by Dani René
“What makes you think I’ll ever listen to you?”
Narrowing my gaze at her sassy query, I lean in closer, pulling her lower lip in between mine, biting down on the flesh so hard, she yelps. “Because I’ll hurt you if you cut yourself. I’ll fucking whip you and offer you the pain you want. But I never want to find out you’re doing this to yourself.”
“You know, Callan, you act so tough, but you’re not.” Her words seep through me. They remind me of a person that doesn’t exist. A man who feels affection. I raise my hand, bringing it down on her leg with a loud smack.
I rise, grabbing the knife I dropped earlier, bringing it to her chest. Her tits rise and fall as her breathing hitches.
“What are you doing?”
I press the tip between both mounds of flesh, just a tiny prick to draw out her blood. I pull the knife away and lean in, lapping at the droplet of crimson.
“God,” she whimpers making my eyes snap to hers in alarm.
“Did you like that, Blossom?”
A blush turns her cheeks red, the same color I want to see on her ass. I bring the blade back to her body, trailing it down her flat stomach, over the dip of her belly button, causing her to squirm.
“If you move, you’ll get hurt,” I warn her, and she listens, lying on her back, watching me like I’m her savior. I reach her mound, gently pressing on the smooth caramel skin. She’s so fucking exquisite. “Open your legs.” My voice is gruff as I order her to spread herself for me. “You’re my first, Blossom. The first woman who I’ve allowed to see my dark side so soon,” I confess easily as I trail the sleek silver over her lips, the moisture of her juices coating the tip of the knife, and my cock hardens for her.
“I’ve never . . . I mean . . . Callan,” she whimpers when I press a finger into her hole. The heat of her, the tightness that sucks me in is enough to have my balls drawing up with another load for her.
“Shh.” I plant a kiss on her flesh, snaking my tongue over the smooth lips of her cunt, tasting the sweet muskiness of her arousal as I trail the blade over the flesh along with my tongue. It makes her shiver, and even though she should be scared, I know for a fact she’s not.
“Please,” she mewls when my tongue darts into her, fucking her with my mouth as I cool her skin with the metal. Her legs splay. She’s wide open for me, and I glance up from between her thighs to find her hooded gaze on me.
Her delicate hands grip my hair, pulling me closer as she lifts her hips against me, riding my face like I’m her personal fuck-toy, and god how I want to be. I crave to give this woman so much pleasure.
She continues to mewl as she moves against me, needing the pressure, and I allow her to control the movement. I’m her plaything, and she abuses me as a release shocks her. Seconds later she cries out as she coats my tongue in her juices.
When I rise from her, watching and reveling as I see her thighs tremble uncontrollably, I smirk as she lies boneless on the dark sheets.
“My past is something I’ve embraced for so long, I don’t know how to be anything else,” I confess in that moment when I know she may never remember it. I don’t know why I’m telling her, but for some reason, this sweet, chestnut-haired girl has unraveled me.
She drifts from the high, meeting my gaze with a question. “And you’re still that bad man in your heart?”
This time I nod. “I’m a bad man right down to my soul, Blossom.” Pushing off the bed, I turn to look down at her. “Get dressed.” She doesn’t respond as I make my way into the attached bathroom and shut the door behind me.
The way she looks at me under those dark lashes does something to my chest. It’s tight with need for her. Shaking my head, I turn on the tap and splash my face with water. I rinse the knife and place it in the holster attached to my belt.
Once I’ve taken a piss, I head back into the bedroom to find her dressed, sitting on the bed looking like a lost girl with no one to care for her, and I know that’s not something I can offer her. Forever isn’t in my vocabulary. What I can give her, though, is something that will give her release from the agony in her soul.
“We’ll play,” I tell her, not going to her, but instead leaning on the door jamb. “I’ll keep you safe because I’m getting paid for it, but don’t look at me like I’m your savior.”
