The harder he fucked my ass, the tighter his hand gripped.
"Do you feel me now?” he growled in my ear. I couldn't form a coherent enough sentence to answer him. The sounds coming from my mouth couldn't be described as human. When he added more friction on my clit, I knew I'd lost a battle there was never a chance in hell of me winning.
A slow burning heat pervaded through my body, building in my core. He thrust inside me, pinching my bundle of nerves at the same time, sending me into a dizzying orbit and turning my vision white. I dug my nails into the wrist around my neck, crying out and feeling my ass clench around his cock. He pulled out a second later, coming on my lower back with a quiet groan.
Neither of us said a word. The death grip he had on my throat slowly loosened, I fought to catch my breath.
I could feel his come sliding between my ass cheeks, running down the backs of my legs.
He sighed, cursing beneath his breath.
"I should have put a bullet in your head when I had the chance."
Glancing over my shoulder, I swallowed and quickly looked away. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. I tried not to let it affect me, but it was impossible not to.
He really did hate me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I could hear her breathing.
She had finally fallen asleep fifteen minutes ago, wrapped up in her terry cloth robe and buried beneath the fresh sheets.
My mind kept replaying the way I’d just taken her. No one would ever hear me admit it aloud, but Willow was more compatible with me than any other woman I'd been with.
There was something about being the only man—and the last—she'd ever be with that made me feel more than I wanted to. We hadn't spoken one word to each other after my ill-timed confession. I didn't usually touch women I wanted to kill...or that I was going to kill. There was just so much shit she didn't know yet. It would always be that way; I’m not sure I could change it if I tried.
I didn't remember falling asleep, but the first thing I realized when I woke up was that Willow wasn't in bed anymore and the sun was up. Both of those things spurred me into action.
I made the bed, straightened the pillows, and rushed into the bathroom.
After a quick piss, shower, and trim, I was dressed and heading for the stairs.
I had twelve missed calls, eight emails, and six texts. My life was never dull. Taking my father's place had me spending less and less time at home. Leaving Willow alone for days at a time wasn't ideal, but I wouldn't coddle her either.
I paused as soon as I stepped off the bottom stair, the second my eyes landed on her. She was wearing a jersey dress, sitting in a dining chair and staring out the large windows that made up the back wall of the house. Her usual morning cup of coffee was in her hands, long hair spilling over her shoulders. I would never deny the fact Willow was a gorgeous woman, but that didn't excuse her sordid past.
I ignored her, making my way into the kitchen. It wasn't until I had my protein shake in hand that I acknowledged her presence. Or rather, she acknowledged me.
"Why don't you tell me anything? You know I can't go anywhere, that I won't go anywhere if you have my sister. Why keep everything from me?" Her voice was quiet. She wanted answers and, in her position, who wouldn't? I told her nothing and fed her crumbs of truths bit by bit.
"It's a little sad that you feel the need to protect Abigail, who's been getting fucked by my brother in every way imaginable, yet you tried to kill your real sister."
"I'm tired of talking about her. I understand she may have been the love of your life, but I was a little girl. God, get over it! Abbi is more my sister than Cassie ever was.” She glared at me for all of five seconds before sighing and shaking her head.
"Funny, because Abbi isn't your sister at all." I took another sip of my shake, watching her reaction. She furrowed her brows, processing what I'd just said.
"What do you mean, she isn't my sister?"
"I'm running late, I have to get going. There are some papers on the coffee table you need to fill out."
I was purposely fucking with her. Did that make me an asshole? Yes. Did I feel bad about it? No. Rinsing my cup, I gathered what I needed and started for the door.
"You're just going to leave? What did you mean by that?" She followed behind me, anger creeping into her voice.
I turned to face her, mentally noting the way she stopped and made sure there was a good amount of space between us. I smirked at the bruises on her neck. With her hands going to her hips, she gave me a look that could freeze Hell over.
"Rebel, you're a semi-intelligent girl. If Seth never mentioned that Richard was his brother, I think we can assume it's because they aren't related. So...?" I urged her to catch on; all she did was blink up at me.
Maybe she was in denial. I could remedy that.
"Seth isn’t your real father." I didn't stay long enough to see her reaction. Not because I didn't want to, but because I should have left hours ago. Jason had been in a trunk all night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Does life ever get tired of fucking people over? It seemed to keep fucking me raw.
I wasn't sure how much of what Pierce said was true or false. There wasn’t anyone around to confirm anything. Part of me wondered why he would lie, but I could ask the same question as to why he wouldn't.
I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the shit show that was my life.
I couldn't work out what Seth’s motive would be for stepping up and claiming a kid that wasn't his? I wasn't any closer to figuring this shit out than I was when he'd first brought me here.
My mind was worn down. I was exhausted and my stupid heart was determined to want the man holding me emotionally and physically captive, no matter the circumstances. Plopping down onto the large L-shaped sectional, I looked down at the papers on his coffee table.
He can’t be serious.
