Rough & Rugged (Notorious Devils Book 3) (4 page)

Kentlee is wrapped around his waist, looking at the scene with horror marring her features.

“This asshole was just leaving,” I announce, my gun still trained on this fucker’s head.

“Prospect,” Fury bellows. Almost immediately, one of our new prospects shows up. “Get this hanger the fuck out of here,” he grunts.

The prospect grabs him and drags him out of the hallway. I keep my eyes focused on them until they disappear, then I put my gun back in its holster.

Kentlee runs past me and crouches down on the ground to roll the girl over. She gasps at the sight of her and yanks her skirt down before she presses her fingers to the pulse point on her neck.

“She’s alive,” Kentlee breathes.

My eyes roam over her face, and then move over to the girl on the floor and then recognition hits me.

I know her.

I remember her.

I’ve dreamed of her.

Hattie
.

I sink down next to Kentlee, turning her head to face me.

“Did he hurt her?” I ask, not taking my eyes off of Hattie. She looks the exact same, young and perfect.

“Do you mean, did he rape her?” Kent asks.

“Yeah.”

The word feels like it burns on its way out of my throat.

Fuck
.

“I don’t think so. I mean his dick wasn’t out, but without asking her or looking to see if there’s any blood…” she trails off.

“Check her,” I demand.

“Where?” Kentlee murmurs looking over her shoulder at Fury.

“Here, now,” I choke out, unable to look away from her face.

“Go ahead, baby girl, I’ll make sure nobody sees,” Fury murmurs.

“It’s dark,” she mumbles.

I take out my phone and turn the light on for her. I don’t want to look. I can’t. Instead, I focus on Hattie’s face. Her round cheeks and her bruised throat.
Fuck
.

“I don’t think he hurt her. I mean, nothings wet and there’s no blood,” Kentlee whispers as she hands my phone back to me.

“You know her?” Fury asks as I crouch down next to Hattie.

“Three years ago I found her at that gas station. Remember when I killed the attendant?” I ask, arching a brow.

“This is the girl he tried to force himself on?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I nod.

“The fuck is she doing back here?” Fury murmurs.

“No fucking clue, but I’ll take care of it. And her.”

“Lemme know if you need anything,” Fury grunts as he wraps his arm around Kentlee’s waist. Together, they walk away from me.

I watch as Kentlee turns back and eyes me, her brows furrowed in confusion and worry. I’m sure she’s as worried about Hattie as I am.

I bend down and pick her up, cradling her in my arms. I take her toward my room, and as soon as I step inside, I feel her move against me.

“It’s you,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and her eyes filled with tears.

She remembers me. Something happens in my heart,
to
my heart—a feeling I’ve never felt before. I tamp it down quickly.

“Who’d you bring us?” Serina purrs from her place on the floor.

Hattie’s head whips around and she gasps. Serina and the new girl are completely naked and kneeling on my floor. Hattie wriggles in my arms, but I tighten my grasp around her before I tell the two girls to leave.

“But… but I need you,” Serina whines.

“Get the fuck out, whore,” I shout.

I don’t move. I keep her pinned with my gaze as the other girl runs past me. Serina doesn’t hurry. She slowly puts her cheap outfit back on and then
slowly
slithers out of my room. I flip the lock as soon as she’s gone and then I take Hattie to my bed and lie her down as gently as possible.

“I’m sorry to ruin your night again,” she rasps.

“You didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing. How’d you end up here?” I demand.

I watch as her face crumples and I wish I could be gentler, but I don’t know how. I cup her full cheek in my hand and just look at her watery eyes, waiting for her answer. Her puffy bottom lip trembles and I feel like an asshole as my cock presses against the zipper of my jeans.

Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to sink between those cock sucking lips of hers.

“I didn’t know. My friend brought me, she said it was a party,” she murmurs.

The hoarseness of her voice makes my cock even harder, which is so fucking wrong, considering how she got it that way.

“Are you okay?” I ask, looking down on her. I need a smoke before I fuck her into the mattress.

“I’m okay. He touched me, but he didn’t get under my panties,” she whispers with a blush on her cheeks.

Looking at her, I feel like a fucking pervert. She looks so young, and I’m thirty years old. But the fucked up part is—I
like
that she looks so young. I’ve never given a fuck what a woman I’m going to sink my dick into looks like as long as she was a woman.

But Hattie, she looks so innocent, so vulnerable, so breakable, and so fucking clean.

I want to ruin her, dirty her up in every way imaginable.

I want to make her cry and beg and destroy her.

Mine
.

I want to make her
all mine
.

I stand up and walk over to my dresser, grabbing a cigarette out of the pack, trying to calm my nerves—trying to calm my fucking, raging hard-on.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with me again. Nineteen and still causing you trouble,” she murmurs.

“Your friend shouldn’t have brought you. You shouldn’t be here; this place isn’t for girls like you,” I explain, taking a drag from my cigarette, feeling the nicotine fill me.

I shouldn’t be smoking in here, around her, but I need it right now to try and calm my shit down.

“Girls like me?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbows.

My eyes travel from her face to her pert little tits, and, fuck me, but I want them in my mouth. I want my cum covering her body. I want to drown her in it. I clear my throat and try to get my blood to go back to my brain.

“Good girls. Girls that wear pretty, little lace dresses to a biker clubhouse with blue high heels. Girls who don’t have their tits on display and aren’t here to fuck their way into being an Old Lady.
Girls like you
.”

I blink up at him, the nameless man who has saved me from sexual abuse twice now. I’ve just heard him explain why a girl like me shouldn’t be here in his clubhouse. He’s right, but I don’t know that I’ll necessarily give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I didn’t know this was where we were going. All I knew was that it was a party,” I admit.

