That ball that’s been sitting in my gut, slowly burning hotter at each word he has spoken, is starting to uncoil, spreading a wrath like no other to have spread throughout my body. My woman is out with another man? Oh. Hell. No.
I click the phone off before grabbing my keys and storming out the door. Maddox looks up from grabbing his duffel off the floor, his eyes questioning the mood that is following me out the door. I vaguely hear him remind me that I’m watching Cat again until he gets home. Not willing to waste a single second on the fucking elevator, I start running at full speed down the twenty-seven flights of stairs.
The only thing I have my mind set on is getting to Fat Jacks as quickly as I can and claiming MY woman.
For fucking good.
Chapter 11 – Chelcie
He’s still looking at my toes.
My skin is crawling with the way he’s looking at my poor toes. I’ve tried everything to shift his attention from my feet, but he literally just moved closer and is looking under the table…at my feet.
I’m cursing my outfit now. Earlier today, it seemed like a good idea to wear the cute, new open-toed flats I’d picked up. I haven’t worn them yet, and I loved the way my red-painted toes peeked out of the shoe. They made me feel sexy before. Now, all I want to do is find about ten pairs of socks and hide my feet for the rest of my life.
“Oh God, flex them again,” he slurs.
I wouldn’t have been able to stop the gag that came bubbling out if I’d had a gun pointed to my head.
“Please stop,” I beg.
“Let me touch them,” he wheezes, and before I can stop him, he has my ankle in his hands, my foot in his lap, and my shoe popped off and he is basically masturbating my big toe.
The burger I had so lovingly devoured not even ten minutes ago is churning in my stomach. Unwilling to cause a scene, I squeeze my eyes closed and pray that I will just die on spot.
“Get your fucking hands off my woman.”
My eyes snap open at the venom-filled voice at my back.
“Drop her goddamn foot now before I rip your hands off your body.”
The danger in his threat causes me to shiver, and his hand is immediately at the base of my neck. His fingers curl and flex against my skin, causing me to shiver again. All thoughts of my poor, molested toes completely fly out the window.
“Being as she is here as my date, I think it’s safe to say that she isn’t your woman.”
Oh what an idiot.
“You have two goddamn seconds to remove your hands before I take your fingers and break each one. Then, when I’m done, I’ll snap your wrist before moving to your fucking elbows. And if I feel like being nice, I might leave your arms at that. She. Is. Mine.”
I try to remove my foot from his hold, but his fingers clamp tightly around my ankle, causing me to whimper from the pain. Neither one of them notices, but as the tension climbs between the two of them, Phil’s fingers get tighter and tighter.
Asher’s hand is still holding me at the base of my neck, and it feels as if the two are having some weird tug-of-war minus the tug. I whimper again when Phil’s fingers get even firmer against my skin. I can feel my toes, those damn toes, starting to tingle with the loss of blood flow, and just when I thought his hold couldn’t get any more painful, he proves me wrong.
The raw cry that escapes my lips shocks even me and has both of the men whipping their eyes in my direction. Phil takes my cry as one of pleasure, and I can see him puffing out his chest. Asher comes around, not removing his hold but curling his fingers up the side of my neck and holding my cheek in his palm. His eyes look into mine for a beat. I can see the vehement intensity of his anger in those beautiful blue eyes. His gaze travels down my body until he sees the cause of my pain. When he looks quickly back up at me, I see the danger in his observation. He never breaks his stare. I see his other hand move in my peripheral, but I don’t dare break the connection to him.
I hear Phil cry out in pain a second before my leg is dropped. Asher doesn’t waste a second. After pulling out his wallet, he throws a few bills down then scoops me up in his arms and marches out the doors. I duck my head in the crook of his neck, running my nose along his warm skin and feeling safe.
Safe and protected.
He doesn’t say anything. Walking with a steadfast determination to his Jeep, he unlocks the door with ease then sets me gently down before buckling my belt and jogging over to his side.
And just like that, we’re taking off towards the apartment at a speed that matches the rapid beats of my heart.
