It seems like I have things well in hand, and then I get a text message from Sasha that makes my blood boil.
Time to head back to Charlestown and teach her a lesson.
7
Sasha
It’s nearly three hours before he gets back. I’m reading the book he gave me on the couch when the door opens, banging against the wall. He closes it, locking it behind him.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks, stalking over to me.
“What?”
I put the book down.
He’s terrifying. Does he know somehow that I was snooping through his things? The secret compartment I’d found in his armoire was only filled with college acceptance letters. Nothing incriminating or even all that interesting, really. I mean, he’s rich. He could get into any college he wanted.
All of his genteel manners are gone, and the fire in his eyes makes my heart race.
“I give you the opportunity of a lifetime,” he hisses, grabbing my wrists. “Of a lifetime, Sasha, and you decide to lie to me?”
“When did I lie?” My voice shakes. Intellectually I know I’m playing with fire but having Finn loom over me brings it home in a way I couldn’t have anticipated.
“Come on,” he growls, holding up his phone. “You could’ve done a better job with this fake fucking card. You can feign innocence all you like, Sasha, but that won’t work with me. I have a photographic memory. I know every name of every employee that works in that casino. You sent me a fake name. And someone had to help you do it. Did you think I’d tell my father and then be made a fool of?”
Damnit. How does he know that already? I had the bright idea to give him a fake employee name to get him off my back and asked Jamilah to doctor a member card for me while he was gone. I assumed he wouldn’t actually know anyone that worked for him anyway.
“No,” I stammer. “It’s a real card!”
“You’re a terrible liar.” He tosses his phone on the side table. “Did you honestly think you could outsmart me?”
“No,” I insist, horrified at how high and small my voice is. “Finn, I don’t think that.”
He rakes his gaze over me. “You don’t know anything, Sasha. And it’s best that you realize it.”
He’s on top of me before I can say another word, pinning my arms above my head.
What is he doing?
His eyes are dark and inscrutable. My chest heaves, but I’m confused by my feelings. I’m terrified, but I want him to touch me too. What’s wrong with me?
He wraps one big hand around my wrists, securing them behind me. He straddles me, my legs between his muscular thighs.
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking.
“Shut up,” he snaps. He rests his hand just above my breasts. “Do you think this is some kind of joke? Do you think P.J. Hennelly would give a fuck that you’re a virgin and be gentle with you?”
My heart hammers, shame sending a flush of blood to my cheeks. How the hell does he know such an intimate detail about me? Or is he just assuming based on how I look?
“I was just scared,” I plead.
“You should be,” he growls, stroking his hand over my breasts. “You’re a beautiful girl, Sasha, and you have no idea what a man like me could do to you.”
A spike of desire shoots through my core. I’m trapped under this powerful man and I don’t understand why he turns me on as much as he scares me. I shouldn’t want him, especially after everything I’ve been through.
But I meet his eyes, and they’re heavy with desire too. For me? It’s hard to believe. But still, a matching desire starts to arc up in me.
What does Finn want to do to me? And what would that feel like? My nipples tighten as his hand strokes across them. It sends a wave of pleasure through me, even with the barrier of my shirt and bra. He watches my face as his hand slides lower, under the waistband of my pants.
“Tell me to stop,” he hisses, his fingers pushing lower until they rest just at the top of my underwear.
“Finn,” I whimper. “Please.”
Please what? Please don’t stop? What do I want him to do or not do? Why don’t I want to say no?
“That’s not what I said.” His fingertips slide under my panties, just barely. “Tell me to stop.”
I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid of making him angrier. Afraid of how my body feels beneath his. But I don’t want him to stop. I want him to touch me. God, why do I want him to touch me?
When I don’t respond, he shoves his fingers all the way into my panties, stroking my outer lips. I suck in a breath. It feels amazing.
“Has a man ever touched you like this before?” he asks, his fingers caressing me gently. “Don’t lie to me.”
I gasp. “No.”
“Good,” he snaps. “How often do you touch yourself?”
He slips a finger inside. Inside me. All the way inside, and I cry out at the intrusion, arching my back to meet him.
“I…I don’t.”
His eyes are like burning embers, his voice throaty and low. “Never?”
He glides his thumb across a part of me that makes me buck against his hand.
Well, not never. But growing up like I did, I didn’t have a lot of time to experiment with my body. When I did, I was never able to make myself orgasm. Even with the locks on my door and all the sex tips the drug store magazines had to offer, I could never relax enough to take the time I needed to climax.
But I’m panting now, terrified and turned on at the same time. I’ve never felt desire like this. He rubs me with his thumb again, more firmly this time.
I moan, and a look of absolute possession crosses his face. I like that he feels so strongly about me even though I know it’s stupid.
“Have you ever come before, Sasha? Do you know what that feels like?” His mouth is inches from mine.
“Please,” I beg, though I’m still not sure what I’m asking him for.
“I need to show you who’s in control.” His voice is husky. “Show you what happens when you disobey me.”
Is this supposed to be a deterrent? That’s not what it feels like. I want to feel more of the pleasure his touch is building in me.
