Tongue's Target (Ruthless Kings MC Las Vegas #10) - K.L. Savage Page 0,74
talked to you about it instead of walking on eggshells. It was wrong of me to invade your privacy. I exposed you. That was wrong of me, and it was my failure as President. I apologize.”
I feel exposed now.
I rub my chest. The anxiety is almost physical, in the way it applies pressure.
“I didn’t enjoy burning Daphne, but I was fucking proud of her for doing that for you. I want her for you, Tongue. She’s strong. And I am proud of you.”
I’ve never heard someone besides Daphne tell me they are proud of me. It’s a strange feeling. I almost… like it?
“I know you’ve been having a hard time lately trusting us. And I get it. I would too, in your position. But I want you to know you always have a place here with us. No matter what, you’re family, Tongue.”
He stares at me, and I can tell he really means it.
“Can we go now?” This is too… uncomfortable. I want to cut the tongue out of her father’s throat. She’s mine.
“Yeah, Tongue. We can go.” The truck reverses out of the dirty driveway. “We’re flying there.”
Great.
I hate flying, but it makes sense. The quicker the better.
Country music blares on the radio, but I don’t know the song. We stay quiet and my mind drifts to Daphne. It hurts so fucking bad to know she can’t remember me, but I’ll fix this. She needs me. She has a lot to process right now. She just found out her dad isn’t her dad. It makes sense that her psychosis would break free.
I want her to be okay. That’s all. If she’s safe and sound, I can take care of the rest.
I’ll always take care of her.
After I carve my name in her skin, so she fucking knows she belongs to me. She can’t forget me when she has to look at my name every day. Just the thought has my cock growing hard. Damn it, I miss her.
I take out my journal from my back pocket and open it, seeing the drawing of her naked I did the other night. Perfect fucking tits. When I get back, I’m going to have her push them together so I can fuck them, then I’m going to come all over her mouth and watch her lick her lips clean.
“Stop growling back there.” Bullseye polishes his silver dart.
“Have you checked your sugar levels today?” I rub my finger over the soft curve of her face against the paper.
“Touché,” he replies.
I hold a smile inside and flip the page of the journal. I reach into my cut pocket and pull out a pencil, sketching her face from memory. Her small, button nose, plump lips, and big eyes. I love that her bottom lip is a little bit bigger than the other. I growl again when I think about them wrapped around me and sucking me dry.
Reaper chuckles from the front seat. I don’t care who knows how much I want Daphne. If it were up to me, I’d let the entire world know.
I concentrate on the wispy strands of her hair, making sure they are just right. They have to be perfect. Every single strand on her head is perfection. The way they curl around her chin as they hang loose from the messy bun she has on top of her head, or the way they blow in the wind as she’s holding on to me tight as we ride the bike.
Or how she swings it through the air with a flip while she fucks me.
I growl again.
Bullseye and Reaper laugh.
It isn’t funny.
“Alright. Empty your pockets. No weapons and shit on the plane.”
“I need my knife, Reaper. You know I need it. I can’t be anywhere without it. I need it to protect Daphne.”
“They will have knives there, Tongue,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated.
“Fine. I won’t be happy about it.”
“You never are, Tongue.”
I mock him while I slide my knife into the pocket of the front seat, then open the back door, and hop out. The three of us head toward the departing flights in the same stride and I tuck my sketchbook safely in my pocket.
When we get to the front counter, the woman eyes us warily.
“Three one-way tickets to New Orleans, please,” Reaper leans against the counter and gives his charming smile to the lady. She’s older. Blonde hair turning white, but her blue eyes are clear as she was when she was younger, as light as the sky.