“I fuckin’ know that,” I lie.

“Then why did you just call me Suds?”

Whoa. I fuckin’ did, didn’t I?

Jones would have a field day with this.

“Baby,” I say, because I’ve forgotten her name, again, “how ‘bout you take your G-banger off and let the stud do the rest of the talkin’?”

She huffs and then slowly lifts her short-arse skirt and tugs her underwear down. I grip her arse cheeks and pull her pussy to my face. She jerks her hips as I roll the stud around her clit. The greedy bitch grips the back of my head and holds me there, spreading her legs wider. I grip her arse cheeks tight. She groans as I work her to the point where her legs are shaking.

“Been wanting this puss for too long, Soph,” I mutter against her wet lips.

She takes a step back, draws her arm up, then releases. My head swings violently to the side as her open palm slaps my cheek with full force.

“Soph now?” she shrieks. “Way to make a girl feel special, you douche.”

She snatches up her underwear and heels from the floor and storms out of the apartment. I throw my head back against the soft padding of the lounge.

I have a big fucking problem.

What the hell is going on inside my head?

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SOPHIE

I wake up at eleven. I’m so glad I finally got some sleep, because this cold has knocked me off my feet. I think I’ve turned the corner, though, which is good, because I can’t afford to take a sick day from work.

I have a hot shower, and give my hair some attention, blow-drying it and straightening it. I’m meeting up with April for lunch today to talk hen’s party arrangements, which I’m pretty excited about. We never get to go out anymore, which is mostly my fault, so it’ll be good to have something planned, and something I can have a bit of time to save for.

Walking into the lounge room, I gasp. Rocco is sitting on the couch, his pants down around his ankles. He’s passed out, and his giant-sized cock is standing hard and proud. “Jesus,” I mutter. It’s like a fucking snake crawled over his lap. An angry snake, at that.

I’ll admit it. A certain, very needy lady part of me is turned on, but I’m more pissed than anything else. I thought maybe Rocco was turning a corner but then yesterday it was as if the tequila devil possessed him again. He couldn’t wait to write himself off.

I take my blanket from the other lounge and toss it at his crotch. Has he no self-respect?

“Wake up,” I yell at him.

Rocco mumbles and wipes the drool from the side of his mouth, grips the blanket and slowly peels opens his eyes.

“What’s … what’s the time?” he says, and groans.

“Will you look at yourself?”

“What?”

“You’re a mess. What the fuck are you doing with your life, De Luca?”

He widens his tired, bloodshot eyes, and drills me with those cold dark orbs. “I’m just following in my father’s footsteps, darlin’.”

“That’s a piss poor excuse, if ever I’ve heard one. You’re wasting an opportunity that others would kill for.”

“What the fuck kind of opportunity?”

“The job with Mac.”

“Mac’s fine. He knows I’m not perfect.”

“Mac’s a good man. He’s given you a chance; don’t fuckin’ waste it.”

“What the hell do you know about my life?”

“I know you have no respect for yourself or for the girls you fuck. I heard her slap you and storm out of here last night. The only place you’re going is to an early grave with a fucked-up liver and a serious case of STIs, and that’s a real shame, because I know you’ve got a heart in there somewhere. You should try wearing it on your sleeve sometime.”

“And what are you doing with your life?” he accuses me. “You’ve got dreams, whatever the fuck they are. Surely they don’t involve living with a drunk like me and scrounging for every cent.”

“I want kids,” I blurt out, and then instantly regret it. “I’m going places,” I say to cover up.

“Places? How? You’re studying to help people get a job, yet you don’t even try to get a decent one? How do you think you’re gonna help people?”

“My life is none of your business. You don’t know half the shit I’ve had to deal with.”

“You’re right. I don’t, but I can’t understand why you’re not trying.”

Not trying? He might as well have just stabbed me in the heart.

A flush of heat rushes to my face. “I am. How dare you say that I’m not?” I shout.

“You’re playing the martyr. You’re letting your past hold you back.”

I take a step closer and point an accusing finger at his face. “People in glass houses, fuckwit. Don’t try and pretend you know what it’s like to be me, to have been through the shit I’ve been through.”

He leans in, and huffs. “I should say the same fuckin’ thing.”

I take in a deep, shuddering breath, aware that my chest is rising and falling rapidly. He’s just slapped me in the face with the harsh reality that is my life. I’ve got a right mind to slap him back with one mother of a backhand. Arrogant fucker.

The house phone rings. Rocco scrambles with his jeans and nearly trips over on his way to the handset on the end of the kitchen counter. He couldn’t get off the lounge quick enough to answer it. Someone important? Probably the next fuck in line.

“Yeah,” he answers the phone with. Not hello, but yeah. Typical Rocco.

“Fuck … yeah I’m here,” he says after a pause. “Why? What’s happened?” Rocco storms to his room. He shuts the door, but I can make out the anger in his tone as the call continues.

It’s his place, and he’s entitled to his privacy, so why am I pissed that he had to leave the room? Am I just a busy body wanting to know what’s going on?

****

ROCCO

“Something’s up, Roc. I don’t know what, but I feel like there’s a big fuckin’ target on my back,” V says, his voice carrying his anxiousness. Shit. I’ve gotten him into trouble.

I stride down the hall to my room “Why? What’s happened?” This does not sound good. I close the door behind me. Soph doesn’t need to know about this. I don’t want her exposed to this side of my life.

“I’m scared to look anyone in the eye. Some cunt from the Rebel Raisers MC was moved into B Block and the whole fucking dynamic has changed. I won’t go into it, but some shit went down between our clubs a few months back, and anyone wearing my cut is in the firing line.”

Maybe the fact that they monitor these calls will help, give them more of a reason to move him out of harm’s way.

“Fuck me.” I let out a laboured sigh. “What can I do? Tell me, brother. You know I don’t wanna have anything to do with the MC, but if I have to go into that clubhouse swinging, I will. What is it gonna take to keep you safe?”

“There’s nothing you can do. I just have to ride it out. I’ll try and get a message back to Maddog and see if he can talk to the pres and make some kind of deal to get me protection.”

“I’ll see what I can do from my end,” I tell him before we say our goodbyes.

“Don’t. This shit is hard enough.”

Too late, brother.

V made no mention of moving into protection. How long does it take the fuckin’ paper pushers to take action with something like this? Every minute counts.

I can only hope that V taking the wrap for the drug offence is gonna get him some leeway with the club, and that somehow I can pay them off. When this is all over, they have to let him go.

With heavy steps, I rush to the bathroom and lift up the toilet seat, which is down for once. I empty what little contents are in my stomach. There’s a red tinge to the water, which is weird, considering I didn’t drink anything red. Fuck. The dry-heaving subsides after a while, and I’m left shaking in a cold sweat.