Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2) (2 page)

Once she starts touching her clit, her voice goes a bit deeper and I feel her shudder underneath me as her pussy starts to swell around my cock.

I close my eyes and imagine it’s Brentlee. It’s been almost eight years since I’ve been in her pussy, but I’ll never forget the way it felt. Nothing else could compare.

I start to pound into her harder. I know I’m going to bruise her up, but I can’t find a fuck to give as I feel my nuts tighten. Finally, I come. I don’t stay inside of her even a second after my release. I pull out and yank the condom off of my cock, tying a knot in it and throwing it in the trash can.

“Gonna hit the head; be gone when I get back,” I bark as I leave the room.

When I come back, the bitch is gone. I climb back into bed and I close my eyes. Sleep finally takes over, but it isn’t dreamless. It’s full of Brentlee.

“I love you so much, Bates,” she says, kissing my neck down my chest and just above my jeans.

Fuck, I feel like I’m going to blow my load right here and now.

“Love you, too, baby,” I whisper, trying and praying that I can hold it together for a few more minutes.

“I want to suck you,” she murmurs as she begins to unzip my pants. I swear to Christ my prayers are answered in this second.

I wake with sweat covering my body, remembering the first time Brentlee took me in her mouth. I embarrassed myself, coming within seconds, but she took it all and then she smiled as I wrapped her in my arms.

Brentlee wasn’t my first lay, but she was the best. Even now, a decade later, nobody can compare.

I told her once that I didn’t have a heart because I gave it to her.

She still owns it all these years later.

Always has and always will.

Three Years Later

Sniper

It hasn’t been nearly long enough since the last time I laid eyes on Brentlee.

My heart picks up at the sight of her, and for whatever reason, I stupidly want to see more. It’s like I want to punish myself further, but it’s Brentlee. I’ll never pass up an opportunity even just to watch her.

I look so much different now than when she saw me last. I’m nothing like the boy she knew, so I cross the street and follow her into the store she’s slipped into. I trail behind her, close but not too close.

I watch as she picks up the ugliest fuckin’ puke green dress I think I’ve ever seen in my life. Then, she sighs and it goes straight to my dick.
Fuck
, I remember how she would sigh as soon as I slid my cock into her tight cunt.
Fucking beautiful.

“
Hello
,” she whispers lightly into the phone. Her voice is deep and husky, another thing that makes my dick hard.

“Yes, Scotty, I understand. No, no, everything will be ready on time. Yes, I’ll be presentable,” she murmurs gently, too fuckin’ gently—as if she’s afraid.

Fear
.

I know that emotion well. I’ve lived it my entire life, and to hear it come from Brentlee’s lips makes me sick. I move around so that I can see her from the front, and when I do, I feel rage fill me from head-to-toe.

She’s done a good job trying to hide it, but she has a black eye. It isn’t fresh either, probably a day or two old. I know because I watched my mother sporting the exact same bruises my entire childhood.

I choke down the bile that threatens to rise. I left her all those years ago and I told her to live, I never thought she wouldn’t live and live happily.

I want to turn and leave, but I’m frozen to my spot, watching her every move—her every tentative move. She’s a fucking shell of a person. Nothing like the girl she was when I loved her.

My
tigritsa
no more.

I watch as she pulls out a credit card and pays for the god awful dress before she walks out of the store. Then, after a few minutes, I follow, leaving the store. I throw one leg over my bike and I head toward the clubhouse, toward my brothers—my family.

I need a good fuck and some booze.

How did she let herself get mixed up with this piece of shit?
This dirtbag
. She deserves so much better than him, than how he obviously treats her.

I close my eyes for a beat.

I need to not think about how I fucked up Brentlee’s life. It was me—my fault. She would have still been mine, she would have waited for a fucking eternity for me, had I not pushed her away. I pushed, and I even made sure Mary-Anne started ignoring her.

I thought I was doing it all for the best, but she’s living in fear with some piece of shit, and I’m the one to blame. If I would have kept her, she wouldn’t have chosen him, she would have always—
always
, been mine.

“Woah, slow down there, brother,” Fury chuckles as I practically run toward the bar once I arrive at the clubhouse.

I don’t slow down. I growl to the prospect behind the bar that I want a bottle of Jack, and I want it right-fucking-now.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Fury grunts as he slides up next to me.

“I didn’t know,” I mumble.

“You’re gonna need to fill me in,” he urges.

I unscrew the cap and start to guzzle the liquid, letting it burn my throat before I turn to Fury, my friend and brother. He doesn’t know much about me. I keep my shit wrapped up tight, but this I can’t keep in.

“I saw Brentlee,” I confess.

“Kent’s sister? Okay…” Fury says.

I can see the confusion written all over his face, and I don’t blame him. I would be, too; especially since I haven’t said fuckall about Brentlee to anybody. I haven’t spoken her name since the day I left this town five years ago. It hurt too fucking bad.

“Loved her.
Love
her. Fuck, I don’t know,” I mutter. “I saw her today; I think her man beats her.”

The words put a bitter taste in my mouth. I hate uttering them out loud.

“You want to go and get her?” he asks.

I arch a brow, but he doesn’t waiver. The crazy fucker is serious, which makes me think he’s more serious than I thought about LeeLee—Brentlee’s sister.

“Nope,” I say, shaking my head once before I take another huge swig of liquor.

