Unorthodox (Sick Love Book 1)

by K. V. Rose

  “Stay where you are.”

  I swallow back my fear and do as he asks. He’s already punished me, what more could he possibly do?

  He smiles at me, almost as if he’s reading my mind.

  I hold my breath, say nothing as I keep my eyes on his.

  He drags his hand down my torso and I shiver under his rough touch. When his hand gets to my thigh, he nudges my legs apart, his hand between them.

  Carefully, he rubs my clit with the pad of his thumb, his eyes on mine as I struggle to keep my arms back, over my head.

  With his other hand, he lifts up the gun, caught between the palm of his hand and his thumb. “We’re not done yet, baby girl. I’m going to make you come, too, because when you remember this…” He lowers the gun, his fingers curled around the grip. “I don’t want you to be able to separate how bad it felt from how fucking good it was.”

  Still circling my clit with his thumb, he brings the gun to my pussy, and I know the second before he does it what it is he’s going to do. What he wanted to try with me.

  His finger is on the trigger as he looks at me with a devilish smile, and just as my arms come down, just as I try to sit up, he’s got the barrel against my entrance.

  “Lie back down,” he says softly, nudging the tip of the gun against me, pushing it into my swollen pussy. “I’ll be careful. Trust me, Addison.”

  I bite my lip, but do as he says, my knees shaking as I keep my eyes on his, unable to watch what he’s doing to me.

  “Just breathe.” His words are strangely comforting, even if what he’s doing is anything but.

  I do as he says, taking a deep breath in, and when I exhale, he pushes the gun further against me and it stings as the muzzle stretches me.

  I tense, glancing down. I see my peaked nipples, my body stretched taut with my arms overhead. I see his thumb circling my pink, swollen flesh. And I see the gun, his finger still on the fucking trigger.

  “Give in to me, Addison.”

  Do I really have a choice? I swallow those words, and instead I meet his gaze. “Okay, Max.”

  He actually groans with those words, even though I’m not touching him. But I see his cock grow hard again, see the scars on his inner thigh. I want to touch him. I want his body over mine again, but he’s on his knees between my legs, and he doesn’t want me to get close.

  He doesn’t want anyone to get close.

  But despite my fear, this is trust on a level I’ll never experience with anyone ever again. He might be rough and angry and broken, but I’m letting him do this.

  I asked for it.

  And whether I should or not, some part of me cares for him, and some part of me believes he meant what he said. That he cares for me, too.

  And maybe I’m just clinging to the idea of being actually wanted, but in the moment, I don’t care.

  I gasp as he pushes the gun in further, the steel cold.

  “You’re doing so good,” he consoles me, still running his thumb back and forth over my clit. “Breathe again and look at me.”

  I do, and he holds my gaze.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says quietly, and he’s not smiling anymore.

  He pushes the gun in further, and I feel pressure as something sharp nudges against me.

  Looking down between us, I realize what it is. The trigger guard.

  I find his eyes on mine when I look up, every muscle in my body coiled tight.

  “You’re not relaxing,” he scolds me gently. “If you don’t relax, you won’t finish, Addison. And we’re not done here until you do.”

  “Max, I don’t—”

  “Hey,” he cuts me off sharply. I close my mouth. “Trust me. I’ll take care of you.”

  Warmth floods my body with those words, and I relax against his bed, keeping my arms overhead as he said, keeping my eyes on his.

  He doesn’t push the gun in further, but he pulls it slowly out, pushes it back in, fucking me with it.

  “You’re doing so good,” he tells me, still watching me, still circling my clit with his thumb. “You’re perfect, baby girl”

  I feel myself getting closer, feel myself tensing around the gun. The knowledge that at any moment, he could pull that trigger, for some reason, it gets me closer, faster. He’s holding my life in his hands. He’s in complete control, and I want to give it to him.

  Everything.

  He’s already taken so much, he’s already done so much. My eyes go to the wound on his shoulder, and I think of how he grabbed that knife from Colton with his hand. Took a fucking bullet for me. Killed a man for hurting me. I see the stitches above his eye, think of Mamie’s words.

