Page 9 of Fox (Road Rebels MC 4)
Then, I started rummaging around for my wine opener.
Working the cork from the bottle and pouring myself a glass, I leaned against the counter. My apartment was dark and empty. Spacious with beautiful hardwood floors. The appliances were stainless steel, and the windows were insulated well. I had my own private balcony with wrought iron sitting places to watch the sunset rise over the town of Henderson.
But it was lonely. And it was the first time in my life I’d ever felt that way.
As I sipped on my wine, I digested the feeling. It was an interesting one, but one that weighed heavily on my shoulders. The sips of my wine became gulps, and the gulps became chugs. Soon, I was pouring myself another glass, trying to rid my mind of him.
Fox.
The man who had shown me so many firsts tonight.
I wondered what my Dad would think of him. Would my father accept someone like that in my life? Or would it anger him that he was there? My father defended men that looked like him in court on a daily basis. Which meant my father knew what they were capable of if the stereotype fit. My father was a good man, defending people who needed it the most. But there were times where I listened to him talk about his cases, and I wondered if they were really innocent. Sometimes I would turn on the news and catch a story about someone he was defending, and I couldn’t fully find myself on my father’s side of things.
My father would wholly disapprove of Fox if he ever found out.
There was a part of me that was scared of that notion, but a part of me found it invigorating. My father had created this bubble for me to live in, and for a while I brushed it off as me being his only child. And his princess, to boot. I wanted to make him happy. Make him proud. Have his approval in everything I did. But there were moments where I wanted another life. Where I wanted to defy him and make my own mistakes and experience things he thought were too dangerous.
Like Spring Break with my friends or the trip to Paris my best friend took last year that I couldn’t go on.
There were places in town my father told me never to seek out. Places I had grown curious about over the years. I had gone to one of them tonight. To the bar with the wings and the mysterious man sitting next to me. Was that the reason my father didn’t want me there? Because people he defended in court hung out in these types of places? The mental dichotomy was tearing me apart as I downed my second glass of wine.
If these men were as innocent as my father proclaimed, why would he want me to stay away from them so badly?
I poured myself one last glass of wine before I headed back to the couch. I sat down, drawing the comforter over my lap and leaning back into the plush cushions. The infomercial about the smoothie whatever had given way to some sort of exercise machine, and I giggled as people showed me all the ways it could work for my benefit. Only five easy payments of some exorbitant price and it could be all mine.
I tipped my wine up to my lips as I grabbed the remote.
I didn’t care what my father thought. This was my life, and I was on my own, and it was time for me to make my own decisions. If I wanted to go to a bar and get some wings, I could do that. If I wanted to find a random stranger and bring him home with me, then I could do that. If I wanted to move my bedroom across the apartment to have a better view of something, then I could do that. He wasn’t here to dictate my moves or to keep me in his precious little bubble anymore.
It was time I started experiencing the world.
And I started by imagining what Fox would’ve looked like naked in the middle of my living room.
I set my glass of wine down and allowed my fingertips to caress my skin. I could see his chiseled abs as I closed my eyes, coated in baby oil and glistening to capture my attention. My eyes grazed along his broad shoulders. Those muscles that tugged at his leather jacket and threatened to split it open. I squeezed my breast, my legs spreading as my hand traveled down my body. I could feel his lips on my neck, nibbling at my skin as his tongue raked along my pulse point.
I slid my pants down my legs, feeling my clit pulsing with wanton need. I slid my hand deep into my panties, cupping my pussy as I yearned for him. His muscles and his hands. How they lifted me perfectly into his lap. I could see his throbbing dick, leaking for me as it slid between my lips. I could taste him. I could taste his saltiness as my fingertips found my clit. I swirled them around and bucked my hips, rolling into my hand as I imagined rolling into his.
I imagined his fingers sliding into my entrance, filling me to the brim as I bucked into the palm of my hand.
His memory was intoxicating as my whimpers grew to moans. I imagined him thrusting into me, rolling slowly before he took me mercilessly. I thought about what his sounds might sound like. Was he a groaner? Or a grunter? Would he say my name or let the headboard make all the sounds? I filled my pussy with my fingers as I slid my other hand down my panties, working my clit quickly as my chest heaved with pants.
“Fox. Fox. Oh, shit. Your body. Oh, that dick. Yes. I love it. More. More.”
My heels planted into the hardwood floor as I raised my hips into the air. I could feel my pussy contracting around my fingers, my body trembling as his name tumbled from my lips. The wine was dizzying my head, and my body felt lighter than air. I could feel his hand palming my breast as our tongues collided, my hips bucking into his cock.
His hands.
My hands.
Alone.
I fell back to the couch, panting as my eyes watered. My apartment was lonely. Filled only with the sounds and smells of a body I was just now discovering. I opened my eyes, allowing a small tear to cascade down my cheek. There was no one here. No one to hold me close or keep me company or help me finish that bottle of wine.
There was only one.
Like the lonely filet mignon in the fridge.
I slid my hands from my underwear and fell over onto my pillow. I pulled my comforter up to my chin, trying to erase the confusing emotions welling up inside of me. It was the alcohol. I knew it was. I would wake up in the morning after sleeping in my own apartment, and I would feel refreshed and ready to take on the day.
I would feel normal again. Back to my old self.
But there was a part of me that wasn’t satisfied with that. A part of me that wasn’t satisfied with my ‘normal self.’
And that part of me haunted my dreams all night with memories of him.
Memories of a man that gave me so many firsts.
Chapter 9
Fox
I gripped the handlebars of my bike tightly as I rode back to the compound. Carmichael. That was a fucking unique name for her n
ot to be related to him. That fucking lawyer who was always getting The Devil’s Saints out of all their bullshit. It was possible they weren’t related. It was possible that she was just some random woman in a bar looking for a good time. But if she was related to him, then what did that mean? Should I see her again? Should I take the chance that her father would find out? That was associating with the enemy, and I was already in the throes of betraying my club.
Could I do it again just for a little fuck?
I rode up into the lodge and saw Mac standing at the mechanic shop. I knew what that shit meant. Our President had called church. I parked my bike and drew in a deep breath, trying to ready my mind for whatever the fuck had interrupted my night.
I walked up to Mac, and his eyes were hard on me, and for a split second I thought he knew.
“He’s here,” Talon said.
“Fucking finally. I’m exhausted,” Snake said.
“Laiken’s the one who got us into this late-night shit. So shut your mouth,” I said.
“You really enjoy blaming our women for all this, don’t you?” Hawk asked.
“If you can’t see the role they’ve played in all this shit, not my problem,” I said.
“All of you, shut up,” Mac said.
I sat down with my legs spread and my arms crossed over my chest.
“What is it now?” I asked.
“We have a game plan,” Mac said.
“Then let’s hear it,” Talon said. “Because I’m ready to shut this chapter of this fucking club’s lives.”
“Aren’t we all,” Snake said. “Look, Laiken still believes the only way to take down The Devil’s Saints is to go it through Carmichael. He’s their fucking key. If we can get him out of the picture, we’re solid because their defense falls apart.”
“Won’t they just hire another lawyer?” I asked.
“Not one who has the history Carmichael does,” Snake said. “This family shit of theirs goes way fucking back. Back three or four generations. This ‘defending criminals’ shit started with the mob in Vegas and devolved into this shit. Carmichael’s versed in this. He grew up in it. No other lawyer’s gonna know their history, and Carmichael probably won’t hand over the documents to another lawyer because it’ll incriminate him in the process.”
