I have to stop to shake my head, trying to get the images out of my head. “Neil, he . . . he, umm, groped me right in front of my mom while she used my camera to take pictures of it, yelling I was getting just what I deserved. Neither of them listened to me as I screamed in pain. When they’d had enough, Mom told Neil to put me in my room. The next morning, my mom gave me the camera back with a smirk on her face and told me to enjoy college,” I say.
“Later when I was finished unpacking, I decided to load all the images from the cookout at the club onto my computer. When I did, I found the ones my mom took and they made me sick to my stomach. The horror on my face, the smirk on Neil’s. I deleted those, wanting to get them out of my sight. But as I scrolled through the hundreds of pictures I’d taken at the clubhouse, I found a picture I’d taken of you and a clubwhore. I didn’t even realize I’d taken the picture when I’d walked in on you,” I say in admission.
“Doll,” he whispers, cupping the side of my face to get me to look at him. When I meet his gaze, he leans in and presses his lips to mine before pulling back. “I’ll kill them for what they did to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stoney
“I’ll kill them for what they did to you.” Fury threatens to take over as Rachel finishes her explanation. Although she didn’t tell me the rest of it, I don’t need her to. I can put two and two together.
The trauma of having her own mother take pictures with her camera then to see she’d gotten a picture of me fuckin’ a clubwhore, no wonder she wouldn’t want to use that camera again.
“What did you do with your camera?”
“I tossed it in a dumpster,” she murmurs.
Nodding my head, I haul her further into my arms. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I swear after this we won’t talk about it ever again. I want to know why the picture of me with that bitch hurt you so much,” I urge as I run my hands along her spine.
“Because I was in love with you,” she whispers so quietly I barely hear her.
“Say that again, Doll,” I demand.
Her cheeks turn a beautiful pink color as she blushes. “I was in love with you,” she says a little louder.
“And are you still in love with me,” I ask while grinning.
Closing her eyes, Rachel nods her head in response, giving me my answer without the words. But that’s not good enough. I want to hear the words come out of her mouth. I won’t push her right now, not after letting that shit out.
I’ll seek vengeance for her, but first I need to find this Neil fucker. He’ll go before Rachel’s bitch of a mother goes. I don’t make it a habit of killing women, but the way I see it, you hurt someone innocent, abuse them in any way, you’re neither a man nor a woman— you’re a fuckin’ monster who needs to be eliminated.
“Then let me tell you something. And I want you to listen very closely,” I say as I flip us on the couch until she’s underneath me. “I’ve been with plenty of women in my life. All of them just threw themselves at me. I didn’t have to work for a damn thing.” Rachel tenses at what I’m saying. “When it comes to you, I don’t need to go anywhere else. You consume my thoughts no matter what I’m doing. Even when I’m dealing with some serious shit going on at the club, you're still there in the back of my mind.”
Leaning down, I press a kiss to her lips. “Now, as for the part where you saw me fuckin’ some random bitch, don’t think she or any of the others meant a damn thing to me,” I murmur.
“None of them?” she asks.
“Baby, none of them were you, if you catch my meaning,” I say before taking her mouth and thrusting my tongue into hers. Using my hands, I hold her hips in place as I grind my cock against her clothing-covered pussy.
Fuck, I want inside her right now.
Not yet. Still need to settle shit.
Reluctantly, I pull away, leaving us both breathless for more.
“Did you wish that random pussy I was with that day had been you?” I ask. My need to know all about her crush consumes me. I want to know all her fantasies, to be able to make them real if possible.
“Yes,” she says shyly.
“What was I doing with this woman?”
“Umm . . . you had her in the bathroom against the wall. She stared right at me as you fucked her with a smirk on her face,” Rachel says, a hint of hurt in her voice.
“What do you mean?” Furrowing my brow, I lean back some.
“Why don’t I just show you?” she suggests quietly as she pushes away from me and scoots out from under my body.
Before I can say anything, Rachel is moving toward the bedroom. I’m definitely not going in that room right now. This shit doesn’t go anywhere near there. That room is meant only for her and I. I won’t let anything get between us.
My Pops told me a long fuckin’ time ago, well before Marie and I had Horse, “To make a marriage work, don’t let anything enter the bedroom that doesn’t belong there. You fight, you do it and work through it. Don’t go to bed without resolving the problem.”
He’d been a smart man. It sucked when he and my momma died shortly after Horse had been born. I’d been gutted. If not for my uncle Croc, who’d been the President before me, I don’t know what I’d have done. Croc could be an ass, but he was a damn good President for this club. I learned everything I know from him. When he was killed, I’d been devastated. I didn’t want to be Prez, but that’s what my brothers wanted.
Even with Tracker and Blaze being a couple years younger than me, no one objected when I’d put them up for vote to be the VP and SAA of the club.
“Here.” Rachel’s voice draws me from my thoughts. Clearing my throat, I grab the photo she’s holding out to me.
“Sit, Doll,” I say without looking at the picture. I’m not going to have her standing there looking vulnerable as fuck while I sit here looking at a photo of something I don’t even remember.
Once she’s seated, I hold the photo up. Damn, if it wasn’t for the fact this picture hurts Rachel, I’d compliment her on how she caught the sensual act. That is until I glance at the face of the bitch I’m fuckin’ in the picture.
Fuck, if it’s not Jazz, that stupid bitch who was insane enough to cause problems with Horse and their club. The way she’s smirking in this picture, damn . . . no wonder Rachel feels hurt. This along with the taunting Cherry Pie has done . . .
“Why did you keep this picture?” I ask, holding it up.
“To remind me I’d never be good enough for you,” she whispers as she looks at her hands clasped together in her lap.
Fuck.
“Look at me, Doll,” I demand.
When she lifts her gaze to mine, I hold the picture up in my hand. “This . . . doesn’t mean you're not good enough for me. More like the other way around. I sure as hell don’t deserve a woman who is beautiful, smart, and talented. But guess what, I’m not letting you go,” I say as I rip the photo in two and let it fall.
Standing up, I lean forward to scoop Rachel into my arms. As I walk around the sectional, I make a plan on showing Rachel exactly what she means to me. She’ll need more than words.