I watch as his eyes narrow on me before he takes another drag from his cigarette. It’s an act I usually find completely disgusting, but right now, it’s sexy as hell. I breathe a little faster as his lips release the cigarette and a plume of smoke follows.

“You should have turned right back around when you pulled up to those gates,” he grunts.

“I would have, but I wasn’t driving,” I murmur as quietly as possible. My voice is trashed and my throat hurts. “I’m sorry I ruined your night again,” I whisper, repeating my words. My cheeks heat as I think about the two naked women who were waiting for him.

“They don’t matter,” he says nonchalantly as he takes another puff from his cigarette.

“Still, I’m sorry,” I offer.

“Who is your friend with?” he asks.

“What’s your name?” I reply.

His eyes flash with something, I can’t quite tell what, then he smiles. I watch as he snuffs out his cigarette and then walks back over to me, sitting down on the bed. All the while, his eyes never leave mine. They are completely focused on me, as if there is nothing else more important in the world than—
me
.

“Johnny,” he murmurs as his hand comes to my face. I inhale sharply when his fingers come out and trace from my temple down the side of my face to my lips.

“Johnny,” I murmur against his finger.

He smells like nicotine and beer, leather and oil. The combination overloads my senses, and for some reason, it makes me breathe a little heavier.

“Hattie,” he rasps.

My nipples immediately tighten at the roughness of his voice, the sweet sound and low murmur of my name. I open my mouth to say something, though I don’t know what. Maybe to ask him to kiss me, or take me, or something—I don’t know. But he beats me to it.

“You need to leave,” he murmurs.

“I don’t think I want to,” I admit, wrapping my hand around his wrist.

“I’m not a good man,” he says as his eyes stay trained on mine.

“I don’t think I care,” I whisper as I look at him, begging for his lips on mine.

It’s been three years, but I haven’t forgotten how his lips felt.

“If I fuck you, it’s a one-time thing. It won’t be slow or romantic. It’ll be fucking filthy and you’ll probably feel degraded, during and after. I don’t think you could be okay with that. You’re too good for that—too clean and too—
sweet
,” he announces.

His words are meant to be cruel, but the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s staring into my eyes, he doesn’t mean them. Not really. He’s saying it to scare me. I have no doubt he’ll be rough and filthy, but I think that’s just the way he is. I don’t think he’ll just throw me away afterward, not if after three years he still remembers my name—still remembers our brief meeting. I marked him in some way, just as he’s marked me.

“I’ll be okay. Fuck me,” I say bravely as I sit up.

“No, you need to go back home to daddy,” he practically growls.

I blink. I’ve just offered myself up to this guy, to do with as he pleases, knowing he won’t be gentle and probably won’t come back for seconds, and now he’s denying me completely and being condescending.

“I’m an adult. I live on my own, no daddy to take care of me,” I murmur, looking into his eyes.
Brown.
Like the sweetest chocolate.

“I can’t be that for you, Hattie,” he rasps before he stands up. “Get up, I’m taking you home.”

I don’t say anything else. What’s there to say? I’ve offered my body to him, and he’s turned me down, repeatedly. I stand up and smooth down my skirt before I follow him.

As soon as we step out of his room, he turns and tells me to stay close by. I do as he’s asked, and together we walk through the throngs of people partying, fucking, drinking and some even fighting. I don’t bother looking for Willa. She’s off with Robbie somewhere, not giving a crap about me.

Once we’re outside, I look over and see the big, handsome man that stopped me before the weirdo grabbed me. He’s sitting on a table alone. I look over at him and he nods at me. I start to take a step toward him, to thank him for at least trying to get me out of the party, when I feel Johnny’s hand wrap around my bicep.

“Where are you going?” he growls.

“To tell that man thank you. He was trying to get me out of the party before that other guy grabbed me,” I say.

“You don’t need to say shit to him,” Johnny announces.

I push his hand off of my arm and ignore him as I walk up to the handsome stranger. He breaks out into a blinding, beautiful smile at my arrival in front of him.

“You all right there? I heard what happened. They beat the piss outta that dude,” he chuckles.

“I’m okay. I just wanted to say thank you for trying,” I murmur.

“You’re makin’ him awfully jealous there, little girl. You better watch out. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire when it comes to him,” he says, lifting his chin.

I don’t look behind me, where Johnny is surely staring at us. Instead, I lift my shoulder, which makes him smile even wider.

“I’m not anything to him,” I murmur.

“If it’s him who told you that, then he’s lied to you—maybe himself, too,” he says, taking a pull from his beer.

“Well, thank you, anyway,” I say, not knowing how to react to his words.

I wish that Johnny thought I was worthy or attractive. I think he’s gorgeous, and I’ve been thinking of his lips on mine for years. But he doesn’t want me, and at the moment, I’m just grateful that he’s willing to take me home.

“You done?” Johnny asks as he stomps up to my side.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“We’ll take my car, c’mon,” he mumbles.

I give the other man a low wave of my hand and follow Johnny to the side of a big, metal warehouse type building. There I see several cars, pickups and SUV’s parked in a line.

“Our cages,” Johnny announces as he walks over to an old, black muscle car.

“Where are your motorcycles?” I ask. I pull the handle and open the door for myself.

“Parked in front. We only use these in the winter time, or when we have to,” he says as he slides behind the wheel.

I buckle myself in while he starts the engine, and then he tears out of the parking area with a roar.

“Where you live?” He barks the question angrily, causing me to jump slightly at the harshness of his tone.

“Sagle,” I murmur.

“The fuck?” he asks, turning his head to look at me in surprise.

“It’s far, I know. If you want to leave me at the edge of town, or halfway, then I can call my brother to get me when he gets off of his shift,” I murmur.

“That prick can shove it up his ass. I’ll take you home.”