Reining Devotion: A Chaotic Rein novel

by Jenner, Haley

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Camryn

  “You need to sit down before you wear a hole in the floor.”

  He stops the constant pacing of his bedroom, glancing at me then back to the door.

  “I offered to buy him a bed, but he refused,” he tells me for the twelve millionth time. “He’s sleeping on the floor at the foot of her bed.”

  “It’s very sweet, Rocco,” I assure him. “He’s being protective. They’re in a new place. Let them settle the best way they know how.”

  Throwing himself back onto his bed, I bounce at the weight. His large frame shaking the mattress.

  “I’m gonna suck so fuckin’ bad at this,” he groans, palms pressed into his eye sockets. “At least when you fuck up when they're babies, they don’t know. Two sketchy-as-shit-on-me teenagers are gonna hang me out to dry the first opportunity they get.”

  “First of all,” I combat. “Give them some credit. They’re not expecting the world. Secondly, who says you’re gonna fuck up?”

  Pulling his hands away, he tips his head backward, looking at me upside down. “Me.”

  “You know who sucks at parenting?”

  He remains silent.

  “People who don’t want to be parents. Making mistakes along the way, which you will absolutely do, I have no doubt, doesn’t take away your parent card, Shay. You panicking about it makes you a better parent than you already realize. Take it as it comes.”

  Pushing his body upright, his elbows rest on his knees. “I caught Jesse going through my shit today.”

  I frown, removing it from my face before he turns to look at me. “He’s sixteen. He’s used to hustling to survive. You didn’t go all Rocco on him, did you?”

  That makes him laugh.

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “Did your head start spinning around on your neck? Did you rip your shirt open and bang on your chest like an animal ready to fucking attack?”

  “No,” he bites out defensively. “We had a fuckin’ conversation.”

  Arms crossing over my chest in awe, I smile wide. “Look at you being a dad.”

  Moving to his feet, he grabs my ankle, pulling me down the bed. I squeal, the sound echoing through the room.

  “Shh.” He laughs lightly, hand cupping my mouth to cut off the sound.

  I lick his hand.

  “Didn’t realize the whole daddy thing would make you hot.” He releases my mouth, grinning down at me.

  Palm to his face, I push him away. “Gross.”

  “Distract me for a bit?” His mouth moves to my neck, his teeth skating across the delicate skin tenderly.

  Tenderly. Never a word I’d associate with Rocco Shay, but here we are.

  Hands to his cheeks, I pull his face to mine, letting my mouth find his.

  He’s overwhelmed and elated, but so far down in his own tunnel of self-doubt, he can’t see straight. He’s geared himself up for failure, anyone can see that. Too afraid to get too close, but petrified of keeping his distance.

  Patience isn’t a virtue Rocco holds in spades. But it’s a quality he knows he’ll have to embrace if he wants to build a lasting relationship with his children.

  He spent the day with them both, working to connect in any small way. They’re a closed fucking book though. Their feelings, thoughts, and dare I say it, motives, indecipherable. All I managed to pull out of him so far was that for every step forward, it felt like a falling elevator back down when he’d stumble.

  It’s now eleven pm, and after a cumbersome dinner that we clawed through, the twins finally crashed out. Which means, this is the first time we’ve been alone since this morning. Since the moment we promised all in, sealing it with a kiss I won’t soon forget.

  I have my doubts that he’s ready to commit to something so significant with everything he has going on, but he seems resolute in his declaration.

  He told me he loved me, and maybe I’ll be left broken-hearted in the end, but I believe him.

  I’ve avoided relationships since Jonathan for obvious reasons. Trust wasn’t high on my gift list to others. I was afraid and rightfully cautious. I’ve slept with men since Jonathan. I forced myself to claim back my body in a way that I wanted, but I could never lose myself enough in the moment to get out of my head. I let men fuck me for the sake of doing so. I pushed myself to open my legs to prove I could. I didn’t necessarily enjoy it. But I did it. I used faceless men to erase the hold he held over me; in consciousness, in sleep.

