Page 40 of Filthy Savage
“Fuck, that sounds hot,” I tease. “Whatever happened toI’m so not sleeping with you ever again, Axe?” I ask, adding the highest pitched female sounding voice I can mimic.
She scrunches up her nose and narrows her eyes at me. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. “Whatever.”
“If it makes you feel better, I was taking care of arrangements for the next stop on our road trip.”
“Oh. Sounds fancy,” she mocks me.
“Ready to roll?”
“Yes please,” she says, and mutters under her breath, “Jackass.”
I shrug one shoulder and muscle the truck out onto the main road. “I’m the jackass who just saved you, doll. The dickhead you actually like.” I briefly glance over in her direction, turning the rock music station way up. She’s fighting the urge to smile over the pound of base in the speakers, and then her hand casually rests on my upper thigh as though she doesn’t even notice she’s holding onto me.
Like all the times before, her touch is like fire. It’s hot and urgent, begging for my attention. My jaw tightens. My chest is pounding. My hard-on won’t fucking quit. I’ve never felt like this for anyone else. It’s clear as day what it means, mainly because I’ve seen Cole, then Silas, and more recently, Tate all fall hard for their old ladies. Once they did, they couldn’t let fifteen minutes go by without making it clear these women were their property.
As her hand rests on my leg, as though I’m an extension of her own body, I crave this woman.
I’m ready to claim Angel as mine and mine alone.
“You okay?” she asks, squeezing my thigh.
All the muscles in my leg jolt and bunch tight, and my cock twitches behind my zipper.
“Never better,” I grumble, working hard as fuck to control myself.
Her fingers tense almost imperceptibly on my thigh, and without thinking I snatch her fingers up and bring her palm up to my mouth, gently brushing her soft, sweet skin with my lips.
“We’re going to my sister’s,” I tell her.
“Ohhh, nice. A blood relative,” Angel remarks, pulling her hand away slowly. “I can get all the good gossip.”
“I have no doubt you’ll win her over, sweetheart, but as for the impression she’ll make on you, well, I just can’t wait for the fireworks.”
* * *
I absolutely needto keep my sister’s location private, no matter what.
I pulled a couple of wrong turns that are quick enough to fix without Angel noticing. I still don’t like the idea of telling her who we’re visiting, and although the information settled her down, I have no reason to trust that her silence means she’s satisfied. About two hundred yards from my sister’s place, my instincts prove dead on.
Angel turns to face me, but says nothing.
“What?” I bark impatiently, pulling over to put the truck in park right here in the middle of the suburbs.
“With what happened last night, you should talk to someone.”
“I’ve been in worse situations.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not talking about the bad guys. I picked up bits and pieces. Those nightmares didn’t sound too cozy, you know?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m serious, Axe. No one should have to go through that alone.”
The sick joke is that I’ve not been alone. Though I might as well have been, with the way I was forced to grow up fast and look out for my sister after Social Services took us away from Vincent. Just because he wasn’t related to us by blood, Nancy and I ended up in foster care. The couple we ended up with was good to us, but in a way, that was the problem. They were so nice, Nancy began to think that suppressing what happened to us, pushing away the memory, keeping it hidden, would be easier. She didn’t look back because she didn’t want to feel like she was letting them down. When I turned eighteen, I left and went back to stay with Vincent. Nancy refused to leave, and when she hit eighteen, she carried on like she was one hundred percent their child.
“That’s the house,” I say as we turn onto Nance’s street.
“It’s a really nice slice of suburbia. What are we waiting for?”
