No, it’s to make herself feel less guilty. When I’m buried deep inside her, the last person she’s thinking about is Dorian, and the ring would bring her back to him. Make her think about her fiancé as I make her scream in pleasure.
“You know, you could invite him with you sometime. Let him watch and learn to give you what only I seem to be able to,” I say. “We already know he’s a cuck.”
“Stop it.”
“Maybe it’s time to make a decision,” I say and pull a T-shirt over my head before grabbing my leather.
My finger rubs along the VICE PRESIDENT patch as it slides on like a familiar second skin. God, I am not looking forward to today. Now that I’m back, we have to meet to discuss business. And part of that business is deciding who takes Johnny’s seat at the head of the table.
There have been a few rumblings about me taking over his seat. Which was always the plan when Johnny stepped down. He groomed me to take over the club one day, but it wasn’t supposed to be this soon. He should have had so much more fuckingtime.
“About what?” Chanel asks, leaning against the doorframe.
My stomach knots as I look into the eyes of the love of my life. The one I’ve never gotten over and who’s made me her side piece for years now.
“A decision about whether you like my cock more than whatever it is Dorian offers you.”
She freezes, her eyes locked on me. Clearly, she didn’t expect me to say it. “Don’t, Zeppelin.”
“Don’t what?”
“Do not make me choose.”
“Why not?”
Sadness takes over her eyes, and she tilts her head. “Because I can’t have you hating me when I… choose him.”
“Pretty sure you just made your choice, baby,” I say, pulling up my jeans and avoiding her gaze.
I’m focusing far too much on the button and zipper, but it gives me something else to look at. All I see when I look at her right now is a neon sign flashing that I’m not enough.
It’s kind of the theme of my life. Never quite enough.
I slip on my boots and lace them before standing. Chanel just stares at me. Neither of us expected this when she showed up at my house last night, but it’s something we should have both anticipated. It’s an inevitable conversation.
“Here,” I say, bending down to pick up her panties. “Don’t forget these.”
“Zep—”
“Actually, hold that thought.”
Grabbing a canvas bag Ma gave me for groceries I never buy, I open the second drawer of my dresser. Three handfuls of panties fill the bag, which goes to show how often she shows up to get pounded.
“You have a lot of money into these. Might as well take them back.”
Her eyes search mine as she frowns. “I know you’re hurting—”
“And you’re only adding to it by swinging around here to fuck and leave. I don’t need a drawer full of reminders that I can get you off but can’t seem to give you what it is you need.”
“Zep—”
“I got Church. I’ll walk you out.”
Chapter Two
Zeppelin
It feels like an eternity has passed since I last sat in the clubhouse. The first time since making Johnny’s funeral arrangements.
