by Eva Ashwood
There’s no more being slow and measured about it, either. I bob my head with gusto, taking him all the way down each time, moaning and groaning around him while he continues to feast on me.
Rory pulls his fingers out of my pussy, and I give a low grunt of disappointment. I can feel my walls clenching around nothing, mourning the loss of being full. I’m about a second away from pulling off of his cock and telling him to put those fingers back, when I feel the pad of his index finger rub over my asshole.
My eyes fly open wide, and I nearly choke on his cock in my surprise. His finger is slick from being buried in my pussy, and the furled pink hole parts easily for him, letting him work the tip of his index finger inside.
I don’t know if it’s my surprise or the knowledge that he’s thinking about fucking my ass that does it, but the orgasm that’s been hovering right at the edge of my awareness suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks. The way he slides his finger into my ass while thrusting his tongue as deep as possible into my pussy sends me hurtling over the edge.
I cry out, slamming my hips down on his face as the heat of my release tears through me.
My moans are still muffled, and I try not to let up with my sucking while I ride out the pleasure of coming hard enough that I feel like I’m seeing stars.
It’s clearly still enough for Rory because he pulls back for air and groans my name before thrusting his hips up a few more times and spilling himself in my mouth.
The salty flood of cum is like a reward, and I swallow it and then pull off, panting for breath. I feel almost boneless, but there’s that spark of pleasure that’s still there, not wanting to be finished with him quite yet.
That’s even more obvious when Rory flips our positions again. I end up flat on my back with him hovering over me. His face is flushed from me sitting on it, and his mouth is shiny with my arousal. I swallow hard at the sight of it, and when he leans down to kiss me, I kiss back hungrily.
I can taste myself on his tongue, the salty sweet tang of my cream, and I know the taste of his cum is right there on my tongue for him too. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and kissing me with even more urgency.
My body arches into his, already eager for more, eager for him. I’m sated, but I’m still wet, and my nipples are still hard, pressing against the planes of his bare chest.
We kiss for a long minute, my arms around his neck and his holding him up over me. When we finally need to breathe, he pulls back and swallows hard, his green eyes dark with pleasure.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asks.
I open my mouth to make a sarcastic comment, still determined to play my part, but I can’t find my voice in this moment, so I just shake my head instead. I have some idea of the answer, considering he’s been the one flirting with me since the moment I met all of them, practically.
“Ever since I heard you fucking Levi in here from down the hall,” he murmurs, and his voice is low. I can’t tell if it’s from jealousy or something else. “I was hard as a fucking rock listening to it.”
I was right about him hearing us, then. I feel like I should be embarrassed about being that loud, but all I can bring myself to feel is a rush of heat. The idea of Rory in his room listening, maybe even touching himself to the sound of me and Levi going at it in here? It’s a sexy-as-hell image, and one that I’m certain I won’t be able to forget for a long time.
He leans down and kisses me again, and my lips move eagerly against his. For a second, I’m still lost in the endorphins and sated feeling of the post-orgasm high, indulging in the dirty fantasies that pass through my mind. But as my heartbeat slows a little and the more rational part of my brain kicks back in, it feels like someone threw a bucket of ice water over my head.
Whatever comfort I just found in Rory’s arms, it was an illusion. Sloan might be my biggest enemy here, but I have to start reminding myself to see Rory and Levi that way too—no matter what they know or don’t know.
I made a vow to myself and to my dad, who’s dead because of these guys. Or at least because of one of them.
I can’t get distracted from what I’m here to do.
No matter what the fuck it takes, I’m bringing the Black Roses down.
4
Bring them down.
Make them pay.
The words beat against the inside of my skull, chilling the heat of my arousal so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if Rory can feel the temperature change on my skin.
A moment ago, I was dying for more, ready to reach down between us and stroke him again before guiding him to my sopping pussy and wrapping my legs around him. Instead, I turn my head a little to break our kiss, pushing at his chest.
Whatever else he might be, Rory’s enough of a gentleman to take the hint, leaning back and kneeling between my legs as he looks down at me. His eyes flicker with desire as he takes in the sight of my naked body, probably still flushed and a little sweaty despite the sudden coolness in my veins. Then he flops down onto the mattress beside me, wrapping one arm around me so that I’m held loosely in his embrace.
“I’m sorry about your mom, Hurricane,” he murmurs, returning to our earlier conversation. “But I have a feeling she’d be really proud of you if she could see you now.”
I don’t respond to that. I can’t.
Instead, I just make a quiet noise of acknowledgement in my throat, blinking rapidly.
We lie like that for several minutes, and it feels like my mind and body are at war with each other, my heart caught in the middle of the battle. I do my best not to let the turbulence of my emotions show, closing my eyes and breathing deeply until my pulse returns to a somewhat normal rhythm.
Rory leaves a little bit later, dropping a quick kiss to my lips before slipping off the bed and throwing his clothes back on. He winks at me and closes the door behind himself, leaving me alone in my room. I consider getting up and going to find something to eat, but I can’t bring myself to move just yet. I need to regain my equilibrium.
