“I’ll take that, thank you.” I swipe the glass before Quinn gets a chance to grab it and raise it to my lips, tipping my head back and downing the liquid. The alcohol burns down my throat, and my eyes start to water. I swallow down the choke that threatens to burst from my mouth.
My heart pounds in my chest as I turn to look at Quinn, the heat from the shot now burning through my body and filling me with confidence that I’ve never known. I tilt my head at Quinn and wait for his response, my stomach turning with nerves at what he might think of my bold move.
“Out.” Quinn turns to the woman. “Everyone out of the bar. Now.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, I’m not—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence. You will, and you’ll fucking do it now. Go get Marcus.” He stares her down, and she backs away, a quiver to her lip.
Not even a minute goes by as I stare into his eyes, some inner confidence spurring me on, before Marcus arrives at the side of him.
“Quinn?” he asks, a smile on his face as he turns to me.
“I want everyone out, and the bar secure in two minutes.”
Marcus nods and parts the crowds easily, somehow managing to begin clearing the room with little more than a few whispered words in people’s ears. Heels clatter and a few male voices grumble, their baritone echoing back to me as they leave, but before I know it I’m staring into a room alone with Quinn.
I back up against the bar as Quinn turns his predatory eyes to mine. The Dutch courage from the alcohol evaporates in an instant.
“What’s the matter, Em? You look a little nervous.” He lifts his brow, a playfulness about him while still being his usual dangerously alluring self.
“No. You’ve just proved that, like always, you get what you want.”
“And right now, I want you.”
My eyes flash around the room. “We’re… in a bar.”
“I don’t fucking care. I wanted your ass before I even got here. All your sass has made my dick even harder.”
I flush at his words, but inside I’m gleaming. It was a risk to act the way I have tonight—letting my guard down—but it seems we both benefit if we just act like two normal people who met under regular circumstances.
“I want to fuck you wearing only those boots.”
I look down at the boots he bought me that are a death trap to wear. He’s serious, though. He stands in front of me, and his fingers work to loosen his clothes. First his jacket, then his tie. Each layer is removed with precision and purpose.
After everything we’ve been through, there’s no hope of being able to pretend that I’m not affected by him. The intent in his eyes is crystal clear. His voice has dropped to that sexy baritone that dances across my skin.
I’m helpless to divert my eyes, and I keep them riveted to his slow striptease. He’s undone the buttons of his shirt revealing a glimpse of his chiselled chest. He’s a devastatingly handsome man who’s turned me into a crazed woman. My life was simple and solid before I met Quinn Cane. Now it’s anything but.
“Your turn, Em. And don’t pretend not to be turned on by me. I can see it in those eyes.”
I don’t flinch and summon my courage to do as I’m asked. I have less to remove than Quinn, and set about unzipping the pretty lace top and sliding the skirt over my hips.
“If you want the boots on, I can’t take off my tights.” I go for playful to mask my self-consciousness. I’m standing with my boobs on display, wearing barely a thing in a bar.
“A simple scrap of material won’t stop me getting at your cunt.” He walks to me, fists the material over my thigh and tears it. The tights disintegrate in his hands as he pulls the material from my skin. “Better. Now you look as dirty as I know you are.”
He seizes me, melding our lips together as his warm body presses against mine. His hands lock us together, but I don’t feel the need to run or fight. I sink into the growing anticipation of his touch, the inevitability is something I can’t deny.
Quinn cradles my head, controlling the depth of our kiss. He sets the pace, leading me down a lust-fuelled path that I want to explore. My eagerness surprises me. He’s made me more comfortable in my skin, forcing me to accept my body for what it is. I may not be model perfect, but what I have has captured Quinn.
He can’t keep his hands from my breasts, and he rubs his palm over my nipple, sending pulses to my clit.
“Never hide these from me,” he pants.
I nod, still in awe of my reaction to his handling.
His lips move south, travelling down my throat and along my collarbone. It tickles, and I can’t hide the little giggle that escapes. I give in to Quinn and let him have me. It’s the first date all over again. He takes command of me in a way that no one ever has, and it’s just what my body has craved all these years. He’s made me feel sexy and wanton, amongst other emotions.
“Feel how hard my dick is for you.” He moves my hand down between our bodies and I wrap my fingers around him through his trousers. “For you, Emily.” He groans, and his satisfaction spurs me on to be bolder. My fingers reach for his zip so I can grip him tighter, and he reacts in kind, biting down on my nipple, sending spasms of pleasure through my body.
“You like me rough, don’t you? Like me talking dirty?” His hands grip tighter, firing me up into a frenzy of need for him. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of your pussy. Bend over the bar. I’m not waiting for this.”
He releases me, and I angle myself, leaning against the bar, my bum in the air.”
“Those boots look fucking delicious. But that ass. Em, it’s mine. I’m going to take you, and soon. You’ll be begging for me.” My mind races, but he focuses my thoughts by running a finger through my wetness. I close my eyes, wishing I could keep hold of this feeling. My pulse quickens, and my skin flushes.
He slides his palms up and down my spine, warming my body further. It’s as if his touch calms a part of my psyche that he already owns. The palms press firmly into my flesh, and I moan in pleasure.
