The Perversion Trilogy: Perversion, Possession & Permission

by T. M. Frazier

  A growl tears from his throat. He pounces, pushing me back onto the bed. I help him pull off his jacket. He makes quick work of his pants until we’re skin on skin. His lips are everywhere. The heat of his thick cock is against my stomach, throbbing against me with need. Moisture leaking from the tip spreads against my skin, and I moan because it’s all for me. His need. His love.

  I reach down and grab him in my hand, stroking up and down, watching his eyes open and close, his chin tipped up. Knowing I have this much power over such a powerful man makes me drunk with pleasure. I tighten my grip, and he bucks in my hand.

  “Enough,” he growls, pulling from my grip.

  He spreads my legs wide with his knees, and then, he’s inside me, filling me, stretching me wide open. Our eyes lock as he begins to fuck me, and I realize he’s trying to be gentle.

  “You won’t hurt me,” I whisper, running my hands through his hair. “Please, Grim. I need you. All of you.”

  That’s all it takes. He drives in, thrusting hard, pushing me up further against the headboard. He’s relentless as he pounds into me. Pleasure erupts within me, and my stomach tightens with a need for release. He reaches under me and flips me over. He re-enters me with brutal force, lifting my hips to meet his every brutal thrust. It’s still not enough. I push back against him. I’m screaming his name, and he’s screaming mine until it’s all a blur of white light behind my eyes and a full body orgasm that shakes me to my very core, soaking the sheets beneath us.

  As I regain my senses, Grim pushes deep inside of me, my name and a swear tears from his throat as he floods me with his release. “Fuck, Tricks!”

  We both collapse to the mattress. He flips me back over and settles himself between my thighs. He pushes my hair from my face. “I love you,” he says softly. Tears prick my eyes.

  “I love you, too.”

  He buries his face in the nape of my neck, breathing me in. His cock springs to life once more, hardening against my skin. He rolls me to my back, settling between my legs and pushes inside. This time when he begins to rock his hips, it’s not a wild animalistic need. It’s torturously slow, and passionate.

  He lifts his head and stares into my eyes as he makes love to me. Slowly, tenderly, as if for the last time. This goes on for hours, neither one is us wanting it to end. As if my body can’t take anymore, I come without warning, violently erupting in a shudder of pleasure. I’m both screaming his name and sobbing as he finds his own release.

  When he collapses next to me, I search his face and find that his cheeks are wet. At first, I think it’s my own tears smeared across his skin, but then he blinks and a tear of his own pools at the corner of his eye, dropping onto the pillow.

  He reaches for a jacket. At first, I think he’s already getting dressed, but he pulls something from the pocket and sets the jacket back aside. He lays down beside me once again and lays the cool metal object over my chest and throat.

  “My locket,” I breathe, clasping a hand over it. Grim places one hand over mine, and the other cups my cheek.

  “Why do I feel like this is goodbye?” I whisper, feeling like the breath is being stolen from my lungs little by little. My hearts slows to crawl as if it’s pausing to hear what comes next.

  Grim’s sad golden eyes meet mine. “Because it is.”

  Fifteen

  “EJ!” Gabby says with an enthusiastic smile. She’s standing, holding the back of her hospital gown together, one arm tucked behind her back, the other is wrapped in a thick black sling. Sandy is standing on the other side of the bed with a pile of clothes in his arms. He drops it on the bed with a heavy sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him.

  He looks to Gabby. “You’re about to find out.”

  "Don’t mind him. He’s just being pouty,” Gabby says, sticking her tongue out at Sandy who scrunches his nose in return. I love this playful side of Gabby. A side of her I haven’t seen since we were kids.

  It’s not her playfulness that throws me. It’s the familiarity between her and Sandy. I wonder just how familiar they’ve really become.

  “Did you hear? I’m being released!” Gabby exclaims.

  “Yay,” Sandy mutters under his breath.

  “No, I haven’t heard. That’s amazing.” I sit on the corner of the bed while she gets dressed. She spins her finger in the air. Sandy rolls his eyes and reluctantly turns around.

  “Listen, I have to tell you something,” I say. “Actually, I have to ask you something.”

  “About Ireland?” She jumps up and down then winces, grabbing onto her shoulder.

  “You know?”

  She pulls a black sundress over her head. Sandy turns back around as if he instinctively knows she’s done dressing. I spot a mirror on the wall Sandy was just facing and realize instincts had nothing to do with it. When he spots me looking at the mirror, he flashes me a wink and a sly smile.

  “Yes, I know. Callum came in. He told me all about it. Can you believe we’re going to Ireland? He says he lives in a town with rolling green hills, and they have festivals and schools. Can you believe it, EJ? We could go to school!”

  In all the years I’ve known Gabby, I’ve never seen her so excited before.

  “And you have a family! A mom and a dad! I can’t wrap my brain around this. It’s all so…everything. It’s what we dreamed of, Emma Jean. The day has come when it’s all finally coming true. We’re getting out of this town. We’re going to stop surviving and start actually living.”

  If I was undecided about leaving before stepping into Gabby’s hospital room, I’m not anymore. I can’t deny Gabby her safety, this opportunity, or anything that makes her as excited as she is right now.

