Page 48 of Beautifully Wounded

As my Prez turns with Molly guarding his side, the crowd disperses and I keep Abbey tucked to my side, following Smitty, weaving through the crowd as they try to get a glimpse of the woman I’ve just publicly claimed as mine.

For fuck’s sake. They are going to make a big fucking deal about this. I just fucking know it.

How am I going to explain when she leaves?

Fuck.

As we break through the crowd, heading to the main house, I lean down and whisper against the hood still covering Abbey’s head. “Only talk when I say you can.”

She nods against me, so I give her a little squeeze, still feeling her tremble slightly, and we all step back inside Smitty’s house.

Wendy, still fucking perched on the table with her legs spread, takes one look at the scared little mouse tucked into my side and glares like she has a fucking right to.

“Why don’t my two favourite girls enjoy each other on the couch?” Smitty suggests, thank fuck, and while Celina seems all for it, giggling and bouncing her tits as she does a little jump and excited clap, Wendy rolls her eyes and drags herself off the table like she’s just been asked to scrub a fucking shitter.

As I retake my seat, I pull Abbey onto my lap, and much like I did in the mum van after stealing her, I pull her legs up and cradle her to me, hoping it looks like she’s precious to me.

She stiffens.

“Relax,” I whisper against her hood, my words seeming to do the trick as she does what I ask, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.

“Let’s get a look at the woman that’s caught our man’s eye.” Smitty insists, gesturing his hand to Abbey, which only makes her stiffen again.

Reaching up, I hook my fingers in the fabric of the hood, and her fearful eyes meet mine as I start to ease it back to reveal her white, blonde hair in those plait things, her big doe eyes going wide, and I can tell she’s internally panicking.

So I do the only thing I can think of to remind her that I’m not a monster, while at the same time showing my Prez that she does, in fact, belong to me.

I lean forward and press my lips to her temple, lingering there for a beat longer than necessary when I see her lids flutter closed and feel her shoulders relax again.

Interesting.

“Hmmm,” Smitty mutters, “Not a woman, I see.”

Pulling back from the display of affection, I glare at my Prez.

“She’s of fucking age.”

“Hey, I’m not judging.” He raises his hands in surrender, shooting me a smirk.

“You fucking know me, man. I’m not like that. This club isn’t like that.” I remind him and he snickers while nodding, relaxing back in his seat, his hand dangling over the side to scratch Molly’s head.

“You don’t need to remind me of our fucking morals, Ringo. But it’s been a fucking while since you showed an interest in pussy. You’ll have to forgive me for wondering if perhaps your taste had changed since Kylie.”

“Attraction to a minor is not a fucking taste. It’s a fucking sickness,” I hiss, and Smitty nods before turning his attention back to the timid girl huddled in my lap.

“What’s your name?” he asks her, but she doesn’t answer, doing exactly as I asked of her and not speaking.

Smitty’s brow hitches, probably assuming it’s a display of disrespect.

“I told you she’s mine, man. She only talks for me,” I state, which brings back his smirk before I press my lips to her ear, this time no fabric of a hood acting as a barrier.

“Answer him, Charity,” I say the name slowly as a reminder that she’s not to use her real name.

Those big doe eyes lift to meet mine before she visibly swallows and clears her throat, turning her gaze to Smitty.

“I’m Charity.”

Smitty’s lips spread wide in a grin, and the foreplay that was taking place on the couch off to the side ceases as both women turn their attention to the timid girl on my lap.

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