His grip tightens on my wrists, and his other hand pushes deeper into my center. I make a noise that’s more animal than human, and he groans.
“God, you’re tight. Definitely a virgin.” He strokes my inner walls, and I tremble beneath him. His thumb targets that same spot again and again at the top of my pussy, rubbing in tight circles, and it feels incredible. My eyes drift to his crotch. How would that feel inside me? Would it feel this good? Better?
“You’re dripping wet, though.” His finger thrusts in and out of me while his thumb works my clit. Now I understood what all the magazines were going on about. He rubs me harder, faster, but then thrusts a second finger inside me. It hurts, and I let out a pathetic squeak.
“Fucking Christ.” He eases his fingers out of me and concentrates on pinching and stroking my clit. The pressure is intense, and I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m going to snap in half when a wave of pleasure rips through me, and I buck wildly against him, giving in to the power of it. He slips a finger back inside me, my inner walls squeezing him.
He strokes me through it, that same fierce look in his eyes. My breath comes in soft pants as I shiver beneath him.
“Did that feel good?” he rasps, his mouth against my ear.
“Yes.” I’m too vulnerable to say otherwise. I’m ashamed at how good it felt. And at how I want him to keep touching me.
He smiles at my submission, and I hate myself for it.
“I like making you feel like this, Sasha. I can make you feel even better.” He strokes me a few more times. “Next time I’m going to bury my cock so deep inside this tight pussy,” he says, pushing on my clit. “Better that you don’t piss me off again.”
He pulls his hand away, licks his fingers, and climbs off of me, leaving me damp and panting on his couch.
8
Finn
God, that was fun. Who does that woman think she’s dealing with? Sasha’s innocence would’ve made her ridiculous ruse work on anyone else, but me? I saw right through that fake card.
I’d been livid. I hadn’t planned on touching her like that, but the way those full lips of hers trembled as she tried to lie to me? The way her breasts heaved as she fought to catch her breath?
It didn’t leave me with much choice.
Still, I wouldn’t have pushed things if she hadn’t been willing. When she didn’t take me up on the offer to stop? No way I wasn’t going to make her come on my fingers. Not after I saw the desire in her eyes mirroring my own.
And I’d be sure to remind her of it. Make her blush. Make her give me what I want—just a name. And maybe something more. The business part of this is irritating, but the seduction part is better than I could’ve imagined.
I sit in the armchair by the window in my office. It’s dark before five, though even now we’re gaining daylight
I’ll go check on Sasha in a few minutes, but I want to give her some time to come down and think carefully about her next steps.
God, she’d tasted sweet on my fingers. Normally I stay away from virgins if possible. They always get attached. I don’t blame them—society puts far too much pressure on women to save themselves for some mythical perfect man.
Doesn’t mean I want to deal with the fallout, though.
Still, seeing Sasha all wide-eyed beneath me, hungry for something only I could give her?
The desire to possess her had been almost too much, and I’d forgotten to take it slow. Pulling my fingers out of that tight pussy of hers had been hell, but I didn’t want to hurt her, not like that.
I never hurt women in bed unless they ask me nicely.
The whole “it hurts to lose your virginity” thing is mostly because horny teenage boys move too fast on scared, dry women and are more interested in coming in thirty seconds than in drawing out their partner’s pleasure.
I’ve been called selfish many times, rightfully, but never when it comes to sex.
No, I’ll make sure Sasha feels good through the entire experience.
I’ll have to be better at controlling myself. Something about her makes it hard, though.
I find her sitting on a fake sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace about a half hour later. Real sheepskin may be more authentic, but it’s disgusting and a bitch to clean. Not that I’d do it myself. She looks at me with those wide hazel eyes as I lean over and switch the gas on. She has one knee tucked against her chest, her injured leg stretched out in front of her. I find myself suddenly wanting to kiss her.
“You cold?”
She nods and looks down at the ground.
“You could’ve turned this on,” I say. “You’re my guest, after all. I don’t want you freezing to death.”
“Your manners are astounding.”
I have to admit, as much as I like her submission, I like her fire too. Makes the submission even sweeter.
“Aren’t they?” I ask, sitting on the couch, right where she was when I came in. Her eyes follow me and that blush I expected colors her fair cheeks.
“You really are lovely when you blush.” I stop myself from asking her if she’s someone who flushes all over. Slowly, Finn.
Her eyes narrow, like she doesn’t believe me. It’s tragic. She is very attractive, even in that hideous purple sweater and cheap synthetic slacks.
I’ll have to dress her up for the gala.
“I understand you were frightened.” I lean forward. “But how can we work together if I can’t trust you?”
“Trust me?” she hisses. “You’re the one holding all the cards.”
“You have some cards too, love. Probably back in your office. Real ones. Not fake ones like you tried to pass off.”
She rubs her shin.
“Your brother seems like a nice young man. Lots of potential.”
“Leave my brother out of this.” Her voice is angry, but fear creeps in at the edges.
“He wants to find the men who hurt you. I could give him that.”
