The Brit

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  I roll my shoulder to coax her face from my neck, looking down, my chin on my chest. “Talk to me, baby.”

  I feel her take a few controlled breaths, and then she slowly reveals herself to me, her hands on my shirt where her fingers twiddle. “I tried to leave.” Her voice is rough and croaky. How long has she been locked in the bathroom? And why?

  “And you didn’t.” Everything inside of me wants to believe she’s still here because she wants to be, but there’s something more, and it’s making me feel uneasy. Her eyes drop, but a quick hold of her chin soon brings them back to mine. “What’s going on?”

  “I tried.” She homes in on my scar, taking a finger and tracing the full length of it, from my eye to my lip. “I didn’t want to go, but I tried.”

  She didn’t want to, but she tried. “So why are you still here?”

  She shakes her head and swallows, looking away, and I feel my patience start to fray. I take her chin, my hold harsh, and bring her face close to mine. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  “One of your men . . .” She fades off, and I recoil.

  What. The. Fuck?

  My bloodstream is already on its way to boiling, and I haven’t heard much yet. “One of my men what?”

  Her bottom lip wobbles. “I know I’m a whore. I know what I am and what I’m good for.”

  I’m starting to heave, her body moving up and down on my thighs. “Shut up, Rose,” I spit. “One of my men, what?”

  “He wouldn’t let me leave before—”

  “Did he touch you?” I breathe in slowly, dizziness distorting my vision.

  Rose looks away. It’s all I need.

  Holy fucking shit, I’m burning. I try to swallow, to breathe, to talk myself down. Fail. I get up and set her on her feet. “Who?” I demand, bending and getting up in her face. “Tell me who the fuck touched you?” She flinches when I grab her jaw, threatening and desperate.

  “Watson,” she whispers, reaching up and taking my clawed fingers from her face.

  I straighten, searching for some calm and reason in my chaotic head. No calm. No reason. I grab Rose’s hand and pull her out of her room.

  “What are you doing, Danny?” she asks, jogging to keep up with my long strides. I can’t talk. Can’t focus on anything other than making my feet move. “Danny!”

  We reach the stairs and Brad looks up to us as I pull Rose down them, halting his conversation with Ringo. His eyes jump from me to Rose, his forehead heavy. “Everything okay?” he asks, following our path as we round the bottom.

  “Where are the men?”

  “Playing cards in the dining room,” Brad answers, coming after us as I stalk off, sweating pure rage. “Danny, what the fuck?”

  I shove the double doors open and find five of my men sitting around the table, each with playing cards fanned in their grasps. My eyes zero in on Watson. “Stand up,” I order, aware of the confused looks being tossed around by everyone here. Everyone except Watson. He knows.

  Slowly, he rises to his feet, tossing his cards on the table. “She was asking for it.” He throws Rose a curled lip, and my anger ramps up, feeling Rose moving behind me, like she can hide.

  “Did she actually ask for it?” The other men sit back on their chairs, moving as far away as possible without fleeing the room, and Brad curses under his breath from behind me.

  “She didn’t need to.” Watson’s initial hard front is denting. He must be able to see my unbridled rage.

  “Did she say no?” I drop Rose’s hand and approach Brad, reaching past his suit jacket and pulling his Glock free. He doesn’t stop me, but his eyes ask me if I know what I’m doing. I know exactly what I’m doing. I turn, and Watson starts backing up the second he sees what’s in my hand. “Whoa, Danny.” He laughs shakily, nervous as shit.

  “Did she say no?” I repeat, releasing the safety.

  His hands come up in surrender. “I don’t remember.”

  I look at Rose. She’s staring blankly at me, her eyes empty. “Did you say no?” I ask her.

  She nods.

  Watson curses loudly. “You’re gonna believe a whore over a man who’s worked for you for ten years?”

  I lift the gun, aim at his leg, and fire. Watson squeals and drops to his arse, clenching at his splattered kneecap. “Call her a whore again,” I demand. “Go on. Call her a fucking whore again.” He starts dribbling with the effort it’s taking him to keep his painful cries back. I put my hand out to Rose without taking my eyes off Watson bleeding all over the floor. “Come here.” I feel her hand lay in mine, and I pull her toward me, positioning her in front of my body, facing Watson. Sliding my hands under her armpits, I hold the gun in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” Watson tries to scramble to his feet, but his knee fails him, sending him back to the carpet in a heap.