She rises, lifts her chin, and glares at me. She’s angry. That’s what I want and need from her. To not offer me her heart because I know I’ll break it wide open, and I won’t feel an ounce of guilt. It’s who I am, who I’ve always been.
Even though she can see what an asshole I am, she still looks at me with those big eyes filled with hope. I wonder if she looks at her daddy the same way. Or if she knows what type of man he is. The things he does using the position his job has put him in. He’s no better than I am, only he doesn’t get his hands dirty. He hires people like me to do the dirty work for him.
“I’m not in need of a savior, Callan. But is it so bad that I want to know who you are?” she questions innocently.
“Yes,” I tell her adamantly. I hope she’ll let this go, but something tells me the little spitfire isn’t about to let me walk away without delving into my soul and ripping it apart until she sees the darkness lurking beneath the surface.
I want to tear her sweetness apart with my teeth. Take it from her and bask in it. There’s never been a point in my life where I craved a woman. Yes, I’ve fucked plenty, but they didn’t mean anything to me. I never said those three words that most men do when they find the one.
I reach for Madison, pulling her closer. Spinning us around, I push her against the wall with a harsh thud. “I don’t do love,” I tell her. “I’ll only force orgasms on you. I’ll make you fucking scream. Do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” she hisses.
“Good girl. Now go home to Daddy, and I’ll see you in the morning.” I shove away from her, closing myself off again.
“Why do you push people away?”
She doesn’t move, so I step away turning my back to her. Her phone chimes from her purse, and I thank god for the reprieve of the ache in my groin. I want to fuck her again, to be inside her tight heat. My mind is a mess, and her phone chimes once more.
“You better get that,” I bite out in frustration.
“Tell me, Callan.” She’s adamant, ignoring the incessant ringing which grates on my nerves. “I thought we were—”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Blossom. This isn’t a fucking date. We fucked, it was fun, scene is over now.” I stalk toward the door. My hand on the handle, I glance at her once more and nod toward her purse. “Answer your phone.”
She sighs as I tug open the door and pull it shut behind me. I make my way up to the apartment Rick offered me and Cayleigh when we arrived. Pushing open the door, I find my sister on the sofa reading. She’s always had her nose buried in a book, ever since she was old enough to read.
She glances up at me then wrinkles her nose. “What are you doing here?”
“Needed some fresh air,” I tell her, settling on the armchair, which faces where she’s sitting. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, then meets my gaze.
“Does this have something to do with the pretty girl?”
I stare at her, wondering how much she knows. I haven’t told anyone about Madison, except Carrick, and I know he’d never say anything. God, he’d probably have me locked up for what I did to her in the room moments ago.
“What do you know about it?”
Cayleigh shrugs. “Just asking,” she tells me, but there’s more she wants to say. I can see it in her eyes. My sister has been through so much, and talking to her about anything other than work is not something I do. For some reason, she listens to my stories about murder rather than wanting to talk about the affection I’d hold for someone.
“I fucked her,” I blurt out, shocked at my confession.
“Figured you would,” she responds, not looking at me, her gaze trained on the pages in front of her.
&n
bsp; I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. “You did?”
She nods.
“How would you even know about her anyway?”
This time she does look at me like I’m stupid. “Callan, we’ve been here for six months. There’s only one woman you’ve had your eye on. You may try to be subtle, but I’ve known you your whole life,” she says.
Dropping her socked feet to the floor, she rises and pads into the kitchen, leaving me frowning at her words. Have I been obvious? If Cayleigh’s noticed, then others probably have as well.
“You know,” Leigh says as she returns to the living room carrying a chilled bottle of beer, handing it to me. She perches her ass on the edge of the sofa and sips her tea. “It’s been far too long since you’ve had a normal life. We’ve come here for that, to be normal. Give—”
“I’ll never be normal, Leigh,” I bite out in frustration. I gulp down the cold liquid, reveling in the burn of the bubbles as they make their way down my throat.
