Madeline Sheehan - Unbeautifully

“Jesus Christ, bitch!” he yelled. “Who’s fuckin’ talkin’ about Kami! The only pussy I’m wantin’ is yours, you crazy shit, only right now I’m wantin’ to slap it!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t want anyone to know about us!” she cried and he half-expected her to stomp her feet like a cranky toddler.

He was going to kill her. Right now. She was going to be dead in about five seconds.

“Ripper!” she cried out as he barreled into her, hefting her over his shoulder “Let me go!”

“Did you hear what I fuckin’ said?” he yelled, slapping her ass. “You ain’t leavin’!”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” she shrieked.

In his bedroom, he threw her on the bed and bent over her, bringing them nose-to-nose.

“I can and I will, ’cause you actin’ crazy like this isn’t gonna do nothin’ but get us caught and me sent straight to ground. And bitch, if your old man caps me, you better be front and center at my fuckin’ funeral, cryin’ your goddamn eyes out.”

She went quiet and the angry lines in her face disappeared.

The next thing he knew she was giggling.

“Laugh it up,” he bit out angrily.

And the crazy bitch started laughing even harder.

Since it didn’t look like she was going to stop anytime soon, he figured he had two choices to shut her up. Knock her out or…

He slammed his mouth down on hers and kissed her hard, ignoring her protests and pathetic attempts at fighting him off, until she was kissing him back with equal desperation and turning him on something fierce.

“You’re gonna drive me motherfuckin’ crazy, ain’t you, baby?” he mumbled against her mouth as he pushed her thighs open and settled his hips between them.

“Excuse you?” she demanded, digging her nails into his back. “Me? Drive you crazy?”

Ripper grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and yanked it up to her neck, baring her upper body. “Are we fighting or fucking?” he growled, roughly fondling one firm, perfect breast. Quivering, covered in gooseflesh, her nipple peaked, begging him to suck it inside his mouth.

Her blue eyes positively burned holy hell fire and his cock swelled at the sight of them. Danny was going to drive him crazy, but fuck him, if she wasn’t going to be worth every crazy moment of it.

“We’re fucking,” she hissed.

“Damn straight,” he muttered and slammed up inside all that eager sweetness.

“Where the fuck is Ripper?” Deuce demanded, glancing around his office at all his boys. He pinned Mick with a glare. “I told you to have everybody here when I got in.”

Arms folded across his chest, his VP shrugged. “Called him six fuckin’ times, Prez. He wasn’t even tryin’ to pick that shit up.”

“He got outta here pretty quick after lockdown,” Hawk said from across the room. “Probably shot outta town and is shacked up in some no-tell motel, stackin’ pancakes as we speak.”

Deuce shook his head. “If he can’t drag his sorry ass outta bed when I call a meeting, I ain’t repeatin’ jack shit for him. One of you assholes will have to tell ’im.”

“This about Big Jay?” Tap asked.

He nodded. “Hit went down last night. Demons took him out clean, half his crew too. The rest scattered, some were caught, are bein’ interrogated as we speak, and some got away. Way it goes.”

“What about his bitch of a sister?” Cox growled, his hand automatically going to the piece he kept under his cut.

Deuce eyed him; Cox and Ripper had always been tight, only a year apart and had been brought into the club around the same time, no family, no friends. They’d grown real close real fast and Mama Vi had specifically threatened Ripper.

He shook his head. “No one knows. But she hasn’t surfaced as of yet and Preacher doesn’t think she’s gonna, not without backup. She wasn’t the brains of the operation, just the muscle, and by muscle I mean a big bag of crazy willin’ to do whatever’s necessary. Ain’t too much she can do without the big man tellin’ her which way is up, but still keep your eyes out for her or anyone else outta LA who might be nursin’ a revenge hangover.”

“That’s it, right, Prez?” Jase asked, his eyes on the door, obviously itching to see Dorothy after a week on the road.

“Respect your prez much, asshat?” Hawk muttered. Jase’s narrowed gaze shot to Hawk and the guy met him stare for stare.

“Brother, what the fuck is your problem?” Jase asked, jerking his chin up.

“I ain’t your brother,” Hawk shot back.

The occupants of the room went eerily still. It was a low blow for any Horseman to say that to another, even worse because these were two of his lifers, patched in and loyal to the fucking bone. Whatever was going on between them wasn’t going to fly, and needed to be reeled in right the fuck now.

Cursing under his breath, Deuce pushed his chair away from his desk and got to his feet.