My head is still spinning from the orgasm and the heavy make-out session, and I need to figure out a way to get back on sure footing before I go downstairs and see the rest of the guys.
Also, I’m not sure how I feel about them maybe knowing what Rory and I were doing up here. So I stay on my bed for a while longer, hugging a pillow to my chest.
Eventually, my stomach growls so loud I can’t ignore it, so I get up and get dressed, taking time to drag a brush through my hair so I don’t look like I’ve been rolling around in bed when I get down to the first floor.
It’s mostly quiet in the house, but Sloan’s in the kitchen when I get there. I tense up for a second, considering just turning around and walking out again.
It’s hard to even look at him when I hate him so fucking much, even if he’s just standing there with a cup half lifted to his mouth, a plate in front of him as he stands at the kitchen island.
He looks at me, and I stare back for a second before shaking myself and moving to the fridge. Having a reason to put my back to him is good, even if I do feel like I’m on high alert. I don’t have any reason to trust him, after all, and even if he’s not likely to just shoot me right in the middle of his kitchen, I can feel the tension rising in me.
“Did you eat yet?” Sloan asks, and I frown at the jug of whole milk sitting in the middle of the fridge. Why is he asking? Why does he care?
“No,” I say, tone short. “Not yet.”
“What have you been doing all day?”
None of your fucking business.
It’s right on the tip of my tongue to say it and deal with the consequences later, but I swallow it down. Snapping at Sloan like that isn’t going to help anything. Usually, I don’t have this much of an issue being around him or trading barbed comments with him, but it’s different now.
“Just… stuff,” I say.
I’m definitely not telling him that part of the “stuff” was fucking R
ory. That’s really none of his business.
My head is still in the fridge, and I’m glad I can’t see his face. I don’t want to know what his expression looks like right now. I already know I can’t trust anything he says or does. He killed my dad with a blank look on his face, like it was nothing. And I’m already used to seeing him look pissed off at me. Whatever I might read in his expression right now, nothing can change my opinion of him.
And I don’t want him to see the look on my face either. I’m having a hard time controlling it, so I don’t know if it’ll be rage or sadness that he’ll see if he looks at me now.
“Stuff. Descriptive,” Sloan mutters under his breath.
I suck in a breath of my own and then let it out. Dragging my thoughts away from the tension that clogs the air, I try to think about dinner.
Maybe I’ll make a salad or some chicken. There’s a steak in the back that’s been there for a couple days, so maybe I’ll claim it. I try to think about anything other than how pissed off I am, but the weird, tense energy in the kitchen doesn’t change.
Sloan isn’t being openly hostile, more just prodding and annoying—but either way, it’s setting me off, and I don’t want to deal with it.
“Why does it matter to you what I did? I was here all day, just like I was supposed to be,” I fire back, hoping the edge to my tone isn’t as sharp as I think it is.
“You’re right. It doesn’t matter, I guess.”
Great. So fucking helpful. Typical Sloan, trying to rile me up and then pretending like he couldn’t care less.
I can feel myself getting angrier, the rage that’s been building up in me since I watched my dad die coming up to rear its head once more. It’s not as bad as when Rory came down and found me working out, because my emotions don’t feel like they’ve been built up like they were when I was in the gym. But it’s still hard.
“Great,” I mutter. “Glad we’re on the same page here.”
There’s a beat where he doesn’t say anything in response, and I try to go back to contemplating dinner options, even if I’m getting less hungry by the minute. But I have to play it cool, and that means eating at regular times and not letting them know something is wrong. Rory’s already been worried about me once today, I don’t need Levi joining in because he notices I’m not eating or something.
I don’t think Sloan would care either way, except for maybe bringing it up because he wants to pick a fight or something.
“What are you even looking for?” he asks, and I tense even more. Case in fucking point.
I don’t even know what the answer to that is. I was hungry when I came down here, but now my stomach is just burning with anger and hatred.
How dare he just stand there like he hasn’t done anything? Acting normal like he didn’t kill my dad in cold blood when he came to Sloan for help? I grit my teeth and clench my fingers around the handle of the fridge, not sure if it’s better to ignore him or tell him to fuck off.
“I don’t know yet,” I say, managing to sound mostly civil. It doesn’t help that Sloan has always been pretty standoffish around me, questioning the things I do and treating me like I’m a dumb kid instead of a grown-ass woman.
It’s been more of the same since he killed my dad, and I can’t tell if that’s just a continuation of how things have always been, or if he’s just waiting for his chance to get me too. Before, I was usually able to ignore him or shut him down with a sarcastic comment, but now I’m being standoffish right back, even if I’m trying not to be.
I can’t remember what normal is anymore, and it’s making everything harder.
“Well, fuck. Don’t just stand there with the door open.” Sloan grunts, sounding annoyed. “You’re letting the cold air out.”
“Who are you, my mother?” I snap before I can think better of it. I slam the fridge door closed and move away from it, glaring at him.
He lifts an eyebrow and looks right back at me, an assessing look in his steel-gray eyes. “No, but I’m one of the people who pays the bills for this house.”
