Seeking Redemption

by Kylie Hillman

  “Oh my God,” I cry out when he flicks my clit with his finger, sending a bolt of pleasure-filled lightning shooting from my clit to my channel. Benji rearranges himself on the bed so his head’s between my thighs. I wind my fingers through his hair and hold his head away from my pulsing pussy when he tries to lick me.

  “Don’t,” I beg. “I want to come with you. I’m not going to take long.”

  Tugging his head away from my hands, he licks me from entrance to clit in one strong stroke. “Babe, stop stressing. I don’t put a limit on orgasms.”

  I shake my head at him, a moan being ripped from my throat when he plies my clit with more attention. When I’m straight, it’s hard to get me off once, let alone more than once like Benji’s promising. We’ve never done this without drugs so he doesn’t know that.

  My protests are halted when the climax that’s approaching rockets up a notch from his careful manipulations of my clit. Slipping two fingers into my already clenching core, Benji bends his fingers and hits the spot on my front wall that send me over the edge. His external ministrations increase in pace and I feel my walls clutch his fingers before they begin contracting as my orgasm takes hold.

  Benji doesn’t cease his attentions until he’s wrung every last shred of climax from my overstimulated body. By the end, I’m lying like a starfish on the bed, unable to move a limb. Completely satiated. Floating on a cloud that rivals the initial rush of ice when you smoke it.

  “Benji,” I groan when he presses the head of his cock against me, ready for his turn. He’s panting as much as I am, even though he’s yet to receive any pleasure. Lifting my hips, I guide him inside of me. I’m slick, wet and ready for him, so he sheaths himself within me with ease. Reaching around him, I grab his ass and hold him so he’s as far as he can be inside of me. I take a minute to simply enjoy the feeling of his cock as it stretches my body to accommodate him.

  With a hand on either side of my face, he holds my head so I can’t move and stares down at me, his confusion clearly visible. Despite that, his eyes are brighter than they were when I arrived this afternoon and the strain that was evident on his features is no longer as noticeable.

  “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

  “The same thing you’re doing to me,” I whisper. “Making you feel again.”

  Releasing my grip on his tight ass, I tilt my hips and encourage him to move. He doesn’t need to be told twice, beginning an agonizingly slow in and out motion that sets my desire on edge again. It’s not enough to build into an orgasm, but it still feels good. Better than good, it’s perfect.

  Benji gains speed, pumping harder and with more intent in each thrust. With a hand under my hips, he rolls onto his back, and lifts me so I’m straddling him. Without breaking his cadence, he grasps me around my waist and helps me move with him. Once I’ve adjusted to his tempo, he lets go of me and presses his thumb against my clit. Working it in a figure-eight, his touch has me clenching around his cock and my need for another climax increasing. My legs tremble, my lower belly growing warm and heavy with desire, as his thumb makes bolts of pleasure shoot from my clit to my pussy, making me pulsate around him. Picking up that I’m nearing the edge, Benji increases the pace of his cock.

  Pulling me down until my chest meets his, he angles his length so that it rubs my G-spot on each upward thrust. It’s all I need to send me over the beckoning peak and into my second orgasm. Coming hot on the heels of my first, this climax is more intense and lasts longer. I’m still coming when Benji pushes my shoulders so that I’m sitting up. He seizes my hips, and lifting me over his lunging cock at a frantic speed, he chases his own release.

  When he lets go of me, I fall forward onto him. Together, we lay there gasping for breath. Beneath me, I can feel his heart beating like a drum in his chest, and it reminds me of just how close I came to losing him.

  “Fuck me,” Benji groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Fucking Mad Dog and Timber are going to have a field day with this.”

  Moving my head to his shoulder so I can look at him, I’m left confused by the smile on his face. “What do you mean?”

  “Babe, do you have any idea of the amount of shit I’ve given those two for being pussy-whipped fuckers? Now, you’ve gone and done the same thing to me, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

  Burying my face into his neck, my body shakes with laughter. I’ve heard the snarky little comments he’s thrown their way over the years. If I’m honest, I’m feeling pretty special—realizing that I’m the girl who brought the untouchable Benji O’Brien to his knees.