“You gonna shout for me? Take this dick and moan out my name?” I nod, knowing I will as he pushes my legs apart. They stretch wider, wanting to give him all the access he needs. Like this, open for him to use, the boots don’t bother me but enhance how naughty I feel. That and his dirty mouth and I’m ready to beg for anything.
He doesn’t hold back. The jangle of his belt reaches my ears before I feel the material of his trousers against my skin. His cock slides between my lips, plunging home before I’m ready. I wince at the intrusion, but his rhythm doesn’t let me draw breath. My body relaxes as his hands travel over the curves of my hips, anchoring me to him. Each jolt rocks me forward.
It builds a delicious pleasure inside my gut, and I long for it to burst free.
Suddenly, Quinn withdraws, confusing me as to his change of heart. But before I can protest, he’s pulling me to a nearby sofa and dragging me on top of his lap. He grabs my hip, pushing me into position and then lowers me down on his shaft, filling me completely.
“Now I can watch those innocent eyes as you come all over my cock.” He smiles before lifting my boob to his mouth. He sucks the nipple, making my pussy contract. My hips flex forward, grinding down on him. My clit screams for attention, and on shaky legs, I raise up a few inches and slam back down ensuring I give attention to all my hotspots.
“That’s my dirty girl.” Quinn lounges back, giving me free access to his chiselled stomach. I rest my hands on his shoulders and begin to move with more confidence.
Heat races through my body, the tightening of my muscles not far behind. Before Quinn, I didn’t know an orgasm could be so devastating. I rock faster and faster, chasing the bliss I know will come.
He holds my hips as my body’s movements grow wilder, keeping us together. Our eyes find one another and lock me in place. Every slide of passion registers in our eyes, displaying the true emotion behind the act as we chase the climax we both now crave.
“Yes, oh, God… Quinn.”
“Yes… oh…” My mouth gasps for air as my nerves explode, my climax ripping my body apart.
“Jesus, woman,” he snarls, pulling my mouth to his.
I can’t breathe, and our tongues duel as we both flood each other with orgasms. It’s furious and desperate, our bodies churning against each other, sweat dripping from our skin as we chase our sensations, until eventually it’s still and quiet again, calm.
I’m aware of Quinn, but can’t keep my body upright. I collapse onto his chest with a satisfaction I’ve only just learned about seeping through my heart.
We don’t move right away. I expect to be dismissed the moment Quinn has used me, but tonight feels… different. Like something has morphed, closer to that first night. I don’t feel like his dirty debt. Used, yes. But there’s something there that wasn’t before. Our invisible connection tying us closer maybe.
Of course, I must be suffering from some kind of mental breakdown. I’ve done things with Quinn no one in their sane mind would. How could I introduce him to my parents knowing he kept me in a basement for days tied to a chair and forced me to watch a gang rape?
He runs his mouth along the side of my neck, intensifying the sense of closeness and making me yearn for something that’s not real.
“You’re humming.”
“Am I? Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like it,” he muses. It breaks the moment, though, and I climb off of him, embarrassed that I have no control over myself. “I think we should get dressed.”
Emotion constricts my throat as I busy myself with finding the garments I happily removed for Quinn.
He doesn’t respond but watches me as I walk to the bar, naked apart from the boots. His eyes are on me the entire time, the gentle hum from my senses telling me he’s still watching.
I pull the top back on, covering myself, and slip the skirt back over my hips. He stands and sets about doing his shirt up and I hand him his tie. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his chest. I burrow my head against him, suddenly overwhelmed from this evening. His arms reach around and hold me close as I feel the gentle press of his lips against my head.
Each day he grows more and more confusing than the last. I don’t recognise myself anymore. How can I with how I behave with him?
Do I prefer the softer side of him? The one I can justify my behaviour for. Or would I rather he be the monster I first saw, so I can claim my actions were in self-defence. A survival need. I shouldn’t even be here. I should still be trying to get away, running from this whole thing, and yet I’m here enjoying all this.
Once more, tears threaten my eyes. Is it right that I have feelings for Quinn? Are they true feelings, or a figment of my warped mind?
“Time to take you home, Em.”
His deep dark voice is now a comfort. He kisses my head one final time and winds his fingers between mine before moving to fetch his jacket.
He doesn’t let go of my hand as we make our way down to the car, and I cling to the meaning I hope is behind his small gesture.
Chapter Nineteen
I’ve fucked her everyday for the last week. Most days, multiple times. My dick can’t get enough. She’s mellowed around me, like a part of her has accepted her fate, and she’s just as eager for me to treat her as my dirty girl as I am to prove she is. I’ve allowed her in the grounds, but I’ve not taken her out again. It was too much of a risk to my own rationality, and no smile or good mood from her will convince me otherwise.
I stare at her moving around the lounge area, a cup of tea in her hand, part of me uncomfortable with the vision and wanting to tear the clothes from her back. She’s intruding. Everything about her intrudes on what I was a week or so ago. She’s changed something about me, made me see life differently. I smile more. Laugh more. I feel the need to talk with her more each day. Not about anything in particular, not like it was at first. Now it’s conversation about the inane. She’s lulled me somewhere with her giggling and pouting lips, causing a lift of my own that seems reserved for her alone.