I roll my eyes, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth hurt. “I’ll give you the fifty fucking cents if it’ll make you feel better.”
“It won’t,” he says coolly, taking a bite of his sandwich. “If you want something to eat, just make something.”
“I was going to!” I insist, my hands curling into fists.
Jesus fucking Christ. This is such a stupid fucking thing to be bickering about, and once again, I can’t tell if this is the normal level of hostility and fuck-off attitude that he usually has, or if this is something different.
It feels bizarre, and a bit like I’m losing my mind, standing here trying to work out why we’re arguing about cold air in the fridge of all things. I want to throw something at him, but before we can get too much further into this argument or make things any fucking weirder, Levi comes in.
He looks between the two of us for a second, and Sloan rolls his eyes and goes back to eating, clearly done with me for the moment.
Levi sighs and then looks at me, running a hand through his dark brown hair. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
I nod, grateful to have an excuse to leave the kitchen. Maybe when I go back in to find something to eat, Sloan will have fucked off back to his room or wherever he goes when he’s not murdering people or getting in my face.
Levi leads me into the living room, and I follow, going to sit down on the couch. It’s far enough away from the kitchen that Sloan would have to either come to the door or work hard to overhear us from the kitchen, and judging from the sounds upstairs, Rory has music on in his room.
“So,” Levi says, sinking down beside me and turning a little to face me more fully. “I talked to Gavin, like I told you I would. I asked him if there was any chance of letting your dad out of his deal, or if there was anything we could do, but… he said no.”
I perk up at the mention of Sloan’s dad, the head of the Black Roses and the man who insisted my dad make up for not throwing a fight like he was supposed to by doing them a “favor” in return.
After my dad called me, sounding scared and agitated, I freaked out. Levi promised he would see if there was anything that could be done. It feels like it was forever ago that I asked, and it’s crazy to think it’s been less than a week.
My heart drops when he finishes, though. It’s nice of him to follow through on his promise, but it’s definitely too late to save my dad. Even if Gavin had said yes, it wouldn’t mean anything. Still, it pisses me off that the leader of the Black Roses said no in the first place. What was so important that my dad was doing that he couldn’t be let out of the deal? That he couldn’t pay off his supposed debt in some other way.
“When did you talk to him?” I ask, forcing down the lump in my throat and trying to piece together the timeline of all of this.
“Sunday,” Levi replies. He grimaces. “I’m sorry, Mercy. I know it was important to you. But Gavin’s got his own reasons for doing what he does.”
That was the day my dad died. The same day I had that talk with Levi after we hooked up.
Shit, did Sloan know that Levi was trying to get my dad out of his deal? Is that why he killed him? Was it my fault for interfering? If that’s the case… fuck. That would make all of this even more massively messed up than it already is. It just gives me even more questions about what the hell is going on here.
Did I get my dad killed by trying to save him?
Just like when I spoke to Rory, I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been sitting here not saying anything, my mind spinning with thoughts and questions and half-formed ideas. None of it is helpful, and I feel like I’m spiraling all over again.
“Hey.” Levi’s quiet voice breaks into my thoughts, snapping me out of my daze for a second. “Are you okay?”
There’s a split second of worry that everything I’m feeling is clear to see on my face, or that Levi can somehow read my thoughts. But his eyes are just concerned when I look at him, like
he’s worried that I’m disappointed he couldn’t help my dad.
I lick my lips, trying to find a smile for him, but it’s not easy. It’s hard as hell when I know there’s nothing I can do to fix this, and when I don’t know who I can trust. Levi seems sincere, but maybe he’s just a good goddamn actor. Maybe he’s just stringing me along.
Shit. I wish I had stayed in my room.
“Mercy,” Levi says again, reaching out to take one of my hands in his. “I know it seems bad, okay? But it’s going to be all right. Your dad will be fine. I promise.”
My heart hurts just hearing that. Levi’s either lying or oblivious, but either way, there’s no comfort to be taken from his words. I know they’re not true, no matter how sincere he sounds.
Because my dad’s already dead.
5
School is a welcome change of pace from being cooped up at the house, and I go through the motions all day on Wednesday
It doesn’t really help that Levi is there after every class, waiting on me with that lopsided smile and teasing me about telling him what I learned in each class session. It’s familiar, and if it wasn’t for everything going on, it would even be nice. But now it just makes me feel guilty and conflicted, and I hate that.
We go back to the house in the afternoon, and Levi disappears to go handle some business or whatever, leaving me to trudge up to my room alone. Once I’ve closed the door behind myself, I drop my bag on the floor and sigh, flopping onto my bed and staring at the ceiling.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, making me curse softly.
I know without even looking at it that it’s going to be more texts from Scarlett. We haven’t really talked since everything went down between Sloan and my dad, and even though I’ve seen her at school these past few days, it’s only been in passing.
I know she knows something is wrong. We never go this long without talking to each other, even if it’s just texting, and if I talk to her, really talk to her, I’m never going to be able to keep my mask up.