  “You’re screwed. You know that?” I laugh harder. “They’re going to eat you alive.”

  Of course, I don’t mention that we mightn’t live long enough for Mad Dog and Timber to exact their revenge. If we don’t pull off the impossible and get the information the Shamrocks are seeking before the Mavericks work out what we’re up to, the headway we’ve made tonight will be for nothing.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  BENJI

  Present Day

  I can’t do this. Not with Lacey here.

  What if this blows up and she gets caught in the middle?

  “So what’s the latest? Heard you fuckers are scrambling, trying to find a way to keep your new Prez from ending up in the slammer permanently.”

  Inwardly rolling my eyes, while keeping my composure on the outside, I spit my answer at Cam from between gritted teeth, “Wouldn’t fucking know. I’m not part of the clique.”

  I’ve spent the last two weeks working these assholes, trying to find the answers the Shamrocks are seeking without giving the fucking Mavericks a reason to suspect me. My promise to Lacey’s been weighing on my mind; juggling my need to atone for my sins against the Shamrocks without breaking my promise to her to get clean is next to impossible. Dealing for the Mavericks puts me in front of my biggest fucking weakness, and I’ve succumbed more than once.

  Thankfully she’s understood so far, even though she can’t be around me when I’m high. It’s fucking strange, but I’ve made keeping her clean my number one priority. I guard her sobriety like a precious jewel, refusing to let her near me, in case she’s tempted to join in.

  It fucking hurts and I kick myself every minute that we’re apart, because apart from my lapses, we’ve spent every minute together since we reconnected that day when she barged into my house two weeks ago, and demanded I help her clean up my mess.

  Looking at the top of her blonde head, I tell myself to keep my hands off her in front of Cam. He doesn’t need any more leverage. My hands shake anyway, the DTs from my alcohol withdrawal making themselves known, so I hide them behind my back. Since drinking weakens my resolve, I’ve been trying to limit it as well. Waiting for Cam’s reply to my comment about clique’s, I size him up where he stands on the front porch of the Mavericks Clubhouse, and find him lacking.

  Although a decent sized bloke, the way he carries himself makes him appear easy to push around. Fuck knows what the Mavericks were thinking when they voted him in as President after Wizard died. He’s fucking useless—couldn’t organize an orgy in a brothel. As stupid as he is, he’d manage to find a way to fuck it up.

  “Must be hard,” he says. The slyness I can hear in his voice tells me that he’s about throw some bait my way. “First Beast gets the boot, now you’re pretty much dead to them. I guess that’s what you get when ya fuck over your family.”

  My top lip curls, making him smile. Reining in my temper, I pinch the webbing between my thumb and index fingers like Lacey taught me, in an attempt to distract myself. It works, for now. However, I’m not taking a gamble on it having an effect for much longer.

  Deliberately making my expression blank, I respond to his jab, “Shit happens. Shamrocks aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”

  “You’re telling me,” he nods in agreement. His feelings toward the Shamrocks are written all over his smarmy face. Hate and envy vie for supremacy. Cam knows—fuck anyone with two functio
ning brain cells knows—that as much as he’d like to pretend otherwise, his second-rate, B-Grade club has nothing on the Shamrocks.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I tell myself that fucking him up for his involvement in what his dead uncle had planned for Maddi isn’t going to help me with my current mission.

  His time will come. I vow this for my twin. To our mother. To God. To anyone who’ll listen. It’s the least I can do after screwing up the disposal of Brendan’s body and landing her in the middle of this shit.

  “To tell ya the truth, I couldn’t see Beast’s fucking plan panning out since Thomas Taylor hates him.” Cam chuckles, obviously amusing himself. Me, on the other hand, well, my heart’s just dropped into my boots, and I’m honest to fucking God scared that I’m about to pass out.

  Did Cam just mention Dad and Thomas Taylor in the same sentence?

