The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3)

by Pepper Winters

  He remained unmovable; his frost decorated my flesh with snowflakes, making me shiver.

  “I abandoned you.” His voice was barely audible, quiet as mist.

  “You did.”

  “I hurt you.”

  I nodded. “So much.”

  “I physically hurt you.”

  “Multiple times.”

  “But you forgive me?”

  I sighed. “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because...we’re family.”

  He sucked in a harsh breath. “We’re not. We never were.”

  I squeezed him hard. “Blood doesn’t make family. Choice and connection make family. Family is forgiveness.”

  “Don’t.” He flinched in my embrace. “Don’t forgive me.”

  I wriggled closer. “It’s too late.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Too bad.”

  “I don’t deserve it.”

  “You don’t. But it’s done.”

  His heart drummed against me where I held him. We stood on the precipice of a strange kind of truce. I could taste it—taste his willingness to stop being a bastard—but that softness wasn’t strong enough to win over the torment inside him.

  “You’re determined to destroy everything.” His fist swooped into my hair, tugging my head back so his eyes pinned mine from above.

  The dark damage in his depths undid me. I’d gone from wanting to keep my distance to wanting no distance at all.

  “I guess I’ll have to do something unforgivable. Perhaps then you’ll see me for what I am.” His lips crashed down on mine, bruising me, claiming me.

  This kiss was different to the last.

  This kiss ended all other kisses. It smited them, annihilated them, killed any memory of softness.

  My back bowed in pain as he pressed me hard against the dining room table. His hand cupped the back of my nape, holding me in place as his mouth ravaged mine. His tongue dove deep, pushing mine out of the way and possessing me with angry strokes.

  I trembled as his kiss turned as violent as his moods.

  I tried to breathe, to kiss him back, to be a participant in this.

  But he was too far gone.

  Ripping me around, he pushed me to face the table. With a fierce command between my shoulder blades, he folded me in half.

  I didn’t fight.

  If he thought he could take me against my consent, he was wrong. Sex with Gil would always be something I wanted. Sex with Gil gave me a power over him because he dropped barriers he couldn’t control.

  Spreading my legs before he could kick them apart, I deliberately arched my back and moaned. I told him in every explicit way that I was equal in this. He couldn’t steal something that was already his.

  His frustrated groan sent goosebumps along my flesh.

  Thanks to my rebellious willingness, I prevented him from taking on anymore sin.

  “Goddamn you, Olin Moss. Goddamn you for all of it.”

  I didn’t speak as he hoisted my skirt up over my hips and yanked my underwear down.

  The floor thudded beneath my feet as he slammed to his knees.

  I bit my lip as his teeth tracked a path up my inner thigh, his mouth hot and wet against my skin. I cried out as his tongue found my centre, pushing inside me with no teasing or hesitation. He consumed me, and my legs buckled at the dark pleasure he granted.

  His fingers latched around my thighs, keeping me pinned against the table as he sucked me from behind. Breath was no longer fundamental to my existence.

  Only Gil was.

  He was my air and lifeline. I’d never suffered such a blistering connection with anyone else. Never been so linked to another or so forgiving. Perhaps we were star-crossed—linked and bound by forces outside our control.

  Fate.

  I sank my teeth into the table as Gil inserted two fingers into me, all while sucking on my clit.

  Holy mother of...

  An orgasm that hadn’t existed three seconds ago shot into being. The bliss spiralled around his finger as he thrust inside me and suckled.

  A guttural grunt fell from him as he tongued me hard. His touch was too intense. Too treacherous. Gil had always had the ability to strip me bare and leave me with nothing.

  “O...” Gil nuzzled between my legs, eating me, inhaling me, dominating me.

  The air crackled and wept around us, full of regret and remorse.

  Regret for what?

  Remorse for who?

  He drove such thoughts from my mind with another body-clenching lick. My heart pounded with lust. My blood sang and shot through my veins, laced with something scarier and much more profound than just desire.

  I wanted to come. Desperately. But I was also terrified because I knew the moment my body plummeted, my heart would too.

  And I can’t survive it.

  Almost as if Gil heard my plea, he soared from his knees. Looming behind me, the clink of his belt buckle and the hiss of his zipper were my only warnings as his hot, hard cock speared between my legs and straight into me.

  He ducked to fill me deeper. His erection bruised me, hurt me, ploughing me from my feet and onto the table.

  I was totally at his mercy.

  My fingernails clawed at the wood, searching for grip as he pulled back and slammed into me again and again.

  Gil was complex. He had secrets and tempers and love that didn’t make sense, but beneath all that complexity was utter simplicity.

  He needed me as much as I needed him.

  He always had.

  And that broke me into a million pieces because he’d torn us apart to survive without each other and look at what we’d become.

  Rutting, fucking animals intent on destroying each other because we couldn’t cope with the alternative.

  The sweet happily-ever-after alternative.

  His thrusts vibrated with violence. His brutal, unforgiving hands squeezed and spread my ass cheeks. And through it all, my core wettened and welcomed, letting him treat me as callously as he wanted.

  Because God it felt good.

  Unbelievably good.

