But sitting here now, drunk and alone, I could admit the truth. She wasn’t coming back. Not to this apartment, and definitely not to me.
I pulled out my phone and stared at her contact information. I’d called her number so many times that I had her voicemail message memorized. But the calls had stopped going through weeks ago when she’d blocked my number.
The smart thing to do would be to delete her contact. Accept that it was over and move on like my brothers wanted me to. Find a new woman, preferably one who understood the MC life and wouldn’t expect things I couldn’t give. The club girls were there for exactly that purpose—ready and willing whenever I wanted them. But I hadn’t touched any of them since Indira had walked in on me and Crystal. Hadn’t even been tempted. I’d made it clear to all of them that I wasn’t interested, that they were not to approach me. Some of them had looked confused, others hurt. Crystal had actually laughed, like she thought I was playing some kind of game.
I found myself scrolling through our text message history. Months of conversations. Her complaining about difficult clients, me bitching about club drama. Plans for dinner, jokes that only made sense to us, photos she’d sent me of stupid shit that made her think of me.
When had I stopped appreciating these moments? When had I started taking for granted that she’d always be there, putting up with my lifestyle and asking for nothing in return except... what? Complete fidelity?
The thought made me uncomfortable. Could I really be a one-woman man? My father never had been. None of the presidents I’d known growing up had been. It wasn’t realistic to expect that kind of restriction, was it?
But as I scrolled through our messages, something twisted in my chest. I’d thought our relationship was the foundation that everything else was built on—solid, reliable, unshakeable. I’d never realized that to her, these quiet moments together weren’t just the foundation. They were everything.
And maybe that should have been enough for me too.
My phone buzzed with a text from Holden:Where the hell are you? We have the Asheville meeting in an hour.
Shit. I’d completely forgotten about the meeting with our sister chapter. Another responsibility I was neglecting because I couldn’t stop wallowing in my own misery.
I hauled myself off the floor, chucked the empty bottle in the trash, and headed for the door. But as I was leaving, I caught sight of something that made me stop dead in my tracks.
On Indira’s kitchen counter, partially hidden behind her coffee maker, was a small velvet box.
My hands were shaking as I opened it. Inside was a set of earrings—simple silver studs with small diamonds that caught the light just right. The receipt was still in the box, dated five days before she’d caught me with Crystal.
She’d bought herself jewelry. Probably to wear it on a date with me, or maybe just because she’d wanted something pretty. Something that would make her feel special.
And instead of seeing those earrings on her, instead of telling her how beautiful she looked, I’d been buried in Crystal on my office desk.
I sank back down to the floor, clutching the jewelry box like it was a lifeline. The weight of it in my hands—this small, stupid box of earrings she’d never wear—made my chest feel like it was caving in.
She was gone. Really, truly gone. And I didn’t know how to fix it.
I’d lost more than a girlfriend. I’d lost the woman who’d made my house feel like home. The woman who’d listened to my bullshit club drama without complaining. The woman who’d looked at me like I was worth something more than my patch and my name.
And for what?
I’d told Crystal I’d been thinking about her pussy all day, but that had been a lie. It was never about Crystal, or any of the other club girls. Whenever Indira was away on business trips or working late, whenever I needed release and she wasn’t there, I’d use whoever was available and pretend it was Indira I was fucking. Close my eyes and imagine her dark hair instead of bleached blonde, her soft curves instead of fake tits, her gasps instead of those loud moans the club girls made.
I strip her slowly, kissing every inch of skin I expose. Her breath hitches when I unhook her bra, when I peel her panties down her legs. By the time I lay her on the bed, she’s already wet for me. I take my time—kissing down her neck, her collarbone, sucking her nipples until she’s arching into my mouth. My fingers find her slick and ready, and she softly moans my name when I slide two inside her. I work her slowly, deliberately, watching her come apart under my hands. When I finally push inside her, she wraps her legs around my waist and looks up at me with those dark eyes—trusting, loving,completely mine. I fuck her deep and slow, feeling her tighten around me, her pussy gripping my cock like she never wants to let go. She gasps my name with every thrust, her nails digging into my shoulders. When she comes, she cries out, her whole body shuddering, and I follow right after, filling her, marking her as mine.
That was what I’d been chasing every time I fucked a club girl. That feeling of coming home to someone who actually wanted me, not just my patch or my power.
The club girls were just warm bodies. Placeholders. I’d been fucking Indira in my head every single time.
And the sick irony was that Indira had walked in during one of those moments when I’d been fantasizing about her while buried in someone else. I’d been so deep in the fantasy of having my woman that I hadn’t even heard the door open. By the time I’d realized she was standing there, it was too late. The look on her face—like I’d destroyed her—would haunt me forever.
I knew she’d probably heard me say I’d been thinking about this pussy all day and would have thought I meant Crystal. She had no idea I’d been imagining it was her the entire time.
And when she’d confronted me, I’d made it so much worse. Told her Crystal was just providing services for the club, that it wasn’t personal. Called it stress relief like it was nothing. I could still see the hurt in her eyes when I’d said she was being dramatic, that this was just how things worked. But I hadn’t understood that hurt. Figured she was just being emotional, that once I got her back to my bed and fucked her senseless, she’d remember why we were good together. She’d forget all about walking in on me with Crystal.
I’d actually thought I could fuck the anger out of her. Jesus Christ.
My phone buzzed again. Holden, still wondering where the hell I was. I wiped my eyes and stood up, carefully placing the earrings back where I’d found them.
I had a club to run. Brothers who were counting on me. Responsibilities I’d neglected for too long.
As I stood outside Indira’s apartment by my bike, I realized I was in no condition to ride anywhere. I pulled out my phone and texted Holden:Need a truck to pick me up. Indira’s apartment complex. Bring trailer for the bike.
