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Cheesecake makes me think of strawberry drizzle, and fuck if my horny mind doesn’t force me to picture the tips of Devyn’s tits coated in sweet, sticky sauce, begging to be licked off.
I clench my fists several times before reaching out to open the bedroom door. I know if I stay in my room, I’ll pull my cock out, and probably gasp her fucking name as I come. I can’t fucking have that, now can I?
The voice in my head that always pushes me toward temptation tells me it’s fine. That voice has been the loudest of all since the moment Devyn arrived at the clubhouse. Thinking of Vaughn’s sister like that makes me feel like I’m betraying my friend’s memory.
The kitchen is busy, people bustling around, working on preparations for the party this evening, where we’ll be welcoming the newest members of Cerberus. I sort of feel like I know Hemlock, Oracle, and Newton already from the bios we went over as a group last week. Reading their information felt a little invasive, but I know everyone before me did the same with mine. Maybe it's because I’m from the most recent group of guys to join, and it’s still really new for me. The new guys will no doubt be nervous. I know I was, despite what happened that first night.
The night Bishop, Stormy, and I arrived, Ugly was drugged, and it set into motion a whole fucking array of shit that included a serial killer and the murder of several women. Not to mention Bishop being drugged and left in a coma for over a month. I think everyone is hoping for a less eventful welcome this time around.
My eyes immediately find Devyn even though I have no damn business looking in her direction.
It makes me a misogynistic asshole for getting annoyed that she’s not a virgin. I don’t blame anyone for it. She’s an adult after all, but I still hate whatever man got that piece of her. I don’t even know anything about him, but I know he didn’t deserve it. No one, including myself, would be worthy of that gift.
The dress she’s wearing, another upcycled invention no doubt, teases the back of her thighs. Although I’m not a man too big on fashion, I’ve paid enough attention to her to know that I haven’t seen the little bootie shoe things she’s wearing before. I’ll be mad if I find out someone else took her shopping. I agreed to be the one to take her places in exchange for my investment. If I’ve been robbed of an opportunity, I’ll be livid.
Once again I cross the room, choosing to take a seat on the side of the table that will leave me facing those in the kitchen. Stormy has that same knowing grin on his face that he always has when I’m in the same room as Devyn. Discreetly, I flip him the bird, this type of interaction becoming common these days.
“Still hard up for that one, huh?” Stormy asks before I can sit down.
I glare at him, wondering how far his voice traveled.
Kincaid would skin us both if we made anyone in here feel uncomfortable.
“Would you leave it alone?”
He shakes his head, grinning like the asshole he is. “Are you really going to keep fighting it this hard?”
“There’s nothing to fight.”
“The way the two of you watch each other says differently.”
“She watches me?”
He chuckles, and I know I just failed some type of test.
“Asshole,” I grumble under my breath when he chuckles. “But seriously, does she watch me?”
“Do you know how many issues can be solved by people just talking to one another? We’d probably have a cure for cancer and a solution for world hunger and world peace.”
Instead of staying in the kitchen being forced to listen to him, I stand back up. Like the pest that he is, Stormy stands as well.
I don’t know if it’s my imagination or what, but I feel like her eyes are on me when I leave the kitchen.
“You really think everyone will leave her alone if you don’t claim her?” Stormy asks as we head out the front door of the clubhouse and take a right off the porch toward the garage.
“She isn’t a piece of furniture,” I mutter. “Claiming people isn’t a thing.”
“Yet you were incredibly quick to step in front of me when I volunteered to marry her if you don’t.”
“I’m not marrying her,” I assure him, growling when he opens his mouth to speak. “And you sure as fuck aren’t either.”
“I would,” he says, his tone growing suddenly serious. “If that’s what she needed. I’d do that.”
“You don’t even fucking know her,” I argue, my feet feeling like a million pounds.
“Don’t have to know her to see how beautiful she is, and she’s young. I bet she’s eager to please.”
