Jaxon was standing beside the entrance door, still as the night, watching me. I saw his chest expand as our eyes locked.

No.

I would not torture myself like this. He ruined me. I closed my eyes, ridding him away, wanting nothing to do with him. After a few minutes passed, I opened them again.

He was gone.

Twelve

He followed her fixed gaze to the entrance. There was no one there.

“How about we go home?” he whispered in her ear. He felt her nod against his chest.

On the ride back his mind had split into two. One side was trying to digest the news he’d swallowed seconds before Sara’s meltdown. It can’t be possible. There’s no fucking way…

The other side of him was trying to deal with Sara’s anger fit. Fuck, the girl was strong. Despite the turn of events, he had to focus on her tonight. She was evidently rattled, and judging by the tightness in her grip around his torso, she needed him.

Once inside the clubhouse, he followed her to the kitchen where she grabbed a block of chocolate and demolished it in under a minute. Her mind was far away, and her eyes were dimmer than usual.

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asked her. Surely that mind-numbing love story with the man’s conditioned hair blowing in the wind on the fucking front cover of the DVD would cheer her up.

“Okay,” her little voice answered.

Once inside the bedroom, he popped the movie in and brought her close to his chest. She wrapped herself around him like a pretzel, burying her head into his chest as they watched on. Thank fuck he had some beer to drink down – it numbed his senses during the two long, long hours of melodramatic bullshit.

She’d fallen asleep before the movie ended. He laid her down on the bed, stroked the hair away from her face and traced his finger lovingly down her cheek. Fuck, he thought she was beautiful. He got up and threw the covers over her. Then he went downstairs and to the surveillance room where he made an important call.

“I wanna see the tape tomorrow, Frank,” he demanded. “I need to know if that shit is true.”

Once he hung up, he paced the clubhouse for hours, drinking beer after beer. His fingers twitched unsteadily – the raw need to smoke at this kind of stressful situation arose in him. He fought against it. He hadn’t had a cigarette in three fucking years and lived through far more worse news than this.

Well… kinda. This was pretty fucking bad.

The need for a distraction continued to rise until he was a bundle of nerves. Fuck this shit. Fuck that shit. Fuck all the shit in the world. Fuck it ten times, twenty times, upside down, right side fucking up. Fuck it ALL!

He stopped and leaned into the nearest wall, resting his head against it.

If it’s true? If what’s on that tape is true… What then? What fucking then? For once, Remy didn’t know.

The sound of giggles erupted from the entrance way. Logan stumbled in with two girls. The man was so drunk he didn’t even make it ten steps. He collapsed into the couch – the same fucking couch Fritz practically lived on, fucking yuck – and the girls fell into him. More giggles and then the sounds of wet kisses and the zip of his jeans.

Remy shut his eyes tightly. He was so used to this shit, had always seen it in passing, but fuck, tonight it gnawed at him something awful. He hadn’t been inside a woman since… since… Oh, fuck, he couldn’t even remember. It’d been months. Lust formed at the pit of him as he entertained the notion of finally getting fucked. At the snap of his fingers he could have those two women right then and there, legs spread, pussies out. Perks of being VP – he was higher up the food chain to Logan.

The sounds hardened him instantly. Now that would be the perfect distraction. Just a word, one little demand and they would be–

He turned around and rushed up the stairs. No.Fucking.Way.

He wouldn’t be like his sick fuck of a father. He wouldn’t do that to Sara. She was all he wanted, not those two cent fake ass skanks begging for a root they didn’t even care for all in the hopes of getting their drug fix later on in the night.

He needed her. Needed her so fucking badly, he was shaking. He burst into the room and climbed into the bed. Throwing the covers off, he turned her on her back and rested over her. She began to rouse awake when he needily began kissing her. Startled, she opened her eyes and moved away from his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked cautiously.

“No,” he answered before he took her lips again. He pushed deeply into her mouth, tasting her tongue against his. Fuck, she was a breath of fresh air. She was so perfect.

Unable to hold back, his hands roamed every inch of her, gripping her every soft curve like it was air to his lungs. He’d cornered her like a prey, peeling her pants roughly off of her, reacting purely on his own self-gratification.

“Remy,” she breathlessly said, pulling her face away from his. “You’ve been drinking…”

He trailed his tongue down her neck and sucked her fiercely the way she liked. Her lower body couldn’t resist what it wanted. She tried so fucking hard not to rub herself against him. He pushed her shirt up but she snatched it quickly from him, not wanting to take it off. He wouldn’t relent. He tore her underwear off in under a second, and she immediately seized.

“Remy,” she said, but it came out like a plea. A plea for what? For more? Fuck yes. Fuck yes a million times.

He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and pulled the zipper down. He didn’t even want to take his clothes off. He’d waited far too long for this. He just wanted inside that…

“Remy,” Sara said again, harder than before. “No, Remy. You’ve been drinking.”

He shut her up with his mouth, but her legs automatically closed the second he tried to spread them.

“Stop, stop,” she said, moving away from his face. “Stop it, Remy. No!”

“Let me in,” he gruffly ordered, gripping her hip tighter than he’d intended. “Let me in, Birdy. Let me the fuck in.”

He felt her head shake.

“Let me the fuck in!” he growled.

He overpowered her and spread her legs wide. He’d waited long enough. Too long. Fuck her if she thought she could say no to him one more time! That shit wasn’t happening. His body was primed for this; he was lost in the desperate need for fulfilment, all rational thought escaped him.

“Please,” she cried hysterically.