“Perhaps you don’t want to let yourself be,” she retorts.
Even though she’s younger than me, she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Being the only girl in the family, she’s had it easier than Carrick and me. We were pulled into the business as soon as we could hold a gun. Cayleigh was Dad’s baby girl. She was kept safe, on a pedestal, until she got caught up in the life when she got engaged to Niall.
For as long as I can remember, our father kept her hidden from the violence, and on her wedding day, she watched the man she loved get gunned down. His blood splattered on her white dress, on her pretty made-up face. And I couldn’t do shit to help her, to save him.
I think the guilt of that will forever hang over me and Rick. Our lives were torn apart that day. But slowly we’ve found solace in each other. Now that Carrick has his woman, I see he’s finally moving forward in life. I wish the same for Leigh.
For me, however, I don’t see how it’s possible. I’m the last remaining O'Leary, and our father will never just let me walk out of that life.
“Callan.” My sister’s voice drags me from the dark thoughts that seem to consume me. “If she’s that special, you deserve to try.” The problem with my sister is she still believes in love and happiness. She still holds on to those fucking fairy tales she reads.
“She’s just a woman I fucked, Leigh. You read far too much into it.” When she goes quiet again, I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. I want Madison, and I’ve already taken her. I’ve promised her security and orgasms. That’s what a woman needs.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ll fuck any willing cunt, married or not, but walking away from Madison tonight has left me unsure. I don’t think she’s anything like her father. She’s so much more. There’s goodness in her; it drips from her pores, and I know I can’t hurt her like I planned to.
I may bruise her and mark her physically, but that’s what she wants. I’ll give her the solace for the time I’m working for Magnus. But once I walk away, once this contract is over, I’ll say goodbye.
“I’m going to bed.” I finish my drink and head into one of the bedrooms. I should drive home, but I’ve been drinking, and I’m far too tired to focus.
I fall onto the mattress without taking off any clothes and shut my eyes for a moment, inhaling a breath only for my nostrils to be assaulted by her sweetness. Jesus, being around her is going to be difficult.
I pull my phone from my pocket and find her number. Hitting dial, I wait as I listen to each ring. I need to make sure she got home safely.
“You calling to apologize?” Her question has me chuckling, thinking about the asshole I was to her. Giving her shit for what she did to herself.
“Don’t go looking for something that isn’t there, Blossom. I don’t apologize for shit I do,” I respond easily, picturing her smiling as she sits in her bedroom.
“I figured that would be your answer,” she says.
“I’m guessing you’re home safely then.”
“I am.” Her confirmation settles the tension in my muscles.
Tomorrow I’ll be a fucking chauffeur for her, making sure the pretty girl is safe wherever she goes. Her father made it very clear he wants his princess safe.
The contract has burned a hole in my hand, but it’s signed. Accepted. I’ve become a bodyguard to a girl I want to fuck more than anyone I’ve ever met. Even though it’s forbidden for me to even touch her, I’ve broken all the fucking rules.
“Go to bed now, and don’t touch that little cunt tonight,” I warn her. “All your orgasms, every little whimper and moan are mine for the month. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Callan,” she purrs. She knows what she does to me. What she does to any man who walks into her world. “I didn’t think you’d call.”
“I didn’t think you’d answer,” I respond, staring up at the ceiling, trying to focus on something other than my cock fighting my zipper at the memory of her touch.
“I just wanted to thank you. Sins is the only place I feel safe since there’s so much security there,” she confesses in the dark. I wonder if she’s lying on her bed. Is she naked? Fuck.
“You’re no longer going to go to Sins,” I inform her. Knowing my brother’s not happy about my new job, I don’t want to start shit in his club. If a man comes near Madison, I’ll fucking gut the fucker.
“What? Why?” I picture her now, jolting up, her face creased in confusion.
