by J Bree
He grumbles under his breath and orders another whiskey, downing the last of his glass in one gulp. I start people watching, observing who was invited to the gala this year and who has been left from the list.
I’m approached a few times by people who aren’t on my radar at all, gossipmongers who are only after the scoop on what really happened to my father. Everyone knows he’s dead and on paper it was a heart attack. The gossip rags had labelled it a ‘broken heart’ after losing my mother and Joey.
I broke every piece of china in my house the day I read it.
Ash had taken it a little better, he’d gone for a run until he couldn’t breathe anymore, and Lips had eventually taken him to bed early. When I told her the next morning to never tell me what happened in their bed, she rolled her eyes at me and told me he’d just laid there listening to her duet with Blaise on repeat.
He’s a total sap for her voice and the day she sang in the chapel back at Hannaford, her raspy tones casting a spell over all three of her men like she was some sort of siren.
I cut the gossiping bitches down the moment they bring up my father and send them on their way, ignoring Illi’s chuckles and huffs at all of the niceties and social cues they all follow. It’s as easy for me as breathing, something that was drummed into me before I was even conscious of it, and I keep my attention on what is happening around the Kora board members.
Easiest to go through them to collect more people.
I’m sipping and glaring at Blaine when I feel a presence besides me, the scent of the Hermes perfume that comes with her screaming money.
I glance over, ready to just tell the gossiper to fuck off, but I don’t recognize this woman.
Perfectly styled blond hair, a stunningly understated Missoni gown, with neutral makeup and a red lip shade that might even be the same as mine.
I meet her eyes right as we’re both finished assessing each other. She smiles at me and there’s a flirty edge to it, something just a little too friendly. “The Galvan was a great choice, it fits the lines of your body perfectly.”
Illi smothers a cough next to me but I ignore him. “I know better than to attempt a Ferragamo nightmare at a gala like this. Missoni is a good choice, a little safe for my tastes.”
Every other woman I have interacted with tonight would have been pissed at that comment but the flirty smirk just widens on her face. “You must be Avery Beaumont. I’ve heard so much about you. How bold of you to bring the Butcher of the Bay so far from home but I suppose you’ve leashed him appropriately. Who knew he could look so good in a suit?”
It’s only through a lifetime of practice that neither Illi or I react. Although we haven’t tried to hide who he really is, we weren’t expecting someone to call Illi out like this and to call that stunning suit of his a leash?
Who the fuck is this bitch?
I let my eyes fall back on Blaise’s idiot father as I sip my drink. “What a shame, I’ve heard nothing about you.”
The woman’s head tilts like she’s being coy and I suddenly feel like I have no idea what is happening here. Is she actually flirting with me? Is this an act? Has she taken a hit to the head and thinks it’s funny to play with people who will murder her without second thought?
“Welcome to the bigger pond, Floss. Take care not to be eaten alive.”
What the hell?
Illi and I watch as she sashays away from us, the target painted very clearly on her back from the both of us because I might not know a thing about the woman right now, but I’m going to know everything about her the moment I leave this gala.
“Is there someone you can call about her? Fuck I think she wants in you, Queenie. I’m not sure whether that was a sex thing or a blood thing but either way you’re on her radar.”
I shrug and lie through my teeth, mostly to comfort myself. “She’s probably just some bored socialite with a Fed for a husband. Or a high-profile drug lord selling cocaine in back rooms at these sorts of events.”
Illi huffs and shakes his head. “Fucking rich people.”
I smirk at him and we both stand there and watch as the woman works her way around the room. Every person she approaches greets her enthusiastically but every action is laced with fear.
Who the hell is she?
Illi progressively drinks his whiskey’s, one after another and I’m expecting him to actually get drunk but when I mention that to him he rolls his eyes at me. Apparently, he’s like Harley and has a ridiculous tolerance. I slowly sip at the champagne and just people watch, soaking in every last interaction around me until I have a running list to work with.
I don’t see Atticus arrive. I don’t even realize he’s here until he sneaks up behind us from the other end of the ballroom.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he murmurs in my ear, and I sip at the champagne in my hand as though it doesn’t affect me at all.
Illi huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, still as fierce as ever in his suit. I glance over at him but he’s shaking his head.
“And what exactly have I done now? Am I not allowed to speak to people anymore?”
Atticus steps forward and takes the glass out of my hand, setting it down on the table behind us. I glare at him but he ignores it.
“Amanda Donnelley is not someone you own. She’s someone you court to get information from. You pay her, you owe her favors, you kill people at her request so she’ll open her books to you.”
I purposefully keep my eyes away from the smiling banshee of a woman, grinning and giggling as she drapes herself over Blaine Morrison. For that alone, I want to rip her throat out but the words out of Atticus’ mouth just make it worse.
“Is this your way of telling me you’ve been whoring yourself out to her to build your empire? I’m sorry to tell you that I’m not going to play that game. I don’t kneel for anyone.”
Illi murmurs praises under his breath but Atticus’ eyes narrow at him. “You belong to the Wolf. So does your little psychotic guard dog.”