She glares at me. “Don’t set him up like that. Isn’t what happened to me bad enough?” Her hand still caresses her leg. “He’s a kid, Finn. Just let him be.”
“You have to let him be a man sometime.” It’s not what I intended to say. I’m not sure where that came from. “You can’t always keep him safe. You need to let him make mistakes and figure things out for himself.”
“We don’t have the luxury of fucking up. You saw my father. Would you want to fuck up if it means that’s your future?”
Her honey blonde hair looks pretty in the fire’s glow.
“I suppose not,” I relent. “How about another deal, then? If you give me the name of the lead organizer on staff, I’ll make sure your brother gets his college degree paid for.”
She opens her mouth, parting those pink lips, and takes in a small breath. This would solve her problems. One of mine too. I have a lot of connections in the academic world from all the time I spend at the Boston Athenaeum. Pulling some strings for Benjamin isn’t a problem, if she makes it worth my while.
“Think about it. Really think about it, Sasha. Think about your father and see if you want to keep your secrets if it means throwing away a chance to get your brother his education debt free. It’d be a big turning point for your family.”
She continues fussing with her leg, her fingertips going white again despite the heat. It happens when she’s nervous. I wonder if she’s nervous that she’ll give in, betray her contact.
“What’s wrong with your leg? I didn’t hurt you earlier, did I?”
I say it partially to make the heat rise to her cheeks again, but partially because I need to be more careful with her. Her full, luscious tits and ass had distracted me from her fragile frame until her delicate wrists were so easily immobilized by just one of my hands.
I’d noticed the thick scar on the back of one of her wrists. A relic from her time with Hamish and P.J., I’m sure.
“No,” she says. “I’m okay. My shin aches where the bone broke sometimes.”
Another relic.
I need to put my part in that out of my mind.
“Sit next to me, I have to tell you something.”
She looks dubious.
But then she licks her lips as her eyes flick to my cock.
She wants me to touch her intimately again, even if she’s not ready to admit it to herself. I’d love to give her that, make her come for a second time. But it might lead to something she’s not ready for, and I don’t want to do that. She needs me to be patient. But I can touch her in other ways that she’ll enjoy.
“Here, on the other end of the couch.”
She reluctantly gets up. I guide her to the couch and have her stretch out her sore leg. Easing up her pant leg, she shivers as I start massaging her calf.
“I used to get the worst shin splints,” I say, shifting to her shins and doing a thumb iron up next to the bone. “They hurt like hell—it’s the muscle tearing away from the bone.”
“You a runner?” she asks, wincing.
“Not consistently, but my brothers and I—well, and Catriona—play rugby together whenever we can.”
“Your sister? Ow.”
I ease off for a minute. “Yes. Middle sister. The other girls weren’t interested, but Catriona always marches to her own drumbeat.”
She nods. “I never was any good at sports. Benjamin’s a great athlete though.”
Again with her brother.
“What did you want to tell me?” she asks, closing her eyes and grimacing.
I can feel where her bone was broken. There’s a hard, calcified bump where the injury healed.
“Your brother,” I say.
“Why are you trying to tell me about my brother, Finn? You met him once.”
“I know, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. Am I wrong?”
&nb
sp; She doesn’t say anything. I gently probe around her injury and work on the surrounding muscles.
“He’s angry. He’s angry at your father for hurting you.”
Her eyes flash open. “What?”
Her leg is slender and delicate in my hands. I can’t waste time thinking about the past, about what happened. Hopefully she’ll hear what I’m saying and take the deal.
Otherwise I won’t be able to protect her from my father, even if I wanted to.
“I like your brother,” I continue. “He’s brave. But being brave can also make you stupid.” I give her a pointed look. “Your father said some nasty things about you to him while I was there.”
Her hands flutter up from her lap, and she clenches them into fists before digging them into her thighs.
“What did he say?” She emphasizes each word, like she has to force them out.
I leave out the comments on her virginity. Pretty sure she’ll figure that out on her own, given what I’d said to her earlier.
“That he only hits you when Benjamin isn’t there.”
She’s looking at my scar.
No, my father didn’t give that to me. Not directly anyway.
“Has he always done that?”
Her eyes are shiny. She blinks away tears, and I see her grow cold, distant.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says blandly. “But I didn’t want Benjamin to know.”
“Let your brother know how he can help you, too. It’ll mean a lot to him.” I stroke my fingers up her leg. She relaxes on the couch and closes her eyes again.
I want to tell her she deserves better than what her life is right now, but it seems hypocritical when I’m trying to control her in a different way. Though I hope she takes the better options I’m offering.
My hand trails up her thigh. Dangerous ground. I stop and then stand up, moving behind her. She jerks up, on alert.
“Ssh,” I say. “I know you’re upset. I know this situation is unfair.” I start rubbing her shoulders through that ugly sweater. Her muscles are rock-hard with tension. It takes her a few minutes, but she starts to relax again. As I press the base of my thumb into the back of her neck, she yelps.
Rake: A Dark Boston Irish Mafia Romance (The Carneys Book 1) Page 7
