Frankie’s breath catches, and her eyes droop. My baby’s hungry for more.
Rolling Frankie onto her back, I settle between her legs, her soft thighs cradling my hips. The sight of her beneath me—flushed skin, swollen lips, messy hair—makes my cock twitch back to life.
“Gonna fuck you again,” I growl, crashing my lips to hers.
She whimpers into my mouth, her body arching up to meet mine as I kiss her long, deep, and wet. My hand slides down to grip her thigh, hitching it higher on my waist when?—
The shrill ring of my phone cuts through the moment like a knife.
“Fuck,” I groan, burying my face in the crook of Frankie’s neck. This can’t be fucking happening.
My phone rings again.
Raising my head, I plant a hard kiss on my baby’s lips and reach for my phone on the nightstand. “Someone better be fucking dying,” I growl into the receiver.
“Fuck time’s over,” Tacoma drawls, sounding bored.
I glance over at Frankie, her body still sprawled invitingly across my bed. “Was actually just getting started,” I mumble, watching as she pulls the sheet up to cover herself.
Tacoma groans. “TMI, motherfucker. TMI.”
“What do you want?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Church in an hour. Time to get some answers out of Bert and Ernie.”
My eyes narrow at the mention of those pieces of shit who tried to take Saylor and put their hands on my woman. “I’ll be there.”
The line goes dead, and I toss the phone back on my nightstand, scrubbing my hands over my face. Turning to Frankie, I find her watching me with those big brown doe eyes.
“I gotta take care of some business, babe. Gonna drop you at the clubhouse for a bit.”
She sighs, sitting up and letting the sheet fall to her waist. “I need a shower first. My back is sticky.”
I lift a brow, thinking about her walking around with my cum on her body. “No.”
“No?” Her brows snap together. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no.” The caveman in me wants to pound his chest and shout from the rooftop that Frankie’s mine.
“Bane!” Her cheeks flush crimson. “That’s disgusting.”
I shrug, climbing off the bed and pulling her up with me. “Put these on.” I dig in my dresser drawer and pull out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
She pops a blonde brow. “I need to go to my place and get some of my own clothes.”
I grunt in response. I’m not taking her back to that fucking place. Hell no, not after everything that’s happened. She’s staying with me now, where I can keep her safe.
I watch as she covers her body with my clothes, thinking it’s a crying fucking shame to hide all that perfection. Then I pull on my jeans, shove my feet into my boots, slide a clean tee over my head, and shrug into my cut.
“Ready?” I ask as she finishes pulling her hair up into another messy bun.
“I guess,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest.
I light a cigarette and take her hand, leading her out of the loft. The dogs follow us down the steps, trotting alongside as we make our way across the compound to the clubhouse.
Inside I spot Foxy sitting alone at a table, her raccoon Panda in her lap, and her eyes narrowed at Destiny. Jesus. My brother has his hands full with that one.
“C’mon,” I mutter, tugging Frankie toward the table. Maybe she can keep Foxy from killing the club whore while I’m gone.
