s roughly fucking me.

Ward rips his lips from me and moves them to my ear as his hips continue to slam against my own, his thrusts rough and erratic. “You’re my beautiful little fuckdoll, Hayden. Everything I ever wanted in a woman, baby,” he breathes against my ear.

“I don’t want to be that. I’m not that,” I protest, whimpering as tears fall down my temples, onto the sheets below me.

He lifts his head and his blue gaze takes me in. “Baby, you’re getting hung up on the past,” he grunts, panting between each thrust of his hips. “I’m not them. Do not put me in a category with them,” he growls.

I moan, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts, my eyes sliding closed as they roll in the back of my head. “I’m close,” I breathe.

“Come, baby,” Ward orders.

His fingers tighten around my wrists as he grinds against my clit a little harder with each down stroke. It doesn’t take me long, seconds, before I completely unravel beneath him. He doesn’t slow, or stop moving, to let me revel in my climax. His hips start to pound against me, fucking me harder and faster until he stills deep inside of me and comes on a growl.

“I am not Lucifer, and I am not that sick fuck Aryan,” he states angrily, pulling out of me.

He completely releases me, climbing off of the bed, and then walks away and into the bathroom. I jump when he slams the door closed behind him. I don’t move, too frozen in surprise by his words. No, he’s not them, and I don’t want him to ever think that I see him the way I see them. However, I can’t change the way I think, the way I feel.

When he returns, he doesn’t say anything to me. I watch as he crawls into bed and rolls over onto his side. I stay in my same spot for a few minutes, waiting for him to say something but he doesn’t say a word.

Sliding off of the bed, I go into the bathroom and clean up. Grabbing a pair of sleep shorts and matching top on my way to the bathroom. I quickly put them on before I open the bedroom door, then I go to bed myself.

Ward says nothing the entire time. When I finally slip into bed, he doesn’t turn toward me to hold me like he has every night he’s slept beside me, even before we were together. A tear falls from my eye, down my cheek, and against my neck.

Turning toward him, I press my body against his bare back and slip my arm around his waist. Tomorrow he leaves for weeks, so pissed off, hurt or not, I want to feel his body against mine, anyway I can have it.

“I love you,” I sigh into the dark room.

He doesn’t respond, and I wonder if I’ve really fucked us up. If my past traumas have ruined what could have been between us already. Emotionally exhausted, I fall asleep, but not before I press my lips against the center of his back in a lingering kiss.

I sleep like shit, like complete fucking shit. My guilt for being an asshole eating away at me. I should have told her that I loved her too last night, fuck, I should have said a million things. I just don’t know what to say to her.

I tried to tell her how I felt, that being my fuckdoll is different from being theirs. She didn’t get it, or maybe I didn’t explain it well enough, fuck if I know. All I know is that I hurt her, and I don’t know how to fix it.

Leaving the house at the ass crack of dawn, I straddle my bike and walk it down the driveway. Once I’m in the middle of the quiet street, I start the engine. I don’t leave right away, my focus directed at the house where my family is sleeping soundly. They are just that, too, my family.

I checked on Easton before I left this morning, he was snoring and looked so fucking cute. Hayden was asleep too, her breathing deep and heavy. I don’t want to leave either of them. In fact, I never want to leave them. I want to stay right here with them, be home every night to help Hayden with East, eat her dinners, and then later eat her.

Eventually, she’ll understand how I feel about her, and what I mean when I say I can and will fuck her anywhere I please. It isn’t because I own her, it’s because I love her so fucking much that I can’t keep my hands off of her.

With my bike’s roar, I pull on the throttle and head toward the clubhouse. My other family is waiting for me now, and I have to focus on work. Once this inventory and deliveries are made, then I can be back home. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be with my woman and boy again.

The clubhouse is quiet when I pull up. I park my bike in our warehouse, knowing that I won’t be able to take it with me on this run.

We’re going in Free’s truck, and as much as I want to demand we take our bikes, I know it isn’t smart. We’re trying to stay unrecognizable, and we can’t do that shit on our bikes with our colors flying. At least with this, we can put our cuts in the back seat if need be.

“Ready, brother?” Free asks, walking into the warehouse.

I grunt, taking my bag off of my shoulders. We’re definitely going to have to hit some laundromats on this trip. I didn’t bring enough for a week, let alone three. Not that I give a fuck if I’m dirty and smell like shit. I’m not on this trip to impress any bitches.

“Snake around?” I ask, walking toward Free.

He shakes his head his lips turning into a smile. “Fuck no, he said we could leave without a kiss from him,” he chuckles.

We walk toward the clubhouse and I let out a sigh. I wanted to ask Snake to have someone keep an eye on my woman while I was gone. She still ain’t driving, and with Easton and a new place, I would feel better if he did a few drivebys. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I send a text to Fish.

I shove my phone in my pocket, letting out a sigh. I know that he’ll watch over her when he’s around. Problem with Fish is, he likes his booze, and most nights he passes out here at the club instead of going home to his family. Which means, he won’t be at home near my family.

“You ready to hit the road, or do you need to let off some steam first?” Free asks, bumping his shoulder into mine.

“Let’s get going. Sooner I go, sooner I can come home.”

Free frowns. “You and Hayden, it’s real,” he states.

I wrap my hand around his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “It’s fucking real, brother. The realest shit I’ve ever experienced in my life and I fucking love it.”

“She’s nineteen,” Free announces.

Lifting my chin, I chuckle. “I know. It’s fucking insane, and I said the same thing, but she’s mine.”

Free smiles. “Happy for you, brother. Real fuckin’ happy for you.”

We don’t say anything else about it. Instead, we walk out of the clubhouse and toward Free’s truck. I’m a man on a mission, and that mission to get this shit done with and go home. I already miss Hayden, and I feel like shit for leaving her the way I did.

I decide I’m going to call her and talk to her about everything when we stop for the night. We can’t fight before I leave again, this feeling is beyond anything I’ve ever felt before, fuck, everything inside of me is telling me to turn around and go home to her. Unfortunately, I can’t do that.