Cocky's Fight (Devils Rejects MC 6)

“You heard me, man.” He shoved at my shoulders. “Why don’t you go back to the freakshow.” Then he punched me, landing a pathetic jab on my jaw.

I laughed at him and told him, “That was your one.”

I don’t remember much after that, but I know I fucked him up. Broke the bone of his pallet and knocked out a few teeth. He’s the son of a senator and his dad is pushing to lock me up. So far, my old man has managed to keep me out of jail and I know Texas is his way of making it go away. Well at least it gets me of the state and hopefully off the rich asshole’s radar.

“We should talk. I’ll come to you.”

“Fine,” I snap at her. Thinking about that shit at that party has me fired up again. Ending the call, I toss my cell phone onto the couch and sigh. Rubbing a hand through my hair, I walk to the fridge and grab a beer from the inside of the door. I know when I go to Texas if she doesn’t come with me we’re through.

I drink my way through a six-pack of ponies before I hear the light tap on my door. Blinking my eyes, I scrub a hand over my face and call out, “It’s open.”

The door swings open and she stands in the entryway. Her blonde hair is in a messy knot on top of her head. She’s dressed down in an oversized university sweatshirt, leggings that make her ass look good, and a pair of boots.

Stomping her feet, she shakes some of the snow off before entering.

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her, and she rolls her shoulders.

Coralie stops short by the couch and I grab her by the wrists and pull her down to me. I don’t want to fight. With other ideas…like getting her naked and in my bed in mind, I kiss her. Her lips don’t move, and I pull back.

She gives me a disappointed expression, her brows lifting as she frowns. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re late but I’m not complaining. I’ve missed you.” I inch my fingers under her shirt, up her side, toward her bra.

“I came here so we can talk.”

“Don’t be like this. I just want to be with you. Is that so wrong or too much to ask for?”

“When you’re drunk it is. I didn’t come over for this.” Her hand goes to my bare chest, her fingers tracing the dark ink outline of the lion’s head that covers the expanse of my chest. “I need you to be serious.”

I grin lazily at her and pinch her nipple between my fingers as I say, “I am serious. Serious about getting you naked.”

“God!” Coralie moves away shaking her head. “Are you going to Texas?”

“Are you coming with me?”

“Axel…I—you know I can’t.”

“So where does that leave us because I won’t be able to drive up on a weekend whenever I fucking feel like it.”

“I know that,” she whispers, unable to meet my eyes. “I think…I think we should quit while we are ahead, ya know?”

“Is that what you want?” I scoot forward, placing my elbows on my knees and resting my face in my palms.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. But we both know this isn’t working. And with the way things are right now with everything…we need a break. Maybe once I graduate.”

I scoff. Opening up a box on the table I pull out a joint and fire it up. “Alright, Coralie. You go back to college with your rich fuckin’ friends and I’ll go to Texas and lay with every fucking whore I can stick my dick in.” I smirk and take a hit and she smacks the fucking joint out of my mouth. It falls to the floor, burning a hole in the rug as I stare at her.

“Fuck you, Axel. I don’t care what you do.”

I should say something, but I don’t because she’s right. This isn’t fucking working and I don’t have it ion me to fight for a bitch who doesn’t give a damn about me. I grab the left-handed cigarette up from the floor and stick it between my lips and blow a ring of smoke at her.

Tears slide down her cheeks, but they aren’t genuine. Coralie doesn’t give a shit about me. All she worries about is pleasing Mommy and Daddy and keeping her perfect appearance up.

**

“You can’t leave before Christmas, Axel. It’s the holidays. You know how much it means to me to have the whole family together. Your sister is going to be here. Sara is coming with her twins. We all want to make this year special.”

I know what my mother is trying to do, but her guilt trip isn’t working.