  He’s going to do so much more for me. Take so much.

  He just doesn’t know it yet.

  My back arches off the bed and he smiles at me.

  “That’s it, beautiful girl,” he coaxes me. “Come for me. Just let go.”

  A moan escapes my lips as pleasure rushes through me, and I clench my walls against the gun. He shifts on the bed, leans down over me and runs his tongue over my inner thigh, the warm sensation contrasting with the cold of the gun.

  When I cry out his name, he moves his thumb, takes over with his mouth on my clit.

  I can’t keep my hands over my head anymore, and my fingers come down to his hair, threading through the thick, wavy strands.

  For a split second, I think he’ll stop and punish me, but he doesn’t.

  He just keeps fucking me, keeps licking me as I come all over his gun.

  When the waves of pleasure seem to abate and I can breathe again, I don’t move my fingers from his hair. When he looks up at me from between my thighs, his eyes locked on mine, I’m holding my breath all over again.

  “So perfect,” he says, kissing me and making me squirm. “And so fucking beautiful.” He sits back up, slowly slides the gun out of me and glances at it before setting it by my feet on the bed, looking once more between my thighs.

  “I made you bleed,” he says softly, almost proudly. As if this is an accomplishment. The thing he wanted that he thinks I gave Dante. He runs his entire palm over my pussy, and I shiver. “It’s almost like you really are mine.”

  He climbs over me, his hands on either side of my head.

  “I’m going to fuck you again,” he says, pressing his hard cock against me. He leans down and presses his lips against my mouth, his tongue colliding with mine. His hand goes to my throat, and he squeezes as he pulls away, watching me closely. “This time it won’t be hell.” He kisses me again, hand still on my throat. “You deserve more than that.”

  She’s bleeding on my sheets.

  It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to be distracting. Not because it bothers me, her blood on my bed. It turns me on all over again.

  It was the gun, and not me, but even still…that was my blood to spill. Not fucking Dante’s.

  Her eyes are still glassy, and despite everything I just did to her, she’s got a smile on her face. The second time wasn’t as rough.

  I’m not sure which she liked better.

  I leave her on the bed as I walk through the bathroom, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is disheveled, the medical tape coming loose on one corner of the gauze over my shoulder. I see the dark stain of blood beneath it, but I don’t have time to deal with that right now. Instead, I head to the closet, set my gun—still coated with her—on the dresser in the center of the closet. I pull on a white shirt, tugging at it where it brushes against the bullet wound.

  I slip on boxers, grey sweats. Just as I grab my gun to head back into my bedroom to deal with Addison, I hear my cell ringing.

  I tense for half a second, Evora’s head flashing in my mind again.

  I get to the phone just as Addison pushes up on her elbows to peer at it on the nightstand. I rest the gun against her bare thigh, the covers just pulled up to her knees. My eyes are on hers in a silent warning. Then I rake my gaze over her ravaged body, feeling my dick grow hard all over aga
in.

  “Are you alone?” Bryce, the man leading the “investigation” into Luca and his bullshit, asks me, interrupting my fantasy of fucking Addison for a third time this morning.

  “Did you find a body?” I counter, trying to focus, ignoring Bryce’s question.

  Addison stares at me, her arms wrapped around herself as she lies against my pillow. She shifts onto her side, and I set the gun on my nightstand, place my hand on her hip.

  Bryce sounds confused. “No, I—”

  “Without a head?” I imagine if he’d seen one of those, he wouldn’t fucking forget it.

  Bryce is silent a moment, and Addison furrows her brow, but doesn’t speak. “No,” Bryce answers me.

  Which means Jameson took Evora himself or rather, had one of his men do it. I hate that I feel the slightest measure of relief, knowing that wasn’t Luca’s doing.

  “Go on.”

  “Luca got shook up by your buyer,” Bryce says plainly, not questioning me, and instead telling me what I already know. “Admitted he doesn’t really know what the fuck Danik London is doing.” He blows out a breath.

