Page 81 of Perdition
“You know I love that pussy, baby, and I haven’t had a taste in a long time. I miss it…I miss you,” he said, then his expression sobered.
“I really am so fucking sorry, Emily,” he rasped, taking her face between his rough hands to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.
God…she loved forehead kisses, sometimes more than hot, wet kisses. Forehead kisses weren’t about sex or dominance, they were about affection, adoration, one heart pouring into another.
They were concentrated hugs and cuddles, and Madsen William Flowers was an amazing forehead kisser.
This—thiswas the man she’d married, the man who touched her with reverence, and spoke to her like she was the only onein his whole world. This was the man she gave her body and life to; the man she built a life with. A man who hurt her…and was trying to heal what he’d wounded.
Sarah’s shrill voice calling for Frost shattered their special moment.
Nothing new there.
Tensing, she pulled away, and Frost dropped his hands, but his eyes remained on hers.
“Let’s get this shit over with, then you own me a conversation,” Frost proclaimed, grabbing Em’s hand, and dragging her down the hallway, away from the bar, and toward the back of the once industrial factory.
She had no idea what it once made, but the building itself was well maintained, otherwise Frost wouldn’t have allowed club funds to go anywhere near an investment on the bar.
He was a shit husband, but he was a great MC president.
That isn’t fair; he hasn’t always been a shit husband.
And that was true. In the beginning, he had been her dream boy come to life. All her daydream fantasies about that handsome, golden hero who swooped in, kissed her, slayed the monsters, and then galloped off into the sunset with her at his back had come true.
And then that boy grew into the sexiness, most dedicated, most adoring man—a warrior, a provider, a protector, and her one and only lover. She’s once felt so deeply honored to be his wife, so deeply humbled by his love, affection, and desire for her.
Where had all that gone?
Through a door on the left, they entered what looked like used to be a storage area for freight shipments.
It was mostly empty, but there were a few pallets of goods that were probably supplies for the bar.
Standing toward the middle of the room were five bikers, four biker’s women, and one seething former club slut.
“It’s about time you got here, Frost,” she shrieked, “these assholes are treating me like I’m the enemy, but I’m their fucking queen.”
“You’re crazy as a feral cat is what you are,” Cluster intoned, looking at Sarah like she’d grown a second head. Emily bet he was regretting ever sticking his dick anywhere near that particular club slut.
“I’m not crazy—tell ‘em, Frost! Tell them that I’m going to be your old lady and that they need to treat me like I’m fucking royalty.”
Whoa…Sarah was definitely out of her freaking mind, because she actually said all that without a flicker of confusion or deceit in her eyes. She, without a shadow of a doubt, believed every word she was saying.
She believed that she fucked Frost, and that he was going to divorce Emily, make Sarah his old lady, and they’d live happily ever after, ruling the Unchained together.
“You are nuts,” Em blurted incredulously, shaking her head.
Sarah sneered at her, taking in Em’s proximity to Frost, and then snapped, “Why can’t you just leave him alone? Isn’t it bad enough that you’ve trapped him for twenty years, and now that he has a chance to have a real woman by his side, you’re being fucking stingy!”
Stephie choked and cast wide eyes to Cilla, who had a hand over her mouth, no doubt to stifle her laughter.
Nadia and Val were staring, wide-eyed, at Sarah, who didn’t even notice; she was too busy glaring at Em who had just taken Frost’s hand in hers, linking their fingers together.
His hand was so big, so capable, so warm, and squeezed her fingers—their own personal signal that things would be okay, that their strength was shared.
This feels....
She didn’t have time to think of a clear answer before Redtube stepped forward, his hands planted on his narrow hips, his broad shoulders and thick arms making him a massive badass about to throw down a verbal beating.
