Madeline Sheehan - Unattainable

And none of it was off-putting. In fact, the more he watched her, the more he liked her imperfect body, her darker skin, and jet-black hair. She looked nothing like the club whores, those fake blondes with fake tits, their bodies covered with tattoos and leather.

More importantly, she looked nothing like his foster mother. She was nothing like his foster mother. She would never hurt a child. She was kind even when she didn’t have to be.

“Dirty?”

Dirty’s eyes traveled up the front of Ellie’s body, raking over her generous breasts before landing on her beautiful face.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your real name?” she asked. “I feel so strange calling you Dirty.”

His stomach flipped. No one but Deuce knew his real name, and no one had called him by his real name since her.

Agitated excitement rose from his gut to his throat. He wanted to tell her, he wanted her to know, but he wasn’t sure why he wanted her to know, or what the repercussions of her knowing would be.

“Michael,” he said quickly before he could talk himself out of it.

Ellie’s eyes widened in surprise and then just as quickly, her lips split into a smile.

“Michael,” she murmured. “A great prince of Heaven and the protector against the forces of evil.”

Dirty stared at her. Did she just liken him to a motherfucking angel? A protector? Him? She really was insane. Or maybe that beat-down she’d taken had left her with some fucking brain damage?

“Thank you, Michael,” she continued softly. “For protecting me.”

He swallowed hard. She had no idea who she was thanking, that the monster she thought he was protecting her from in fact lived inside of him.

“Get the fuck off me,” I whispered, shoving at Cage’s wandering hands. “Everybody is staring at us.”

Actually, staring probably wasn’t the right word. Everyone who was currently in the main room was gaping at us. Or snickering. Bikers, their old ladies, and kids had all piled in for lockdown and the ones who hadn’t been here when Deuce and I had gotten into it, had quickly been informed. To make matters worse, Cage was groping me 24/7.

It was everything I’d always wanted growing up.

But now, it was embarrassing as all hell. The only people who didn’t seem to think our sudden coupling was the best comedy show of the season were Deuce and Eva. Deuce was ignoring us entirely and Eva was sending warm smiles in our direction. Smiles that were nearly as embarrassing as all the laughter.

And then there was Danny. She hadn’t said one word to me, hadn’t even so much as looked my way.

ZZ.

She’d heard everything and probably then some.

Strangely enough, I actually felt guilty. As much as I couldn’t stand Little Miss Perfect, I’d grown up with her and the thought of her hating me, really hating me instead of just being irritated with my usual shitty attitude, wasn’t sitting well with me.

Although Dirty’s initial appearance at the club, looking eerily like a Calvin Klein underwear model, and Ellie—of all people—staying with him, had taken the attention off Cage and me, Dirty was only making brief visits out of his room, mostly to the kitchen, so all attention was back on us again.

Stupid fucking lockdown. Stupid motherfucking lockdown. Not only was I trapped here but I was trapped here without my own clothing, forced to wear Kami’s, the only other woman here who was as thin as I was. The skinny jeans weren’t so bad, despite them being tighter than I liked, but the nearly sheer camisole, a silly and shimmering purple, was repulsive. I was literally counting down the minutes until the washing machine was freed up and I could put my own clothing back on.

And it was only Monday. I had two more days to endure. Maybe longer if whatever Deuce had going down on Wednesday didn’t go according to plan.

To make matters worse, my mother refused to leave Deuce and Eva’s room and Jase was practically camped out in the hall, hoping that she’d eventually come out. Hawk, thankfully, was keeping his distance, staying quiet and keeping Christopher busy. I had to give him credit for that; my poor mother wouldn’t stand an emotional chance if both of them came at her at once.

Speaking of emotional chances, I was still trying to figure out how to bring up the matter of her memory without upsetting her further.

As usual, the Hell’s Horsemen Montana Chapter was one big fat hot mess.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Cage growled, slapping my hands down as he used his body to push me backward. My back hit the bar counter and Cage’s arms came down around me, locking me in place.

“I’m hungry,” he said, his voice low as his face dipped into the crook of my neck.

“I’m not a kitchen,” I hissed, even as my eyelids fluttered from whatever his tongue was doing behind my ear.

