Rough & Rowdy (Notorious Devils #1) (6 page)

“Every man deserves to know he’s going to be a father, Kentlee. Let it be his choice if he wishes to be involved or not, but tell him about the child,” he counsels.

I thank him and leave the room, making the next appointment before going straight home. It is well after five in the evening and I need to decompress. I need to think about my life and re-evaluate my entire situation.

Every man deserves to know he’s going to be a father.

The words Dr. Parker said to me are on replay in my head.

I bite the side of my lip.

Dr. Parker is right.

Every man deserves to know if he is going to father a child.

I will let Fury decide what he wants to do with the information, but I am going to give him all of the information.

I think I pretty much know what his answer will be, based on the only real conversation we shared after the most amazing sex of my life. He will want me to
take care of it.

There is no way in hell I could do that. It is unthinkable. I don’t believe in abortion; and beyond that, I can’t imagine killing anything, let alone an innocent child that I carry inside of my body.

I could put the baby up for adoption,
I think to myself as I place my hand on my lower belly and gently caress my still flat stomach.

There is a living being inside of me and it’s a part of me, and part of Fury. I don’t think I could give away a life I created, either. I am twenty-three years old; I’m not a teenager anymore.

I’m an adult, and responsible adults take care of their lives, the mistakes they make, and whatever God throws at them. I can’t move back home, but I can adjust my life. I can give up my sweet Camaro for something more practical and affordable.

Money will be tight, but as long as I budget, I could probably squeak by. I can do this. I will do this — with or without a man’s help.

I decide to spend the evening trying to keep the baby and Fury off of my mind. Once I am home, I make a piece of toast and slather it with honey before I put a movie on. My distractions are fruitless. Not only does the sweet toast make me nauseous, but the movie does nothing to keep my mind off of the man and our baby.

Fury hasn’t really left my thoughts since I saw him that first time after my sister’s bridal dress shopping day. He’s right there in my head—consuming my thoughts, he’s wormed his way in and now, I’m afraid I’ll never be free of him.

I shouldn’t want to want him—at all.

But I do.

I want him so badly. It has nothing to do with the baby growing inside of me and everything to do with how I felt with him. Those few moments where he made me feel the most desired I have ever felt in my life and gave me the most perfect orgasm I have ever had. Just thinking about it again sends a shiver up my spine.

After another movie and a ginger ale to settle my stomach, I can’t handle it anymore. I need to tell him. I need to get it off of my chest.

I look over at the clock for the time — ten in the evening.

There is no better time than the present to tell
the
man
the truth. I know that if I wait, I will never say the words to him. I’ll chicken out.

I need to tell him now—not tomorrow and not next week. I just pray that he isn’t cruel to me. I have been an emotionally unstable, crazy, hormonal person the past week, and I can’t handle anymore insanity.

I take a deep breath and change into a pair of ripped up, old jeans that fit perfectly—for now—and a favorite V-neck, loose t-shirt. My long blonde hair is down and a bit wild, my makeup practically nonexistent, subtle and light.

This isn’t a beauty contest

I’m not man hunting. I’ve had the man, and although he was wickedly delicious, he is an asshole of epic proportions. I don’t plan on going back there with him. Ever. Even if he is my baby daddy. No matter how badly I want him.
Oh fuck, I’m so full of shit
. One look from his gray eyes and I’ll probably melt into a puddle of mush on the floor.

I pull into the clubhouse’s dirt lot and notice dozens of motorcycles parked in neat, straight lines. Everybody in town knows where the Notorious Devil’s clubhouse is, but that doesn’t mean that I have ever been inside of it before
.

I walk up to the door and open it, surprised that they don’t have a man standing guard. I would think a bunch of outlaws would have some guy on security duty, screening people who come inside.

The smell of smoke permeates the room, as does beer, sweat, and sex.

I scrunch up my nose at the latter.

My eyes roam over the space and I shudder.

There are men and women everywhere. The women are wearing either nothing, or next to nothing. The men are all decked out in jeans and leather. It is basically everything I had envisioned. Big men groping and screwing girls that look like they’re one step away from the street corner.

“Kentlee? What the fuck you doin’ here?” I swing around to see Jonathan Williams, a boy I went to school with, standing just a few inches from me.

“I’m looking for Fury,” I explain wide-eyed.

I didn’t even know Johnny Williams knew my name. He was one of the hottest guys in school, and now he’s even hotter, covered in ink with lean muscles and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He grins and shakes his head before lifting his chin toward the bar.

“He don’t know you’re comin’ does he?” Johnny asks. The answer dies on my tongue as soon as my eyes find Fury.

Fury

I
am fucked up.
I am a fuck up, too.
The Jack burns on its way down, but it doesn’t replace the ache I feel inside of me. I knew the bitch for a matter of hours, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t already ache for her.

Kentlee Johnson
.

That crazy fucking bitch wormed her way under my skin.

One look at her sweet innocent face, and I was fucking gone. One thrust inside of her tight cunt, and I was in another fucking, goddamned
hemisphere.

When she came—her cunt squeezing my dick, her eyes so fucking bright, her face in awe—I was in another galaxy.

Then she had to act like a crazy bitch.

What kind of twenty-three year-old bitch ain’t on birth control?

I knew the answer—
a good girl
.

Kentlee is what I crave. A sweet innocent pussy to sink into night after night, and she welcomed me without question.

I am being a prideful asshole.

Mama always told me that my pride would be my downfall. She was right. I want Kentlee like I want air, but I can’t bring myself to hunt her down and apologize –
fuck that.

I never apologize. I’ve never needed to. I’ll chase her down soon enough, but I won’t apologize.