Chapter 12 – Asher
I can’t stop the rage that has fully consumed my every emotion. I can’t even focus without seeing a red haze clouding my vision. When I walked through those doors and saw that motherfucker’s hands on Chelcie, I believed myself capable of murder. Cold, hard murder, and I didn’t give a fuck that I had witnesses surrounding me. My soul was demanding that I claim what is mine—that I tear that piece of shit to pieces for even breathing her air.
He’s lucky the only thing I did was snap his wrist to get him to remove his hold on her body. That still didn’t satisfy the primal animal that is snarling to be set free. It’s the same feeling I get when I think about what happened to Coop. That need to wrong a right, to claim what’s mine.
Images of Chelcie, her eyes closed and his fingers touching her feet, bombard my mind again, and I swerve my Jeep over a few lanes. Pulling off onto the shoulder of the highway, I rip off my seatbelt and jump out of the Jeep before slamming the door with enough force to rock the whole vehicle.
I’m fighting every instinct in my system to turn the car around and kill. I’m at war with myself and I am too out of control to correct it. I need to claim, to mark, and to prove that she is mine.
I pace back and forth in short successions before stopping in my tracks and whipping my head around to look back at Chelcie. I was expecting her anger, but when I look back and see her curled forward with her shoulders shaking violently, I immediately rush back to the Jeep. This time, I bypass my door and jerk hers open. She shoots up and hiccups a sob before crumbling again. This time, it isn’t herself she is escaping to. No, she lunges forward, almost falling out of the Jeep, and wraps her arms forcefully around my neck.
Pulling my hips back slightly, I move her body so that her legs are hanging out the side of the Jeep. I push them lightly apart and step in between her thighs. She immediately wraps her long legs around my hips and all but crawls inside my body. I stand there, running my hands down her back, and let her take every ounce of strength I have in my body. I can feel her trembling against me, her tears soaking my shirt, and her heaving breath against my neck. I just keep running my hands down her back and press my lips to her head. The feel of her body and the smell that never fails to make me roll my eyes in yearning combined with the adrenaline that is still thundering through my body does nothing to help ease the need I feel to claim.
I click the phone off before grabbing my keys and storming out the door. Maddox looks up from grabbing his duffel off the floor, his eyes questioning the mood that is following me out the door. I vaguely hear him remind me that I’m watching Cat again until he gets home. Not willing to waste a single second on the fucking elevator, I start running at full speed down the twenty-seven flights of stairs.
The only thing I have my mind set on is getting to Fat Jacks as quickly as I can and claiming MY woman.
For fucking good.
Chapter 11 – Chelcie
He’s still looking at my toes.
My skin is crawling with the way he’s looking at my poor toes. I’ve tried everything to shift his attention from my feet, but he literally just moved closer and is looking under the table…at my feet.
I’m cursing my outfit now. Earlier today, it seemed like a good idea to wear the cute, new open-toed flats I’d picked up. I haven’t worn them yet, and I loved the way my red-painted toes peeked out of the shoe. They made me feel sexy before. Now, all I want to do is find about ten pairs of socks and hide my feet for the rest of my life.
“Oh God, flex them again,” he slurs.
I wouldn’t have been able to stop the gag that came bubbling out if I’d had a gun pointed to my head.
“Please stop,” I beg.
“Let me touch them,” he wheezes, and before I can stop him, he has my ankle in his hands, my foot in his lap, and my shoe popped off and he is basically masturbating my big toe.
The burger I had so lovingly devoured not even ten minutes ago is churning in my stomach. Unwilling to cause a scene, I squeeze my eyes closed and pray that I will just die on spot.
“Get your fucking hands off my woman.”
My eyes snap open at the venom-filled voice at my back.
“Drop her goddamn foot now before I rip your hands off your body.”
The danger in his threat causes me to shiver, and his hand is immediately at the base of my neck. His fingers curl and flex against my skin, causing me to shiver again. All thoughts of my poor, molested toes completely fly out the window.
“Being as she is here as my date, I think it’s safe to say that she isn’t your woman.”