“No?” he asked, laughing softly as his teeth grazed my neck. “So, all that pussy I been eatin’? That wasn’t you grindin’ my face like you were diggin’ for gold?”

Loud laughter erupted to my left and my cheeks heated with mortification. Cage, however, was completely oblivious or just didn’t care one way or the other.

“Please, Cage,” I begged, shoving at him again. “Please, not in front of everyone.”

Cage lifted his head and pulled himself to his full height, towering over me. “I want ’em all to know,” he whispered. “That you ain’t with Z. That you’re fuckin’ mine.”

Mine. His.

God, he was killing me. Slowly. I was a mere bystander to my own death, unable to move, only able to watch all the time knowing exactly what was coming.

“Gimme those lips, Teacup,” he whispered, bowing his head, pressing his mouth to mine. His tongue slid past my lips, his hand came up, and his fingers slid through my hair. Before I knew what I was doing, I was up on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal eagerness, forgetting where we were, forgetting that we were far from alone.

Out of all the men I’d been with, not one of my sexual experiences had been quite like this. Where I just couldn’t seem to stop myself, to say no—no matter what Cage was demanding of me, I still wanted more and more and more.

It was so good. So sexually satisfying and yet I still couldn’t keep my shit together around him. I had to have more.

His right hand slid up my back, under my borrowed shirt, and up my side, landing on my breast. My eyes went wide. Enough was enough.

“Stop it!” I yelled, shoving at him with all my strength, managing to at least dislodge his grip on my breast.

Shaking with laughter, Cage raised both his hands in the air, palms forward. “Calm down,” he said.

“Yeah, Tegen, calm the fuck down. It ain’t like we all ain’t seen Cage with his pants around his ankles a million fuckin’ times before.”

I turned to Anger, whose evil smirk only worsened as I glared at him.

“What?” he asked, shrugging. “You ain’t the first bitch he’d be havin’ on top of that bar. Ain’t the second, third, tenth, or forty-fifth either.”

My glare swung toward Cage.

No longer laughing, Cage let out an irritated growl. “Thanks a lot, fucker,” he shot in Anger’s direction. “It’s gonna take a fuckin’ crowbar to pry those legs back open now.”

My jaw dropped.

“What the fuck!” I shrieked. “What is wrong with you?”

Shoving past him, I ran from the room, hurt and humiliated. Again. God, he just kept doing it. And I kept letting him. Pissing me off, soothing the hurt with a few words, pissing me off again, embarrassing me, and then kissing away the sting.

Why was I such a dumbass when it came to him?

When I’d finally been able to sit down and think about everything that had happened, all in such a short period of time, all of it felt so off. Like this wasn’t my reality but instead a fling during a summer vacation, something I couldn’t take home with me, something that would leave me with only memories.

What was going to happen come Wednesday? Would Cage come to see me in San Francisco? Would I start making regular visits home again? A weekend here and there? Holidays? Would I stay with Cage instead of my mother from now on?

And what were we exactly? He’d said he wanted me on the back of his bike, that I was “his,” but had never elaborated.

As it was, any time I tried to bring this up with Cage, he wasn’t even trying to listen to me, just groping, kissing, and fucking me incessantly.

“Tegen!”

I stopped midrun and took a deep breath, not really sure what to expect, before turning around to face Danny.

Standing about ten feet away from me, Danny gave me a small smile. “I thought maybe you’d want some clothing,” she said and pointed to her room. “That wasn’t imported from a high-end designer in France.”

I blew out a breath of relief. No confrontation. I couldn’t handle any more confrontations. I was an emotional train wreck every time I came home and this time, oh God, this time was so much worse. Both good and bad. A confusing mess, both ugly and beautiful, and one I could no longer deny.

“But first,” she said as I began heading toward her. I stopped walking. Here it comes.

“What?”

“Is he okay?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “Is he happy?”

I stared at her, watched her shift uncomfortably, unable to meet my eyes. She did care about ZZ, that much was obvious.

“He’s okay,” I said. “But happy? No, he’s far from happy.”

She nodded listlessly as if I’d given her the answer she’d expected. Taking a deep breath, she again gestured toward her room. “Clothes?”