“Hey, baby, you need my mouth tonight?” Kitty asks, rubbing her hard, fake tits on my arm. She isn’t even wearing a top. I scrub my hand over my face.
Fucking whore.

“On your knees,” I bark.

I watch as she happily sinks to her knees, in the middle of the bar. Kentlee would never do this, and I would never ask her to. No way in fuck would I want anyone to see her as anything other than
mine
.

Club whores are all the same. Ready and willing to spread any part of their body for a quick, fast fuck.

“Fuck, I love your cock. When are you going to put this beast to use?” she purrs, stroking my dick. I grab a fist full of her ratty assed hair.

“I don’t plan on ever fucking you, whore,” I spit at her as I nod down to my dick.

It isn’t going to suck itself.

“That’s cute,” I hear a sweet voice behind me, and I turn my head to see none other than the object of my obsession standing there, arms crossed over her chest, pushing those mouthwateringly soft tits up.

Kentlee Johnson
.

I kick Kitty off of me and stuff my semi-hard cock into my jeans before standing up to face the gorgeous little bitch, herself. Her nose is scrunched as she looks down on the half-naked Kitty in disgust.

“What the hell?” Kitty screeches.

“Go somewhere….
else
,” I bark at her. She quickly scrambles to her feet and runs off. “The fuck you want?” I turn my attention back to the smokin’ hot blonde in front of me.

She’s dressed in ripped up jeans and a baggy shirt. Kentlee isn’t even wearing anything sexy, yet my dick goes from half-mast to hard as a rock with one sweep of my eyes over her curvy body. I know what’s underneath all of that fabric, and my cock wants in there again.

“I need to talk to you,” she says, grinding her teeth together.

I nod my chin in the direction of my office. She may want to talk to me, but I’m gonna end up fucking her. No way can I not get inside of that cunt with her locked in my office with me. I grin as I watch her go.

Kentlee takes the initiative and I follow after her fat ass as she sways it toward the door. I ignore the men’s cat calls and odd glances. Kentlee is nothing like the women in this place, not even any of the Old Ladies can hold a candle to her.

A classy bitch
, that’s what she is—even in her tattered jeans and oversized shirt. She’s too good for this place. If I get my way, and I always do, she’ll be waiting for my cock to come to her daily. Never seeing the inside of this shithole again.

Kentlee

Fury is well…
infuriating
.

I shiver in disgust, imagining Katie Powell’s lips on his cock.

God, he’s a pig
,
and she’s still the same slut she was in high school.

Once I step into his dingy, messy office, I turn around to face him. He is standing in front of the door, legs spread and arms crossed over his massive chest, his gray eyes focused on me
intently
.

“What do you want, Kentlee? Coming down here at night, after weeks of silence?” he barks harshly.

I jump slightly, not expecting his booming voice.

“Well… you know how…” I begin, not knowing how to say it without blurting it out.

“Speak,” he growls, sounding like a damned lion. I narrow my eyes on him.

“
I’m pregnant, you asshole
,” I cry out before I cover my mouth in surprise.

I hadn’t planned on just yelling it like that. I wanted to ease him into it.

My eyes clash with his and the look on his face can only be described as — pure shock.

“
Knocked up
?”

I nod, unable to really say anything else. I am afraid to talk. If I speak the words again, they will indeed be true, and I am not one hundred percent convinced of them quite yet. I watch in awe as his eyes soften and he takes several long strides to stand right in front of me, only an inch separating our bodies.

“You gonna have my baby, babe?” he mutters as his hand wraps around the side of my neck, effectively making me weak in the knees like the idiot girl I obviously am.

“Yeah,” I sigh before I push him off of me. That asshole had Kitty on her knees for him just five minutes ago.

“The fuck?” he asks, reminding of that night so many weeks ago.

“Katie Powell was just about to service your cock when I walked in. No way am I letting you anywhere near me.”

“You think I give the first fuck about that whore?” he asks, stepping into my face and wrapping his hand around the back of my neck.

I shiver at the reminder of how his hand felt wrapped in the same place as he held me down and fucked my body into oblivion. I try to wrench myself from his hold, afraid to be so close to him, afraid that I’ll crumble and accept him back into my body.

“I think she’s a whore and you only care about getting off,” I admit, turning my head away from his.

Fury’s finger and thumb catch my chin and he guides my head back to look at me in the eyes. I gasp when he leans down and gently brushes his lips against my own before he rests his forehead against mine.

“Cut the shit, Kentlee. It’s you I been thinkin’ about for weeks. Now you’re here and I ain’t lettin’ you out of my fuckin’ sight,” he growls before he presses his lips firmly against my own in a bruising kiss. “Gonna have to fuck my baby mama now,” he growls.

I feel his big hand wrap around my ass and squeeze so hard I moan, throwing my head back as I press my breasts against his chest.

I throw up my hands to stop him, to ask him about his sudden change; but then his lips touch my neck, just below my ear, and I surrender to him — my willpower shattered.

“Fury,” I moan when his tongue slashes out and licks my skin. It’s warm, soft, and so fucking perfect, I actually purr.

“So sweet,” he murmurs against my skin as his hands move around to unbutton, unzip, and push my jeans down my hips.

In a flash, his knees are on the ground and his palm wraps around my flat stomach. I watch in fascination as he takes me in, his eyes staring at the part of me that carries a piece of him deep inside. Slowly, his head lifts and his gray eyes focus on mine.

“Never wanted any fuckin’ kids. Not ‘til you walked in through that door and dropped the bomb that you’re carryin’ mine. Never thought someone sweet and good as you would carry my kid, either. Gonna try and do right by you, babe,” he mutters, his eyes shining so brightly that I wonder if this is a dream or if he really means it.