His boys gathered around, whooping, sending out suggestions on what he should be doing to her. He ignored them all. Abriana’s mother was there as well. She was no longer pale but clearly so embarrassed.
The way to their bedroom had been lined with a red carpet. Back at the clubhouse, the carpet leading to the bedrooms was stained with blood, sweat, and probably a whole lot of alcohol and spunk.
Abriana was in for a rude awakening when they got back home. His home was clean but modest. He didn’t have any of the fancy mansion shit that they all seemed to like.
Once inside their room, he closed the door and flicked the lock into place. They were alone.
When he glanced around the room, the huge four-poster bed dominated the entire space, and he shook his head at the extravagance of it. He also noted the white sheets. They looked brand new and so white.
Moving past a shaking Abriana, he opened another door and saw it was the bathroom.
“I’m taking a bath. When you’re done fucking shaking, thinking I’m going to rape you, come in.”
He left her alone, heading into the room.
He placed his cut on the back of the door, removing the robe, and dropping that piece of shit to the floor.
He removed the rest of his clothes, glad to be out of the penguin suit. It had fit a little too tightly, and he truly felt like he was being strangled.
Once he was naked, he started the bath. He was tempted to look out at Abriana. He wondered if she still standing there, staring into space.
Could she even think for herself?
The women in the mafia were always being told what to do. He didn’t want to have to constantly tell her what to do every single step of the day. That would be exhausting, and he didn’t get off on telling a woman how to live her life twenty-four seven. He liked giving out orders when it involved his cock, but anything else though, and it pissed him off.
Running a hand down his face, he added some bubble bath and waited for the large tub to fill up.
Moving across the room, he stood in front of the large mirror fitted against the wall. The frame seemed to be made of gold. Everything was always so fucking expensive-looking.
He even picked up a gold-handled hairbrush. So much fucking gold.
Putting it down on the counter, he stared at his reflection. His scars seemed to be more pronounced today than ever before. The ink on his body also looked out of place in the bathroom. Tribal ink, images of death, the imprint of his club, all of them stood out. He was the Sergeant at Arms, and he wore it like a badge of honor. He had no intention of ever fucking up, of ever not wearing this badge. This was who he was, and no one would be taking that away from him.
His cock was rock-hard and his balls tight.
Stepping away from the mirror, he turned off the water, checked the temperature, and climbed in.
Still, no sign of Abriana.
He slid beneath the water, wetting all of his body. The moment he broke the surface, he tensed up. Abriana stood in the bathroom.
“Erm, can I sit with you?”
“Sure.”
He ran his fingers over his face. “You can join me if you’d like.”
“In the bath?”
“You’ve never shared a bath before?”
“No. Never.”
“You ever had a guy touch your pussy?”
“I’m pure…” She nibbled her lip, and still she didn’t say his name. Not even a whisper of it.
“You’re not going to say my name?”
She shook her head.
“Do you even know what it is?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then say it.”
“Why?”
“I want to hear you say.”
She hesitated, and he waited.
Grabbing the soap, he lathered it across his body, wiping away the day. He didn’t wear a wedding band like he’d given her.
“Ugly Beast.” Her voice was so small he only just heard it. “Why do you like being called that?” she asked.
“It’s my name, baby. You got to get used to calling me that.”
“You have a real name.”
“I do, but it’s not important. The only one that is important is Ugly Beast. None of the brothers would like you for disrespecting me. Sit down.” He pointed toward the toilet.
She lowered herself down.
“You want to join me?”
“I’ll wait.”
“I’m not going to fuck you in the tub if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Come here,” he said. She needed to learn to get over this fucked-up fear of being near him. It was starting to piss him off, and he hated being pissed off.
She was shaking even as she approached him.
“Turn around.”
She did as he asked without even questioning him. He didn’t like her submission. Women who were subservient were not of use to the club. They needed to be constantly told what to do, and he didn’t have the energy for that.