  “Gil...” The table squeaked and screeched as he pounded into me, driving me with each thrust toward the kitchen. The wood groaned as if the fixings would come apart and send me straight to the floor.

  But Gil didn’t stop.

  And I didn’t ask him to.

  He fucked me.

  His hard cock plunged again and again, and each time he filled me, I arched up to encourage him to take more.

  He grunted with pleasure and pain, matching the bruises he graced me with. His hands left my ass, clawing their way up my spine to rip at my blouse and tug it over my shoulder.

  His hips pistoned harder while he feasted on my tattoo.

  I didn’t know what animal he looked at or why he studied something of innocence when debasing me in the worst possible way, but his voice tangled with emotion as he growled with each thrust.

  “Otter.”

  Thrust.

  “Ocelot.”

  Thrust.

  “Orangutan, oregano, ostrich.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.

  “Owl.”

  I waited for more. I waited for Olive.

  But his forehead crashed against my spine and he gathered me up, wedging me off the table until my hips lay on his arm. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”

  His apology had no direction, and I had no time to guess which memory he wanted absolution for. His speed increased until we both cried and groaned together, growing wilder, fiercer, chasing the razor-sharp release just out of reach.

  Fear swelled alongside my orgasm, making me sensitive in both body and soul. I was terrified of letting go. Petrified of how I’d feel afterward.

  But I couldn’t stop it.

  Gil drove me to the pinnacle, and I tumbled over the edge.

  Gasping, I rode the deep internal waves of rapture. Milking him, thanking him.

  My slipperiness added another ele
ment to his need, and he took me as brutally as he could. His roar echoed in my ears as he followed me.

  Curling over me, he smothered my back as he sank teeth deep into my tattoo. I moaned as he thrust again, filling me completely.

  Hot, pulsing streams spurted inside me.

  And when it was over, his tattered breathing turned into a breathless curse. “Fuck.” He withdrew, backing away from me and buckling his jeans. His entire body shook as he raked both hands through his hair and looked at me with wild, green eyes.

  I didn’t speak as I slipped off the table and twisted to face him, shimmying my skirt down and pulling together the ends of my torn blouse. His cum trickled down my thigh, staining my pantyhose the longer we stood and stared.

  It became unbearable.

  The silence.

  The stress of what’d happened.

  He looked like he was about to jump out of my four-story window. Needing to touch him, to heal him, I tripped into his arms and sucked in a shivery breath as his arms threaded around me and squeezed.

  A hug.

  So simple and normal but it ripped out my heart better than any sex or orgasm.

  Tears glossed my eyes as I pulled away and tried to catch his stare.

  He didn’t let me, turning away and wiping his mouth with a shaking hand.

  Things were fragile now. Terribly delicate and the vulnerability between us didn’t have a cure.

  My stomach growled, snarling through the quietness.

  Gil threw me a half-hearted smirk. “Hungry, O?”

  I grinned, grateful for the embarrassing noise. “I haven’t eaten properly in days.” A plan rapidly unfolded in my head. A plan that could patch up the wounds left behind. “Let’s get takeaway and eat here. Then...if you’re so determined to babysit me, I can finish packing. I’ll stay...for one night.”

  Ignoring my concession to sleep over, he frowned. “You want to eat...together?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not a date.” I moved toward the fridge where takeout numbers and menus waited under ugly magnets. “Just a necessity of life.”

  He sighed, muttering something I didn’t hear under his breath.

  “Sorry?” I grabbed a Thai menu and found my cell phone. “What was that?”

  He grimaced. “Nothing you need to hear.” Heading toward the bathroom, he added, “We’ll eat. But it’s not a date.”

  As the bathroom door closed and my cell phone connected with the Thai restaurant, I whispered, “It’s all a date, Gilbert Clark. Every word, every stare, every argument. It’s all a dangerous game with no winners.”

  “Pardon me? You want what?” A Thai-accented voice sounded in my ear.

  I tore my eyes from where Gil had vanished. “Sorry. Can I order a lemon grass chicken and Pad Thai beef? It’s date night.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ______________________________

  Olin

  -The Present-

  “WHAT THE FUCK do you want from me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I have nothing left. Do you get that? Fucking nothing. You’ve bled me dry and—”

  Sleep dissolved; the world grew solid. I sat up from my bed as Gil’s shadow paced in the dark living room.

  “Goddammit, it’s too soon. I just—” Whoever he spoke to cut him off, making him growl under his breath. He paced faster. “No, fuck, I’m not saying I won’t—”

  He stormed to the window where city lights and moonlight painted him in silvery, buttery illumination. “You’re not listening to me—”

  He punched the windowsill. “Christ, don’t. I’ll—”

  Whirling around, he looked at the ceiling as if he could find divine intervention and support. His nostrils flared, and his eyes were suspiciously wet. Finding no salvation on the ceiling, he hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. All fight siphoned out of him. He nodded dully. “Fine. Yes. I’ll get the money.”

  My hands fisted around my covers.

  Is that the guy who beats him up?

  Gil sighed heavily. “Yeah. Give me a couple of days. Just don’t...” He cut himself off before adding, “Please, don’t.”

  The sound of Gil begging made me want to burst into tears.