  “Danny?” Brad’s tone is warning. And ignored.

  “Take the gun,” I order Rose, claiming one of her hands and placing it on the Glock. Her other hand comes up with no instruction from me, both her small hands holding the gun, her arms braced. I direct her aim, getting it as close as I can without holding the gun myself. Then I release her, placing my hands on her hips. I bend and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Kill him.”

  “Danny, for fuck’s sake,” Brad barks.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I spit, watching as Watson turns pleading eyes onto every man in the room, looking for someone to save him. “Kill him,” I say again, before kissing her cheek softly. I feel her willowy frame tighten, her finger squeezing. Her jaw is like rock, her tenseness making her shake. She’s terrified. I reach forward and frame her arms with mine, steadying her. “You said no to him, Rose. No means no.”

  Bang!

  She drops the gun the second she’s fired it, swinging around and hiding in my chest. She can’t watch, but me? I take the greatest pleasure watching Watson’s eye socket explode, Rose’s aim slightly off, missing his forehead. He drops, screaming—the ear-piercing, shrill, painful kind of scream. The death scream. It makes my fucking ears bleed.

  Dipping, I pick up the Glock and aim. With Rose held to my chest by one hand splayed across her back, I fire, putting Watson out of his misery and relieving my ears of his irritating cries.

  Now, the room is silent, though a thousand words are being spoken through the eyes of my men.

  They all know better than to speak those words. I engage the safety on the gun and toss it to Brad. He catches it, and a mild nod of his head tells me he understands. Although I spell it out, just so the others can hear. “When someone says no, they mean no.” I cast my eyes around the room. “I don’t associate with rapists.”

  I scoop Rose up and get out of there, passing Esther on my way up the stairs. Her expression is another I’m unfamiliar with. A smile, albeit tiny, but perfectly detectable on her usually impassive face. I give her a nod of assurance. “She’ll need to eat soon,” I tell her.

  “Just let me know when.” Esther makes no big deal of my softness, continuing down the stairs. She knew. She knew why Rose was locked in the bathroom.

  “Esther,” I call, and she turns back, waiting.

  “Thank you.”

  Now, she doesn’t hide her smile, nodding again before disappearing into the kitchen. I look down at Rose nestled into my chest. Vulnerability doesn’t suit her, but part of me likes it. Part of me loves the notion that I can protect her. The other part of me hates seeing my little warrior so utterly bared. Because it’s gone. Her shield. Her unassailable strength. Ferocity. Gone.

  Carrying on up the stairs, I automatically go to my room, setting her on her feet by my bed. She looks up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. That red dress looks all wrong on her. Reaching back for the zip, I unfasten it, taking the material and sliding it down her body until the dress hits the carpet. Better. So much better. Then I catch sight of a tear in the lace of her knickers. I swallow down my anger before it clouds me, taking her hands and guiding them to my shirt buttons, silently dem
anding her to unfasten them. She begins without question while I shrug my jacket off and pull my tie free. On the last button, she pushes the tails of my shirt aside and gazes up at me as she lowers her lips to my chest. I look to the ceiling, my hands coming up to my face and dragging down my scratchy cheeks. Lord, have mercy, my skin burns under her lips, the fire spreading over every inch of my flesh. I sink my splayed fingers into her hair and massage her scalp, my whole body relaxing under our contact. Dropping my head, I pull her mouth from my pec and lift her from her feet so our eyes are level.

  “Yes,” she says before I can ask, her palms holding my face. Her mouth meets mine and instigates the kiss that’ll lead to what will be a pivotal moment for both of us. I hug her to me, our mouths working steady and slowly, as I walk us to the bed and lower her, coming down above her. Her hands go to my trousers and start working the fly, and I lift, allowing her to push them over my arse with my boxers, kicking off my shoes and socks. Our kiss becomes clumsy while I try to wriggle free from the material, being forced to relinquish her mouth and look at what I’m doing. I calmly free myself of the material, and once I’m naked, I lean over her, one fist pressed into the mattress, the other hand taking the top of her knickers. She inhales, and I drop my mouth to her hip and kiss my way down her legs as I draw the lacy material to her feet. A soft moan, a subtle arch of her back. The sight of her calmly writhing under my touch is fucking stunning. I work my way back up her body, dragging my lips everywhere I can. The juncture of her thighs meets my nose, and I place a hand on each knee, spreading her wide open.

