Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2) Read online

  Rough & Raw

  Copyright © 2016 by Hayley Faiman

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editor: Rosalyn Martin, Another Pair

  Cover: Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs

  Formatting: Champagne Formats

  Table of Contents

  title page

  copyright

  dedication

  quote

  prologue

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  chapter twenty-five

  chapter twenty-six

  chapter twenty-seven

  chapter twenty-eight

  chapter twenty-nine

  chapter thirty

  chapter thirty-one

  chapter thirty-two

  chapter thirty-three

  epilogue

  rough & rugged

  also by Hayley Faiman

  about the author

  acknowledgments

  Jeremy —

  You inspire me every day with how wholly you love me.

  Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape.

  - William S. Burroughs

  Brentlee

  Five Years Earlier

  I make sure the bathroom door is locked. Not that a lock would stop Scotty from breaking the thing down. He’d done it before. For a man who is slim and works behind a desk all day long, he has some serious strength.

  I sit down on the closed toilet seat, pressing my hands to my face. It happened again. I have lost count of how many times Scotty has slapped me, punched me, kicked me, or raped me.

  My entire relationship is a farce.

  I hate him, but I married him because my parents encouraged it. They love that I married a man with a fantastic career. I hate myself for being weak.

  My father scowls when he sees the yellowing bruises on my face, but he never says a word. My mother pretends to be oblivious to the hell that I live in.

  I let my mind drift back in time, not for the first time, to the one and only man that I have ever loved.

  Bates Lukin.

  I fell for Bates when I was just fourteen years old. He was the older bad-boy, and I loved everything about him—the thrill and the danger that surrounded him.

  I pursued him, relentlessly, and eventually he took notice. We spent one year together before he went away to Marine boot camp. One beautiful year where I gave him everything. My love and my virginity.

  “I won’t ask you to wait for me, Brent. I know you’re still enjoying high school, and you deserve to have fun,” Bates murmurs as he cups his hand around my cheek. I wrap my fingers around his wrist holding onto him.

  “But I love you,” I say, my voice trembling with emotion.

  “I don’t doubt that, Brent. I love you, too; but I’m not coming back here. I have no clue where they’ll send me, but I don’t want to be anywhere near my father. You need to have fun in high school. Sitting around on Friday nights alone isn’t your style. I wouldn’t ask you to do that for me,” he says, his dark eyes roaming over my face, taking me in, memorizing me for quite possibly the last time—ever.

  “I can stay faithful; do you think you won’t be able to?” I ask challengingly, angrily.

  “For you, I could do anything, Brent. For you, I would do anything. But you’re young and I can’t hold you back like that.” He sighs pressing his forehead to mine.

  “You’re breaking my heart, Bates,” I whisper, unable to hold the tears at bay.

  “I know. At least you have a heart. I gave mine to you,” he murmurs, running his nose along mine before pressing a closed mouth kiss against my lips.

  “You can’t have it back. I’ll be waiting for you,” I cry.

  My fifteen-year-old heart was shattered the day Bates left for boot camp.

  I would have waited for him.

  I would have waited a lifetime.

  Months went by without news from him.

  He abandoned me.

  I would beg his sister, Mary-Anne, for any information she had. At first, she obliged, sharing letters he sent to her. Then suddenly, she stopped. I knew he had told her to let me move on. He was forcing me to move on.

  In my anger toward Bates, I turned into someone I didn’t recognize. I began drinking and became promiscuous. That lasted for about three years, until my best friend’s brother came back from college— law school.

  He saw me as a woman, and he wanted me.

  Scotty and I were engaged mere months after we started dating, and our marriage was rushed. I was nineteen and he was just beginning his career. We were going to be the perfect couple. Even if I didn’t love him, I thought I could learn to, eventually.

  Our perfect couple status lasted until our honeymoon. The truth crashed through my little bubble with a vengeance. It was the first night he hit me. I had embarrassed him because I drank too much at our reception. I was a stupid whore, a slut, and I was lucky he took pity on me and married me.

  I felt stupid at the time.

  I felt stupid for falling for all of his shit—for not listening to my sister, Kentlee, when she tried to advise me to steer clear of the man. He didn’t need to point out that I had been slutty. I owned that slut inside of me, but I wasn’t that girl anymore. I was a wife, completely ready to devote my life to my new husband.

  I resigned myself to the hell I had bought into, that I had allowed.

  That was, until I saw Kentlee with her new man in the grocery store. I was eight months pregnant and had just survived another brutal attack by my adoring husband. I didn’t lie to myself; I didn’t believe anything he said when he apologized to me profusely every time he beat the shit out of me, but I was scared.

  Kentlee looked happy and her man, a monster, looked scary; yet when his eyes landed on my sister, I watched them soften before my own.

