Callous King (The O'Dea Crime Family Book 1)

by Elizabeth Knox

  “I suppose that’s not surprising. It’s been a year of standstill.” Our conversation fails completely, and I take a chicken nugget to offer to Siobhan. Her lips twitch a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, but she accepts. If I can find out how she knew about my tricking Byrne—, my thoughts are suddenly interrupted.

  A hard thudding down the stairs surges from the hallway, and I look over as Bella storms into the living room. Her furious, red face tracks with tears, she whips around to throw out her arms and rasp a huge breath in preparation.

  “If you don’t want to at least try with me, why’d you accept the contract! I’d rather be dead than deal with you anymore!” Bella shouts shrilly, and I hold my breath as her declaration hangs heavy in the air. Emerging from the lip of the hallway, Cian’s white with rage, and he grapples Bella by the throat. She squawks in shock, clawing at his hand as he shoves her against the wall. His expression a mask of cold fury, he sneers against her face, and she goes very still.

  “I’m more than happy to oblige,” He seethes, and Bella’s eyes flash in realization that he really will kill her. An ugly worm of unease slithers through my gut, and I tense when Siobhan takes my hand and squeezes gingerly. Bella’s gasps strain, scraping my ears painfully, and I can’t take my eyes off them as he jerks her against the wall. She chokes from his grasp, the rasp crackling through the air like lightning. “If you ever demand anything of me again, I’ll be the first O’Dea in the history of our family to destroy a contract before it’s fulfilled. Count down the days until our wedding, my wonderful fiancée, because it’s all the time you’ve got left. You aren’t going to get to see the sunrise as a married woman. That’s a fucking promise.”

  Bella’s eyes boggle, her choking shortening as Cian squeezes her frail neck threateningly. His calm, cold tone sends shivers up my spine, and he throws her on the floor with a dismissive flick. Like she was a bug that had strayed too close to his face. She wheezes and gasps her sobs, and he stares at her blankly for a moment before stepping over her and heading for the kitchen with purposeful strides.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cian

  “Fuck!” Gripping the edge of my desk with shaking palms, I shudder violently with the effort to avoid flipping the damn thing over. I see red, my thoughts furiously circling in my mind. Flexing my stiff fingers around the wood, I lean heavily over my desk. Fire sears my nostrils as I heave for air, my heart beating viciously.

  How dare that bitch tell me to get over myself! After I went through the trouble to show her the reality of what she wanted, Bella had the gall . . . the temerity . . .

  The soft click of the lock releasing behind me stabs up my spine, and I whip around. I shake, needing to take the anger and frustration out on something, or someone. But through my narrow vision, Sorcha steps into my office, and I stiffen. My mind stalls, and I hold the edge of my desk with white-knuckle tightness.

  “You can’t be in here,” I snap harshly, my voice scraping my throat painfully. Sorcha freezes for a moment, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. Fire races down my sternum to coil in my abdomen, and I grind my molars. “You need to leave.” She has no idea what she’s doing and I’m too angry to even look at her right now. She’s a fucking angel, a vision, and I’ve corrupted everything in my life. I don’t want to taint her too.

  Blood drums in my ears, not that Sorcha says anything, anyway. She’s so fucking docile, but she’s never lacking confidence in herself. Man, how much I wanna be inside her when she looks at me like this. The rampaging fury in my veins melts into molten desire, and I blink hard to find her tentatively stepping close to me. She stares at me like I’m an animal that could attack her, but she has hope I’ll lick her instead.

  “Don’t,” I croak, and Sorcha pauses again. “Don’t fucking do this to me. Don’t look at me like that.”

  “You said it didn’t matter what I want,” Her husky whisper stiffens my cock painfully in my jeans, and I flop my head back to suck in a huge breath. Flames spread just under my skin, but her words bore through my hazy mind to make it all wash away instantly. My head snaps up, and the hairs on the back of my neck bristle as she stands just an inch or two from me. “What’s the difference if you’re using my head or m—”

  “Oh, fuck, will you just,” I forcibly stop myself before I say something I’ll regret, but the effort weakens my control over my hands. Grabbing Sorcha’s biceps, I shake her lightly, shivering with the effort to restrain myself. It’s easier, seeing her wide, fearful eyes and trembling lower lip, and I push her back as firmly as I dare. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I’ll fuck you when you’re good and God damn certain it’s what you want. I’ll implement your schemes, because they’re better than mine. Don’t go around convincing yourself that benefiting from helping you kill Byrne is at all comparable to wanting to fuck you.”