“We got muscle, brother,” he offers.

“Won’t matter. I know women that are abused, they never leave,” I say as I start to stand.

“You writing her off, then? Woman you love?” he asks.

“You gonna claim your woman?” I ask, shutting his pussy ass up.

Fury calls my name after I’ve already started walking away, but I can’t give enough fucks to turn around and acknowledge him. I need to fuck this feeling away or I’ll have nightmares all night. I can already feel that panic rising in my chest.

I see a couple of whores hanging out by the pool tables and I lift my chin to both of them. Quickly, and without question, they stand and teeter on their high heels as they follow me. I open my door and let them walk into my room, but I don’t close the door behind me. I could give a fuck if anybody sees me with these two bitches.

“Naked,” I grunt as I take another healthy swig of Jack.

I watch as they strip and take note of their skinny frames, the blonde has no tits, and it makes me think of Brentlee and her long, lean body. I try to shake her image out of my mind as I take my own clothes off, but I can’t.

I walk up to her and look into her blue eyes, not lifeless yet, but dulled. One day she’ll have completely dead eyes, especially if she stays here long enough.

“You ever been fucked in the ass, sweetie?” I ask her, my eyes staying focused on her.

“Once,” she whispers before she licks her bottom lip nervously.

“We’ll make it good for you. Her and me,” I promise as I run my thumb over her thin bottom lip.

“How,” she whispers shakily.

“You’ll see,” I grin before I press my lips to hers.

I spend the next several hours exhausting myself, and the two whores, completely out. I decide not to kick them out quite yet, I might want to fuck one, or both, of them later. Usually they get booted out right after I come, but tonight I might need more physical relief. I close my eyes and will myself to sleep, all I need is a few hours.

What feels like minutes later, I crack my eyes open to find two arms slung over me. One across my chest and the other across my stomach. They belong to two separate women, and I cringe at the thought of letting them stay in my bed until morning. Not something I would ever do, normally. Last night I was beyond hammered; I don’t even remember everything that happened. I blacked out right after I fucked the cute little blonde’s ass.

“Up,” I murmur as I throw their arms off of me, earning nothing but moans and groans.

“Get your asses up,” I grunt a bit louder. I smack each of them on their bare asses, hard, watching the immediate handprints form on their skin.

“What the hell?” blondie shrieks as she rubs her ass.

“Up and out,” I bark, immediately regretting it. It makes my head pound.

The girls grumble and mumble but eventually leave me alone. I sit on the edge of the bed, naked, with my head in my hands—not because of my screaming hangover, but because the memories all flood back.

Brentlee—bruised. My guilt feels like a heavy brick in my gut. It’s all because of me. She’s being hurt because of me.

Because I left her. I pushed her away.

She won’t leave him. Women in those situations never do. I know. I tried to make my mom leave time after time, and she refused every single one. No matter how much she agreed that it wasn’t right, that
he
wasn’t right. Brentlee will be no different. She’ll either live her life barely surviving, or she’ll die by his hand, and there’s nothing I can do to save her.

I can’t save anybody.

All I do is destroy.

I pick up the empty bottle of Jack and throw it across the room, watching it shatter against the wall—feeling
nothing
.

Present Day

Brentlee

I
t’s time.

There is no way around it. There is no more denying that my relationship is abusive and toxic. It will never improve. Last night was the
last
time. Scotty laid his hands on our daughter, and that shit will never—
ever
—happen again.

I quickly throw some clothes into bags and make sure to pack Stella’s favorite toys and her sleep lovie blankee.

Stella, my three-year-old, little, innocent girl, is watching Mickey Mouse, oblivious to what is about to happen. I call her name as I turn the television off, and she stands up and runs toward me as if she hasn’t seen me in years. I take her hand, wincing at the dark bruise that has formed on her arm.

That asshole grabbed her and shook her so hard yesterday, I was afraid she’d have shaken baby syndrome. I stayed up with her all night, vigilantly waiting and watching for the slightest hint of trauma.

“Where going, mama?” she asks, noticing our bags.

One rolling suitcase for me and a duffle bag for her. Six years of my life has dwindled down to
this
. I couldn’t be happier, though. I don’t want anything he’s bought me. The small stack of cash in my purse is the only thing of monetary value that I’m bringing, and that is only because money is a
need
—not a
want
.

“To see your Auntie Kentlee,” I announce. Her eyes widen.

I have told my baby girl all about her beautiful Auntie and her big, strong uncle.

I take her hand and we walk; we walk all the way to the bus stop. I refuse to take anything more from him than I need. A car is a luxury, and it is in his name anyway. I don’t need a damn thing from him, except our daughter.

I’ve never been on public transportation before, but I would ride on the city bus for the rest of my life if it meant I wouldn’t have to see that asshole, Scotty, again.

Stella fidgets beside me as the bus slows and stalls at each and every stop, regardless of if there are people waiting to get on or not. I watch as our small city disappears and we are let off at the edge of town.

The last bus stop.

It’s deserted out here, but I know what is at the end of the winding dirt path.

Salvation
.

Dragging my suitcase with one arm while I hold Stella’s hand with the other, we slowly walk toward our destination. She’s solemn. She can sense a change, and I hope that whatever happens, I don’t scar her for life. Not that she hasn’t already been scarred in her short three years of existence. She’s seen more hell than a child her age ever should.