UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8) by Hayley Faiman (e book reader pc txt) 📕

Tilting my head back, I look up into his eyes. “Happy birthday, Sunny,” he murmurs.

Licking my lips, I hold my breath for a moment, then finally work up the nerve to breathe and then speak.

“Thank you, Dylan.”

My breath hitches as he lifts his hand, cupping my cheek. I love his fingers on me, even if it’s just my cheek. I’ll take it all, anything at all. He clears his throat, his intense gaze searching my own.

“Don’t got a gift. Buy you whatever you wanted if I could,” he murmurs.

My lips curve up into a small grin. “This was the best birthday I’ve ever had, the only party I’ve ever had,” I admit. I can feel my face heat at my admission. If he notices, he’s nice enough not to point it out.

JAGUAR

The only party she’s ever had.

I feel like a complete fucking asshole. I should have done something to make it special, and once again, I’m goddamn worthless—I didn’t do shit, I even showed up late. Pressing my lips together, I shake my head once before I bring my gaze back to meet hers.

“I’m a piece of shit,” I confess.

Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth to say something, but I don’t let her. I can’t have her filling my head with lies. She would tell me that I’m not, but she doesn’t know me, not really. I allowed the only man who has treated me like a son to die.

“I should have done something for you, should have at least tried.”

“When?” she asks. I open my mouth, but she doesn’t let me speak. “When you were unconscious for a week? When you were bleeding and unable to even move? Explain to me when you should have been doing things for me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I grind out.

I don’t want to hear about my condition, and the mention of it all makes me realize that I’ve been standing for far too long and my body hurts like hell. I don’t move though, my hand is still cupping her cheek and I’m enjoying the way her skin feels against my own, even if it’s just my hand against her cheek.

“It was the best day of my life,” she breathes. “I finally feel safe, at least for now.”

“For now?” I ask.

Her gaze shifts to the side, but I apply pressure against her cheek, hoping that she’ll turn back to look at me and thankfully she does. Holding her eyes with my own, I arch a brow and wait for her to clarify her thoughts.

“Dragon’s given me a job,” she explains.

I hold back my smile because he’s done exactly what he said, that makes me feel good. He isn’t punishing her for my shit, that’s all I wanted. I could die tomorrow and be confident that my life was not a complete waste.

“But I’m afraid I can only tend a bar for so long before something will need to change.”

“Need to change?” I ask.

Again, she attempts to look away from me, but I don’t let her. She chews on her bottom lip, her eyes searching my face. “I’ll need a real job, a man, or to become a whore. I’m not naïve in the workings of a club, Dylan. This club is different from the Punchers, but the core is mostly the same.”

“Won’t let that shit go down, you have my protection,” I grind out.

She releases the hold her teeth had on her lip and takes a step back from me. My hand falls from her cheek, but her eyes stay connected to my own, unmoving.

“You’re not in good standing, Dylan.”

Her words are a punch to the gut. I can’t even tell her that she’s full of shit and she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, because she’s absolutely right. I am worthless, I can’t even protect her. Giving her my brand at this point wouldn’t be allowed, if I did it anyway, it would offer zero protection.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “Don’t need the reminder.”

“Dylan,” she exhales.

Anger and disappointment flow through my veins. Moving quickly, I close the distance between us. I’m unable to stop myself. Dipping my chin, I take her cheeks in both of my hands and I touch my mouth to hers.

I kiss her.

It’s hard, it’s consuming, and it’s owning.

She’s mine.

She may not be mine tomorrow, but right now, in this exact moment, Pamela belongs to me. If I were a different man, if I were a better man, then this would be a completely different scenario and outcome.

But I’m not.

I’m worthless.

I’m a traitor.

I’m a piece of shit.

So, to prove my shit status. I kiss her. Walking her backward, I grunt when her back slams against the wall. My tongue fills her, tasting all of her, tangling with her own.

My hand leaves one cheek, wrapping around her waist, then slowly sliding around to her lower back. I slide my palm beneath the waistband of her jean shorts and grab a handful of her ass.

At the same time, my other hand leaves her cheek and I wrap my fingers around the back of her knee. Lifting her leg to my hip, I grind my hard length against her center.

She pulls her head away from mine, breaking the kiss as the back of her head hits the wall with a thud. “God,” she moans as her hips move against the crotch of my jeans.

Dipping my chin, I look down between us, watching as her hips buck and jerk, dry humping me. It’s sexy. It really shouldn’t be and I don’t think I’ve ever dry humped anyone before, but fuck me, this is hot.

Gripping her ass harder, I wish that my hands could be everywhere all at the same time. I want to feel her come. Deciding to abandon her knee, I hook her leg around my hip as I use that hand to unbutton the front of her shorts.

Slipping my fingers down the front of her jeans, I find her clit.

“Shit,” she hisses, her eyes