It was a venue packet. Little sticky notes about cake flavor and a ton of other shit I didn't care about were attached to it. The man was driving me up the wall.
I missed my sister. Despite what Pierce said. Blood related or not, Abbi was my family. I didn't care if she was screwing his brother.
The same thing could be said about me screwing him, but this arrangement was only supposed to be for a year, so what happened when it was up? Would he actually kill me?
Was someone crying?
Rolling onto my stomach, I looked over at the digital clock. It was almost midnight. That seemed to be the witching hour in this house.
When a groan floated down the hall, I knew someone was definitely crying. It sounded like a grown man. Tossing the covers off, I hopped out of bed and padded towards the bedroom door.
I wasn't in anything but pink fuzzy sleep shorts and a tank top; it wasn't exactly proper attire to wear when going to investigate.
Looking out into the dark hall, I could hear voices from below. Pierce's stood out to me right away, but the other two I couldn't place. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I crept from the room and made my way down the hall. There wasn't a need to go downstairs; all I had to do was peer through the banister bars, something I’d been doing a fuck-ton of lately.
I cautiously leaned forward, taking in the scene below. I'd seen some messed up things growing up around Seth, but I'd never seen someone look as broken as Jason did. He was stripped down to his boxers.
I'm sure at one time they were white, but he’d clearly defecated on himself.
His once flawless skin was covered in dark bruises, lacerations, and what may have been a bullet graze.
His face was almost unrecognizable. Pierce stood with Enrique and two men I didn't know. They all seemed relaxed, talking quietly and not paying Jason any attention. My heart went out to him; I knew this was somewhat my fault, but I couldn't say I was sorry. I didn't trust Pierce not to hurt me or my sister. I would lead a thousand men to their deaths if it meant keeping both of us alive.
"It's downstairs. I'm sure h
e'll be okay for fifteen minutes," Pierce responded to something one of the men had said.
When his eyes abruptly flashed to mine, I flinched back around the corner and pressed myself to the wall, clutching a hand over my racing heart. Had he seen me?
I breathed a small sigh of relief when I heard them eventually exit the living room.
The basement door opened and closed, and then the house was silent—aside from an occasional groan from Jason.
Slowly crawling forward again, I looked back down to the open living room. Pierce had left him like this for a purpose. That became evident the second I spotted a conveniently placed butcher’s knife resting on the coffee table, the flashing light indicating that the front door lock wasn't engaged.
He’d said fifteen minutes, and while I could run downstairs, cut Jason's restraints, wake his ass up, and haul him out the door, one question remained.
Where would we go?
Unless there was a running car waiting for us, we'd have to wander around in the dark woods.
"Damn it," I seethed before making my decision.
I couldn't just sit on my ass and wait to see what happened next. I had to at least try and help him.
Moving at a snail’s pace, I started to descend the stairs, pausing at the bottom to listen for any sound. Not hearing anything, I jogged to Jason and knelt. He smelled awful, like he'd been dropped in a bucket of raw sewage and then left out to dry.
For a minute, I thought he was knocked out, but his eyes were wide open. Guilt lashed at my chest as I stared at a man who was nothing like the person I’d been with the night before.
"If I cut you loose, you have to try and haul ass out the door."
Snatching the knife off the table, I went to work on his restraints, breathing in as little of the nauseating air as possible. When his hands were free, I moved to his ankles.
"Alright, hurry," I whispered when I was done helping him up.
"Come...with me," he wheezed out.
How I wished I could. Between Seth and Pierce, I didn't trust either of them, but Pierce was the one with the connection to Abbi. I couldn't risk him doing something to her, and I was not going to run back to Seth.
I grunted from the strain of supporting his dead weight. As we struggled together, the grime coating his skin rubbed onto mine. It began to sink in how terrible of an idea this was. At the pace he was going, there was no way he could get out in time, but I couldn't exactly drag him back to the chair and tie him up again. He had no choice but to try and make it.
"You have to move fast,” I warned him as I pulled the front door open.
Jason wasted no time pushing off me and hobbling across the threshold with a muttered, "Good luck."
He made it to the tree line, struggling the entire time.
I knew once he got lost in the foliage, he would have much better survival odds.
But he never made it that far.
I heard the gun go off, heard the bullet hit Jason in the back. He went to his knees and still tried to keep going. I looked on in silent horror as Enrique approached Jason from the side of the house.
He lifted his gun and fired another round into the back of his head, execution style. I took a step back and turned around, freezing when I spotted Pierce sitting on the stairs, watching me with an amused expression on his face. He stood slowly, and then took his time approaching. When he was close, he reached around me and shut the door before backing me against it.
"Why?" I demanded to know.
"He touched you."
"That’s because you told me to get in the car with him.”
"I had to know if you would try to leave me. You didn't."
Jesus! He was so callous, so damn cold.
"So, he didn't do anything outside of that?" My tone was incredulous. Pierce was certifiably fucking insane.
He pinched my chin with two fingers, forcing me to tilt my head back and look up at him.