  “We are going to be living our dreams,” she repeats, embracing me in a hug.

  I stare over her shoulder at a somber-looking Sandy and hold her tightly. “Yeah, we are, Gabby. We finally are.”

  My words aren’t entirely true. They would be if I were speaking them months ago. Over the past few months, my dreams for Gabby have remained the same, but my own have changed. They no longer only include safety and security or a life outside of Lacking.

  I dream of a man in a black leather hood, bleeding black roses, and an unbroken heart.

  “That’s a dirty trick you pulled,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Callum is sitting at the table, typing away at a laptop. When he sees me, he closes it and removes the reading glasses from his nose, tucking them into his coat pocket.

  “I supposed you’ve spoken to Gabriella, then,” he says with an unapologetic smile. “I didn’t get to where I am by playing by the rules, and neither did your beau for that matter.”

  I stand in front of him across the table.

  “Sit,” he says, holding his hand out to a chair.

  “I’d rather stand.” I say, steeling my nerve. “You want me to come to Ireland with you, right?”

  “Aye, you and Gabriella.”

  “Then, I have demands.”

  “Demands?” he asks with a sparkle in his eye.

  “Yes, you’re a businessman. You didn’t get to where you are now without negotiating a time or two.”

  “Is that what this is then? A negotiation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Grim send you? I expected him to make some demands of me in exchange for allowing you to come with me, but he hasn’t. The only thing he asked is that if you were to come that your friend Gabriella come as well. Are you here as his ambassador?”

  “No. Grim didn’t make any demands of you because he loves me. He’s not going to negotiate the terms of my release because I’m not his possession. These are my own.”

  He nods and looks pleased. “Sit then. Business conducted standing tells the other person you don’t trust them.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “Yes, but you have to give an air of trust to make the other person want to give in to your demands. Without trust, negotiations seldom get far.” He leans
back in his chair.

  I round the table and take the seat opposite him. I fold my hands on the table. “Better?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “Much. So, go on then, what are these demands of yours? Shall I make a list?” He picks up a pen from the table and pulls a small note pad from his pocket.

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t need this to be written down. You never know who might see it.”

  He smiles proudly. “Smart girl.” He places the pen and pad down next to his laptop. He gestures to me, then crosses his legs. “Go ahead.”

  I clear my throat. “Do you, I mean, does Clan Egan run girls?”

  “Aye,” he answers, without hesitation. “We don’t traffic if that’s what you’re asking. Your mother would have my bloody head, but we run some establishments up and down the East coast and several back in Ireland.”

  “Good. You see, because of the violence here in Lacking and the war breaking out. Girls, I mean women, are scared to come here and work for Bedlam, regardless of the promised increase in security measures and the chief opening the back road through the reservation so the guests and staff don’t have to drive through Los Muertos territory to get here. Most of the girls who had signed on to start during the grand opening have quit and won’t agree to come back until it’s safe.”

  “I’ve heard this. What exactly is it you’re asking of me, Imogen?”

  I lean my elbows on the table and hold his curious gaze. I straighten my spine. “I’m asking that you send girls to the brothel. Temporarily, of course, until the war is over and those positions can be given to the willing women of Lacking who desperately need employment.”

  “Done,” he says. “Anything else?”

  “I want you to send men to help Grim and Bedlam fight the war.”

  “Already done. It’s my war to fight, too. Just because I won’t be present for it doesn’t mean the clan won’t be. I’ve told Grim as much.”

  I nod.

  “I want you to stop dealing heroin here.”

  “It’s not as if I’m going to continue business with Marco, or whoever his predecessor might be. I’ve already reached out to Margaret. Los Muertos won’t be involved in any of my business dealings in Lacking.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I want you to stop dealing heroin in Lacking. For good.”

  Callum raises his eyebrows. “And why should I do that?”

  “Because I won’t go with you if you don’t. The people of this town suffer from poverty. Poverty leads them to desperation and a need for an escape. That escape comes in the form of pain pills, which get them hooked on heroin because it’s cheaper and has a stronger effect. Addiction leads to crimes against innocent people and senseless violence. The gang violence is one thing; the violence among the people is another. If I can help stop it, I will. And it starts with you.”

  Callum considers me for a moment. “Is that negotiable?”

  I shake my head. “I won’t come with you if you don’t stop dealing in this town.”

  “If I don’t, someone else will. The cartel has a presence here.”

  “Then, I also amend my request that you deal with them as well, on whatever terms that won’t turn them against you or cause more violence.”

  Callum leans forward, mimicking my position. “Done. Anything else?”

  “One more thing,” I sing softly.

  “Go on.” Callum says, intrigued.

  “The second I want to come back, you’ll let me.”

  “Imogen. I’m not your captor. You’re my daughter. If and when you want to come back, I’ll have the plane fueled up and on the runway within the hour.”

  “Good. Then, it’s a deal.”

  “I amend that to say, when it’s safe. I won’t bend where your safety is concerned. It’s non-negotiable.”

