all of the damage that’s been done to my soul. He’s gorgeous and he’s strong and he’s loyal to his family.
And I’m a piece of trash, gutter-rat stripper with trauma by the bucket load.
“Could… could I have a shirt? Just to get down to my car?” I whisper, and the frown on his face gets darker, more malevolent. Tears fill my eyes but I blink them away.
He pushes up off of the bed and strips off his own shirt, throwing it at me. “Get the fuck out. Just get out and quit wasting my fucking time, Angel.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tomi
I swear I can taste the sweet honey of Angel’s cum in the back of my tongue for days after I ate her out on my childhood bed.
Every morning I wake up, hard as stone and leaking on my sheets. The image of Angel’s lips wrapped around my cock as I fuck her mouth is the only thing I see when I shut my eyes. Fuck, this ‘struck shit is hardcore. I can’t stop thinking about her and I just get angrier and angrier the more I think about it.
She’s a fucking stripper.
She flinched away from me, but only after she’d given me the blowjob of my life. No way the girl hasn’t gone pro before, that was too skilled to be an amateur.
Twice she’s fucking flinched.
It doesn't matter how hard I try to cut the fucking ties, I still find myself pulled back to The Boulevard. With Speck busy dealing with rat business I lose my set of eyes on Angel and I’ll be fucked if I’m leaving her without someone tailing her.
My time there is justified because the books are a fucking mess.
No matter how much I try to clean them up, nothing ever adds up and I fucking curse myself out for letting people who barely know how to count touch them.
So no matter how much I want to sit out in my booth and stab any fucker that looks at Angel, I stick to the office and sift through the accounts and the piles of invoices with only a bottle of whiskey and a bad mood to keep me company.
It’s a little after two when there's a quiet knock at the door and a pause.
No one knocks like that around here.
I call out and when the door opens Angel scurries inside, stripper heels and nothing much else on.
She doesn't walk around here in her getups. Not ever, she always puts clothes on between dances. The other girls give her shit for it but she always does it. We also haven’t spoken since the pool incident, she hasn’t once so much as tried to look at me and now she’s scrambling into my office like the hounds of hell are on her ass?
Alarms bells start sounding.
"What's happened?"
She walks right over to me behind the desk, bypassing the chair entirely, and if she wasn't shaking so hard her teeth are chattering I'd think she was coming here to ride my dick.
"Angel, what the fuck happened?"
A weird noise starts up outta her throat, like a high-pitch keening, and my patience snaps. I stand and tug her into my arms, getting my shit covered in Mel's goddamn glitter, and I push her into my chest, banding my arms around her and squeeze a little.
The keening stops but her words come out in a series of little gasps. “Are— I mean, do those other bikers belong to the Unseen? I haven't... seen them here before."
Fuck's sake.
The Shreveport charter are in town and I know who the hell she's talking about without another word which is good because she’s being so damn hesitant. "What did he do? Angel, what the fuck did he do?”
She looks up at me, her eyes all electrified with terror, and fury sweeps over me.
I don't fucking care if I'm cuntstruck, no fucking way am I letting someone scare her like this. She’s mine. Whether that’s the biggest fucking tragedy of my life, that changes nothing. She’s mine and no asshole is going to fucking touch what’s mine.
“It was the big one, I don't know what his name is, he came up to me when I was trying to leave the stage. Told me he'd see me back at the clubhouse tonight. I told him I don't do extra and he said I belong to the club so he'd fuck me if he wanted to. Tomi, I'm not—"
"No, you're fucking not. Go get your clothes on, take a shower, whatever you