by Vivian Arend
Her hands shaking, she freed his erection. It was every bit as large as she’d imagined, hot and hard beneath her touch. And thick—her thumb didn’t meet her fingertips when she circled the shaft, and she shivered at the thought of rising up on her knees and trying to take him into her body. It would take patience to do it without pain—or a need that transcended discomfort.
She had a different need right now, one that left no room for patience as he wrapped his hand around his cock.
“The night I met you,” she whispered, “you offered to jerk off in front of me.”
“I remember.” He stroked the hard length once—and grinned.
All those lazy, sated places inside her tensed with renewed interest, and she swore she could taste her own racing pulse as she watched his hand. “Does looking at me make you hard?”
“Every time you lick your lips, buttercup.”
And he’d never hate her for it. She proved it by letting her tongue dart out, swiping it across her lower lip. “You like my tongue?”
“Mmm.” He followed her movements, then pressed his thumb between her lips. “I do.”
She caught his thumb between her teeth and licked the tip. Slow, taunting, the way she’d lick his cock if he asked her nicely enough, warm and wet and easy until he got growly and demanded more.
“I can jerk myself off,” he said casually. Lazily. “Or you could show me what else you can do with your tongue.”
Oh, she could do so many things. Dirty things, clever ones—things she’d never had the opportunity to try on someone whose dark eyes sparked with such intense hunger that no attempts to be casual could cover it.
She’d seen boredom. There were men in Orchid House—handsome, vacant men who could be trusted not to cross any lines or develop affections. They endured clumsy blowjobs with relaxed stoicism, offering bland critiques and even blander encouragement, everything carefully sterile and technical.
Uninspiring.
Ford was anything but. She let his thumb slip free of her lips and turned to nuzzle his hand, dizzy with anticipation and something else, something wild. The game that they’d started playing and hadn’t quite stopped, with its slippery exchange of power and trust.
Trust was fragile to start. He could have ordered her to her knees, demanded she part her lips. He could have fucked her mouth so deep she choked on his dick. She would have obeyed because she wanted to, but some tiny part of her would have wondered if she’d done it because obedience was easy when it only scratched the surface.
This would be different. Deeper. She pressed her cheek to his palm and met his eyes, knowing he might never understand the significance of this moment, and how much it cost her to let go of the control that had kept her safe when it was the closest thing to freedom she’d ever tasted.
“You know the answer,” she said, letting the words drop to a husky whisper that matched the heavy warmth uncurling inside her. “I’ll take what you give me, when you give it to me.”
Heat gleamed in his eyes. “That’s right, Mia.”
It was too much again, too intense. She broke free of his gaze and turned to kiss his fingertips, wishing desperately he’d already growled an order at her. Frantic and uncivilized—that felt good. She could drown in the passion instead of trembling through moments like this, naked and vulnerable, too aware she was being reckless with her body and her heart.
But when he spoke, it twisted her trembling even higher. “Go on, sweetheart,” he growled, low and taunting. Tempting. “Suck my dick.”
Yes.
No wonder Lex had come here, to these people who seemed oblivious to the idea of shame. Or maybe she’d helped corrupt them. Mia peeked at Ford’s face as she slid to the floor, and his anticipation and approval mirrored everything inside her.
She couldn’t shock him. Not by needing or wanting, not by being willing to take—or give. She stroked her fingers over his thighs. Fresh scars broke the skin of one leg, angry and jagged, and guilt twinged at the thought of him twisted onto this couch all night, suffering to give her space.
That wouldn’t happen again. She made the silent promise to herself as one hand found his wrist. She traced her fingertip up to where he still held his shaft in a loose grip, teasing over his fingers before brushing her knuckle up the underside. “Have you imagined this moment?”
“You, on your knees? Your mouth?” The corner of Ford’s mouth kicked up. “You bet your sweet ass.”