"He did cut me off in traffic a week ago," he smiled down at me. "There's nothing wrong with me, Rebel. You know who I am and what I do. I've never hidden it from you. You grew up in this lifestyle. Why is this situation bothering you?”
I swallowed, eyes briefly darting away. “Because he’s dead. And it’s my fault.”
He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. “Jason was the only man foolish enough to think he could be near you without consequence. This isn't your fault.”
“I don't care if I told you to seduce him with everything you had—no one touches what's mine. He disrespected me the second he thought he could. If you are with me, no one will touch you." He ran the pad of his thumb across my lower lip, pausing when my hands cupped the side of his face.
The sick, twisted truth was that I didn't hate him. Not even close. He was unnervingly intense. Dangerous. Callous and cruel. Yet, for all his faults he had always been oddly protective over me. Since he’d taken me, he had been loyal to me. I knew that didn’t make up for the half of it, but they mattered. The very things that should have made me hate him were all the reasons why I didn’t. It could have been worse. He could have been Hannibal Lector bad.
Besides, he was right. I did grow up in this world where crime was okay and dirty money was vital in how men provided for their families.
It might not have been right to outsiders, but it was all I knew. Maybe that made me screwed up, because after everything that had gone down between us, and even though there was a man with a bullet hole in the back of his head right outside the door, I still wanted him.
"God, this is so messed up." Shaking my head, I shoved away from him and headed for the stairs, cognizant he was right behind me. When I pivoted around on the fourth stair to add something else, he grabbed the back of my head and brought his mouth mere centimeters from mine.
“You’re right. Its screwed up. We’re a perfectly fucked up mess.” Lips pressing to lips, I was tempted to slap him, but my body was still sore from the night before and I knew I couldn't handle a repeat.
Sighing against him, I gave in like I always did, melting into him.
His tongue skated over the roof of my mouth, exploring until it found mine. He slid his hands to my ass, firmly gripping each globe before moving to the back of my thighs.
"Hold onto me," he commanded softly, wrapping my legs around his waist.
I locked my arms behind his neck, doing as he said. He carried me the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hall, laying me on his bed once we reached his room.
The kiss went from something soft and gentle to harsh and fevered. I grasped at his navy dress shirt to get it off him. He laughed lightly, grabbing my pajama shorts and pulling them off in one fluid motion, taking my underwear with them.
I sighed again contentedly, running my hands over his warm, smooth skin and spreading my legs. When all our clothes were strewn around the room, he gripped my thighs and settled between them.
I cupped his face, pulling his mouth back to mine.
If everything else could just fall away and I could keep this moment forever, I would. What we were doing was wrong, but, I didn't want to do what was right.
He ran his hard length up and down my slit, making me squirm beneath him.
"Do you want this?" he asked, breaking away from my mouth to trail kisses down my jawline.
"Yes,” I breathed.
That was all he needed to hear. He gripped my thighs and eased his thick cock inside me, slowly receded, and then came back in, going balls deep. I hissed from the rough intrusion, digging my nails into his broad back. Rough as ever, he and pounded into me with hard, brutal strokes.
I clawed at him, cursing him on ragged breaths and moans.
He lurched down, burying himself deeper and sucked my tongue into his mouth. His fingers dug into my legs as he tossed them over his shoulders.
Every thrust seemed to mold him to me. He filled me entirely, making sure my body would always remember his. He braced himself with one hand on the headboard, wrapping the other ar
ound my throat.
I met his hips with mine. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, muscles flexing beneath my fingertips. He abruptly dropped my thighs and flipped me onto my stomach, not giving me a chance to catch my breath before he was back inside me. One hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back and forcing my body to arch. A small yelp slipped out when he smacked my ass and shoved my face into the bedsheets.
I wasn't sure how long we went at it. He didn't stop until my voice was gone and my orgasms were nothing but silent screams.
My body was complete mush when we finished.
When he pulled me into his arms after we had showered, I didn't fight it, even though it confused me. He couldn't hate me—not as he claimed to. You didn’t hold someone you hated the way he held me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
We were still wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the silence, when I decided to speak.
"Do you know my real father?"
“No," he answered quietly, running a hand through my hair.
"Is my sister okay?"
"Unless orgasms cause pain, she's fine."
What an ass.
I wasn't surprised Abbi had fallen into bed with Jax. My sister had always been a bit more sexually free than I was. Jax was hot; Abbi was gorgeous. I'm sure the sex was explosive.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"Isn't it obvious? We just fucked.”
I lifted my head from his chest and glared.
"I can't tell you. Not yet."
"But why? What does it change? I'm not going anywhere. I could've run out that door, and I didn't."
"Rebel." He shifted so my head was back on his chest. "You should get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow." It was the last thing he said to me before I was lulled to sleep by his heartbeat.
At barely six in the morning, the sound of a phone ringing woke me up.
I was surprised that Pierce had stayed in bed with me all night. I was glad he finally slept. Sometimes, the man seemed more cyborg than human. I nudged his shoulder to rouse him and watched his eyes spring open.
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