Stone Cold Queen: Sick Boys Book 2

by Smoke , Lucy

  "Kate and Corina both swear he had nothing to do with it," I comment, though I'm not sure how much I believe them.

  "Bullshit," Dean snaps.

  Yeah, I thought he'd say that. In a fast movement, I slip free from his hold and start down the hall. "Then are you playing the getaway driver, or am I hot-wiring your car?" I call back.

  The sound of angry cursing follows me all the way out of the dorm, and as we pass the front desk where the dorm coordinator sits, I toss the keys the guys had gotten her way without looking and head outside.

  Dean hits the sidewalk and tosses his keys to Braxton. Brax catches them easily enough and slides past the others, his long stride making him walk faster than the rest of us. Fucking giant. I shake my head as he rounds the front of the SUV and slides into the driver's seat while Abel takes the front passenger, and Dean and I are left with the back.

  Braxton cranks the car, and I lean forward between the two front seats. "You guys do know where Kincaid lives, right?" I ask.

  They shoot me mirrored derisive looks. "Of course, we know where he lives," Abel huffs. “The fuck you think we are? Amateurs?”

  I sit back. "Just asking."

  "When we get there, I want you to hang back," Dean says.

  I flip around and glare at him. "No."

  "Ava, I'm being serious."

  "So the fuck am I," I reply. "I'm not hanging back. If he had something to do with this, then I'm taking a page out of Braxton's book and torturing him until I get the information I want. If that's going to pose a problem for you, I can have Brax drop you off at home."

  A rough noise sounds from the front seat. It’s a cross between laughter and choking. I don't turn to see which of them it is. I keep my gaze perfectly level with Dean's. I won't be backing down from this.

  "The only reason we even know that someone set you up is because of what Braxton did back there," Dean says, his voice dropping several octaves as he pulls me across the seat and practically into his lap as the man in question exits the parking lot and hits the open road. "Roger admitted that someone had given him a call just before you arrived—he was on the lookout for you."

  "That makes sense," I agree. "He came in right after me. I wasn't there for five minutes before he was in the trailer." Dean eyes me. "What?" I ask.

  "You sure you're good?"

  I roll my eyes and slip off his lap, back into my seat. "I'm fine," I snap. "Or I will be when we get to Kincaid and find out what he knows."

  "We'll find out what he knows, princess," Abel calls back.

  "Don't call me princess, asshole," I curse at him, punching the back of his seat.

  He chuckles. "You can run, but you can't hide, sweetheart," he replies. "But that's what you are now. If we're the Kings of Eastpoint, then you're our princess."

  I sit back with my arms crossed over my chest. "I'm not a fucking princess," I reply in challenge. "If anything, I'm a queen. And what about your girlfriends? That girl you had at Corina's party? Won't they be a little upset if you're all over me?"

  "Even if they aren't, I will be," Dean mutters solemnly. It's almost hilarious how childlike he's acting now. In front of others, outside of this car, he's the boss—the badass, the man in charge—but around just them and me, it's interesting to see the differences. He seems less tense. His shoulders aren't as stiff. His eyes don't dart around so much as if he has to take in everything and everyone around him to feel safe. I've caught him counting exits the way a criminal might.

  The words he said to me in the bathroom come back with a vengeance. I killed my first man at sixteen. Yeah, that kind of action would make me act the same. Always looking over my shoulder—wondering if or when someone would take me in. It probably wouldn't matter to the authorities that it'd been something ordered of him by his father. Maybe it makes me certifiable that I don't actually care, not even enough to ask who he killed or why. It doesn't matter. For Dean, it's a weight around his neck. He's done something so heinous in the eyes of the world that he's forever concerned and planning for the day he gets caught, and his freedom is taken away. I can't imagine that.

  Even when it'd just been Patricia and me, it had always been about survival. Nothing I'd ever done had made me feel as though I could be locked up for it. Not until Roger, but I don't regret that. Even if I am caught one day, even if they lock me up, I'll never regret killing him. I don't lose sleep. I don't even think about it as much as I probably should, and I certainly don't act like the world is just waiting to chain me up, throw me into a dark hole, and forget I ever existed.