  He nodded again at something before terminating the call. His arm bunched behind his back as if to throw his cell phone against the wall. But he stopped himself. Dropping his hand, he placed his phone carefully into his pocket.

  And then he turned to my bedroom and caught me sitting upright in bed.

  “Ah, shit.” He bit the words into pieces.

  I didn’t speak. What the hell was there to say? He’d been caught in a trap. I’d witnessed him being puppeteered by someone who controlled him with something. Something important with the way his skin had turned to ash and his eyes darkened with helplessness.

  “How long have you been awake?” He moved tired and exhausted to lean against my doorframe. We’d ended up staying at my place after a dinner of shared Thai, some Netflix, and the agreement that the kidnapper might know where I lived but I was just as safe here with him on my couch as I was at his place in the same arrangement.

  I’d deliberated offering him to sleep in my bed.

  But I couldn’t quite make myself as we’d said goodnight and I’d thrown him a spare blanket for the threadbare settee.

  “How long, O?” He crossed his arms, his biceps bunching.

  “Long enough.”

  He nodded dejectedly. “Great.”

  “What’s the money for?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t ask questions I can’t answer.”

  “What happens if you don’t pay?”

  His laughter etched with dismal damnation. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I do. I do want to know.”

  “Yet you’re not going to.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  “You’re in danger.”

  I waved a hand. “Forget about me. I’ve just stumbled into this. You’ve been dealing with this for a long time I’m guessing.”

  He flinched.

  “How long, Gil? How long has the blackmail been going on for?”

  His lips thinned as he crossed his arms tighter. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It does if it’s running you into the ground.”

  He shrugged.

  “Did you sell some of your furniture? To pay this arsehole?”

  His eyes shot to sniper. “Again. You’re trying to connect dots that—”

  “That fit together.” I sat on my knees. “I’m not going to ask anything else. I’m just going to ask if I can help you. Again. Seeing as all my previous offers have been ignored.”

  “You know...” He kept a watchful stare on me. “Ever since Justin interrupted us and announced the news about a body painting murderer, I’ve waited for you to ask if I’m involved.”

  My heart literally skipped a beat. “Um...ar-are you?”

  His forehead furrowed. “Aren’t you even a little bit worried I might be?”

  I looked at my duvet, plucking it with worried fingers. “I won’t deny that the thought did cross my mind...for a second.” I forced myself to glance up. “But...I know you. I know you’re not capable—”

  “How can you be so sure?” With the swiftness of something supernatural, he flew from my door to my bedside and cupped my cheeks. His eyes locked on mine for an eternity. He dropped his guards and let me swim through his sins.

  I didn’t understand any of them. I couldn’t grasp what they were.

  But there was no death inside him.

  No psychotic tendencies or murderous urges.

  Placing my hands on his, I smiled gently. “I’m sure.”

  “I can’t decide if you’re a saint or delusional.”

  I winced. “I think I’m a little bit of both.”

  Letting his hands drop, he paced away, raking fingers through his hair, unable to stay still. “I stand by what I said; I don’t know how I ever deserved you in the past. I definitely don’t
deserve you now.”

  I let him stalk the shadows for a bit before whispering, “It’s not about deserving, Gil. It’s about family.”

  “Even family have their limits.”

  “Not us.”

  Silence fell for a moment.

  I broke it, whispering, “I’ve asked you this before, but...do you need money?”

  I’d offer the contents of my empty bank account if it would wipe away the horror from his eyes.

  “Goddammit, O.” Gil slowly turned to face me, his gaze tortured. “How do you do it? How do you forgive and forgive? How do you have such power over me to make me forget...even for a little while...the utter shit in my life?” He groaned. “I hate you for that, you know. Hate that being with you cures my continuous pain.”

  I trembled. “Why is that a bad thing?”

  “Because I can’t be cured. I could never fucking forgive myself if I—” He cut himself off, sucking in a breath. “I don’t want your money. But I do need your help. Be my canvas. Tomorrow. I have a commission that came in. I’d refused it, but...I don’t have a choice.”

  I ignored the wounds caused by his previous admission, shrugging sadly. “I would. Of course, I would. But I have work.”

  He stiffened, looking out the window with layers of grief. “I’ll pay you triple what they are.”

  “You can’t. You need the money for whatever this guy has over you.”

  “I won’t let you work for free.”

  “I can’t work for you at all. But I’ll help you find—”

  “Not enough time.” Sitting on the side of my bed, he took my hand in his. He squeezed it until my bones scrunched together, and I winced. “I’m not a begging man, but when it comes to you, I seem to kneel often.” He looked at my hands, stroking my knuckles with his thumb. “I have no dignity left. I have no honour or self-respect. I will do whatever it takes to pay my debts. I will hurt and steal to ensure every penny is paid. Do you hear what I’m saying?” His gaze flashed violent and honest. “I would sacrifice anything, anyone. I’m the lowest of the low.” He slid off the mattress and onto his knees.

  Before, he’d knelt between my legs to grant me angry pleasure. Now, he knelt at my side pleading for things I couldn’t understand. Just like he’d knelt and begged me to lie to the police.