“I don’t approve. Those men—”
“You don’t approve?” Her incredulous words have me sitting up, my back straight, my shoulders tense. “I like being there. I enjoy feeling wanted, and—” She wants to feel wanted? I’ll fucking show her wanted.
“This isn’t a fucking discussion, Madison. I’m in charge of keeping you safe, and if I say—”
“You’re not my father. Do not speak to me like I’m a child.”
Chuckling, I run my fingers through my unruly hair. “You are a child, Blossom. You’re mine, Madison.”
“I’m not yours to own. You made that clear, and I need it,” she retorts hotly. Her voice laced with anger and frustration, but it’s her confession that has my cock throbbing painfully.
“What does that mean?”
“I-I mean . . .” She sighs into the speaker, which doesn’t help my aching body. “I want more.”
“Jesus, Madison,” I growl into the phone. Shutting my eyes so tight I see white behind the lids. The thought of this girl doing anything sinful doesn’t help my reaction to her. I want to be the one leading her down an illicit path of debauchery. I need to be the one who she allows inside that sweet, tight little hole.
“It’s the only thing that makes me feel. And . . . I enjoyed it.”
“You want me to hurt you again?” I question, my accent thicker and angrier than it was only moments ago.
“Yes,” she whispers shyly, dropping her voice low, which only serves to make her even sexier.
Rearing my hand back, I slam it into the nightstand. Frustration ebbs and flows through me. Sexual frustration is something I can’t deal well with. I need to fuck. I need that cunt tight around my dick.
“Are you okay? What was that?”
“You’re making me fucking crazy, Blossom,” I bite out. My teeth are clenched so hard my jaw aches. All the things I want to do to her right now race through my mind. Images of her bent over, legs spread wide. Skin flushed and pink.
“I like making you crazy.” I can hear the smile in her voice. That she does. There’s no lie there because it seems everything this girl does makes me want her more.
“You should be careful who you tease, Madison. Men don’t like to be teased by little girls.”
“And what, Callan” — she breathes my name seductively — “would you do if you were here right now?” There’s a whimper right after she utters the last word that snaps all my fucking control. I have no morals, and I’ve never been ashamed. Pleasures of the body is something I never deny myself.
Shoving my zipper dow
n, I tug at my jeans to get my cock out. The shaft is hot, hard, and ready for a sweet pussy or warm mouth, but my fist will have to do.
“Tell me what you’d want if I were there right now. I want to hear how you want to be fucked.” It’s an order. One I know she can’t deny telling me.
“Well . . . uhm, I want you to bend me over the bed, or sofa, anywhere really,” she begins.
Closing my eyes, I picture her with that pert little ass sticking up in the air.
“Then I want you to rip my panties down.” Her voice gets husky, and I realize she’s probably touching herself. The image causes arousal to drip from my shaft.
“And spank you?” I grit out.
“Yes, ten times. Five on each side,” she says softly.
“Is that pretty pussy wet for me?”
“It is.”
“Tell me how you lost your virginity,” I murmur, wanting to know about the time a man took that special part of her. The part I realize I would have loved to steal. To own.
“I was seventeen. He was a boy in my class.”
“Did your pretty crimson virtue paint his cock, Blossom?” My voice is thick with desire, hunger for her.
“Yes.” One word is merely a breath over the line, which makes my hand move up and down my cock faster and faster. I feel my release racing down my spine, the sensation almost euphoric.
“I wish I was the one to take it, to deflower the pretty blossom. To make you bleed on my cock, drenching me in your crimson innocence,” I tell her, earning me a whimper and moan. She’s no longer talking, and I know for a fact she’s joining me in the pleasure that’s taken ahold of me. “I would’ve pinned you to your pretty princess bed, told you that you’re mine. And no other cock will be allowed near you. Then,” I bite out as my hand tightens around my dick. “I’d make you scream while I stole your perfection. I’d make you fucking beg for more pain, more pleasure, more of my cock.”
“Oh,” is her response, and then she’s breathing raggedly.