Kaia didn’t hesitate to move his hand away and thrust his cock into her.
“Fuck,” he groaned. She had good pussy, the addictive kind that would make a motherfucker walk through tundra and over land bridges to get to her for a taste. “Your pussy is so fucking good, Fia.”
“Fuck me hard. Hard as possible,” she said, breathing heavily. “Make it hurt.”
Grabbing her ankles and pushing them onto her shoulders, he slammed into her. “Best. Pussy. Ever,” he growled, punctuating each word with a thrust.
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get enough of Fia. Fucking her had to become a regular occurrence that Rebel would never find out about. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Rebel washis Chi, he her Huahua, and that would never change.
Until she could give him what Fia did, he didn’t consider them a real couple.
CJ: Tomorrow afternoon, we’re playing flag football. Are you in?
Rory: Always.
CJ: Come to my house at 3.
Rory: Yep.
When he heard the text message coming through, Rory had almost ignored it. He was in his room, searching his closet for the perfect black suit. He had several because of Mom’sdetermination to show him life outside of the club.
He turned toward the bank of windows, wishing desperately for French doors and a balcony. The sun had set so he couldn’t see the stream that brought him peace more often than not. Tonight, his devastation wouldn’t relent, but he was never more grateful to his mother than he was now. Although she’d misconstrued his grief and chalked it up to a simple crush, she was finding a way to support him. Something not even Dad would do. She also thought Gypsy had been pretty—unlike Dad. Mom’s opinion eased Rory. She, like most women, were harsh critics of other girls. Mom was also brutally honest. She thought Gypsy was pathetic, but not unattractive.
Had been. Because shewasn’tanymore.
Gypsy was gone.
Trying to hold in his tears, he sat on the edge of the bed and blinked. At the time of her death, they hadn’t spoken in days. Not only had she propositioned CJ and thought it was fucking funny that Derby also offered her pussy to CJ, she’d told Rory she was disappointed that Derby didn’t care abouttheirrelationship. He’d told her to leave that motherfucker because he didn’t deserve her.
She refused. She still loved him.
Rory had been so fucking angry and humiliated, he’d stormed out. Now, shewas dead.
Realizing he still held his phone, he studied the darkened screen, his stomach in knots. CJ would listen to him. They could talk about Diesel’s party. Rory could apologize for not waiting until CJ decided to leave and rag on Dev for his fuckery toward Rebel earlier tonight.
Rory could…
Drown in more guilt. He could pretend he hadn’t known what Ryan was up to and hadn’t seen Rebel and Harley on video. Rory could pretend Uncle Christopher hadn’t put the fear of God in him in the early hours of Saturday morning, then greeted him at the club less than twenty-four hours later.
Throwing his phone next to him, Rory blew out a heavy breath. CJ wouldn’t care that Rory campaigned for DeLuca to rescue Molly. He’d just see Rory’s role as disloyalty to him and an extreme betrayal to Rebel and Harley. And Mattie.
Before Wally, Jr. killed Gypsy, he’d tried to strangle Mattie. What would Rory have done if his little sister had been murdered? What wouldMomhave done? She wouldn’t have recovered. Rory, JJ, Blade, and Dad would’ve lost her, too.
The tears he’d been holding back flowed freely because as much as he mourned Gypsy…
Fuck, but he was such a miserable little prick. Gypsy didn’t deserve to die. But it was better her than Mattie.
Rory covered his face, ashamed of himself.
Ashamed of his role in the entire situation. Ashamed of his father.
He’d apologize to Gypsy. Tell her how sorry he was that she’d lost her life. Ask her if he had gone to CJ or Uncle Christopher or Uncle Mort, if any of this would’ve happened?
Because that was the fucking thing to do. Ask a dead woman questions.
In fairness to himself, he’d only recently discovered what Ryan was up to.Before…
Before Bash brought Molly back.