  Then my feelings for Rocco sparked. Burst to life with butterflies in my stomach and a want to touch him. I longed for him to look at me with desire in his eyes. No matter how much I originally rejected the thought. I wanted his hands on me, caressing my skin, breaking down my walls. I no longer needed to force my legs open, they craved to wrap around him, to feel the strength of his waist between them.

  I’m giddy over Rocco Shay and even that thought makes me want to giggle like a schoolgirl. Jesus. I was never this person. Before Jonathan and after. I was never gaga about sex. I enjoyed it, sure, but it was never powerful enough to scatter my brain.

  Rocco shot through me like a surprise I wasn’t ready for. The person I’ve learned he is, is healing my heart and mind in a way I didn’t know was possible. Now my body wants him to do the same. I need the passion he holds for me to heal my wounds. I was done with being lonely. I was done with being alone. I just hadn’t realized it until Rocco stumbled into my life, showing me the beauty in a broken soul.

  The rough brush of his beard tickles my mouth as he kisses me. Lips softer than I imagined. Our tongues push together in tender strokes.

  A lump in my throat forms, my emotions wreaking havoc within me. He tastes like freedom, lips closing over mine in the promise of safety.

  I’m ashamed to admit that I made assumptions about Rocco. I judged his appearance and decided he’d be a pushy lover. One that would be consumed by his own pleasure.

  I was wrong.

  Hands, large enough to swallow my throat, remain planted against the mattress by my head. The weight of his body, heavy enough to pin me down, remains suspended above me. With only his lips and tongue drifting across mine, I feel pleasantly possessed. Brazenly adored.

  As lost in the moment as I am, he groans into my mouth. The rough burr shoots desire through my body, the feeling exploding wickedly at the apex of my thighs.

  This is how it should feel.

  I moan, hands twisting into the soft cotton of his shirt, pulling him closer. He fights me, pushing himself up higher, almost out of reach. My mouth chases his, neck arched uncomfortably to ensure he can’t disconnect.

  Yanking at his shirt again, he laughs into my mouth.

  “Stop it.”

  Breaking our kiss, I look at him in confusion.

  Eyes focused on the swell of my well-kissed lips, he growls. “I ain’t gonna touch you, Cami,” he tells me, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. Thick with the hunger he’s refusing to give into. “Not until you’re ready.”

  Pushing my elbows up beneath me, I kiss along his jaw. “Who says I’m not ready?”

  “I do.”

  Teeth gnawing at my lip in indecision, I pressure my voice to speak. “How will you know I’m ready?”

  Dropping his mouth to my ear, his tongue caresses my lobe, pulling it between his teeth. “You’ll beg me.”

  I laugh, the sound completely lost to the moan I let out as his lips drift across my neck. “Beg you?” I whimper.

  “Yeah, beauty. You’ll beg for my cock.” He sucks on the delicate line of my neck hard enough that I know it’ll leave a mark. “You’ll plead with me to put you out of your misery and make you come. You’ll walk around with damp panties for days, weeks before I’ll give it to you. You’ll well and truly move past the juvenile feeling of want and move into a desperation only I’ll be able to cure.”

  Lifting his head, a salacious smirk tips his lips upward. “That’s when I know you’ll be
ready.”

  “But...” I argue meekly.

  “But what?”

  How do I tell him I need him now? That my body is buzzing in a way I haven’t felt in years. That I don’t want to lose that. That I want to grab hold and let it be mine.

  “You want to be touched?” he murmurs. “You’re wet for me now?” He presses, his tone begging me to say yes.

  I nod, my voice unable to find its power.

  “So touch yourself.”

  He shifts backward, taking my hand to cup it over my pussy through my pants.

  I cry out in pleasure, the simple thrill of my own hand gripping me sending tremors through my body.

  “In front of you?” I swallow, unable to remove my hand. The feeling too addictive, too gratifying to stop.

  “Yes,” he answers coarsely.

  “You wanna watch?” I ask hesitantly.

  “I’d kill a man to watch, beauty. You want me to watch?”

  I don’t need to think about it. “Yes.”

  Head tipped back, he growls at the ceiling.

