Mick: Kingston Corruption, Book One

by Vester, Jennifer

  I walked in and heard water running from a room to my left. The door was propped open slightly and I could see Mick, shirtless for some reason and washing his face. It made me pause for a moment wondering why.

  “Hey,” I called out to him.

  He turned toward me, water dripping that made its way through the scruff on his chin down his neck and pecks. He looked surprised to see me and grabbed a towel to dab at the droplets.

  “Hey, baby,” he said as he opened the door wider. I could see a small square shower in the back that looked like it’d been recently used.

  “Those aren’t your sweats,” I remarked indicating the jogging pants that hung off his hips. The curve of the band dipped in the middle to show the V of his muscles and the hairline to things much lower. I squeezed my thighs together under my skirt as I regarded him. How one man could look so good was beyond the laws of nature.

  He sauntered out of the bathroom looking around the room. “Where’s Paul?

  “He’s downstairs. Went into the back to find Jack, I guess. Did you take a shower?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Small mishap with lunch. Spilled my drink.”

  Giving him a small frown as he came closer, I inhaled the musky scent of him mixed with the soap he’d used.

  “The shower must be convenient up here I guess, although strange.”

  He shrugged, his eyes never leaving my face. “A perk I don’t mind if it means I’m clean when you show up. What are you doing here?”

  “I missed you and…”

  His arms were around me and my face against his chest before I finished.

  “Hmm, I missed you too. But I thought I told you to relax at home.”

  “Well, I just couldn’t. I had to tell you something.”

  He took my face and tilted my chin up before his mouth descended on mine. The smooth texture of his lips warred with the rough kiss he was giving me. His tongue ran across my parted lips then dove in.

  When his hand slid around my waist then down to my ass, I let out a small moan.

  He leaned back only slightly to whisper my name before he was moving me backwards.

  “Can it wait?” he asked.

  I nodded, my news about my father fading in importance compared to the heated look in his eyes. I suspected that things would always be this way. He’d always come first, over whatever troubles plagued me.

  Destination unknown, I let him guide me as I kept kissing his bottom lip. My teeth scraped against the side of his neck when my legs finally hit something solid.

  “Mick,” I whispered as my hand slipped down to the bulge between his hips.

  “Shh,” he said as he helped guide me down to the leather couch.

  When I was finally sitting in front of him he stood back from me, gazing at my face. My hand wandered over his pants, fingers hooking the band and pulling down. The head of his engorged cock sprang free and the expression on his face changed from one of fascination to hunger in an instant.

  I licked my lips as he shoved his pants down and stepped out of them. When he came closer to me he grabbed the base and squeezed slightly. My fingers slid over the soft skin where his hand held it in place. Squeezing him, I looked up to see him watching me closely. His eyebrow lifted almost in challenge as I leaned forward to take him in my mouth.

  My eyes closed as he stretched my lips apart, very gently sliding into my wet mouth. I sucked at him, glancing up once to see his face had changed to one of both pleasure and pain. He didn’t move as I pumped my mouth over him, sucking, licking, teasing the head.

  The taste of him hit my tongue, salty and sweet, his scent filled my nose. He massaged the base of his dick where my mouth couldn’t reach. His other hand grabbed my hair, knotting it up in his firm grip.

  Groaning he began thrusting gently, in and out and a little further each time. When he hit the back of my throat, I struggled as I gagged, but he held me in place before he pulled back to do it again.

  He grunted as he pulled out, still holding onto my hair.

  “Alisa, get on your knees on the ground and turn around. Face the couch.”

  I slid off the couch, my knees encountering the small rug that was placed in front of the couch. I peered up at his face, wondering if I’d done something wrong.

  His hand kept working the base of his cock as he watched me. His face was somewhat smug and pleased at the same time as I turned. It was Mick in control again just like the first time. It made me wet thinking about it today.

  If he wanted to dominate me, needed to have control, I didn’t mind. It was something that I knew with certainty I’d gain pleasure from if I complied.

  I trusted him, loved him and wanted whatever part of him he could give me. I knew it wasn’t everything, knew that he held back. I could have most of him, and for now it was enough.

  He gently pushed my face onto the leather seat, taking hold of my hair again. He crouched behind me and his hand slid up my thigh until it reached the hem of my skirt. The cotton material slid over my skin as he pushed it over my hips. My ass rose up toward him, exposed as his hand ran over my panties then tugged them down forcefully.

  “You want me inside you, beautiful?” he asked as he rubbed the head of his cock around my wet opening.

  “Yes,” I whimpered as he inched forward then retreated.

  “Are you going to listen next time I tell you to stay home? Listen when I tell you to rest? You won’t get this next time if you don’t.”

  He drove into me suddenly and forcefully in one motion, causing me to cry out. My hands grabbed at the leather that provided nothing to hold on to.

  He stretched me to the hilt and didn’t move as he leaned over to kiss the back of my neck. His hand worked to move the cloth away from my shoulder as his mouth burned a path across my skin.