  My fingers slip along the seat, itching to reach for him. He’s like a goddamn magnet pulling me back towards him. Abel yanks me straight out of my thoughts when he answers the question I'd almost forgotten I'd asked.

  "She was a share-girl," he says, turning as Braxton cracks a smile.

  I wrinkle my nose to hide the amused smile threatening to overtake my face as the conversation brings me back to the light of reality. "Both of you? Aren't you like brothers?" I tease sarcastically.

  "Oh my God, Ava! We didn't fuck each other!" Abel laughs.

  Brax shoots a look back at me in the rearview mirror. "Don't knock it ’til you try it, li'l savage," he says.

  "She won't be fucking trying it," Dean growls, sending the two of them into peals of laughter. I shake my head and relax into the seat as the SUV turns onto the highway and picks up speed. Maybe a part of me doesn't want to admit it—because admitting it would be acknowledging the fact that these assholes have wormed their way into my heart—but the sound of their laughter calms me like nothing else. It's odd.

  I turn my cheek, letting my head roll against the seat back as I look at Dean arguing with Abel, cursing him for putting thoughts in my head. There's no denying that Braxton and Abel are hot. Objectively speaking, if Dean weren't around, maybe I'd want to be one of their 'share-girls.' But they're not the ones that make me sweat. They don't look at me with dark chocolate brown eyes encased in danger and sinister intent that makes my pussy clench. They certainly don't make me feel like fucking them is the same thing as driving down a highway at over a hundred miles an hour on a motorcycle with no helmet.

  They can't give me what he can—adrenaline, danger, and something else I'm not ready to say aloud. Something far riskier than any other stupid stunt I've ever pulled. Of course, it's just him. It's always ever been him.

  * * *

  A little over an hour later, we pull up outside of a familiar house. The same one Dean had driven me to after he'd gone cliff diving with me.

  So, it's Kincaid's house, after all, I think.

  Unlike the first time, the house appears to be quiet. There are no drunken college girls in expensive dresses meant for city clubbing stumbling around outside. There's no hard rock music pouring out from around the back. Instead, all I hear when I exit the car is the sound of birds and the whistle of wind through the surrounding trees.

  "Let's go," Dean grits out as he stalks to the front.

  "What if he's not here?" Abel asks, but Dean's already several paces ahead, stomping up through the lawn and the porch. He stops and slams his fist into the door several times, and Braxton clicks the button to lock the doors of the SUV before shooting Abel a look.

  "I don't think he cares if he's here or not."

  I hit the porch, and just as I reach Dean, the front door opens, and an older woman with dark hair cut to frame her face, wearing a black and white maid uniform, peeks her face out. "Can I help you, sir?" she asks in heavily accented English.

  Before Dean can say a word, I step in front of him. "Yes, ma'am," I say with a smile. "We're friends of Luc's. He asked us to stop by."

  "I-I am sorry, Miss, but Master is not here."

  "That's okay, we know," I lie. "He said we could wait for him."

  She switches her gaze from me to Dean and then the others as Braxton and Abel finally march up the steps. Then her eyes find mine once more. "I do not want to get into trouble," she confesses. "I don't ans
wer the door, usually. Mr. Markowitz—he is not feeling so well. He leave early. I am only one here."

  "Luc is expecting us," I lie again. "I promise, you won't get into any trouble if you let us in."

  She hesitates for a moment more, her eyes darting to Dean hovering nearby. Then, slowly, she cracks the front door open wider to allow the four of us entry. "Thank you, Mrs...?"

  "Evgenia, Miss," she answers my unspoken question.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Evgenia," I reply, before turning back to the others and fixing them all with a dark look. "Guys? Let's be nice and not get in her way."

  Abel rolls his eyes and saunters past me as Braxton trails after him. Dean is the last to enter, and he stops before following the others and looks down at the woman. Quietly, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Mrs. Evgenia's eyes widen—and so do mine—when he pulls out a stack of hundred dollar bills. "I think this house is clean enough, Mrs. Evgenia," he says, handing her the money. "You might want to take the rest of the day off."