  So that was bullshit. A way for Luca to blame Danik for the fact I would have come home to an empty house. Luca was planting those seeds of doubt, not expecting me to leave his party before he did.

  “Your guy offered Luca a payout if he gave him the girl, threatened to off his mother if he didn’t. Something about your buyer not…trusting you. Luca would’ve offered her up to him on a silver platter to save his fucking mom, but you uh…shot him.”

  I say nothing. I should’ve shot him in the head, but the time for that will come later.

  “As far as who he was talking to inside your house…” Bryce trails off, and I feel my impatience growing. Bryce isn’t one to hesitate over hard truths. Or ripping out a man’s teeth with pliers, so I want to know what the fuck he’s got to say.

  “He claims it was Dante.”

  My blood runs colds.

  I close my eyes, think about the last time Luca was at my house. When he invited Addison to his party. I see Dante closing my office door as Luca walked out with him. Walked him to the fucking door.

  “He uh…I don’t think he meant to betray you, boss. Luca just said Dante mentioned the girl wasn’t tied up or anything.”

  I clench my jaw, open my eyes. Addison keeps staring at me, her own eyes heavy with exhaustion. But she doesn’t close them, looking at me as if she doesn’t want me to disappear.

  “And did he also happen to tell Luca how to disarm my alarm system while he was not betraying me?”

  Bryce clears his throat. And again, he hesitates. Unease makes my jaw clench. Finally, he says, “I don’t know but I tapped a phone from your house. On an unsecured line. Nothing to do with Luca. Or Dante.”

  I grit my teeth, hold my breath.

  “Mamie is going to get the girl out, Max.”

  I don’t so much as blink, betraying nothing to Addison.

  There might be a lot more blood on these sheets before she leaves this room. If she knew…if she fucking knew…

  “And the girl…” Bryce laughs, but it’s bitter. “She knows.”

  Addison didn’t hear, because her expression is blank, and she might be a conniving fucking bitch, but she’s not that good at hiding her emotions, and I imagine that weakness is intensified when she’s a little drunk.

  She’s about to wish she was fucking wasted.

  “Is that so?” I ask Bryce, keeping the rage out of my voice as I hold Addison’s gaze.

  “Yeah, but I just think you should know, boss. Mamie wasn’t going to turn you into the feds. She was…dealing with Danik. He never mentioned anything about snitching. If he’s working for the feds, she doesn’t know.”

  Mamie is already a dead woman walking, but it’s sweet Bryce thinks I give a fuck about what he just said. If Addison had left, if I’d let her get away, betrayed by my own fucking help…Oliver would pay for it.

  It takes effort not to slam Addison’s head against the wall.

  “Thank you, Bryce,” I speak into the phone, forcing calm into my voice. “Is Luca still alive?”

  Addison’s eyes widen marginally, but she doesn’t otherwise move.

  Bryce laughs. “Barely. You want me to finish it?”

  “No. If his house is secure, get rid of the rest of his men. But leave him alive.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  I end the call, toss the phone on the nightstand, my hand still on Addison’s hip.

  Addison frowns. “Is everything okay?” she asks me quietly.

  For a long moment, I study her green eyes. I can see the gap between her teeth, the way her swollen lips are parted. I’m at once gripped with the urge to hold her and hurt her.

  The same way I’ve felt about her since the moment she stepped inside my house and started fighting me like a wild animal.

  She betrayed me.

  She doesn’t have a phone. Should never have had access to one. But then again, as Luca reminded me just last night, I let her roam the house freely. With fucking Mamie.

  I try not to stare at her, not wanting her to run just yet.

  But even as my rage washes over me, I feel something I don’t like sliding past it. A sense of unease at the finality of what’s going to happen.

  There’s a sour taste in my mouth, a weight on my chest.

  I had actually thought about it. Actually considered trying to find a way to save her and my brother both.

  I am a dumb fuck.

  “You had to be stitched up. And for what, Maximus? You’re still a little bitch.”