  “Danny.” She whispers my name so softly, her fingers sliding into my hair. My nose circles the small strip framing her special place, my lips dotting kisses between her thighs. Her breathing becomes louder, her hips flexing. I’ve never smelled anything like her. Blood booms in my veins, need possessing me. Slow. I want to be slow this time. Appreciate all of her. Savor every inch and every second. My tongue is hungry and eager, licking slowly up her center, and her hands tighten in my hair, her body bowing violently this time. I hum, circling her clit, breathing her scent into me. She is like nothing else. I kiss her everywhere, plunging my tongue deeply inside, greedy for her wet flesh all over my mouth. If there is anything more delicious than this, I’m yet to taste it. I introduce my fingers, mixing plunges with licks, bites, sucks. “God, Rose,” I mumble, the tip of her clitoris buzzing with need.

  “I don’t want to come,” she croaks, pushing her arse into the mattress, escaping me. “Please, I want to come with you inside me.”

  I slip a hand under her arse and lift her back to my mouth, sealing my lips around her and sucking hard. She cries out, the sound drifting into a moan. She can have both, I’ll make sure of it. “You’re going to come so many times tonight, Rose, you’re going to need me to carry you everywhere for the next week.”

  She looks down at me, and I can tell by the sparkle in her eyes that she likes the idea of that. “You would do that? Carry me, I mean.”

  I smile as I kiss her inside thigh, looking up at her. “Would you let me?” We’re both outside our boxes here. She nods, subtle but clear. “Then I will,” I confirm, returning to feasting on her magnificent, wet, begging pussy. Her body stiffens under me, and I place my palms on the insides of her thighs, pushing them wider as I work her up and up and . . .

  “Ohhhhhhh . . .” She fists my hair brutally and tugs, her head rolling from side to side, and I pull back, blowing a cool stream of air over her clit, seeing it twitch before my eyes, before I go in for the kill. A gentle kiss. A light bite. A deep, long suck. She stiffens, pulls my hair, looks down at me with fire in her eyes, and then she moans, dropping her head back to the pillow, tilting her hips, pushing herself onto my mouth. I flatten my tongue and apply pressure where it counts, helping her work through it. My cock is pulsing where it’s wedged between my stomach and the mattress, dying for some airtime.

  But this. This now. It’s magic.

  Pleasuring her.

  Hearing her.

  Watching her.

  It’s new.

  It’s addictive.

  She settles and finally finds it in herself to open her eyes, and I watch her slowly drop her lazy gaze to mine, her grip relaxing in my hair. The passion and need staring back at me pierces my hard heart.

  She’s so beautiful.

  So graceful.

  So . . . empty.

  I get to my knees and crawl up her body, kissing each breast as I pass, and settle between her legs, caging her head with my arms resting on the bed. I stare down at her. “Promise me that if anyone ever hurts you again, you won’t hesitate to kill them. No second chances, Rose.” My voice is gruff with pleasure.

  “I promise.” She doesn’t waver for a second. “But I won’t need to because you’ll do it for me.”

  The sureness in her makes me smile. Because she’s right. “No hesitation.” I lift my hips, and my cock falls to between her thighs.

  Her breath stutters. “What if it’s you who hurts me?”

  I close my eyes and sink into her, the pleasure stripping my muscles of all strength. I settle my weight and swivel, choking a little as I inhale through the incredible feeling of her welcoming me into her body. “I won’t hurt you.” I look up and kiss the corner of her mouth, licking the seam of her lips. “I’ll never hurt you.” Never have I said something with so much conviction. In the haze of lust-driven thoughts, I know this is unprecedented. I know my father would say I’m an imbecile. But this is right. She’s . . . right. Her watery eyes and the gentle bite down on her lip spells relief. “I’ll only ask once. Do you want to be mine?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation. No second-guessing. Yes.