  Palm rubbing across his jaw, he rights his head, watching me. There’s something about lust that changes someone’s eyes. The way their eyelids drop just that much; heavy and hypnotic. The change in color; the darkening of their iris that promises a carnality you’re not quite used to.

  “I’m gonna stand against the wall,” he husks out. “Control my hands reachin’ for you.”

  “No,” I rush out. “No,” I repeat more calmly. “Stay close. I want you to do it too? Touch yourself for me, Rocco.”

  His hand falls to his crotch subconsciously, his large hand gripping it tightly. The generous bulge of his Adam’s apple slides up and down the line of his throat.

  “Please,” I beg.

  He says nothing, watching me in silence.

  Unable to stand the quiet any longer, my hands grip the waist of my lounge pants and I tip my hips upward, sliding them over my ass and down my legs before I can second guess myself.

  His hands move on their own accord, his body having made the decision for him as he yanks at his belt in haste.

  All the while, his eyes refuse to leave mine.

  Naked from the waist down, I bend my knees, sliding my feet outward, opening myself up to him. A sacrificial lamb presented for the slaughter. My predator, too beautiful to be good for me.

  Cool air hits the warmth of my center. Anticipation buzzes through my veins, expending itself in a pleasant trickle of wetness dripping from my pussy down the crack of my ass.

  Sucking two fingers in my mouth, I trail them down my body slowly, pussy throbbing in foretaste as they move toward the tight knot of my clit. I rub myself in soft circles, moaning loudly.

  “Look what you do to me,” Rocco bites out, the words breaking off on a pained groan as he squeezes his hand around his length, pulling it from the confines of his pants.

  My hand moves faster, my body shaking in titillation. I feel numb and oversensitive and rapacious all at once. I want to come. I want to hold out. I want to scream.

  “Inside,” Rocco commands and I follow his instruction, surprised at the ease in which I forgot he was here. Too caught up in my own pleasure to care.

  Forcing my eyes on him, I watch his hand fist his thick cock, pumping it in hard, lazy pulls. My fingers push inside my eager body, hips lifting without direction. The sleek line of my fingers push deeper, seeking the one spot that will have me seeing fireworks.

  “Rocco,” I whimper, my fingers moving in and out, the sound of my excitement, the melody of my fingers loud enough to make him grunt.

  I’m mesmerized by the sight of him. The brutal aura of a man lost to lust. Spellbound by a carnal need to dominate his prey yet submit to his pleasure.

  The silk luster of his skin tells me he’d feel like velvet in my hand. Hard and smooth. The thought alone enough to make me salivate.

  I want him in my mouth.

  “Soon,” he rumbles.

  So lost to the moment I hadn’t realized I’d spoken aloud.

  My tongue peeks out, licking along my bottom lip in a dreamlike anticipation. Wishing, hoping, praying for his thick head to rest heavy against my lips.

  The impressive length of his cock points at me, the crown of his head dripping with the translucent white of pre-cum. The veins of his hand pulsate with every slide of his wrist, giving away just how hard he’s gripping himself.

  My body is on fire, a sheen of sweat kissed across my skin. Every muscle in my body tightens. I can hear myself panting, the thick need to come jumping from my throat in quick, short spurts.

  “Keep going,” Rocco orders, his arm moving faster, his breathing climbing higher.

  I do as I’m told.

  Feet planted on his mattress, my hips fly upward, my fingers delving deeper still, needing… “More.”

  “Your pussy’s so wet,” he mumbles, the veins in his neck like ropes; heavy and corded. “Fuck. I can’t fuckin’ wait to taste you, to touch you.”

  I cry out at his words, my entire body convulsing, readying itself to explode in a million pieces.

  “Cami, baby, I can’t hold on for much longer,” he growls.

  “Come,” I whimper.

  Stepping closer, he pumps his cock harder, the velvet head darkening just before he groans. Ribbons of cum shoot against my hand, the warmth of his climax mixing with mine.

  It’s my undoing, back arched, breath caught, I unravel. Rocco’s name breaks from my lips, my body dropping to his bed in an orgasm so intense, my heart leaps from my chest.