  “Today wasn’t a good day to surprise me with a visit, Alisa. I had some things to do that I didn’t want you involved in here. I didn’t want to see you while I was still angry about it.”

  I opened my mouth to ask what he was referring to, but any thoughts of protest were forgotten as he slid nearly completely out then slammed back into me.

  My walls clenched around him with the movement, loving the control he had over my body. I needed more of him, wanted him to sink so far into me that he’d never leave.

  His teeth skimmed across my neck before he spoke. “I was going to be gentle with you at home, show you how much I missed you. But right now, I need something else, something rough. Tell me to stop, Alisa.”

  I licked my lips, my breathing labored in anticipation and slight trepidation. In the madness of wanting him, full of need and the headiness of pleasure as he ground his hips against me, I didn’t want to be anywhere but here.

  “Mick, I’m yours,” I breathed.

  He growled against my ear as he started to move. One of his hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing gently. Not enough to make me panic, but enough to know my life was in his hands alone. His strong palm, long fingers, and grip could strangle me in an instant, but it felt good knowing he had that control either way.

  His hips pummeled into me and the slap of his skin against mine echoed in the room. I moaned when he grabbed my hip to change the angle, the frenzy of his thrusts stretching me even more. I couldn’t move as he held me in place. Taking me the way he wanted, meant my total surrender to him. It was what my mind and body wanted.

  I moaned on each thrust as his rhythm increased. My slick and needy walls tightened around him, the tingling sensation in my belly slid south. His fingers roughly massaged my clit, and he let go of my throat, causing relief. I came suddenly, explosively, with such euphoria that I nearly passed out as I screamed his name. My body was no longer on the couch, no longer with Mick, but somewhere high and drunk on the ecstasy of his continued passion.

  He’d been seduction incarnate from day one, the epitome of everything I didn’t know I even wanted. His admitted obsession, and my curiosity brought us closer to a moment like this. Where
nothing existed but him, the sounds he made, my pleasure in both giving and taking what we both needed.

  I clenched around him again as he worked my clit with his fingers and let out a loud cry. He thrust into me faster, his hips pummeling me into the edge of the couch and causing a little bit of pain.

  Then he roared as he buried himself to the hilt. He pulsated near the edge of my body’s limit to accommodate his size. He didn’t even try to pull out of me this time and I didn’t want him to. His hot seed shot into me, his continued groans of pleasure washed over me. As his hand pulled at my hair and dug into the flesh of my hip, I shut my eyes and savored every inch of him.

  Still thrusting, he leaned over and sucked at my neck, making his way to my ear.

  “Tell me you want me, Alisa.”

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  He kissed me gently along my jaw. “Tell me you still love me, baby.”

  “I love you, Mick.”

  “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine,” he whispered. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be mine.”

  As he slid out of me, his hands wrapped around my waist and picked me up. He laid me down gently on the couch, running his hands over my body, adjusting my skirt and panties.

  I gazed up at him and turned his face so he’d look at me. There was something like regret in his eyes as if he felt bad about what we’d just done. He kissed my palm and stood to put his pants back on, then kneeled beside me again.

  Peppering my face with kisses, his fingers caressed the side of my cheek.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” I whispered as I watched his face.

  He sighed with a heavy expression on his face. “Not about that.”

  I smiled up at him. “Then what are you sorry for?”

  He hesitated for a minute, his eyes dropping from mine to land on the couch. As he debated on what he was going to say, I saw a myriad of emotions play havoc across his face. Pain, anger, guilt, determination.

  “What is it?” I whispered. “What happened?”

  His eyes snapped back to mine, boring into me, telling me without words that whatever it was he was going to say, he needed me to accept.

  I leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips before withdrawing.

  “I killed a man today for a good reason. And it wasn’t the first time I’ve killed someone.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mick

  Her mouth opened, then shut. Blinking at me, as she tried to process what I'd admitted, I watched her face. She hadn’t turned away, hadn’t looked at me in disgust, only stared at me with those beautiful blue eyes of hers.

  “Are you trying to push me away again?” she asked. “After what we just did, you’re trying to scare me again?”

  I pursed my lips, hesitant to repeat what I’d just admitted to her.

  When she sat up she winced, but when I tried to help she pushed my hands away.

  “I thought we were over this, Mick. I just thought…”

  “Baby, listen to me.”

  She shook her head. “No, for once you’re going to listen. The reason I came up here today was to tell you about a call I got from my dad.”

  My jaw tightened, and my anger started to rise again.

  “He said the most awful things. He said I wasn’t his biological daughter, and I think his brothers raped my mother. Then he said he’d hurt you if I didn’t go home.”

  “What?” I hissed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  When her legs swung off the couch I tried to gently cage her in. She pushed at me, but I held tight to her hips. Her turbulent eyes wouldn’t meet mine as they scanned the office.

  “He’s a powerful man and I thought I’d come and warn you. To be honest, I thought, maybe for a minute, of going back. I can’t handle the thought of what he could do to you. And telling me this, Mick, I don’t even know what to think.”

