Page 29 of Filthy Daddy


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“True.”

“If Tate doesn’t lose it soon, I’ll throat punch him for you.”

“You’re sweet. No need, though. I have to get to my shift. Besides. It’s not like I was looking for anything serious—”

“I get it, but it’s about respect. Anyway, drink up, little lady. He’s seething.” Axe raises his eyebrows. “Won’t be long now. How far are you willing to take this little game?”

“What are you concocting over there?”

“You’ll see,” he whispers. He leans in close enough to kiss me. I debate whether to go for it when a familiar inked arm appears between us.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tate shouts at Axe. He shoots me an angry gaze, then returns his death stare to Axe. “This ain’t happening, bro. She’s not getting with you.”

“I’m not?” I ask.

His face turns eight shades of red. He’s almost purple with rage. “Fucking right, you’re not.”

I hop off the bar stool and glare up at him, tempted to knee him in the groin to help make my point. “That’s a strange answer for someone who thinks I’m just a good lay. Nothing more, nothing less.” I say. “It’s a free country. We’re just scratching an itch, right?”


I don’t wait for an answer. My shift will start soon. I can use a long shower. Leaving him at Axe’s side, I walk away toward the stairs, although the satisfied feeling of putting Tate in his place is short-lived.

I care about him. And we’re more than fuck buddies. More than friends.

But none of that matters if he doesn’t feel the same way.

Chapter 9


Molly

I shove one leg after the other into a clean pair of black yoga pants after a long shower. Checking the drawer, I settle on a stretchy V-neck tank top to go over my sports bra. It’s easier to clean if I get any blood, sweat, or other fluids on me while patching up the boxers where I work. Eyeing my medical bag of first aid supplies on the bed, I remind myself to take an extra t-shirt for afterward. As I lift the tank top over my head and push an arm through the straps, the spot below my wrist is quickly covered by a familiar hand, and a large, warm body presses up behind me, pinning me to the side of the bed.

I barely get a second to react. Tate finds my other arm, now holding both my lower forearms above my head, his grip firm and rough as he grinds his hips against my ass and covers my breasts with his other hand. There’s no denying what he’s about to do to me. But I’m pissed. Right now, I’m tempted to push him away, but just as ready to let him take me. We both know exactly how to press each other’s buttons in and out of the bedroom. Which is the problem.

“Get this straight, Moll,” he grinds out against my ear. “In this clubhouse, you’re mine. Mine. Axe doesn’t get to touch you again, got it? And you know what I’m capable of when my pet refuses to please me. Two words and I’ll fuck your pussy the way you know you like.”

“And what way is that?”

“So hard you won’t be able to walk right after. That’s a promise, baby. Tell me what I want to hear.”

Yeah, right. He can lie to himself all he wants, but if he keeps acting like I’m nothing to him, I have no problem cutting him loose. That’s what I’m thinking, but my body says something else. I swallow hard. I can hear the pounding of my pulse as my heart races. Which is normal. My pulse jumps up a few notches every time his skin touches mine. I feel the heat of his harsh grip locked around my wrists.

I need to teach him a lesson but he makes me weak.

I want him so fucking bad.

A soft moan leaves my throat, and I press my ass against the heat of his groin, giving him permission without words.

“Say it, Molly. Tell me you’re mine,” he demands at my ear. His free hand moves up from my breasts and covers my throat with a feather-light squeeze that promises more if I don’t obey. “Who’s my wild little slut?” he asks, tightening his hold on my neck.

I can’t draw a full breath. My mind can’t think past his voice crooning in my ear, promising all kinds of sexual wickedness if I follow his orders. I keep my mouth shut. I can’t un-hear what he said downstairs. His double standard is pissing me off. Why the hell should I agree to say I’m his when he just dissed me like that? I push my ass backward, rolling my hips on the bulge of his rigid cock. There will be hell to pay for my silence.

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