Her hair had dried in tangled curls. They tumbled around her cheeks as she lowered her lips to caress the head, blocking her view of him. Not that she needed it—his body was alive with clues. The tension in his muscles, the hitch in his breathing when she darted her tongue out to tease.
His cock jumped in her hand. “Open up, Mia.”
A choice that was no choice at all. Shivering, she parted her lips as wide as she could.
He guided her head down with a gentle touch. “Show me.”
Closing her eyes, she let herself go and fell into him. The spicy scent of him and the way he tasted on her tongue. And he was every bit as big as he’d seemed. She stopped when he reached the back of her throat, pausing only long enough to see if he’d push her deeper.
He didn’t. His hand rested on her head, a warm and encouraging weight, but he let her set the pace—for now. Slow. Slow and wet, sliding up and down, savoring the chance to give pleasure for the joy of it.
He gathered her hair away with his other hand, clearing a view of her face, and his hips flexed as he rocked up into her mouth. “Pretty. So pretty.”
Still soft. Easy. She drew up a little, curling her hand around his slick shaft to stroke as she focused everything she knew on breaking down his easy control. She needed him panting, desperate, his fingers snagging in her hair as he thrust up into her mouth. She needed him to need with the same helplessness he’d sparked in her.
He closed his hand around hers and squeezed tight. “Don’t think. Just take.”
Don’t think.
It should have been dangerous. Oral sex was a skill, imparted to her with the same rules and guidelines as her lessons in tech and first aid. You analyzed responses, adjusted strategies, kept your control while stripping away his.
You didn’t tremble. You didn’t let yourself get swept away in the moment. And you never admitted the truth.
Lifting her head to stare up at him, Mia broke all the rules. “I’m nervous. It’s never been real before.”
But Ford only nodded, despite the heat blazing in his eyes. “So stop wondering how to get me off...and get me off.”
Don’t think. Take.
Without breaking eye contact, she lowered her head. Licked. Around the crown and up to the tip, where she found her proof that he was plenty aroused. Just a few drops of liquid, but she painted her lips with the taste of him before opening wide and taking him deep.
He bumped the back of her throat before her lips reached their fingers, but she didn’t let that stop her this time. A shift in position, a tilt of her neck and she pushed again, her head swimming.
He groaned, holding her there for an endless heartbeat before dragging her up by her hair until only the head of his cock remained in her mouth. Back and forth, up and down, until he was shaking.
But still he held back, gritting out words through clenched teeth. “Show me how you want it, Mia. How do you want me to come?”
A dozen possibilities flashed through her mind. On her face. On her breasts. Spilling across her tongue. So many symbols, and the meaning and implications slipped away in a haze of drunken want.
She didn’t care about where or how, just about now. She pulled their joined hands away and moaned, fighting his grip on her hair to take him deep, to take all of him. Ford ground out a curse and stiffened beneath her, his cock throbbing on her tongue as she swallowed him.
She stroked his hips until the tension went out of him, but when she lifted her head, her gaze refused to travel higher than his chest. Nervousness fluttered back to
life as she fought to steady her breathing. As long as she stared at his chest, she was safe. If she looked into his eyes and saw disappointment, or disapproval—
—oh God, or worse, if she didn’t—
He lifted his thumb to her mouth and rubbed it over her lower lip. “What did they take?” he asked hoarsely. “From your apartment.”
Surprise drew her gaze upward before she could stop it, and then it was all over. Relaxed pleasure or even approval would have been bad enough. Her heart was so starved for affection that the thought of mere tolerance made her giddy.
But that wasn’t tolerance in his eyes. It was warmth, real affection. His whole face had softened, and he was smiling at her as he brushed his thumb back and forth in a caress she felt in her toes.
“Mia.”
She tried to focus. “The money Jade gave me. The heater. My solar charger.” Her heart lurched, pain tightening her chest. “And my locket. It wasn’t worth much, I don’t even think it was real silver. But it was special.”
“A gift?” he asked quietly.
“A memento,” she agreed. “From someone who’s gone.”