  “Agreed,” I hold out my hand. Callum takes it in his, and we shake. He stands from the table, still holding my hand, and pulls me from my seat into an embrace. He smells like springtime aftershave and cigar smoke. It feels new to be embracing my father, but not entirely uncomfortable. I relax in his arms.

  “We seem to have reached a deal,” he says, resting his chin on my head. “Which is a good thing because your mother would’ve had my balls on a pike in the driveway the second I landed and you weren’t on the plane.”

  I pull away. “She sounds…menacing.”

  “More like formidable. Much like yourself. People may think I’m the one they should fear, but they’ve never crossed the likes of your mother.”

  Sixteen

  I know the instant I enter the room that Tricks is already gone. I both hate and am grateful for her wanting to skip the hard goodbyes. On the middle of the bed is a quote scribbled on a napkin.

  How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” - Winnie the Pooh.

  Instead of a signature, there’s a doodle of a simple black rose at the bottom.

  I hold the note to my chest and close my eyes. Trying to steady the erratic heartbeat that feels a lot like I’m being stabbed with each breath.

  “Boss? There’s a bus full of Irish women out front.”

  “What?” I spin to face Sandy.

  “Why?”

  “They said they’re here to work at the brothel. I believe they called themselves temps.”

  “Who would—” I pause. “Irish?” I ask.

  Sandy nods. “Every last one of them. I figured you asked Callum to send them. Negotiated terms for Gabby and EJ going…”

  “The only thing I asked for was that he keep them safe.”

  “Well, then this is either from the kindness of Callum’s heart or…”

  I smile, knowing full well who was responsible. “It’s not.”

  Alby appears in the hall. “You’re right. It’s not from the goodness of his heart, and yes, there was a negotiation.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Sandy whines.

  “Tricks. She negotiated terms with Callum.”

  “She sent you a bus load of Irish whores?” Sandy asks. “A bit of an odd choice for a going away present.”

  “Aye, she did,” Alby says with a laugh. “If she were anyone else, we’d be in for a fight, but Callum’s so proud he’d send over every woman in Ireland if it pleased her.”

  “What else did she negotiate?” I ask, curiously.

  “We stop dealing heroin in Lacking, and that we send you men to fight your war. They’re waiting for you, with your own men, in your war room.”

  “When did this all take place?”

  “A few hours before they got on the plane. Why?”

  I shake my head. “No reason.”

  Alby tips his hat. “I’ll be off now. Got a family of my own to see to back home.” He leaves, whistling the same damn catchy tune that’s been playing in my head for the past several days.

  “What was that all about? Why it is important when she negotiated with Callum?” Sandy whispers in case Alby is still in hearing distance.

  “Because Tricks had already decided to go before she talked to Callum.”

  Sandy smiles. “It wasn’t a negotiation at all.”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “It was a con.”

  Sandy chuckles then stops and snaps his fingers. “Oh, what Alby just said. His men are in the war room with ours. That’s what I was coming to tell you.”

  You ready for this?” Haze asks, from where he’s just appeared behind Sandy, leaning against the doorframe.

  Without having to worry over Trick’s safety, I can dive into the deepest, darkest place in my soul and be the monster I need to be, the one who’s been waiting to see Marco die for far too long.

  So, it begins, I think to myself.

  I pocket Tricks’s quote. “I’m ready,” I rasp.

  “Good. Rollo is going to take Mona to his cabin until we make a decision on what to do with her,” Haze says as I lead the way to the back door.

  As much as I want to give the go ahead to send Mona across the river in the re
apers boat, it’s not my decision to make, it’s up to Tricks, but she’s not here. Mona will just have to ride out her time with Rollo until she gets back.

  If she gets back, an annoying voice in my head reminds me.

  I stop in my tracks as an idea strikes. “Tell Rollo to be ready when we call, I think I know of a way we can use Mona if it comes down to it.”

  “How?” Sandy asks.

  The time for goodbyes is over. The time for war is now.

  I look to my brothers. “As bait.”

  Seventeen

  We land in a private airfield in Ireland where a private car is waiting to take us to our final destination. Over an hour later and still trapped in the car, I’m dozing off with my forehead up against the glass when Gabby smacks my arm.

  “Look!” she says, pointing out the window. We’ve just arrived in a village. Cobblestone streets. Perfectly symmetrical stone houses line the square. Each with exactly six windows in the front and a single door directly in the center. Flower boxes under the windows spill over with bright pink and purple.

  “You live here?” Gabby asks Callum.

  He chuckles. “Yes, and no. This is our village, but we live up the hill, not in town.”

  “It looks like a fairytale,” I whisper, pressing my fingers and nose against the glass. I’m reminded of another time Gabby and I were brought to a new home. A day I’ll never forget because it was one of the worst days of my life. Marco. Los Muertos. It all started on that day. I begin to feel uneasy. My stomach rolls.

  After a few minutes of winding roads surrounded by lush green hillside, Gabby hits me once again. “If the village is a fairytale, then this is where the prince must live.”

  On the top of the hill at the end of a dirt drive is a tall, dark stone structure, complete with castle-like roof top and intricate stone carvings over every window. In front, there’s a steep staircase with a fountain at the end of a large square pool/lake in the center of the rounded dirt drive.