I lean down to retrieve my drink and smirk at him. “We stand with Lips. We always have, being indicted just means that you know where my loyalty lies. If I gave a fuck about the validity of the politics of Mounts Bay, I’d join the Game but I’ll have a seat at any table I want.”
Atticus stares at me for a moment and then steps back to motion at me to follow him, the look on his face expectant and demanding. When I glance back over at that Donnelley hag again, he grabs my arm and tugs me to his side.
A snarl rips out of Illi but I shake my head at him. “I’ll be fine, Illi. Have a drink, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Chapter Eleven
There aren’t that many places to speak in private so Atticus drags me to a supply closet.
We walk past Luca to get there, his eyes on us as Atticus swings the door open wide and shoves me in, gently but the hand on my arm is firm. It makes me feel as though I’m about to be scolded like a child and I have exactly no interest in submitting for that.
“I have more important things to do tonight than argue with you about some slut you’ve sold yourself to.”
His eyes narrow as he shuts the door behind himself, the room falling into darkness. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust but when they do, I find boxes stacked up everywhere and a pissed off man who looks as though he’d like to strangle me.
I know all too well what that looks like.
He steps forward until he’s crowding me into the wall and snarls at me, “I need you to stop being a child about this!”
I startle away from him. “A child? You think I’m being a child about the man that I have loved and craved and longed for just giving up on me and for what? For some misguided sense of self-sacrifice?”
His eyes narrow and he stalks forward. “Self-sacrifice? Really, Floss, you know better than that.”
I let out a deep breath and ignore the burning in the back of my eyes. I will never cry in front of this man again. “I don’t want a man who will give
me up the second things get hard. My life has been nothing but difficult so far, Crow. I don’t expect that to change anytime soon and I only accept people who would kill for me. Every member of my family would bleed and shed blood for me… you’ve only ever proven you’d leave me for my own good. That’s not what I want.”
I turn on my heel and stalk towards the door.
Atticus Crawford has never, not once laid a hand on me.
I can count on one hand the amount of times he’s hugged me, I have enough fingers to tally up the times he’s brushed my hand with his own, so I’m not expecting him to grab me and stop me from leaving.
I’m certainly not expecting his hand to clamp down on my neck, spinning me around and forcing me into his arms before I even realize he’s touching me. His hand stays on my neck, holding me still as he leans down with fire in his eyes and breathes the words against my lips.
“I killed for you long before your brother did. I was bleeding out the buyers your father auctioned you off to before you made it to middle school. You think I walked into the Game clean? My hands were dripping with the blood of men who wanted to destroy you, Avery. Don’t you ever tell me I gave you up, I have never given you up. I’ve tried to give you a good life, if you don’t want that then you’re mine. No more coming to meetings with the Butcher draped all over you, no more dancing in the Bay with the Stag. You have my full attention. What are you going to do with it?”
I stare him down and it occurs to me that now he’s finally saying to me exactly what I always wanted.
That’s not what I want anymore.
I do want him… but I’m not going to give up Aodhan for him. I’m not going to stop being who I am just to have him.
I want more than that.
“It’s too late, Atticus. You should’ve taken me when you had the chance.”
His hand tightens around the back of my neck and I think if it were anyone else, I’d be panicking but I know Atticus Crawford, the Crow of Mounts Bay, better than I know any other man. He might have lied to me but I’ve always known who he is at his core.
I’m safe with him.
Too fucking safe, too protected, too far removed from the real world by his obsessive need to keep me breathing.
I don’t want safe anymore.
He sees it too, finally looks into my eyes and sees the real shift that’s happened between us. I think that scares him a little. I think he was always so sure of me and that bubble that both he and Ash put me in that he never really thought through what would happen if I wanted out.
I tip my head back slowly to stare him down.
His restraint just disappears, as if the tether holding it to him was cut. Now, I’m faced with nothing but the beast who hides in the luxurious suits. His hand finally moves away from my neck to clamp down on my shoulder and push me to my knees.
I refuse to let myself think about the state of my dress on this dirty floor.
He reaches for the zip of his pants slowly, like he’s waiting for me to punch him in the dick and run off screaming, “Is this want you want, Avery? I thought you didn’t kneel for anyone?”
I roll my eyes and hope he can see it. “Either do it or let go of me, Atticus, I have a gala to attend.”
He unzips and frees his cock, stroking his hand up and down right in front of my face.
I swallow roughly, deep breath, this is only what I’ve desperately wanted from him since I was old enough to know what the hell a blow job was. Now I just have to make sure it’s the best damn blow job of his life so he’ll never be able to have anyone else touch what’s mine.
“I’ll be gentle if you’re scared.”
I scoff at him but his words cut a little too close to home. “This isn’t the first dick I’ve sucked, Crawford, like I’d be scared of you.”
His eyes turn to slits, a hand clamps over my face and tilting my head back until he can look into my eyes as he fists his dick again, slapping it against my cheek. I look up at him and the cold steely gray of his eyes cuts into my soul.