  “I’m trying!” She snipes back, jerking away, and a stream of vitriol spews out of her mouth. “You think I like this? You think I like feeling like this? I like- I like trying so hard to keep p-putting myself out for you? But I have to! I can’t- I can’t not be . . . a thing . . . just something to take out your frustration on. I’ve never been anything else! Why can’t you see how hard I’m trying! Why is what I’m doing never enough!”

  “You think you’re not enough for me?” I ask in the dense, ringing silence, and Sorcha whips around to cry into her peeling, red palms. Tears are salty, it probably hurts her. My cock aches as I close the distance between us, turning her to pry her hands from her cheeks. Sorcha shudders as I cup the back of her head gingerly as the brutality of her confession slams into me. “Were you a virgin when Marrin grabbed you?”

  Desire floods my system when she nods, sobbing into my shirt. To be the first . . . to make love to her, not fuck her. But, in this moment, this isn’t what she needs to hear.

  “What the fuck,” I bluster a hot sigh, savoring the softness of her body against mine. My blood boils in my veins, and I press my cheek against her crown. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I was gonna expect anything of you, it’s not to spread your legs.”

  Sorcha’s heart races against my chest as she wipes her tears on my shirt, and I make the mistake of looking down. Her eyes catch mine like the deep ocean to drag me down, tantalizingly glittering from her outburst. Perfect postcards can’t compare to the blue of her eyes when she cries.

  I duck to capture her mouth as my need for her bubbles over, and Sorcha stiffens to stone in my arms. Her lips don’t move, tasting of sorrow, but her heartbeat skyrockets against mine. Reluctantly pulling back, I nudge her nose with my own. She’d like this—nuzzling.

  “Do you want to know what it’s like to be happy?” I mumble gravely, and Sorcha’s breath hitches through the thick haze settling on my mind. Is this what real desire is like? “I will make you mine. No . . . I’ll make you want to be mine, Sorcha.”

  Purring heavily, I grind my teeth against the ferocious throbbing in my jeans. My mouth dries as Sorcha blinks suddenly. Her baby blues that douse the flames engulfing my heart vanish for a fraction of a second. So close, her face is distorted, but the desperation in her eyes is crystal clear.

  She wants me, even if she knows better. She trusts me, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

  “Turn around,” Sorcha tenses at my demand, and I grip her slender biceps to sidestep her. The emotions flooding my veins gorge, making it hard to breathe as blood pumps furiously to my cock. Pushing her against my desk, I press her down flat against the surface. My palms tingle to grab her perky ass, hiding in her jeans, but I ignore it to pull off her shirt. “You look better in your normal clothes.”

  My mouth waters as I caress up Sorcha’s marred back, my fingers following the shallow trails between thick, ugly scars. Fuck, I lick my lips hungrily, and her lean muscles play beneath the tracks of her abuse. At the top of my narrowed vision, she grips the inside of my desk, and I reach to cover her hands with my own. She’s so much smaller than me, and I burn as I kiss the t
ips of her scars.

  “You’re stressed,” I murmur in her ear, and Sorcha whimpers as I conform to her back. Fumbling with my jeans, excitement surges through me, and I kiss her cheek before grumbling through clenched teeth. “I’m not gonna do anything to you, so relax.”

  Her thin fingers flex beneath mine, fitting so nice in between, and I pull her hand down. Dropping my pants, a tiny voice in my head breaches the haze with warning. If I fuck this up, it would be over. Panting harshly, my chest tightens at the notion as I kiss and lick down Sorcha’s back. I won’t let her get away.

  Palming my cock generously, I groan as my abdomen cramps with desire. Sorcha arches away from me, but I can’t get enough of her taste. Her sweet skin slickens with sweat, and I slop her raised, pink scars heavily. Pumping my cock, pleasure builds at the base of my spine as I slowly work my way down. She trembles, her hand tangled around mine tightly, and my senses are overwhelmed by her.

