It would end up a dangerous game of dominos.
All because of his spiraling, out-of-control thoughts.
Since his parents had considered him a sinner, they had made him repeat the seven deadly sins over and over until he could recite them from memory.
Now, as he repeated each one out loud, the wind whipped it away. “Lust. Gluttony. Greed. Sloth. Wrath. Envy. Pride.”
They’d insisted that by him committing any of those seven deadly sins, it would spur him to commit even more. Committing one sin would lead to another and another until his soul was condemned to eternal damnation.
Until he was forever lost and could no longer be saved.
For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t committing only one right now, but all of them.
The sin of lust was his burning desire to touch, taste and fuck her. He committed the sin of gluttony because he couldn’t get enough of her. And he was greedy as fuck. He didn’t want to share her. He wanted to keep her for himself and not let anyone else touch her.
After every time they’d had sex at the motel, once they both came, he had committed the sin of sloth by never being in a rush to move. He wanted to stay right where he was forever. Inside her and connected to her.
Wrath… Fuck. Right now, he was really hating Dodge, even though the Fury brother had no clue what was going on.
He was envious of Dodge because she rode on his sled instead of Rev’s. Envy led into his sin of pride. Reilly shouldn’t want to be on anyone’s sled but his. It shouldn’t have been a goddamn question. Her ass should be planted solidly behind him and her arms wrapped around his waist, instead.
According to his parents wisdom, he was facing eternal damnation because of the woman in front of him who tempted him. And because he realized what he felt for her was much more than simple temptation.
Worse, she had blown off his words as if they’d meant nothing. But then, at the time, he hadn’t taken them seriously, either.
When they first were spoken, he thought it was a mistake. A crossing of wires in his overloaded brain. But, yesterday, after going their separate ways, he realized he hadn’t misspoken. The whiskey had forced the truth to the surface.
It all really hit home last night when sleeping alone in his bunkhouse rack had fucking sucked. In the past, he’d always preferred to sleep alone. Before Reilly, the only night he hadn’t was the night he fell asleep in Sarah’s bed.
But last night, being a typical Saturday night, The Barn had been hopping with his brothers partying. Sweet butts and female hang-arounds did their rounds, making it known they were available. With, of course, his brothers taking advantage of that availability like normal, whether out in The Barn where everyone could watch, back in the bunkhouse or even out in the courtyard against a wall or bent over a picnic table under the pavilion.
For the few minutes he’d been sitting at the bar nursing a whiskey, he had to make excuse after excuse of why he couldn’t double-team Angel with Easy or why he didn’t want Brandy to unzip his jeans and drop to her knees right there on the spot.
Or why he wasn’t in the mood for Billie to do what she normally did to his nipples that drove him batshit crazy to the point he’d blow his load almost instantly and he wasn’t even embarrassed about how fast he came. The woman had some damn good skills and was super-efficient.
It got to the point last night where he finally went to his room, locked the door, plugged his earbuds into his listening holes and ignored the rest of the fucking world around him.
As he sprawled across his bed, drowning out everything else by blasting his favorite Spotify playlist, he went over every fucking moment of their trip. From the second he saw Reilly in the shed waiting for him, to the second he drove away from The Grove Inn yesterday afternoon.
While the run was more annoying than relaxing today, he also wasn’t looking forward to this evening back at the farm when he’d have to once again sidestep the sweet butts as much as possible. With the available brothers dwindling in number, the club girls tended to hone in on the few who weren’t claimed. They reminded him of buzzards circling fresh roadkill.
They’d been complaining a lot lately about the available members being slim-pickings. But until the prospects were patched in, the sweet butts couldn’t touch them and, in turn, the recruits couldn’t approach them for any reason other than to simply hang out. If the prospects were doing anything more than that, they would find themselves outside looking in. That was after their prospect cut was stripped from them and their ass was kicked due to breaking the rules.