  “Stop—”

  “No,” she said, her angry eyes meeting mine. “I can only deal with so much hurt in one day. And although I absolutely hate him, and don’t understand why any of them would even want me in that family to begin with, at least they don’t try to scare me away. I’m already scared of them.”

  My hands squeezed her hips and drew her closer to me. The expression on her face was almost like the one she’d had in the car weeks ago. Hurt, sadness but with quiet acceptance. She looked exhausted, and what I’d just done with her in the office added another reason to feel guilty today. I should have shipped her home to sleep.

  “I love you, Alisa. That’s not what I’m doing.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? Telling me you killed someone is pretty high on my list of scary things I don’t want to hear. It feels like you’re pushing me again. And after what we just did…”

  Grabbing her shoulders, I held her at arm’s length in front of me. “Alisa, I killed the man that stabbed you.”

  She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. “No, don’t tell me that. It’s not true.”

  “Look, you want me to tell you things, I am. I’m not the saint you want to see. I needed to tell you. I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and wonder who I really am. You’re never going back to that family and I’ll never give you up. But I thought maybe you should understand the choice you’ve made.”

  “You couldn’t have. You’re not like them.”

  My eyes narrowed at her as I stood up. She didn’t believe me or didn’t want to. She wanted the man that I could never be again. The man she’d never met, whose ideals and morals had walked a straight path through hell for most of my time at the FBI. She said she loved me, but I wondered some days if she knew what that meant.

  What I’d done today, what we’d done, had crossed a line I never thought I’d see again. There was a difference between shooting someone like my partner, and torturing someone in the basement for answers.

  Especially when the torture had involved breaking several bones, by using someone as a punching bag, causing massive internal bleeding. Not to mention, when I took a hammer to his hand when he refused to give up who’d hired him. We’d all beaten him until there was nothing left but a twitching man on the floor, still tied to the chair, that had splintered into pieces when my brother kicked it over. The anger had swallowed me, my mind welcoming it, and I’d savored my revenge. All the while, telling myself that in the end it was done to protect her, to find out who wanted her dead.

  One word swam to my mind. Corrupted.

  Something morally depraved or the state of being so.

  In a single act, I’d become the same thing I’d despised and tried to resist. Events, either out of my control or manufactured by my own hand, had led to it, but I’d acted on it.

  Turning to the idea of faulty justice, was a slow and measured campaign on the mind. The lines of morality became blurred. The justification for what I thought were flawed but noble deeds, didn’t matter.

  Whatever part of me that existed before crouching in an open field beside my partner next to a dead body, was gone. The man that was left, dreamt about those cases. Women that I couldn’t save. Lives lost because I didn’t see what I was supposed to.

  Even though my mind couldn’t let it go, I’d never regret what I’d done. My life, my choices had led to her. Both of us moving back here, a chance meeting in a bar. Her gentle nature to my turbulent one. The one woman that could bring me to my knees with a look and make me worship on her altar. She could break me or save me with a word.

  It’d been her choice to be with me and now for both of us, it wasn’t a choice at all. She wasn’t weak. She was the siren to my soul, a broken one now, but the only person I’d ever consider loving.

  She had a beautiful, strong spirit and to hear she’d felt unloved, abandoned by the people that should love her most, nearly gutted me. She’d just lumped me in with them in a way and that burned.

  Not like them? Like her family? God, if she only knew the lines I was willing to cross.
I needed her to understand who I really was, what she meant to me, but she also needed to know what it was truly going to take to fight against her family. This wasn’t going to be an easy road. We were going to have to jump off a cliff together and hope for the best, but I wasn’t sure if she could even handle the truth of it at this point.

  The man she thought I was, didn’t exist anymore. What remained, was a man obsessed with her, tangled up with her, willing to be shredded by her just for a glimpse of her devotion.

  Walking over to the desk, I grabbed the shirt that Mason had brought me earlier and pulled it down over my bare chest. Snatching up the tumbler of whiskey, I tipped it back until I drained it. The burn of it sliding down my throat made me feel something physical rather than emotional. I needed those precious few minutes before I spoke to her again.

  She was still sitting on the couch, staring at the wall when I glanced back at her.

  There was a knock at the door before I could vocalize a response to her comment.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  Paul’s large figure filled the door. He glanced at Alisa before he looked at me. I knew I’d made the right choice in hiring him as her bodyguard when he shot me an angry glare. I deserved it for the sad expression on her face, the vacant look that I’d put there.

  I’d told her the truth. I killed a man today. She was either grappling with that truth, or still thought I was pushing her away. Either way, she was bound to me like every cell in my body. I meant it when I told her that I’d never let her go.

  “Can you take Alisa home? She needs to rest,” I said in a flat voice as I sat down behind the desk. Our talk could wait, she needed rest after her ordeal and my rough use of her body to shake my demons.

  He nodded and offered his hand to Alisa when he made his way to the couch. Shaking, she took it, avoiding my eyes.

  “Take her to the apartment, Paul. And I need you to look at the setup there since you’ll be keeping her company.”

  Alisa sucked in a breath. “The apartment?”