Page 40 of 23 Hours

She screams, and she screams, garbled and broken. Her heart races against my chest, sweat cementing us together as we take more from her willing body.

Viper is the first to pull out, rip off his rubber, and shoot his seed across her back.

I’m next.

Heels digging into the mattress, my body bows off the bed as I convulse in ecstasy, filling the condom.

Niki swallows Kai’s offering last.

Without saying a word, my brothers gather their things and leave me with Niki for our time, the moments we spend together in the afterglow of animalistic sex.

Most days, I’d appreciate the space.

Today, I throw the well-fucked whore off me onto the bed and race to the bathroom to purge a chasm of guilt from the depths of my murky soul.

Tears matt my eyelashes as the goodness in me rears to the forefront with pictures of a beautiful woman with tattoos and purple hair.

Pissed at myself for feelin’ anything, I yank the condom off and throw the evidence in the trash as Niki’s concerned voice penetrates my ears, and I throw up again.

Fuck.

This isn’t normal.

I…Fuck…

Another heave leaves me listless, my stomach twisted in barbed knots.

“Gunz? You need me to do anything for you? Are you okay?”

“Leave. Please. I… I need my phone.”

A kiss is placed on the back of my head and my phone set on the tiled floor beside me. For once, Niki leaves without argument.

Then, I’m alone.

Naked on the floor of my bathroom, sick in the head, in the soul, in everything.

Too weak to stop myself, I text her. I know I shouldn’t, not after today, not after what I did…

I’m sorry. I can’t wait to see you when I get back. Please forgive me.

CHAPTERNINE

GUNZ

Bouncing Leech and Dom on my knees to keep ‘em occupied, Beth, a good friend of mine, talks my ear off on the couch cushion beside me. We haven’t seen each other in weeks. I’m not much for phone conversations, and texts only convey so much. Guess Bink invited her for the club dinner, even though we’re on lockdown. Tomorrow morning, we ride out.

Beth wiggles a finger at Dom, who gives her a big boy grin. She coos in turn.

“How’s Jonesy,” I ask, referring to her grandfather, whom she cares for. He used to run with the SS back in the day.

“Good. Still as sharp as a tack.”

We carry on, sharing stories of her gramps and other insignificant stuff as the rest of the brotherhood does their thing in the common room, eating food Bink and the Sacred Sisters prepared, drinking, and shootin’ pool. It’s a typical family night. No club whores, they’ll be by later, and I have no intention of staying for that after last night. Mindless sex is great and all when it doesn’t end how it did. I’ve never had anything like that happen before. Throwin’ up after fucking isn’t my idea of a good time. Neither is the myriad of emotional torment that followed. I think it’s best if I keep things as they are. It’s safer that way.

Oh, yeah, and if you were wonderin’ if my weak text to Kit resulted in a positive outcome, or any outcome for that matter, that’d be a negative on both fronts. No reply. Not a damn peep since I left the parking lot yesterday. I’m tryin’ not to dwell on it, but my mind finds ways to screw with me even when I think I’ve got it on lockdown.

“Bink told us you have a son,” Beth notes outta no-fucking-where. As if my thoughts on Kit weren’t bad enough, she’s gotta rub salt in the gaping wound that’s formed.

---