Devil's Vengeance (Sydney Storm MC 3)

Without thinking, I flung my hand out and lightly smacked him on the chest. Our eyes met as I said, “I’m nowhere near as sassy as my grandmother, thank you.”

His chuckle turned into a belly laugh and he grabbed my hand before I could pull it back. Holding it against his chest, he said, “Maybe I should take your grandmother out for a drink on Sunday instead.”

It was my turn to laugh. “She’d probably love that.” I turned to her. “You do love your gin after all.”

Devil’s hand on mine was doing crazy shit to my body, and I attempted to pull away, but he shook his head and mouthed, “No” before looking at my grandmother again. “How about it, Gran? You up for drinks with me and Hailee on the weekend?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and tsked. “I know what you’re doing, young man. Trying to get into my granddaughter’s pants through me. You’re shit out of luck there, though. You want in, you’re gonna have to do the work yourself.”

I couldn’t believe she’d just said that. But I should have, because she’d never been one to beat around the bush in her life. Well, except when it came to my mother. She’d beaten around that bush for decades.

“Jesus, Gran,” I muttered as I pulled my hand away from Devil’s. “Do you have to be so to the point?”

She scowled at me as she hobbled around the kitchen with her cane. Her seventy-five years were catching up to her, and she was slowly starting to lose her health, but she had her wits about her still. “Life’s too damn short to fuck around, my dear. More people should just say it like it is, and then we’d all know where we stand.” I knew this was coming from all those years of her trying like hell to get my mother to like her, with no success. The minute my mother turned on her completely after my father died, Gran hardened a little more and began speaking bluntly to everyone. I usually appreciated it, but with Devil, for some reason, I felt a little ruffled that she’d speak so openly to him.

I shouldn’t have been concerned, though. He took it in his stride. Even seemed to welcome it. “Life is too damn short to fuck around. I agree. And yes, I was trying to get into Hailee’s pants through you, but I see that’s not going to work for me here. I appreciate the heads up. I’ll shift gears now and try other avenues.”

Gran nodded. I shook my head. “Really? You two are gonna stand here and talk about me as if I’m not even in the room?”

“Feel free to leave,” my grandmother said.

Devil’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’m gonna leave you two alone now. Maybe your grandmother can talk some sense into you,” he said with a wink.

I rolled my eyes and shooed him into the hallway. “Maybe she’ll tell me I should look for a man who’s not a fucking pussy.”

He stopped and turned, backing me up against the wall. He placed one hand on the wall above me and the other around my waist. Pressing himself into me, he growled, “You feel that, darlin’? That’s what’s waiting for you when you’re ready to acknowledge how much you fucking want me.” He bent his mouth to my ear and added, “When you’re ready to leave behind a man who doesn’t even have the fucking balls to tell me to back the fuck off when I’m watching you like I wanna run my tongue through your pussy before I fuck you into unconsciousness.”

My legs turned to jelly.

I forgot how to breathe.

No words came.

I was a mess.

An achy, needy mess.

Devil let me go, and I watched as he walked the short distance down the hallway to the front door. He exited the house without a backwards glance at me, which was a good fucking thing. If he had looked back, he would have seen how desperately I wanted to beg him to come back.

“I like that man,” my grandmother said, causing me to jump.

I stood straight and ran my fingers through my hair. My senses were scrambled, and I fought to unscramble them. “Huh?”

“I said, I like that man. He has some fire to him. You should dump Wayne and date him. What’s his name? You never did introduce us.”

“That’s because you two were busy with your conversation,” I muttered.

She stared at me. “Well, his name?”

God how I loved her, even when she was bossy and cantankerous. “Devil.”

Her forehead crinkled in a frown. “Devil? What kind of name is that?”

“It’s his nickname. I don’t know his real name.”

She hobbled back into the kitchen, throwing over her shoulder, “Find out his name. I want to know what it is. And invite him to dinner next week. I’ll cook.”

My eyes widened. She never cooked anymore. Hadn’t in the time we’d lived together. I’d begged her numerous times, because she was the best cook I knew, but she always fobbed me off with an excuse.