Page 13 of Filthy Savage

Or maybe I’m going to admit that I never stopped loving him in the first place. That every man I’ve met in the past ten years has never been right—because it was always Brew.

And I hate that.

I hate myself for that.

I’ve wanted nothing more than to be over him, and yet, I know I’m not, no matter how much I try to pretend that I am. He’s always going to be that man I fell in love with. He’s always going to be the one who slipped through my fingers.

He isn’t the one who got away because for him to get away, I would have had to have him to myself to begin with.

And I never did… never will.

A video pops up on my timeline, and I smile as I watch a girl I went to high school with play with her baby. She’s making the baby laugh, and the giggles fill the motel room, bouncing off the walls.

I don’t know why, but the sight of the baby makes me sad. My smile fades almost as quickly as it appeared. I think about the bakery owner, Shawn, with her baby strapped to her front. Her smile was as big as the state of Texas, and her eyes sparkled, too. She’s King’s wife. I’m not sure how that makes me feel. I can honestly say that I’m completely perplexed by it all.

Standing from the bed, I make my way into the bathroom and start the shower. As I wait for the water to heat up, I take care of my business and then wash my hands, my gaze searching the reflection in the mirror.

I don’t know what I expect to see, and I get tired of looking, so I turn away from it and head to the shower. Stripping off my pajamas, I step under the warm water and close my eyes as it washes over me.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I wash my hair. As my fingers scratch and massage my scalp, I think about Brew’s fingers replacing mine. I should not think this way. I should not imagine his fingers anywhere on my body, but I can’t help myself. I also can’t stop myself.

When my fingers travel from my hair down my neck and my belly and then slip between my legs, I know without a doubt that I should not be thinking about him. But I do. I think too much about him because when my fingers swirl my clit, my breath gasps, and his face fills my vision.

Not the face from ten years ago. The face from yesterday. He’s so damn sexy. I want all of him all over me. I want his mouth on every inch of my body. My fingers move faster and faster, making circles against my clit as I think about that.

His mouth.

Then I imagine his fingers all over me.

I come within seconds. It’s lackluster, just as it always is when I’m pleasuring myself. I never am fully satisfied. I tried once to get that way. I used a few different toys, and I came over and over again until my clit and pussy ached. My body might have been satisfied, but I didn’t feel it inside of me.

I felt empty. The way I always feel empty.

After finishing my shower, I dry off with a thin towel and dress for the day. I tug out a pair of paper bag linen chambrayshorts and tug them on. Then, I slip an organic cotton tank over my head.

I’m sure people think I’m weird. I wear a lot of linen, and when I’m not wearing linen, I’ve got on organic cotton. I’ve switched as many of my synthetic materials to natural blends as possible.

Linen is my favorite. In fact, I bought European flax linen sheets, and I’ve never been the same—they’re amazing. I know I sound like a complete hippie, but I don’t care.

Natural fabrics, organic foods, my electric car—I love it all, and I don’t even care who knows it. Call me whatever you want. I don’t really care, not when it comes to that stuff. I don’t know if it’s just in my head, but I feel different when I wear it, calmer and healthier.

Instead of driving straight to the clubhouse to yell at more people the way I want to, I pack up my laptop and carry it out of the room with me. A few moments later, I’m in my car and driving straight toward that bakery downtown.

Not only do I want about fifty more of everything that I tried last night, but I also have some questions about King and the other men at the club. I’m not sure if I’ll actually be brave enough to ask them, but I’m going to try.

BREW

With a grunt,I make my way into the conference room for church. We have a meeting with the club’s lawyer today. I also have to talk to Gnaw and figure out what the schedules are looking like for collections, the kegs, and the warehouse deliveries.

There’s a lot of shit going down, and as the road captain, I’m supposed to help Gnaw with it all.

Sinking down in my unassigned but very much assigned chair, I can’t help but think about Spencer. I want to see her, and at the same time, I want her to never come back here. I’m in a foreign situation. I’ve never cared about a woman the way I do her.

She’s one of my brother’s sisters. She’s off-limits. And yet, I’ve already tested those limits. Even though it was a decade ago, I can’t forget them, and I want more of them. I’m sure there is some psychological fucked-up shit about us, but I can’t help myself. I can’t help it.

I don’t know if I can stay away from her now. Even though I know I should. But I’ve never been one who necessarily does what he should on a regular basis. The fact that I’m an office-holding member of a one-percent MC should prove that.

A few moments later, the room fills, and I am not surprised to see the lawyers in their suits. They take their seats and lean back as if unbothered while the rest of us sit on the edges of our seats, waiting to find out what will happen to our friend.

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