“I see.” He tapped her shoulder and urged her up. “Come on. You can take a shower, and I’ll find you some clothes.”
Her hair swung around her shoulders, and a tiny shred of vanity resurfaced as she raised a hand to the tangled mess. “And a comb?”
“We’ll get one of the girls to do your hair.” He handed her the T-shirt she’d taken from his room. “It’ll be okay, Mia. I promise.”
He’d said those words before, but this time she believed him. It could have been the warmth lingering in his eyes or the matching heat in her body, or maybe she was just reckless. Throwing herself over the edge of a cliff because the fall was so, so exhilarating.
She rocked up on her toes and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “I know. Are you going to shower with me?”
“Next time,” he rumbled. “Gotta check in with Dallas.”
Something new stirred, something a lot darker than vanity. There was nothing civilized about this feeling. Nothing tame. It was like a part of her she’d never realized was there had woken for the first time. It circled the memory of her landlady’s limp, lifeless body and demanded blood.
Dallas O’Kane wouldn’t have his current reputation if he wasn’t willing to paint the walls with anyone who opposed him. That was probably what Ford was about to do—help Dallas track down and destroy the men who’d violated their sector.
The thought brought her savage, vicious pleasure. Maybe she belonged in Sector Four after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When he was pissed off, Dallas O’Kane moved fast.
“This is the one who held the gun to your girl’s head,” he told Ford as they surveyed the man chained to a chair.
The warehouse where they held their weekly cage fights was always dark around the edges, but Dallas had slapped the man down in the center, under the unforgiving glare of the largest, brightest light. “His friends gave him up fast enough,” Dallas continued, crossing his arms over his chest with a dismissive snort. “They swore up and down that he was the only one who fucked with one of our people.”
“Doesn’t make the old lady any less dead.” But Ford had no doubt Dallas had dealt with the others—quickly and with deadly force.
Which was good, because he had his own matters to attend to.
The punk in the chair squirmed under Ford’s blank stare. He didn’t look long on brains, but he had ears, and a mouth he seemed determined to run. “I didn’t kill the old bitch.”
“Do I look like the kind of man who gives a shit who pulled the trigger or held the blade?” Ford asked, taking one step closer. “You’re judged by the company you keep, son.”
“But I didn’t—”
Dallas scoffed again, the derisive noise cutting enough to silence the protest. “You think he wants to hear excuses? Some of that shit you stole was his, so I’d get real quiet and real agreeable.”
The kid didn’t have a chance in hell of listening, but Ford spoke anyway. “You took some things that didn’t belong to you. Now, I’m a fair bastard, really. Normally, I get it. People steal. Sometimes it’s the only way to survive out here in the sectors. But a lot of things went down here that I don’t fucking like.”
That got him a stubborn, rebellious scowl. “We couldn’t have known the girl was yours. She ain’t got ink.”
His. Instead of squashing the possessive satisfaction that roared up, Ford embraced it. “Someone knew well enough to stop you, someone who’d seen her with one of us. Now, what that says to me is you didn’t do your due diligence. You know what that means, right?”
Angry silence.
Dallas endured it for five seconds before kicking the man’s boot. “Answer his fucking question, or I’m gonna unchain you and let him at you.”
The kid’s gaze flicked from Dallas to Ford before he spit out a sullen, “No.”
“It means doing your homework. Thinking before you act. Making damn sure that what you’re about to do can’t come back on you and your boys.” Ford knelt in front of the chair. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty, still wet behind the ears. “Due diligence, that’s lesson number one. You picking up what I’m laying down?”
He looked away. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, I get it.”
“Good. Where’s the stuff?”
The kid shot another wary look at Dallas, who was doing his best impression of a bored king. He played it well, in part thanks to his ability to dominate a room from sheer presence alone. He didn’t have to scowl to look intimidating, which made the moments when his lip kicked up in wry amusement all the more terrifying.