  The woman's wide eyes go from him to the green paper bills in her hand and then back again. "S-sir?" she stutters, confused.

  Dean doesn't wait around to hear her answer. As soon as the money is in her hand, he's off, following after Braxton and Abel and leaving me to deal with a very confused maid. The fucking asshole.

  "Don't worry, Evgenia," I say as I touch her shoulder and turn her towards the front door. "Everything's going to be alright, but maybe he's right. Take the money"—I stop and try not to sound too irritated. After all, it looks like he gave her more than a few thousand judging by a quick glance at the bills clutched in her wrinkled fingers, and who the fuck carries around that much cash on them but Dean fucking Carter?—"and have a great day off."

  Evgenia looks up at me once and then back to the money and then finally seems to come to a decision. She nods once and turns back towards the interior of the house. "I must find my keys. Master Luc will return soon." And she shouldn't be here when he got back. I let her go, trusting the older woman to find her own way out as I follow the sounds of Abel's raucous laughter that rings throughout the massive modern-looking mansion.

  In the light of day, it looks quite different. Open. Empty. There's a lot of white and a lot of silver and a lot of glass, but no people. Just as I find the bottom of a tall staircase that looks as though it's been cut from pure porcelain—things seem so different than they had that one night I'd been here—Abel pops his head around the corner.

  "Hurry up," he says. "Dean won't let us touch shit until you're up here."

  My eyes roll towards the back of my head, but like a good girl, I touch the banister and haul myself up, making my way to the second floor of the Kincaid mansion we've just broken into.

  34

  Dean

  What the fuck is she thinking? That is the one question pouring through my brain as I watch Avalon enter Luc Kincaid's bedroom. I don't like it. The fucker isn't even here, but I hate her presence in his room. Maybe it's because I instinctually see this as his territory, and I don't like the fact that she's in it at all.

  "Find what you're looking for," I tell her. "Then we're out."

  "I'm not looking for anything," she tells me, stopping just inside the door as she tips her head back. "We're waiting for him."

  I narrow my eyes on her. "You need to be very careful here, Ava," I warn her.

  "Oh?" she says. "Why's that?" When she blinks at me, it's long, slow, and so fucking bratty it makes my hand itch to smack her ass. Maybe having her on Kincaid's property won't be such a bad thing, I think as a dark kernel of thought rises up inside of me. I could spread her out on his fucking bed and fuck her until she screams. Leave a wet puddle of her orgasm and my cum right there in the middle of his expensive comforter.

  "Kincaid is just as powerful as we are," I tell her. "He may not look like much, but he's got backing. There's a reason our families haven't taken him out yet."

  "Taken him out?" she scoffs and shakes her head. "You're not the mafia, Dean. And maybe you don't think Kincaid looks like much, but he's wealthy"—she stops by the bookshelves along the opposite side of the room and flicks through Kincaid's collection of vinyl albums—"attractive." She looks back at me and notes my clenched fists and stiff shoulders with a flicker of her gaze before she smiles. "Probably great in bed."

  Avalon turns away from me and continues her perusal of Kincaid's shit. I lift my head and nod to Brax. He nods back and then turns and heads for the hallway, grabbing Abel by the back of his shirt and dragging him along.

  As soon as the door shuts behind them, I close the distance between us until I'm standing right against her back. Avalon doesn't tense or even turn to look at me. "I don't like being told what to do, Dean," she warns me carefully after a long moment of silence.

  I let my hand drift from her shoulders down her arms. "How do you take to suggestions then?" I offer. Something I've never fucking done. I don't offer suggestions. I make commands. I make orders. But for her—for this girl—I guess I'm changing everything.

  Avalon turns in small increments as if she can't trust me. She's right not to. I'm a beast of a man, one that really likes the idea of fucking her on Luc Kincaid's bed and making her scream my name so that he can hear when he walks back into his house. And after our conversation in Havers' bathroom, I'm even more so on edge. I've been rattled and brought to the brink and there's only one thing that can bring me down.

