“From the sounds of it, perhaps she has reason to.”
I still was taking Spawn’s side in this. But I had genuinely always told everyone to not draw attention to us with women complaining.
“But as I’ve gotten to know you all better, I’m realizing…look, you all can be assholes. I don’t think there’s any doubt about that, and I think even you would acknowledge it’s a fair assessment. But I also understand that you’re not as bad as some may think. You swear, you drink, you do all sorts of shit, but beneath that hardass exterior, I think there are some genuine guys in there.”
“And if shit ever went to hell in this town, we’d be the first ones to protect your sorry asses. Not the cops, not the National Guard, but us.”
She cast a suspicious eye on me.
“I’m serious. We’re not pussies. If violence came here, we’d clean it up.”
“OK,” she said with a laugh.
“What? You doubt us?”
“No…”
“You should never doubt us.”
I moved in and put my hand back on her thigh. It got goosebumps all over it. I had her right where I wanted her.
“And that goes foreverything.”
“Everything?”
Was she asking me to make the move? Was she daring me to pull the trigger?
“You want to know?”
She turned her body into me and nodded. Her eyes were half-closed. Holy fuck. She really wanted me to pull the trigger on this.
And I didn’t dare hesitate for a fucking second as I moved in, pressed my lips against her, and kissed.
Hailey
Iwas completely swept up in the moment, and with Satan having finally apologized for what happened to my sister, I made no apologies for what I was doing.
That, even more than opening up in an interview setting, was what I’d yearned to hear. That acknowledgment they’d fuck up. That admittance they would try and make things right.
It was a damn miracle.
And now, Satan could get what he—we—wanted. This was just the start. I was finally doing what Leigh had suggested all along; I’d just needed to find the guy that could throw me off my feet, and Satan was that guy.
Well, need to learn his real name at some point. I can’t say I hooked up with Satan with a straight face.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Satan growled at the end of our kiss. “Or I’m going to take you in this booth right now.”
“OK,” I said, now completely in the thrall of Satan.
What a thing to be describing.
We hurried out of the lounge, barely taking care to adjust our clothes from pressing into each other, and hurried to his bike. The last ride had been a near-orgasmic experience, the kind of thing I knew I had resisted for good reason but was now fully confronted with embracing and accepting. He handed me a helmet, and though my body was shaking, everything was tingling with excitement.
Was I really fucking doing this? Was I really getting on Satan’s bike, riding home with him, and giving him what he wanted?
You got what you wanted.
And it was never the story, though that’s nice.