  The world spins, and I swallow hard, trying to keep my bearings. Timber wants information on any connection between the Mavericks, Thomas Taylor, and Mad Dog’s bullshit arrest. I’m down with that. Finding out my father’s involved more than I originally thought...not so much.

  “I guess, he hates Mad Dog and your sister more,” Cam confirms my suspicions. “Listening to those two plot together...fucking chilling. Like watching Lucifer scheming with his head demon.”

  “Together?” The question falls from my lips before I can stop it because I’m too busy picturing Dad as Satan in Cam’s scenario. The analogy fits, unfortunately. Lacey stiffens next to me. I feel her worry billowing from her as we wait to see if I’ve fucked this up with my slip of the tongue.

  “Yeah, ya moron,” Cam shakes his head at me. “Your old man and Taylor are meeting up again tonight. They didn’t get everything sorted this morning.”

  He regards me as if I’m stupid, and it dawns that he thinks I know what he’s talking about. That I’m already aware of both meetings.

  “Oh, yeah,” I shoot him a fake smile, ducking my head and feigning embarrassment. “I gotta lay off the shit. Can’t remember fuck all lately.”

  He buys it, throwing back his head and laughing at me.

  “That’s because I give you the good stuff. Gotta look after my best salesman.”

  Lacey breathes a sigh of relief next to me, and I can’t stop myself from leaning against her. I need to touch her. She must feel the same because she presses against me in response.

  “Speaking of sales, I gotta get out of here. Is it ready for me?”

  If Dad’s meeting with Thomas Taylor tonight, I need to be there. Maybe I can put an end to all of this before Mad Dog’s trial in just over two weeks? Maybe I can stop Mad Dog from going down; save the Shamrocks from going to war over my fuck-ups; halt the fallout that’s going to come down on mine and Lacey’s heads? Fixing this will put us back in the good books and go a long way to repairing the damage we’ve done.

  “Yep, ready to go,” Cam crooks a finger in Lacey’s direction. “Pretty lady, come with me for a second.”

  “Not gonna happen.” I state straightaway. Alarm settles into the pit of my stomach and I glance down at her with an eyebrow raised. Her answering look is full of unease and something I can’t identify. Guilt, maybe?

  Why does he want Lacey on her own?

  Is something going on behind my back between them?

  Ignoring me, Cam turns away from us and heads through the archway that leads into their Clubhouse. Adrenaline surging, I shuffle from foot to foot, hoping he’s going to take my objection for what it is and not push for an argument. No such fucking luck.

  “Come on, Lacey. We have some unfinished business.”

  Taking hold of Lacey’s arm when she starts after him without a word, I keep her in place.

  “Anything you need to discuss can be spoken about in front of me.”

  Cam pauses, and stares at us over his shoulder. An evil grin crosses his face, lighting up his eyes, and casting a devious aura around him.

  “That’s fine by me,” he replies, eyeballing the trembling woman next to me. “You cool with that?”

  Lacey flinches, shaking her head before shaking my hand off her arm. She casts a furtive glance in my direction, promising with her eyes that she’ll explain later. Do I look stupid? All I’m going to hear later will be lies. If it can’t be said in front of me now then, I’m not going to learn the total truth after.

  “Lacey?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

  Dropping my gaze, she looks at the ground and follows after Cam. I watch in disbelief, and a growing sense of déjà vu, as her curvy ass disappears into the house behind him.

  Eyeing the two silent fuckers who remain, I’m surprised when the biggest one returns my narrowed, taunting gaze with a small amount of sympathy in his. His counterpart doesn’t give me any reaction, his expression impassive.

  “What?” I ask in their general direction.

  “Nothing,” Mr. Sympathy replies, making it clear that it’s something. “You’re just taking it much better than I would.”

  “Taking what better?”

  I know I shouldn’t buy into their bullshit. No doubt this is a game they play to kill the monotony of playing sentry.

  “If that was my girl in there, fucking Cam to pay off her drug debt, I’d be in there tearing both of them a new one.”