“You’re looking for mercy from the wrong man,” he drawled, lifting one hand to scratch his chin. “You think I want to be wasting my time with some sorry-ass wannabe so sad he has to roll great-grandma? Your only chance of walking out of here is making Ford real happy.”
Ford knew Dallas wasn’t likely to kill the kid—not for stealing—but whoever had pulled the trigger on the old lady had undoubtedly ended up good and dead. Judging from the thief’s pallor, he’d seen it go down and believed he might be next.
“It’s already sold,” he said quickly, straining forward in the chains in his sudden rush to play nice. “All except the heater. I only have my share of the cash.”
Ford snorted. “Of course it is. Where’d you unload the jewelry?”
“That wheezy fucker who just built the new place on the edge of town.”
“Walt, huh?”
“Yes!” He twisted, lifting one hip. “The cash is in my pocket. Take it, give it to the girl. I swear I won’t get near her again.”
“Well, I don’t want the cash.” Ford caught the kid by the chin in a hard grip. “I want the locket, and you and me are gonna go get it.”
For a second, he looked well and truly baffled. “That piece of shit? Old man hardly gave us squat for it.”
Oh, Ford deserved some kind of fucking medal for maintaining his composure. “Just because you couldn’t fence it for a week’s worth of booze and tits doesn’t make it shit. It means something to my girl.”
Brown eyes bulged in a pale face. The boy tried to nod, but Ford tightened his grip until he yelped. “Okay, okay! We’ll get the piece. And then we’re square?”
“Not even close, son. I’m also gonna beat your ass—then we’ll be square.”
“What?” He twisted harder, managing to yank his face away to shoot an entreating look at Dallas. “I told him what he wanted to know.”
“So you did,” Dallas agreed easily. “And after he kicks your ass, you’ll be walking out of here. But if you don’t like O’Kane justice, I’m happy to put you in the river with your friend. Why don’t you think it over while Ford and I have a chat?”
The kid blustered, but Ford ignored him as he and Dallas climbed out of the cage. “You think he can learn from his mistakes, O’Kane?”
Dallas didn’t reply
until they hit the edge of the room and pushed through to one of the old storage rooms. It was littered with random shit—every room in the complex was, because Dallas never threw away a damn thing—including a collection of extra booths they’d hauled out of the Broken Circle when they extended the stage.
“Fuck if I know,” Dallas said, dropping to one. He sprawled his legs out in front of him and raised one eyebrow. “I’d say ten minutes of thinking about ending up as fish food should put him in a learning mood.”
“If anything will,” Ford agreed, dragging a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. “At least they went to Walt. He’ll give us the locket, no questions asked.”
Dallas huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, he will. Old bastard’s got a soft spot for Lex.”
“Of course, I’m still gonna drag this bastard out there and make him explain the situation.”
“Good. If he’s stupid enough to try to sell stolen goods to Walt again, we’ll hear about it.” Dallas tugged his own cigarette case free and studied Ford for a moment. “So. Your girl, huh?”
A look that piercing could make a man fidget, if he let it. “It scared the piss out of him, right?”
“Sure. That’s why I used it.” Dallas flicked open his lighter and raised an eyebrow. “Lot of fuss for a locket, though.”
Maybe so, but there wasn’t a single person in the sectors who hadn’t lost something irreplaceable, something precious. Ford was tired of seeing it—or of looking the other way and telling himself it wasn’t his problem.
And this was Mia.
“She might have wound up dead,” he reminded Dallas. “Would have, if she hadn’t gone shopping and been seen with Trix. Only random fucking chance kept her alive.”
“Yeah.” Dallas lit his smoke before snapping the lighter shut with a heavy sigh. “A lot has changed since you joined up, Ford, and you haven’t been around much to see it. I’ve let you roam wild because you do good work and I trust you, but I need to know you, too. And you need to know me.”
“That’s fair.” Dallas had given him plenty of freedom to make his own way, but the O’Kanes were only strong if they could stand together.