“Explain yourself,” he directed at Hawk. “Now.”

Just as Hawk’s mouth opened, Dirty was suddenly beside him, shoving the guy toward the door.

“Hawk’s been pukin’ his guts up the whole time you fuckers were gone,” Dirty said over his shoulder, smacking Hawk’s head forward when the guy kept trying to glare at Jase. “Had a fever and shit. I’ve been sitting by his side, holding his hair up and rubbin’ his tummy and shit, and he still ain’t feelin’ so hot.”

The door slammed behind them and Jase turned to him. “What the fuck?” he shouted. “Prez, you gonna let that shit stand?”

Feeling more like an elementary school principal than an MC president, Deuce turned to his VP. “Somethin’ go down around here that I need to know about?”

Mick gave him a blasé shrug. “Fuck if I know what these fuckers are doin’ with themselves. I got kids and shit, can’t be babysittin’ grown-ass men all the time.”

“Get out,” he said irritably, gesturing to his office doors. “All of you, get the fuck out.”

One by one his boys left until only Blue remained.

Deuce eyed the old man. “Somethin’ you need?”

“Worried ’bout you, boy,” Blue said quietly.

He gaped at him. Who the fuck called a fifty-year-old man a boy? But then again, nobody knew Blue’s true age. Never had any of the brothers known Blue without a full head of long white hair and an equally white beard. The man’s eyes were a milky cataract-infested mess, his teeth long ago rotted out, and his skin nothing but a mass of mottled wrinkles. Yet, he was healthy as a horse and could throw back a bottle like he was twenty-five when in all likelihood he was a hundred and sixty.

“You’re hurtin’,” Blue continued. “And ain’t no one blamin’ you for that. You and Eva sure done been through some shit. But, Deuce, this shit ain’t your fault, it ain’t Eva’s fault, it ain’t no one’s fault ’cept for Frankie and he’s long gone.”

Used to these longwinded bullshit speeches from Blue, Deuce sat down heavily in his desk chair and prayed it would be over soon.

“I get you, always have,” Blue said. “Reaper was a special brand of bastard, we all knew it, and we all watched you growin’ up fightin’ for your next breath. You never knew nothin’ else, always fightin’, even with Eva you were still fightin’. You don’t gotta be fightin’ anymore.”

“I ain’t fightin’ nothin’,” he growled. “You—”

“You got ghosts,” Blue interrupted. “I know it. Hell, we all fuckin’ know it. You got ’em followin’ you everywhere you fuckin’ go. You got Reaper breathin’ down your neck and now Frankie’s back there too. You ain’t gonna move forward unless you dig yerself a hole and throw that bullshit six feet under, set it on fuckin’ fire and bury that shit. Otherwise you ain’t no good to no one, least of all yerself.”

Fuuuuck this shit.

“Shut up, old man,” he bit out. “I’ve had enough motherfuckers tellin’ me what I should and shouldn’t be doin’ lately.”

“She loves you,” Blue continued, ignoring him. “A fuckin’ dumbass could see that. You’re pushin’ her away again and she’s leavin’ this time, mark my word, Deuce. She’s leavin’ you this time.”

“She ain’t leavin’,” he said through his teeth. Was she? Did he even care?

His jaw clenched. Yeah, he did and no way was she leaving.

Blue shook his head again.

“You stupid? Ain’t no woman gonna walk away from a man just ’cause he’s crazy or ’cause his job ain’t all sunshine and roses. Fact, you bein’ crazy, this life bein’ what it is, is probably only makin’ her love you more. Women are stupid like that. But you’re fuckin’ yourself. You don’t start givin’ that girl what she needs and she’s gone, and listen to me when I tell you, you ain’t never gonna find a woman who loves you like that one does.”

Deuce closed his eyes, remembering.

Bending down in front of Eva, he looked into her eyes. “What do you want, babe?”

She turned away from him and hid behind her hair, but not before he saw her turn bright fucking red.

He filled with primal male satisfaction. She wanted him. Her, a fucking angel in a mess of demons, wanted him, one of the biggest fucking demons he knew.

“Say it,” he said harshly.

Fuck. What the fuck was he doing?

She turned back to him and tucked her hair behind her ears. God, that face. That sweet, perfect face.

“You a virgin, Eva?” He already knew the answer.

“Yes,” she whispered. Christ.

He leaned in closer, close enough to smell the nicotine and beer on her breath. “You ever been kissed, darlin’?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “No,” she breathed.

Good. So fucking good.