  She betrayed me.

  She fucking betrayed me.

  I shove the thought aside, trying to think. She’s nothing to me, and she was never anything to me. There are other things at stake here.

  I know I need to deal with Mamie. I need to inform all of my men that I’m leaving, and I won’t be back for a long, long time. Despite Luca’s lies, and despite the fact that I don’t trust Jameson in the slightest, I don’t think he’d lie about the DEA.

  He knows what he has trumps whatever Addison’s father could give me, any day.

  I’m not going to wait around to possibly get arrested, and who the fucks knows what Mamie has told Danik.

  I’ll come back in a few weeks, resume operations as usual, my brother by my side.

  And this fucking bitch in my bed will get what she deserves.

  She betrayed me.

  “What?” Her quiet voice interrupts my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring at her, mute, for the past few minutes.

  She props her head up on her elbow, and I glide my hand up her body, to her shoulder, kneading her muscles. It’s what I used to do when Ben was done with her for the day. When I wanted her to think I was the good guy. When I drugged her.

  She groans softly with my touch, pulling my sheets over her mouth and smiling sheepishly with me at the sound.

  I just used the fuck out of her. Ruined her. And she can’t stop fucking smiling at me.

  She betrayed me.

  “Do you want another drink?” I ask her. Mamie can be dealt with later. The staff. Luca. Addison. All of it can be done later. Jameson said “soon”, and it’ll take nothing to get rid of my backstabbing housekeeper. Nothing to get this fucking whore in my car.

  “Sure,” she whispers.

  I drop my hand from her shoulder and head to the table, but not before I grab the gun from my nightstand. Tuck it into my waistband.

  Addison laughs softly, but I don’t look at her.

  Instead, I pour us both too fucking much rum, and carry it back to the bed. There’s blood on the sheets, might as well add alcohol to the mix.

  She sits up, pulling the covers up to her neck with one hand as if I didn’t just destroy her body. She takes what I give her and swallows a small sip.

  I down mine, wipe the back of my hand over my mouth.

  She stares at me, her mouth open. She betrayed me.

&n
bsp; I turn away from her, walk to the coffee table and pour another drink. Sink down onto the couch. I’m worried that if I get too close to her, I might actually kill her this time.

  I drink this one slowly, but by the time brave little Addison has slid off of my bed and made her way, completely naked, over to sit beside me on the couch, I’ve finished that one, too.

  She still has her drink in hand, and it doesn’t look like she’s drank much of it.

  Fuck it.

  I take that one too.

  Down it.

  Addison grabs the blanket from the floor, pulls it over her lap as she angles herself toward me, her fingers plucking at the velvety fabric. “Max, maybe you should slow down.”

  She fucking betrayed me. I pour another drink. My hands are shaky as I swallow it, rage coursing through me.

  I can’t snap on her though.

  I can’t, because if I do, it’s not just her I hurt.

  It’s Ollie.

  And he’s too damn close for me to break every bone in Addison’s body to get rid of this writhing sense of disgust I feel with her now. With myself.

  Dante died because of her. Evora died because of her. Luca betrayed me, for her.

  My brother has already suffered too much because of me.

  I won’t let him suffer for her too.

  The decanter is empty when I pour my fourth drink, but there’s another one if I need it. As it is though, my head is already starting to spin. It’s been a while since I drank this much.

  Still, I shoot back the last of my drink, slam the cup on the table so hard it rattles the rest of the glasses.

  “Max.” Addison’s voice is hoarse.

  I turn to stare at her, my jaw clenched.

  She looks apprehensive, but not scared.

  Stupid, brave girl.

  I clasp my hands together to stop myself from putting them around her throat.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispers.

  “What’s wrong?” I almost laugh. You fucking betrayed me.

  I don’t say it.

  “Remember that video I played for you and Dante?” I ask her instead.

  She flinches, moving away from me on the couch, making herself small as she pulls her knees into her chest. I think about how good it felt to be inside of her. To make her hurt.