  I see red. Literally. A cloud of rage—red-hot visceral fury—sweeps across my vision and before I realize it I’m halfway inside the Mavericks Clubhouse.

  “Lacey! Where the fuck are you?” I shout, kicking a chair out of my way.

  Barely a second later, Lacey comes running through an open doorway to my left with Cam moseying along behind her. In her arms is a bag containing a package the size of a brick. It would appear my first instinct was right; the assholes out the front were amusing themselves at my expense. The delight on Cam’s face tells me that if he wasn’t in on it; he still has a fair idea of the game his henchmen just played.

  I feel like a complete douche. A jealous, pussy-whipped dickhead.

  Lacey looks at me, fear in her brown eyes. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

  Throwing my arm over her shoulder, I pull her into my side. Fuck Cam. She’s my woman, and if he wants to use that against me, he’s going to have a fight on his hands.

  “Nothing now,” I take the bag from her, despite her protests. I’m not letting her carry the drugs out of here. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “That’d be advisable,” Cam drawls. “We don’t take too kindly to O’Brien’s forcing their way into our club. Even the ones we own.”

  It takes everything I have in me not to let him know, with a fist to his smug mouth, what I think about his comment about owning me. If I didn’t have bigger fish to fry, he wouldn’t be standing there, smirk on his face, assuming incorrectly that I’m afraid of him.

  Leading Lacey back through the house, I have myself almost under control by the time we make it back into the bright sunlight. When we pass the two pricks standing guard, they both fall around laughing at my expense, causing me to come to an abrupt stop.

  “Did you think that was funny?” I ask, letting my annoyance show in my voice.

  They both stop laughing, exchanging a wary glance before looking at me.

  “Yeah, we found it fucking funny,” the big one answers, playing the smartass.

  Curling the handle of the bag around my fist until it’s bunched tightly, I advance on them, making sure there’s plenty of distance between the three of us and Lacey. Cam follows me, the curiosity that’s showing on his face getting the better of him. Satisfied that Lacey’s out of the firing line, I let my anger show in my expression.

  The smaller one reads my intent quicker than the other cockhead, but he’s still too slow to get out of my way. Swinging the bag containing a kilogram of tightly packed crystal meth, I clobber the bigger fucker in the face with it before taking aim at his mate, who meets the same fate.

  Catching the swinging bag in my free hand, I smirk
as they clutch their bleeding noses.

  “Not so fucking funny now, is it?” I ask, bunching my fists and keeping my weight light on my feet as I wait for Cam to react.

  Giggles come from Lacey’s direction. It’s infectious, making me laugh as well. Cam proves exactly how much of a pussy he is by joining us with laughter of his own. If that was Dad, Mad Dog, or Timber—fuck, any of the Shamrocks—I wouldn’t be standing on my own feet right now. I’d be on my ass and in danger of swallowing my teeth.

  This is why the Mavericks need to team up with corrupt politicians and kidnap women to get what they want. They’re too weak to take it like we do.

  “Now, it’s definitely time to get the fuck out of here. I think they’re about to cry,” Grabbing Lacey’s hand, I push her in front of me and continue my taunting, “I’m no good with tears, especially when they come from pussies.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BENJI

  Present Day

  “Dad,” I greet my father as I waltz through the back door and into the dining room of the house I used to share with Maddi when we first moved down here after high school. This is the house where she was almost killed by Brendan Taylor and it’s not a place that either of us have willingly set foot in since then. The first thing I did after I found out she was going to live after the attack, was buy my current house using some of my inheritance, so that she had a memory-free home to move into once she was released from the hospital. It shouldn’t have surprised me that she chose to move in with Mad Dog instead, but it did, even though I mostly understood her need to be with him after he saved her.

  When Cam mentioned Dad meeting with Thomas Taylor, I knew that this would be where they’d meet. The Shamrocks have eyes covering most of Brisbane, yet no one would think to look here. I don’t think many of them know that he kept this fucking house.