Page 102 of Rome
“No, sweetie,” I assured him as I rubbed my hand over his hair.
“Good. I’m glad you aren’t mad at Daddy anymore.” My breath caught, then I choked out a laugh as he pinned Caleb with a fierce look.
“You’d better not hurt her feelings again, Daddy.”
Caleb chuckled and shook his head, flashing a bittersweet smile filled with love and regret as he promised Ethan that he would never do it again.
Later that night when we got ready for bed, Caleb nervously presented me with my leather cut, complete with the new patch declaring that I was the “Property of Rome.”
“You don’t have to wear it, but I wanted you to have it. You’re my Ol’ Lady, Abs, and you’re gonna be my legal wife again just as soon as I can get you down the aisle.”
I slipped off my nightshirt and reached for the cut, sliding on the cool leather over my bare skin as I watched the desire flare in Caleb’s eyes.
A little while later, I tested those boundaries we’d talked about in the wee hours of the morning and found that riding my man – while wearing nothing but a piece of black leather proclaiming me as his – was more empowering that I could have possible imagined.
Chapter 33
Rome/Caleb
I walked around Guardian Ink Monday with a permanent smile plastered on my face. I’d gotten a little bit of good-natured teasing from the guys before they got busy with their clients for the day. Lacey pulled me aside before my first client showed up, telling me how happy she was that Abby and I had worked things out.
“It’s good to have you back, boss man.”
“I’ve been right here the whole time, Lace,” I pointed out in confusion.
“Your body was here, but your heart and soul sure as hell weren’t. So, I’ll say it again. It’s good to have you back.” She turned on her heel and headed into her piercing suite as she wiped away a tear, and I knew she was probably embarrassed about getting emotional in front of me. Lacey was normally a badass bitch who didn’t do feelings, which made her words mean that much more.
I fielded texts from King and Sinner, plus a shit-ton of texts flying back and forth in the ongoing group chat that Jagger, Trick, Lucky and I were in. All of them wanted to know how the weekend had gone. I responded to all of them with three simple sentences.
Me: I’m back home. She’s wearing her new cut. Life is fuckin’ fantastic.
Jagger stopped by the shop mid-afternoon to check out my new ink. Saint was just putting the finishing touches on the shading for the cherry blossoms on my neck as Jag sauntered in and plopped his ass in the chair against the wall.
“Lookin’ good, man,” he said to Saint, who nodded his thanks as he wiped over my skin to remove the excess ink before starting on the next flower.
“Did you tell him about that Destiny bitch?”
Saint chuckled, “Nope, I figured you could tell the story better than I could, since you were there to see it.”
Jagger started laughing as he told me that Destiny, the skanky-ass bitch that I’d kicked out of my shop, now held the dubious honor of having the shortest run of any club bunny in the MC’s history.
“Oh, fuck, you should have seen it, bro. She made a play for me right in the middle of the common room Saturday night, just minutes after Molly hopped off my lap to grab another Diet Pepsi at the bar. I turned her down flat, or course, and Molly told her to keep her disease-ridden hands to herself unless she wanted her fake-ass fingernails ripped off one by one.”
Luckily, Saint had put the tattoo gun down for a minute, because he and I both laughed our asses off at the image of sweet, innocent Molly throwing down with a bitch like that.
“Then, the goddamned whore turned her sights on Brick, who just minding his own business playing cards with Viking. Before he knew what hit him, the stupid bitch slid right onto his lap and started kissing all over his neck.” Jagger laughed as he continued, “That poor bastard just about shit himself, and stood up so fast that he dumped her right on her ass. It was a good thing she was already on the floor, because it saved Theresa the trouble of knocking her down.”
“Oh shit,” I said, laughing as I tried to imagine the scene. Theresa, his wife of over twenty years, was a tiny little thing, with the temper of a woman twice her size. Brick had never as much as looked at anyone else as far as I knew, which was good because his wife would have killed them both. The club bunnies knew to give both of them a wide berth, but apparently, nobody clued in the new bitch, or else she just didn’t fucking listen. Based on my one-time interaction with her, I guessed it was the latter.
“She came flying out of the kitchen and jumped on top of that bitch, screeching like a banshee the whole time. She landed a few punches before Brick managed to pull himself together and grabbed her. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. There was Brick, all six-foot-eight of him, trying to hold on to Theresa who was kicking her legs and reaching for that bitch. It took all his strength to hold her back. She was like an angry pitbull trapped in the body of a pissed off little chihuahua, man.”
I laughed so hard I almost toppled out of the chair, and Saint had to lean against the counter for support as he bent double and howled.
“King had been in his office with Trick, and they both came running in when they heard the commotion. Trick grabbed Destiny and got her out of Theresa’s reach, and Linc came running over to help Brick get Theresa to calm down. By the time it was over, King had given Destiny thirty minutes to pack her shit and be gone. She’s banned from all MC properties, too.”
Saint wiped tears from his eyes as he looked at us and shook his head. “We gotta get a better class of women in there.”
“A better class of club whore?” I asked, still laughing over the mental image of Theresa losing her shit, and Brick trying to hold her back.