  “Get your no good, whore ass out here,” my husband bellows from the other side of the bathroom door.

  I suck in a breath and grasp the handle of the door, opening it to face my hell, my nightmare—my husband.

  Sniper

  I lie in the dark alone.

  I hate sleeping alone.

  The nightmares always return.

  Nigh
tmares about the months I spent in the scorching, dry desert while I was in the Marines, followed by my self-created nightmares about leaving the only girl I have ever loved—Brentlee Johnson.

  Fifteen was too young for me to tie her down. She deserved to experience life. By the time I found my way back to her, it was too late. She was engaged. I watched her from a distance, angry at the way her demeanor changed after her marriage, knowing exactly why it had changed, too.

  My father abused my mother my entire life. She refused to leave him and I watched as he hurt her, hurt me, and hurt my sister—repeatedly.

  I kick the sheets off and find my pants, pulling them up my legs, not bothering to button them. I won’t be wearing them long. Living in the clubhouse has its perks. Pussy available twenty-four-seven.

  I need something to exhaust me for a few hours. I won’t fool myself into thinking I’ll get a full night’s sleep, but a couple hours would be nice.

  I walk into the room where the clubwhores hang out and sleep, noticing it’s pretty empty, except for a sweet young thing that showed up a few weeks ago. I don’t pretend to know her name. I’ll never use it, and I’ll never need it. She has long brown hair and brown eyes. Her body is thin, but curvy. She could look like Brentlee — if I squinted, were drunk, and high.

  I lift my chin toward her and hold out my hand. She quickly comes my way, wearing a bra and a pair of short shorts with platform flip flops. She’s more covered up than most of the girls here, who choose to lounge in just thong panties.

  “What do you want?” she asks in a little girl voice once we get inside of my room.

  I hate that shit. I guess it’s supposed to make chicks sound sexy, but I can’t stand it. Brentlee had a low rasp to her voice. With one word, my cock would be hard as nails—every time.

  “You don’t talk,” I grit out through my clenched jaw. “Get on your knees and suck my cock,” I order, smirking when she does as I say.

  I watch her sink to her knees before she shoves my jeans down with her little hands. Then she slides her hot mouth over me. She sucks me like a goddamned pro, and it feels fuckin’ fantastic.

  I wrap my hands in her hair and hold her still before I start to fuck her mouth. I want to come, but not like this. I need to fuck or I won’t be able to sleep. I pull out of her mouth and order her to strip. She does it slowly and seductively, but I couldn’t give a fuck. She’s skinny with big fake tits. I prefer long and lean. I prefer Brentlee.

  The girl doesn’t even ask how I want her. She crawls to the center of my bed—head down, ass up. I slide on a condom before I grab her bony as fuck hips and slam my cock inside of her. She’s a little wet, but she cries out at first. I don’t stop. She’s here to take my cock. I don’t have to do fuck for her.

  “You want to come, you’ll have to make yourself,” I say sounding bored, because I am. This bitch is just taking it, making screeching noises that are fake as shit.

  Once she starts touching her clit, her voice goes a bit deeper and I feel her shudder underneath me as her pussy starts to swell around my cock.

  I close my eyes and imagine it’s Brentlee. It’s been almost eight years since I’ve been in her pussy, but I’ll never forget the way it felt. Nothing else could compare.

  I start to pound into her harder. I know I’m going to bruise her up, but I can’t find a fuck to give as I feel my nuts tighten. Finally, I come. I don’t stay inside of her even a second after my release. I pull out and yank the condom off of my cock, tying a knot in it and throwing it in the trash can.

  “Gonna hit the head; be gone when I get back,” I bark as I leave the room.

  When I come back, the bitch is gone. I climb back into bed and I close my eyes. Sleep finally takes over, but it isn’t dreamless. It’s full of Brentlee.

  “I love you so much, Bates,” she says, kissing my neck down my chest and just above my jeans.

  Fuck, I feel like I’m going to blow my load right here and now.

  “Love you, too, baby,” I whisper, trying and praying that I can hold it together for a few more minutes.

  “I want to suck you,” she murmurs as she begins to unzip my pants. I swear to Christ my prayers are answered in this second.

  I wake with sweat covering my body, remembering the first time Brentlee took me in her mouth. I embarrassed myself, coming within seconds, but she took it all and then she smiled as I wrapped her in my arms.

  Brentlee wasn’t my first lay, but she was the best. Even now, a decade later, nobody can compare.

  I told her once that I didn’t have a heart because I gave it to her.

  She still owns it all these years later.

  Always has and always will.

  Three Years Later

  Sniper

  It hasn’t been nearly long enough since the last time I laid eyes on Brentlee.