  “Fu-uck . . . I wanna mark you as mine, sweetheart.” I grumble shortly, hissing as I squeeze my cock between furious pumps. Nosing up her back, I tense at her little gasp; maybe, she likes the idea? I don’t give a shit right now. Burying my nose in her neck, I groan a strained sound as pleasure zings through my body.

  I wanna watch my cock disappear down her throat. I want that tight ass to flex when I—

  “C-Cian.” Sorcha whimpers, and I feel a circuit fucking blow in my brain. The floodgates open as her tiny moan echoes in my ears, growing louder and more intense. Grinding my teeth in a futile effort to delay it, I shudder violently as my sac draws up.

  “F-fuck, fuck, sweetheart,” Growling hoarsely, I squeeze the base of my cock as pleasure rips outward down my legs and up my torso. Her knees suddenly give up on her, but I can’t think to stop her sliding off my desk. My cock throbs wildly, icy prickles rippling up my sternum as I brace my forearm on the desk. Her hand still tangles with mine, and I crack my eyes open only to meet those big, beautiful blues. Like an ocean at sunset, her eyes glitter, and I clench my jaw hard in a last-ditch effort.

  Sorcha slings her free arm around my neck suddenly, so quickly I can’t follow. Little, shallow pants and whines breach the dense fog in my mind, but it takes a moment to realize they’re hers. I can’t . . . Need ripples up my cock as I squeeze my base, sucking in a hot breath loaded with her smell. Stroking the length of my cock, I shudder as I cum. Prickles surge up my spine, and I crane my neck against the intense desire rolling over me.

  “Fuckin’ Christ,” I rasp, pumping my cock with short, hard strokes to the rapid beat of Sorcha’s pulse against my cheek. Slumping to pant viciously when there’s nothing left, I crack open my eyes to realize dazedly the awkward position she’s in. One arm bent back behind her head, pinned to the desk the wrong way, and one around me. Like fuck was I gonna let this go, and I hastily wrap my free arm around her waist before she collapses. “Sorcha, hey . . .”

  “I’m sorry,” She whispers frantically, her pupils blown when they meet mine, and Sorcha’s face pales with dread and fear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean to . . . I-I couldn’t—”

  “Shut up,” I command gruffly, my whole fucking mood crashing and burning even as Sorcha complies. Ropes of my cum cling to her sternum and perfectly round tits from the goosebumps that welt her skin. “I’m not mad. Don’t worry. Instead of apologies, how about you tell me somethin’ else, sweetheart?”

  Sorcha’s breath hitches loudly through parted lips at my harsh demand, and she cracks open one eye to peek up at me cautiously. Squeezing her hand gingerly, I straighten to stand over her and inhale a deep, calming breath. Forcibly unfurling my hand from hers, I sniff harshly to clear my head as I bend to grab my jeans.

  “You . . . are welcome,” Sorcha says huskily, and my head snaps up in surprise as I pause. She flushes bright red, from shame or something better, I don’t know, and I couldn’t care less in this moment. Dripping with my cum, pink up her ears, and half naked on her knees, Sorcha couldn’t look better if she tried. “Is that good?”

  I throw back my head and laugh at her tentative question, hiking up my jeans to fasten them around my waist. Sorcha covers her face with her hands, turning away from me in embarrassment, and I barely manage to control my amusement. Chuckling lightly under my breath, I nod in acceptance as she glimpses out through her fingers.

  “Did you like it?” Posing the question carefully, I grab her shirt off the floor, and Sorcha stiffens. I hold out my hand for her, a small, easy smile cresting my lips and she licks hers nervously. She reaches out, hesitating for a long moment before slipping her palm in mine. My smile widens when she nods, unable to look me in the eye. But this is fine, I guess. This is what I’ve been craving.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sorcha

  Clutching my sheet tightly around me, I stand in front of Cian’s bedroom door with apprehension stiffening my joints. The night is dark and deep, and I glance both ways down the hallway. Not a soul stirs in the gloom, and I lift a trembling hand as sinister shadows play at the edges of my vision.

  What am I doing? He probably doesn’t mean it after so long. I pause, unease threading my veins as my heart pounds viciously against my ribs. My knuckles hang still only an inch or two from the door, and I withdraw in uncertainty. Cian isn’t . . . but if I’m quiet, maybe . . .

