Page 14 of Satan's Naughty List
“Absolutely,” he says with finality. Hesitantly, he reaches for her hand and cups it in his.
“It won’t be easy,” I note, giving him one last chance to bow out. Even I’m growing attached to the small female.
“I know, but she’ll be amazing one day, and that’s what I’m looking forward to.”
I just hope he’s right.
Chapter Eleven
One Month Later
“Istilldon’tthinkit’s a good idea,” Widower says, taking a sip of her virgin drink. Her face skews slightly, which I’m assuming is because it lacks the good shit.
“You and Nomad talked, huh?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. Leaning back in the barstool, I twist around and look out at the club.
“I mean, he’s my vice, so I kind of have to.” She turns toward me, leaning an elbow on the bartop. “Look, the intentions are good. She’s made exceptional progress, give credit where it’s due, but you’re suggesting a type of exposure therapy.”
Some of the guys stand around as a sort of protection shield while Aspen talks with Maggie, helping with the kids. Over the last month, the club has shown a level of compassion that I didn’t think they contained. While they’ve kept their distance, they also work to fend off any outsiders who come just to hang out from approaching her.
Nomad and I have also worked really hard in getting her to open up to us. She’s not said anything about what led to this shit, but she doesn’t jump with quick movements around the guys anymore. The female prospects have been amazing about making her feel more comfortable. Even now, they’ve got her leg propped on the cushion of the booth, making sure the metal doesn’t catch.
“I think BDSM would be perfect for her,” I mutter, spinning back and downing the rest of my drink. “We just need to know her triggers.”
Widower scoffs, shaking her head. “Has she told you anything about what makes her tick?”
“Well, no,” I start, looking into my cup.
“Let’s be real here, Techy. She’s not the kind of girl you’re going to get into bed with quickly,” she says, rapping a knuckle on the top. “She’s got clothes covering all over her body except the frame on her leg. Have you spoken to Doc?”
Sighing, I hold my glass up for a refill. “No, I haven’t. Doc won’t talk without Aspen’s consent.”
“We really need to get her a new name,” Widower huffs, eyes the girl over her shoulder. “I’ll chat with Doc, see what I can find out. You need to work onslowlyadjusting her lifestyle.”
“Nomad and I are trying,” I retort, irritation spiking in my stomach. “It’s been difficult trying to juggle work, the prospects, my own marriage, and her. The thing is, I can’t just let her go. There’s this…pull that I have toward her. Nomad feels it, and we’re working her out of her comfort zone every day.”
“You’re nervous that she won’t be into it,” she states, nodding along.
“I mean, that’s one obvious question. Another one would be if she’s actually interested in men at all, at this point.” My heart hammers at the possibility that she’s not even interested. Not that I’d blame her. Men are garbage unless you find the right one.
Thinking back to how much growth she’s had in just this month, it’s hard not to think that this could be real. I swear we flirt back and forth, yet that could very well just be her personality. During the days she’s stuck at the club with me, she expresses interest in learning about different systems, how they run, how we track people for the executioners or runners.
“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Widower finally asks, pushing the empty glass away from her and standing. “For all you know, she’s just waiting to get the hell out of dodge.” With that, she turns on her heel and heads in the direction of the office. Hudson meets her halfway, sliding into the room. Chuckling, I stand up and stretch a bit, debating my next moves.
Widower’s right about the name thing, though. We can’t officially assign her a road name without her joining the club. She’s not expressed an interest, but she’s really close with Maggie and the female prospects. Dropping a few bills on the counter top, I stroll to where they’re sitting. Aspen talks animatedly with Maggie about motorcycles, how Maggie is helping her husband Crusher with modifying his hell rider. He’s trying to make it go a hell of a lot faster.
“Ladies,” I smirk, locking eyes with Aspen and leaning on the back of the chair. “This seat taken?”
“Join us,” she smiles, waving freely. The difference I’ve seen in her, how her cheeks aren’t as shallow nor her eyes gaunty. It’s a great change, that’s for damn sure.
“He talked about painting it pussy pink,” Maggie scoffs, clinking the ice in her glass. “I was trying to figure out what exactly that color was, so he bent me over the bike and railed me into the next day!” The other girls laugh while Aspen simply smiles, but it’s better than the cringing.
“Girl, you’ve gotten more adventurous since the twins!” Stella, one of the prospects giggles, sloshing back her drink. I’ve seen her around before, she’s one of Crusher’s prospects. Once he stepped back from Vice for Nomad, he decided he’d start doing training.
“You’ve got no idea,” Maggie sighs, a dazed look in her eyes.
“Techy, escape while you can,” Aspen softly calls, giggling into her hand. Maggie goes to swat her on the arm. Aspen doesn’t flinch, but she tenses up, her back pin straight.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” Maggie gasps, putting her hands under her bottom. “I always forget-”