  I drag my mouth over hers, moving slowly, owning her. Her hands leisurely roam my back as I start to rock gently into her. I’m blinded by the rightness, consumed by the feel of her accepting me in every way imaginable. I’m sure our bodies were made to fit together, every part of her molding to mine. And our souls. We’re both damp, both slippery, both getting steadily breathless. Passion, a connection, anything remotely meaningful during intimacy with women, has always eluded me. Now, in this moment, a lifetime’s worth of feelings are pouring down on me, and it feels good. So fucking good. I’m making love to a woman. It’s my first time. And I know it’s her first time too.

  Every advance and retreat makes me shudder, the strength to keep my eyes open zapping my energy. I want to last. I want to last all fucking night, but my body has other ideas. I can feel the start of my climax getting ready to hijack me, and I roll to my back, bringing Rose with me. Her arms go ramrod straight, bracing on my chest as she breathes through the deeper penetration. Her pink nipples point at me, and I reach forward, gently circling one while she gathers herself. “Take your time.”

  “So deep,” she gasps, juddering, and I smile, sitting up and holding her around her back. I bend my knees and let them drop out, leaving her room to move when she’s ready. She covers my mouth with hers.

  “You can’t handle me?” I ask as she starts to sway, controlling all the movements.

  “You know I can handle you.”

  I do know. And that’s why I adore her so much. Strong, full of fire, and not fazed by me in the least. It’s staggering, and seeing her in pieces earlier—the devastation, the torment—makes me appreciate her more. And now I know, I would do anything to keep that fire in her belly.

  She sighs into my mouth and languidly sways back and forth, stroking my cock perfectly. Her kiss becomes firmer when she starts building, her body pushing farther into mine as urgency takes over. I channel all my efforts into getting myself there at the same time, my hips beginning to buck. Our teeth start to clash, her pants into my mouth coming with cute grunts. I feel my balls tighten, and my pace picks up, my hand moving to her shoulder and gripping. She yells and pulls free from my mouth, tossing her head back, and my face falls straight to her breasts, nuzzling into the soft flesh, sucking her nipples hard.

  “F
uck.” I convulse, feeling electric sparks going off all over my skin. “Rose, I’m there, baby.”

  Her head drops, and her eyes find mine. Fire. Red-hot fire. Her jaw tight, she grabs my face and pushes her forehead to mine, her gaze burning through me. She nods, and I thrust upward one last time, throwing us into a bottomless pit of pleasure. I’m clinging on for dear life as she bites into my shoulder, whimpering loudly as she vibrates all over me. “Shit,” she puffs, stroking at the hair on my nape, limp against me. We’re one big pile of sweating, heaving bodies.

  And it’s fucking perfect.

  I collapse back, and she splatters on my front, her wet cheek on my chest. I toss my arm on the pillow above my head and hold her with the other. My eyes are heavy. I could sleep for a fucking year.

  Reality leaves me. My purpose leaves me. My life leaves me.

  Right now, there is only Rose. I feel like I’ve been born again. And even though I secretly swore to save her, I’m now not sure who’s saving who.

  Chapter 18

  ROSE

  * * *

  He wasn’t being gallant. There was no gain for him in his actions, only loss. He lost a man. Before that, he had already won me, and I think he knew that deep down before he put a gun in my hand and told me to kill Watson. He was proving a point to me. He was also proving a point to his men. No one can touch me if they want to continue breathing.

  It felt good. For someone to have my back, it felt so good. But with the elation comes guilt. And worry. But if there is a man who can fix my mess, it’s Danny. First, I have to hope he forgives me for betraying him. I also have to build up the courage to tell him I’m not who he thinks I am. But that’s a problem for another day. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. I know time isn’t on my side, but while he’s currently spooning me, his body curved perfectly around mine, I can’t bring myself to ruin this moment. He’s still inside me, though soft now, and has been snoozing with his lips in my hair for a while. It’s 7 a.m. He only finished blowing my world apart again and again a few hours ago. I’m sticky, the scent of sex hangs thick in the air, and I’m aching perfectly everywhere, the best between my legs. I’ve never felt so serene. So at peace. It defies reason with so many consequences hanging over me.