  I hear nothing. A quiet buzz surrounding me as my breathing evens out. My eardrums feel blocked, shut out with the thundering beat of my heart.

  His calloused fingers wrapping around my wrist feels like a security blanket I never knew I needed. Slowly pulling my hand from my body, he lifts it. Tongue outstretched, he licks up my fingers, pausing as he approaches the tips to bite his lips, savoring the taste.

  “Taste like heaven right now,” he muses. “Know what you’ll taste like after you’ve begged?”

  I raise an eyebrow in question, too tired to speak.

  “You’ll taste like hell, beauty. Like every sin pushed together, set alight to entice every motherfucker to this sweet cunt.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sarah

  Five-hundred thousand and not a cent less the text reads.

  Jonathan looks over my shoulder. “Ready to tell me who your contact is yet?”

  I don’t bother answering. I might be a junkie, but I’m not stupid. My cards aren’t just held close to my chest, they’re tattooed there. Inked faced down, refusing anyone access. I might need the muscle to execute this plan, but I’m the brains.

  “Whoever they are, their price jumped fifty-grand overnight.”

  I refrain from telling him to fuck off. It is, after all, his money we’re using to pay the asshole on the other end of the line.

  Jonathan Waith might be pretty, but he’s as stupid as they fucking come. A wannabe boss with too big balls and not enough drive.

  How my daughter spent four years of her life with him, I have no clue. I’d likely carve my own eyeballs out if I had to spend too much longer in his presence. He’s a means to an end. One with a hefty trust fund that consists of too many zeros and a vendetta to take ownership of my daughter. Five hundred grand is a drop in the ocean to him.

  “Do you want Camryn or not?”

  He stares at me. “You better not be playing me. I’ll fucking kill you if you are.”

  I roll my eyes. “Swallow your little threats, boy. Drop a check and we’ll both get what we want.”

  His dark eyebrows pull inward. “Why are you so hungry for revenge? Who is Rocco Shay to you?”

  “He was no one,” I answer easily. “Until the asshole put hands on me. Now he’ll fucking die.”

  “And Dominic?”

  “He’ll be in a world of hurt when one of his precious daughters goes missing. He dotes over them like nobo
dy’s business. It’s sickening.”

  He smirks.

  “That family wants revenge on me. They chose the wrong fucking person. I was happy living in hiding. My cunt of a husband put a dollar sign on my head and my daughters cheered him on.”

  “They all need to pay.”

  “They’re all going to pay,” I correct him.

  Sliding a cigarette into his mouth, he watches me over the stick, the flame of his lighter dancing in his eyes. “How confident are you in your contact?”

  “Dominic forgets what I know. Who I know. He’s not the only person who can claim control in this situation. Trust me.”

  Jonathan laughs. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re not a threat, Sarah. You’re a junkie whore with a score to settle.”

  “I sought you out,” I bite back. “I can just as easily find someone else. Don’t tempt me. We have the same end goal here. Maximum damage. Fucking relax.”

  “I’ll relax when I have my Kitty Kat back in my bed. Until then...” He holds up a bag in front of my face, the small white shards of rock inside quickening my heart rate. “Pure. Only just hit the market,” he teases.

  “Give it.” I stand, skittish as fuck like the junkie I am, dying for a taste.

  “Oh. I’m already giving you five hundred grand, sweetheart. You’re gonna have to pay for this.”

  I step forward. “That’s right, on your knees, whore. Just don’t speak or look at me while my cock is in your mouth. I’ll be imagining your daughter.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Rocco

  “Nice right hook, dude,” Parker praises.

  Jesse’s shoulders lift in pride, the feigned glower on his face not enough to erase the pleasure he feels at his uncle’s approval.

  Seeing them side-by-side like this is surreal as all hell. Jesse is an exact replica of Parker fifteen odd years ago, albeit a little thinner.

  The dirty blonde hair, currently cut too short, emphasizing the severity of the angular line of his face. Eyes, not unlike our mother’s—filled with the level of anguish I see in my own—shine with a hope that is all too common in his uncle. Their skin tone is a carbon copy, the only difference is the ink tattooed onto Parker.