Risky and Wild(84)
We both pause, but then decide it isn't worth it, moving and sweating and grunting. My hands squeeze Lyric's ass as I bury myself deep and come hard inside of her. I step back and pull her down with me, dragging her towards the bedroom for an orgasm of her own.
Doorbell again.
“Jesus fuck,” I murmur as we both pause and listen to it ring two, three, four more times in quick succession. I'd continue to ignore it if I wasn't concerned there could be some legitimacy to this person's urgency. “One quick second,” I tell Pint-Size with a kiss, grabbing my Ruger from the table before I move up to the door and check through the peephole.
Worse than the FBI, than Clayton Moore, than some bastard from the Saldaña Cartel, standing outside my front door is Mia.
“Who is it?” Lyric asks as I curse and set the gun on the built-in bookcases to my right. I move away from the door and down the hall to grab some clothes.
“It's Mia,” I tell her as I drag a t-shirt on over my head. Lyric's staring back at me with those bright green eyes of hers, her mouth tight, but her expression resolute. “I have no fucking clue what she's doing here,” I start and then realize what that look on Lyric's face might be about. “And I never brought her home, yeah? I can promise you that.”
“I guess you should just answer the door and see what she wants,” Lyric tells me, nodding her chin towards my bedroom door. “Don't worry. I'll stay in here, give you some privacy.”
“Don't need much privacy to tell the bitch to get lost,” I say and Lyric raises her brows. “But if you don't want to see her, you can wait in here and get our shower started.”
“Our shower?” she asks, but she's almost smiling as she slides past me and into the bathroom. I wait until I hear the water running before I leave, moving down the hallway in my bare feet, the sound of the doorbell ringing incessantly in my ears.
“Alright?” I ask when I fling the door open and find Mia standing there in skintight leather pants and purple heels. She tucks some hair behind her ear and then runs the fingers of her right hand up and down the tattoos on her left arm. When she doesn't respond, I lean into the doorjamb and raise an eyebrow. “What do you want?” I ask, reaching for the pack of smokes on my side table. I slide one between my lips as I wait for a response.
“Royal,” she starts, looking at me like she's my long-lost lover instead of a casual hookup.
“You think it's smart to show your face around here after what you did to Lyric?”
“I was just trying to help,” she blurts taking a step toward me. I don't back up, but when she lifts a hand to touch my chest, I push her wrist away. The makeup around her eyes looks muddled, smeared like she's been crying. I feel bad for the girl, I do. Crap job, crap family, crap apartment. But I can't fix those things for her. “Lyric isn't right for you, Royal.” Mia turns and ruffles her hair, spinning back to me and staring at me from beneath fake lashes. She's a pretty girl this one, but she's not Lyric. Looking at her now, I can't feel even the faintest stirring of interest. “I'm in love with you, you silly idiot,” she says, sniffling a little.
I light my cigarette and close my eyes for a moment. I'm not out to ruin people's lives or crush their hearts or any of that nonsense, but all I have for Mia now is the truth. I open my eyes up and take a long drag.
“Listen, I'm bloody sorry things aren't going the way you want them to, but you fucked up, Mia.” She starts to protest, but I step forward, cutting her off with the movement. “You beat up the mayor's daughter on club property, something that could've gone to shit if Lyric had pressed charges. And then,” I pull in a deep breath to try and calm my suddenly thumping pulse, “you had the fucking audacity to attack my old lady in a public place, to humiliate her in view of several security cameras. Mia, I decided to let Lyric handle her own business, but I can't imagine you think you'll be welcome on the compound again.”
“Royal,” she starts, but I'm done, shaking my head and moving another step forward. Mia stumbles back, down the porch steps until she's standing on the walkway. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, but her purple painted lips are open in a growl, white teeth clenched tight.
“I'll put in a good word for you at one of the other chapters if you want to see what they're all about, but you, me, this,” I gesture between us, “we're done here, love. And take your friends with you.”
“You think the rest of the club will like that? If I take my girls with me and go?” she snaps, narrowing her eyes and curling her tattooed hands into fists. “I go, and you'll have nobody left. Royal, think about what you're doing. Some bourgeois bitch? Or me.”