It started on the river walk, as I gazed at her taking photos, and it’s carried on since then. I tried to stop it with the gun show, rein in this feeling, but I can’t. I needed her after I killed Rohas. I needed inside her to wipe it away, clean it somehow. Just her. Day after day the same feelings creep through my bones, reminding me of my youth in those English fields. They’re the same fields I should send her home to before she slips through the cracks into an underworld she’s not meant for. Women like her are too precious for this world. They’re naïve to its shortcomings, regardless of that fight she put up against the Russians. It only seems to be the constancy of business that hardens me again each day, phone calls reminding me of my obligations. Nate tells me of my next run of money, pulling me back to it. Spreadsheets become fuller each time I add another debt repayment to them. If she only knew the entirety of the business she wouldn’t look at me with those soft, hopeful eyes.
She’d run.
I frown as she puts her tea down and picks up a glass ornament, holding it to the light to watch the colours bounce off its form. They cascade from its sharp edges, rainbows filtering over the wooden floor and warming the stark white atmosphere. She smiles at the illumination, watching the dancing circles cross the ground beautifully. It’s the same damn reason I bought the fucking thing.
“Careful,” I mutter softly. “That’s worth more than your debt to me.” Her eyes widen, fingers grabbing more ferociously to the piece. “Wouldn’t want to double your time here, Em.” It’s a fucking façade. The debt. I’ve spent more on her with the Russians and her clothes than she owed in the first place.
She scowls at that and moves to lower it back to the table, delicate fingers gently placing it where it came from.
“It would look better in the far window,” she says, pointing through the length of the room.” The sun would draw better light through it.” I raise a brow at her, remembering the position I had it in when I first got it home.
“You rearranging me?”
“Hardly.” She drops her hand. “It was just a suggestion.”
“How about you come suck my dick. That’s a better suggestion.” Her lips curl upwards, my dirty little girl shining through her smile alone. I loosen my belt, ready to have her mouth around me for a second time today. “How about we hear that gag that comes so sweetly from your throat?” She picks up her tea and sips it, eyes looking over the top of the cup at me.
“How about you let me make a phone call to my mum, let her know I’m alive?” What the fuck was that? I stare, oddly aroused at the fact she’s coming back at me with something. “I call her every two weeks, Quinn. She’ll worry if I don’t, come looking for me.”
“We’re not negotiating, Em.”
“How about we do?”
“What?”
“How about you let me make a call, perhaps send a few emails, and then you can do whatever you want to me for the rest of the day.”
“How about I do that anyway, not giving one fuck for what you want.”
She giggles. It fucking infuriates me. Not because she’s not taking me seriously; she knows all too well what happens when she questions me, but because I like it. I like it enough that my own mouth smiles back at her as I get my dick out.
“Yes, that’s an option, but what about me seeing a little more of that man who took me to the river walk. The one who talks to me.” My eyes narrow at her, my fingers slowly pulling on my dick.
“Take the clothes off and I’ll think about it.”
She takes another sip of the tea, still not removing her eyes from me.
“You promise?”
The fuck have promises got to do with anything?
I laugh, trying to remember the last time someone asked me to promise something. Fucking promises are for pre-pubescent ten-year-olds who still crawl to mother when they cry.
“I haven’t promised a fucking thing for fifteen years, E
m.” She frowns, a slight huff coming from her lips as she takes another sip. “The only thing I’ll promise is that if you don’t get your clothes off and your lips around this dick, your ass will be the next thing it gets driven into.”
That seems to stop the petulant behaviour.
She pulls her top off, revealing her sumptuous figure, before biting her lip and moving her ass over to me, breasts swinging at me as she moves. They make me want this dick between them, watching as it pushes back and forth between the soft, full flesh. She kneels in front of me, one hand placed on each knee ready for whatever I want her to do.
“Lie back on the floor,” I say, pushing her slightly. She does. No argument. No fight like she used to try for. She’s as pliable in my hands now as I want her to be. And that dirty smile comes back, too, as she makes herself comfortable. It’s small, barely visible to anyone else, but I know it. Her breath quickens, legs parting before I’ve told her to part them.
I shake my head at her, closing them back up and crawl up her body, licking her pussy as I go. She moans immediately, filling me with a pride I’ve never cared for before her. I never gave a fuck about any pussy before her, but I do now. I stare down at her body, watching the way she arches her back up to me to touch her. It pleases me more than I understand, some element of emotion swelling along with my dick, and it takes no time for me to push her breasts together and forge my dick through them.
She looks shocked at first, her mouth an open hole of expectancy, waiting for me to drive it inside her, but I don’t. I want to watch my come explode on her neck, over her mouth. I want to mark her in that way, make her wipe it into her skin and wear it for the rest of the day.
I push her breasts firmer together, watching my dick as it plunges through them, the tip of it engorged as it aims and tips her chin each time.
“Fuck,” I growl out as I see her hands move to cover mine.
“You like that?” she asks quietly, her chin tipping down as she reaches her tongue out.
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