I still want him.
Just as bad as I’ve always wanted him.
I guess I’m going to be doomed to be in love with a man who can’t give me what I want, no matter how hard I try to plead with him to accept who I am.
At least I’ll give him up knowing what he tastes like.
I open my mouth for him, my pussy drenched as he groans and moves his hand to cup my chin as he guides himself between my lips.
I suck him down until he moves his hand away and lets me do what I want. I push further and further until he’s hitting the back of my throat, sucking and humming until he grunts and starts to move his hips subconsciously, driving his cock into me until I’m wet at the thought of him driving into my pussy the same way.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Fuck. Off.” Atticus snarls as I push at his hips, just enough that his cock pops out of my mouth and I can breathe.
My eyes slide over to the door, the sounds of the other guests talking out there a distraction. I don’t want anyone walking in and seeing me like this, down on my knees at Atticus’ feet, his zipper down and his dick still wet from my mouth.
I swallow but the voices get louder, and when I hear Luca’s voice join the mix, I try to stand up only for Atticus’ hand to clamp down on my shoulder.
“The door is unlocked.” I snap, but his mouth stretches into a smirk.
“Do you want it or not?”
He’s calling my bluff.
He still thinks I’m going to stand up and bitch him out, slap him and storm out of here so that he can go back to pretending that ignoring me is for my own safety.
Well he’s not expecting me to stand up and he’s definitely not expecting me to lean back on the wall behind me, slipping a hand into the high slit of my dress and dipping two fingers into my own pussy. My eyelids drop until I can barely see him but at this point, I’m an expert at getting myself off so there’s no helping the reaction my body has.
When I look up through my eyelashes at him, his dick is throbbing as his hand slowly strokes over the length, and the way he’s holding his breath speaks to just how little control he really has.
“Well? Do you want it or not?” I echo his own words back to him on a low moan, and I watch as the tethers of his restraint snap. He surges towards me, trapping my body against the wall with his, one hand on the either side of my head as his chest starts to heave.
He speaks between gritted teeth, “You really want to do this in a dirty storage room? You really want your first time to be here? You’re better than this, Avery.”
I almost choke on the words but there’s no hiding it from him and I can tell myself I’m just trembling from the way his hips are grinding my own hand into my clit until I’m desperate for more. “This isn’t my first time. Fuck me.”
His eyes flare out, and in the blink of an eye his hand is back on my neck squeezing a little as he presses me into the wall with the bulk of his body. It’s been years since I’ve seen him out of a suit and it’s not until he’s pinning me here that I realize just how big he really is.
I realize the restraint he must be showing every time Ash takes a swing at him.
Even with my heels I’m nowhere near tall enough so he has to lean down to snarl in my face, “Who the fuck touched you? You told me you broke up with Rory and never said a word about anyone else? Tell me.”
I’d rather die than tell him about Aodhan.
There’s the tiniest bit of guilt in the pit of my stomach but I’m selfish and ignore it. At some point I need to stop doing what’s best for everyone else and just do exactly what I want to do.
Aodhan and I haven’t even talked about what we’re doing and I’ve wanted this for longer than I can remember so I’m not going to let anything risk this moment.
I lean up the little bit I can until my lips brush against his, an echo of my own trauma that I’m going to replace in my mind, and whisper, “Fuck me or fuck off. I’m over thi
s little bout of foreplay you’re so intent on having.”
A very not-Atticus-like snarl rips out of his throat and the hand at my throat tightens a little before it drops away and my heart drops.
Of course, he’s going to stop.
Of course, he was the one bluffing.
He moves back and right when stupid, useless tears start to fill my eyes he bends down to grab the long panels of my dress that fall to the ground and he rips until the split tears open all the way up to my stomach.
I’m too shocked to move my hands but he’s too focused on taking what he wants to notice my jaw dropping as he grabs my wrists and yanks my hands away from my pussy. He doesn’t hesitate to replace my fingers with his own and when there’s no resistance or so much as a flinch for me another snarl rips out of his throat.
I wasn’t lying to him about my virginity.
Again, I think that he might just turn around and leave but he doesn’t, he swoops down to kiss me deep and raw, biting at my lip like he’s trying to punish me. I can count on one hand the amount of times he’s kissed me too and none of those times were like this, this feels like a claiming and a branding, like he’s desperate to burn the touch of any other man right out of my body.
His fingers are just a little too skilled for me, jealousy flooding me as he crooks his fingers inside me to find my g spot with the type of ease that only comes from practice but the pleasure flooding through me is too distracting to think about that stuff right now.
I might just hunt those women down though, destroy their lives in a fit of rage.
My pussy is weeping by the time I come, squeezing down on his fingers as my legs threaten to give out.
Before I come down from the high, he bends down again to hook his arms around my legs and lift me up into his arms, slamming my back into the wall as he finally pushes his thick cock into me, my pussy gripping him like it never wants to let him go.
It’s not painful like the last time but it’s tight, like I’m too full of him, and my legs tense around him as I wait for it to start to hurt when he moves.