Oh what an idiot.
“You have two goddamn seconds to remove your hands before I take your fingers and break each one. Then, when I’m done, I’ll snap your wrist before moving to your fucking elbows. And if I feel like being nice, I might leave your arms at that. She. Is. Mine.”
I try to remove my foot from his hold, but his fingers clamp tightly around my ankle, causing me to whimper from the pain. Neither one of them notices, but as the tension climbs between the two of them, Phil’s fingers get tighter and tighter.
Asher’s hand is still holding me at the base of my neck, and it feels as if the two are having some weird tug-of-war minus the tug. I whimper again when Phil’s fingers get even firmer against my skin. I can feel my toes, those damn toes, starting to tingle with the loss of blood flow, and just when I thought his hold couldn’t get any more painful, he proves me wrong.
The raw cry that escapes my lips shocks even me and has both of the men whipping their eyes in my direction. Phil takes my cry as one of pleasure, and I can see him puffing out his chest. Asher comes around, not removing his hold but curling his fingers up the side of my neck and holding my cheek in his palm. His eyes look into mine for a beat. I can see the vehement intensity of his anger in those beautiful blue eyes. His gaze travels down my body until he sees the cause of my pain. When he looks quickly back up at me, I see the danger in his observation. He never breaks his stare. I see his other hand move in my peripheral, but I don’t dare break the connection to him.
I hear Phil cry out in pain a second before my leg is dropped. Asher doesn’t waste a second. After pulling out his wallet, he throws a few bills down then scoops me up in his arms and marches out the doors. I duck my head in the crook of his neck, running my nose along his warm skin and feeling safe.
Safe and protected.
He doesn’t say anything. Walking with a steadfast determination to his Jeep, he unlocks the door with ease then sets me gently down before buckling my belt and jogging over to his side.
And just like that, we’re taking off towards the apartment at a speed that matches the rapid beats of my heart.
Chapter 12 – Asher
I can’t stop the rage that has fully consumed my every emotion. I can’t even focus without seeing a red haze clouding my vision. When I walked through those doors and saw that motherfucker’s hands on Chelcie, I believed myself capable of murder. Cold, hard murder, and I didn’t give a fuck that I had witnesses surrounding me. My soul was demanding that I claim what is mine—that I tear that piece of shit to pieces for even breathing her air.
He’s lucky the only thing I did was snap his wrist to get him to remove his hold on her body. That still didn’t satisfy the primal animal that is snarling to be set free. It’s the same feeling I get when I think about what happened to Coop. That need to wrong a right, to claim what’s mine.
Images of Chelcie, her eyes closed and his fingers touching her feet, bombard my mind again, and I swerve my Jeep over a few lanes. Pulling off onto the shoulder of the highway, I rip off my seatbelt and jump out of the Jeep before slamming the door with enough force to rock the whole vehicle.
I’m fighting every instinct in my system to turn the car around and kill. I’m at war with myself and I am too out of control to correct it. I need to claim, to mark, and to prove that she is mine.
I pace back and forth in short successions before stopping in my tracks and whipping my head around to look back at Chelcie. I was expecting her anger, but when I look back and see her curled forward with her shoulders shaking violently, I immediately rush back to the Jeep. This time, I bypass my door and jerk hers open. She shoots up and hiccups a sob before crumbling again. This time, it isn’t herself she is escaping to. No, she lunges forward, almost falling out of the Jeep, and wraps her arms forcefully around my neck.
Pulling my hips back slightly, I move her body so that her legs are hanging out the side of the Jeep. I push them lightly apart and step in between her thighs. She immediately wraps her long legs around my hips and all but crawls inside my body. I stand there, running my hands down her back, and let her take every ounce of strength I have in my body. I can feel her trembling against me, her tears soaking my shirt, and her heaving breath against my neck. I just keep running my hands down her back and press my lips to her head. The feel of her body and the smell that never fails to make me roll my eyes in yearning combined with the adrenaline that is still thundering through my body does nothing to help ease the need I feel to claim.