  My heart picks up at the sight of her, and for whatever reason, I stupidly want to see more. It’s like I want to punish myself further, but it’s Brentlee. I’ll never pass up an opportunity even just to watch her.

  I look so much different now than when she saw me last. I’m nothing like the boy she knew, so I cross the street and follow her into the store she’s slipped into. I trail behind her, close but not too close.

  I watch as she picks up the ugliest fuckin’ puke green dress I think I’ve ever seen in my life. Then, she sighs and it goes straight to my dick. Fuck, I remember how she would sigh as soon as I slid my cock into her tight cunt. Fucking beautiful.

  “Hello,” she whispers lightly into the phone. Her voice is deep and husky, another thing that makes my dick hard.

  “Yes, Scotty, I understand. No, no, everything will be ready on time. Yes, I’ll be presentable,” she murmurs gently, too fuckin’ gently—as if she’s afraid.

  Fear.

  I know that emotion well. I’ve lived it my entire life, and to hear it come from Brentlee’s lips makes me sick. I move around so that I can see her from the front, and when I do, I feel rage fill me from head-to-toe.

  She’s done a good job trying to hide it, but she has a black eye. It isn’t fresh either, probably a day or two old. I know because I watched my mother sporting the exact same bruises my entire childhood.

  I choke down the bile that threatens to rise. I left her all those years ago and I told her to live, I never thought she wouldn’t live and live happily.

  I want to turn and leave, but I’m frozen to my spot, watching her every move—her every tentative move. She’s a fucking shell of a person. Nothing like the girl she was when I loved her.

  My tigritsa no more.

  I watch as she pulls out a credit card and pays for the god awful dress before she walks out of the store. Then, after a few minutes, I follow, leaving the store. I throw one leg over my bike and I head toward the clubhouse, toward my brothers—my family.

  I need a good fuck and some booze.

  How did she let herself get mixed up with this piece of shit? This dirtbag. She deserves so much better than him, than how he obviously treats her.

  I close my eyes for a beat.

  I need to not think about how I fucked up Brentlee’s life. It was me—my fault. She would have still been mine, she would have waited for a fucking eternity for me, had I not pushed her away. I pushed, and I even made sure Mary-Anne started ignoring her.

  I thought I was doing it all for the best, but she’s living in fear with some piece of shit, and I’m the one to blame. If I would have kept her, she wouldn’t have chosen him, she would have always—always, been mine.

  “Woah, slow down there, brother,” Fury chuckles as I practically run toward the bar once I arrive at the clubhouse.

  I don’t slow down. I growl to the prospect behind the bar that I want a bottle of Jack, and I want it right-fucking-now.

  “The fuck is wrong with you?” Fury grunts as he slides up next to me.

  “I didn’t know,” I mumble.

  “You’re gonna need to fill me in,” he urges.

  I
unscrew the cap and start to guzzle the liquid, letting it burn my throat before I turn to Fury, my friend and brother. He doesn’t know much about me. I keep my shit wrapped up tight, but this I can’t keep in.

  “I saw Brentlee,” I confess.

  “Kent’s sister? Okay…” Fury says.

  I can see the confusion written all over his face, and I don’t blame him. I would be, too; especially since I haven’t said fuckall about Brentlee to anybody. I haven’t spoken her name since the day I left this town five years ago. It hurt too fucking bad.

  “Loved her. Love her. Fuck, I don’t know,” I mutter. “I saw her today; I think her man beats her.”

  The words put a bitter taste in my mouth. I hate uttering them out loud.

  “You want to go and get her?” he asks.

  I arch a brow, but he doesn’t waiver. The crazy fucker is serious, which makes me think he’s more serious than I thought about LeeLee—Brentlee’s sister.

  “Nope,” I say, shaking my head once before I take another huge swig of liquor.

  “We got muscle, brother,” he offers.

  “Won’t matter. I know women that are abused, they never leave,” I say as I start to stand.

  “You writing her off, then? Woman you love?” he asks.

  “You gonna claim your woman?” I ask, shutting his pussy ass up.

  Fury calls my name after I’ve already started walking away, but I can’t give enough fucks to turn around and acknowledge him. I need to fuck this feeling away or I’ll have nightmares all night. I can already feel that panic rising in my chest.

  I see a couple of whores hanging out by the pool tables and I lift my chin to both of them. Quickly, and without question, they stand and teeter on their high heels as they follow me. I open my door and let them walk into my room, but I don’t close the door behind me. I could give a fuck if anybody sees me with these two bitches.

  “Naked,” I grunt as I take another healthy swig of Jack.

  I watch as they strip and take note of their skinny frames, the blonde has no tits, and it makes me think of Brentlee and her long, lean body. I try to shake her image out of my mind as I take my own clothes off, but I can’t.