Free Rough & Rugged (Notorious Devils Book 3) by Hayley Faiman

He’s consuming me, and I wonder if I’ll even survive him.
    “I came here to feed you before I did anything else,” he murmurs against my lips once he breaks the kiss.
    “Feed me?” I ask in confusion.
    “Take you out,” he murmurs as his lips find my neck. He begins kissing behind my ear.
    “Like on a date?” I ask in surprise.
    “I guess, yeah,” he mutters.
    “I… I didn’t take you for the dating kind of guy.” I sigh as his tongue snakes out and licks the shell of my ear.
    “I’m not; but you deserve better than me, so I’m gonna give you the best I can be,” he whispers before he nips my earlobe.
    “We don’t know each other, not really, so how can you say that I deserve better than you?” I breathe.
    “Because I know me,” he says taking a step back. “I know you work in a bank, you wear cute as shit little skirts and tops to work. I carry a gun and knives, and I’m not afraid to use them, as you know. You blush at just about everything, it’s cute as fuck, but it also means you ain’t lived a hard life. You don’t need a hard life; you deserve a good, clean man at your back. I can’t give you that, I’ll never be able to give you that, but I can give you the best version of me that I know how to give.”
    “It doesn’t matter what you think I deserve. Just give me you,” I say, looking into his eyes as I watch them darken.
    “We ain’t making it to dinner. I’ll order takeout later,” he murmurs before he picks me up and carries me to my bedroom.
    I feel Johnny stumble and then grunt, as he trips over something. Then, he sets me down and bursts out laughing as he takes a look at my room. I’m completely embarrassed. I was going to pick up tonight.
    My floor is a mess, a mixture of clean and dirty clothes and shoes litter the small space. My bed is also unmade and my hot pink sheets are now on full display. My face heats with embarrassment at the sight.
    “Here I thought you were some kind of neat freak,” he chuckles before he turns to me.
    “Well, I clean once a week, but I’m kind of messy when it comes to my clothes,” I admit.
    “Well, I hate cleaning, and I’m a fuckin’ pig. So this, it’s nothin’, and it don’t bother me one bit. Now get over here,” he murmurs as he walks over to my bed and sits down.
    I follow behind him, slowly, cautiously. Then I walk between his spread thighs.
    “You on birth control?” he asks as he wraps his hands around my hips.
    “The shot. I went on it when I turned eighteen,” I say. “I haven’t been with anyone since I got on it, though.”
    “I’ve fucked without a condom a couple of times, but I’ve been tested since the last time, which was over ten fuckin’ years ago. Those bitches at the clubhouse are tricky, always trying to trap brothers with babies and shit. I always wrap it up,” he says. His words make me cringe. He’s probably been with so many women it would make my head spin. “Plus, I get to the doctor once a year for a check-up and get tested; just had my physical four months ago.”
    “Okay,” I say.
    “You gonna be my princess?” he asks, looking up at me.
    “Can you tell me what that means to you, what it looks like to you?” I ask.
    “Means you’re my woman. You’re mine and nobody else,” he shrugs.
    “And you?”
    “You asking me if I’m going to be fucking any whores?” he asks with a grin.
    I don’t answer. Instead, I just watch him. I stare and wait for his response. I have a feeling if he’s ever been exclusive, it was a good long while ago.
    “Only fuckin’ you, princess, as long as we’re together,” he murmurs as his thumbs rub circles on my hips.
    “So is it only sex, then?” I want, no, need clarification.
    “I’m your man. Whatever you need from me, you got. It’s not just sex. I want to get to know you. Can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. By the look on his face, the surprised look, I don’t think he’s ever said the words before.
    “Okay,