  Griping the doorknob with a clammy palm, I bite my lips to stop them trembling as tingles raze my spine. Fear attacks the backs of my eyes as I pop open his door silently, and I step into his room on weak legs. Through the deep darkness adrenaline spikes my heart. The blood drumming in my ears intensifies, and I hold my breath as fire engulfs my lungs.

  The air ripples suddenly, and I freeze as two, powerful arms trap me against the door. Colorful spots blot my vision, and goosebumps blanket my entire body. Trepidation strafes my back and along my ribs, and Cian’s face emerges from the gloom. I feel him more than see him, his clean-shaven chin brushing my cheek with feather softness. Aggravation rolls off him in powerful waves that suck the air from my blood, and panic curls deep in my gut.

  “Why are you here?” He asks with a hoarse whisper, and I cringe into the door as his harsh, short pants roll down my neck. Stiffening against me, he takes a deep breath and holds it. “Sorcha? What are you doing here?”

  “You told me to,” I whisper shakily, and relief eases the tension between my shoulders when Cian pulls away in surprise. Once again shrouding in darkness, his hand finds mine, and he walks me deeper into his bedroom. I can’t see anything, even the outlines of furniture, but his hand in mine is warm and secure. “Who did you think it was?”

  “Not you,” He mutters, and I wince when he turns on a lamp, flooding the room with low, yellow light. Shadows play along his muscular body as Cian reaches to run his hand through his dark, chestnut hair. “I wasn’t gonna wait up for you. Did you come here to tell me you regret what happened in my office? You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I wasn’t,” I pause, biting my bottom lip uncertainly, and Cian climbs onto his bed to pat the spot next to him. Hugging my sheet tighter, I hold my breath in my shriveling lungs as I follow. Now, Cian is disarming, almost, with his disheveled mop and clouded, hazed expression. My heart hammers against my ribs as I lay down next to him, and I pull my sheet up over my chest. “The truth is . . . I had a nightmare.”

  “Are you gonna tell me about it, or just leave it at that?” He asks, a thin thread of bemusement lilting his tone. Settling back, Cian works his arm under my head to palm my back with tender, sideways strokes. “I guess you have a lot to be afraid of, Sorcha. Why’d you come to me this time?”

  “You told me to,” I repeat, and Cian grunts lowly in acknowledgment, pulling me tighter to his side. Tensing as his hot, dry skin threatens to melt my cheek, my eyelids flutter closed, and my mouth dries. He’s hard everywhere, and I tentatively reach to place my palm on his chest. “Did you know that no one looked for me? Not my so-called friends, or my family, or my job.”

  “I wouldn’t have gu
essed you have family. Siblings?” I nod, a grim, rueful smirk stretching my lips, and Cian grunts with a scowl. “I take it you’re the oldest, too?”

  “Not by much. My brother is six months younger than me. He was born early, and everyone made sure to let him know how much of a miracle he was,” I say, bitterness tainting my voice as I trace Cian’s tattoos. He hasn’t been shirtless in front of me, and I’ve always liked body art. The distraction of his inked skin is a relief from the topic even as I suck in a shallow, hot breath. “He had some slight physical issues and was bi-polar. The way my parents treated him, though . . . I counted down the days until I turned eighteen, worked my butt off, and left for Boston right after my birthday. I got a call two weeks later asking where I was. My dad was really mad, because he felt it was my job to watch my brother and my sisters. They made those choices in life, so it wasn’t my obligation to be their nanny.”

  “You were finishing college five years ago? Aren’t you twenty . . . six?” He questions, and I shake my head lightly. “Twenty-seven? So, you were graduating at twenty-three. Did you take a gap year?”

  “I had a lot of money after four years with no expenses,” I mumble sarcastically, and a strange sense of comfort settles on me. Cian seems genuinely interested in me, and I drag my fingertip toward his shoulder. Lifting my head, my lips twist in displeasure when I block the light. He watches me, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Do they mean things?”

  “You know they do, but I’m beginning to know you, Sorcha. You just don’t wanna answer the question. Why take a year after moving here?” He shoots me a sharp look, and my sour expression deepens. “I’m patient with you, Sorcha. Don’t misuse my courtesy.”

  “I told you, I had money.” Still, I’m being sarcastic with him and based on the way he furrows his brows. He’s not amused.