  I move against her, pressing her back into the shelves as I grip her wrists, holding them captive. I can see the awareness in her eyes as her pupils dilate. My entire focus is on her. The rapid beating of her heart inside her chest. The softness of her lips as they part.

  "Dean..." Lifting her arms by my hold on her wrists, I wrap them around my neck. "We don't have time for this," she says.

  "We're going to make time," I tell her.

  "No." She starts to turn away, but I grab her by her hips and yank her into me until she can feel the hard ridge of my cock against her stomach.

  "You know that word has no bearing on what I will or won't do," I say, leaning close. My lips are right on hers, hovering close enough that I can taste her breath on my tongue. "Whenever you say 'no,' it only makes me want to fuck you harder, baby."

  "We need whatever information he has," she says quickly. I can tell she's trying to distract me. Give me something more important than sex to fixate on, but there's nothing more important than sex—specifically sex with her. There's nothing in this goddamn world more important than her.

  "We'll get it," I assure her, flipping us around as I back her towards the massive four-poster bed that sits in the middle of the room.

  "Evgenia said he'll be coming." Her words come out in a rush as I lift her up by the backs of her legs and set her down on the corner of the mattress.

  "Abel and Brax will keep an ear out for him." I touch the center of her chest, trailing two fingers from between her breasts down to where her t-shirt has ridden up and exposed her belly. She watches me through desire filled eyes. She can't help it, and neither can I. We're addicted to each other.

  My fingers find the button of her jeans, and I snap it open before dragging the fabric down her thighs until I have to remove her shoes to get it off. Once both are gone, I spread her legs, setting first one foot on the edge of the bed and then the other, and she's completely revealed to me. Fuck, but she's gorgeous like this.

  "She said he's coming back soon," she hisses as I drag my fingers over the center of her panties, feeling how wet she is beneath the silky triangle there.

  "I'm counting on it," I say quietly as I drop to my knees. My hands sink under her ass, gripping her and yanking her forward until she's right in front of me and I can smell her.

  Reaching into my back pocket, I withdraw my pocket knife—grateful that I've carried this thing around since I was a teenager. Using it, I slice through the strings holding her panties in place, and then there's nothing separating her from my gaze.

 
"Oh, baby," I whisper as I slowly trail my fingers over her soaked flesh. "Do you want something?" I ask as I sink them into her, turning my hand and curling my fingers upward until I find that little ridge inside her pussy gauran-fucking-teed to get her motor running. If she wasn't turned on before, she sure as fuck is now.

  Her head slams back into the bed as her chest arches up towards the ceiling, and she gasps out my name. "Dean!"

  "You want me?" I ask, leaning forward so that every word makes my warm breath brush over her pulsing clit. "Is that what you're trying to say, baby?"

  I can practically hear her teeth grinding together as her thighs begin to tremble. Without warning, I pull my fingers clean out of her pussy, and my head descends. I suck that little bundle of nerves into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue, running the barbell piercing right over her little clit. Her thighs clamp shut around my head as I eat her out.

  I love the feel of them over my ears, shaking and shivering as I devour her sweet pussy like I'm a dying man, and this is my last meal. My tongue traces through her wetness. I suck. I flick. I scrape my teeth over her clit until she moans loud enough for me to hear over her thighs pushing against the sides of my head.

  Only when she starts to get louder, do I let my fingers come back into play. I press them inside of her, scissoring them apart until she's panting—gasping for breath. I fuck her with them long and hard, pulling them out and thrusting them in as I turn my cheek and bite her inner thigh. Her back arches again, and she lets out a loose scream as I leave my mark on her. A perfectly red shaped bite mark right there.

  Once, I think. I just need her to come once, and then I can fuck her. I’m going to fuck her so fucking hard that when she comes on my cock, she won't even know whose bedroom we're in. She won't care. All she'll be able to think of is how she can't live without this, without me.