by KB Winters
Once my body stopped spasming and calmed down, I opened my haze-filled eyes and looked down to see Ian–his face shiny and wet with my juices–smiling up at me. He was pleased with himself. God, he was so fucking pleased with himself.
He stood up, licking his lips as he stared at me with a look of complete lust. I watched as his boxers fell to the floor, and my eyes grew wide as I stared at his erection, big and hard in front of me.
I reached out for him, but again, he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head in one hand. He guided me back onto the couch, this time flat on my back as he fell on top of me. With his body pressing against mine, I thrust myself upward, trying to close the distance between us.
I so badly wanted to touch him, and I struggled to break free. But he held me down and covered me with kisses from my lips to my neck to my collarbone, all the while I felt his cock pressing against me, not yet inside of me. So frustratingly close and yet so far away.
Finally, he let go of my hands, and I touched that beautiful body. My hands roamed through the hair on his chest and down to the v of his pelvis and then feeling his dick in my hand. He seemed to grow harder at my touch, and he closed his eyes, a low groan escaping his throat as I stroked him. I tried guiding him toward my entrance, but he grabbed my hand again, this time holding himself directly above me.
“Beg for it,” he demanded.
“Please, Ian. Fuck me,” I whimpered.
And it was in that moment, that he closed the distance between our bodies, pressing himself firmly against my opening before pushing past, entering me at long last. My body felt like it exploded in a shower of light.
We both let out a groan as our bodies united as one. I stared up at his chiseled face and watched as his eyes fluttered as he buried his cock deep inside of me. He moved slowly, surely, stretching me open as he thrust himself deep inside of me. My body adjusted to his size quickly. I was already turned on and wet as ever, so he’d been able to slip inside of me easily.
Slowly, he rocked back and forth, thrusting in and out of me with a gentle rhythm, letting our bodies get used to being together. But as the pleasure built up, his movements became faster, more desperate.
My legs were wrapped tightly around his body, my hands upon his broad, thick shoulders. As he thrust deeper into me, I moved my hands and quickly dug my nails into his back as I cried out. He sucked in a breath of air but continued to fuck me harder and faster.
With every thrust, I met his body. He kissed me long and hard, his breath hot and heavy against me as sweat dripped from his forehead. We were a hot, sweaty mess, and I didn’t care. Nothing else mattered in that moment but the feeling of his cock deep inside, moving in and out of me.
I moaned and groaned as he started to thrust himself faster, burying himself with such force, I could feel him pressing up against the deepest parts of me. I cried out and bit my lip, wishing the pleasure would never end.
“Look at me,” he demanded, pulling my hair back so I was forced to look him in the eye. He seemed to like the fact that I stared at him as he fucked me. “You are so fucking amazing.”
His lips claimed mine once more and his body tensed as a wave of pleasure rolled over both of us. He thrust even deeper, more urgent to possess my body, and I clung tighter to his shoulders, my nails in his back. He winced and gasped as I dug into his flesh, but then he moaned in pleasure, swiveling his hips to hit my sweet spot. Fuck me, this man was working my body over like no man ever had before. As he pounded himself into me harder and faster, I thrust my body up to meet him, desperate to keep us joined together as much as possible.
I couldn’t speak. My ability of speech seemed to have been completely stripped away. I opened my mouth to say something, but all that came out was his name, over and over again, “Ian, oh God, Ian.” I could tell I was getting close–oh, so close to climaxing. My pussy tightened up and squeezed his cock tight. The added pressure caused him to throw his head back in delight, a deep, animalistic grunt coming from his throat.
“If you keep that up, I won’t last much longer,” he challenged, his breath coming out ragged.
“Fuck me harder, Ian, please!” I pleaded between gasps and groans of my own.
His fingers softly caressed my clit as he fucked me, which was a flagrant contradiction to his controlled, powerful thrusts—hard and deep with each flex of his hips. He stared deep into my eyes, a lustful smile playing upon his lips.
“Come, Ava. Come for me, sweetheart,” he demanded, kissing me deeply. “I want to feel you come hard for me. I want to make you feel so fucking good.”
And he was. Oh God, he was.
My mewls and pleas for release were driving him crazy, bringing him to the brink. His breathing was becoming ragged and labored. His groans grew louder, and he couldn’t fight to maintain his rhythm. Ian pivoted his hips faster, with more determination, his body desperate for mine and mine desperate for his. And I knew he was close—so close. Both of our bodies were begging for release.
“Oh God,” I cried out, thrusting my body up toward his, my nails ripping into his flesh.
His clasped his hand beneath my head, his face just inches from mine as he dragged my lip between his teeth and bit down, pounding my aching pussy relentlessly. I shuddered and shivered, my pussy clenching around his cock tighter and tighter as my body rushed toward release.
“Oh god, Ian. I’m–” But I never got my words out. Instead, they came out a garbled scream as pleasure rushed through my entire body, sending me to a place where words didn’t even exist.
And Ian was there, too. His jaw was clenched and his eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed and a look of absolute ecstasy on his face as he thrust himself into me one last time. I knew he was coming, and together, we rode out the pleasure, my hands clawing against his flesh just to get closer, as if it were even possible.
When at last, his seed was as spent as his energy, Ian’s body fell against mine and he let out a deep, satisfied breath. He kissed me long and hard, holding my face in his hands as he looked deep into my eyes.
“I think—” he started, then his forehead fell to mine. “Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart. What are ya doin’ to me?” he asked, his voice strained with emotion and… uncertainty?
His mesmerizing blue eyes held me captive, and in that moment, I wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Was it the adrenaline of the undeniable release we just shared, or was there something more? The rational part of me was immediately concerned that I was treading in unsafe waters. I knew the dangers I risked with Ian, but I couldn’t deny that I wanted to see just how far I could push him, even if I’d take the risk of drowning before I came back up for air.
Sixteen
Ava
“Daddy? Where are you?”
Silence.
I couldn’t see anything, it was too dark. But the voice was clear as day.
I knew that voice.
The voice was mine, but from many, many years ago.
“Daddy, please...”
Soft crying turned to sobs of despair.
“Where are you, Daddy? Please, answer me, I’m scared.”
I didn’t have to see anything to know where I was at. I was in my childhood home, a place so familiar to me and yet, different. It was distorted. Darker. The hallway from my bedroom to the living room stretched out for what felt like miles. And rather than an air of loving welcome, there was a heavier, more oppressive, ominous feeling saturating the air around me.
I walked through the familiar rooms of my youth, looking for my younger self, crying as she walked to the end of the hallway. But I couldn’t find her. That’s when I realized the crying was coming from me.
I walked down the hall, even though I knew what I’d find at the end. Of course, I knew. Voices, the same voices from that night that seemed to be from a lifetime ago, echoed through the house. Their accents thick and recognizable. They’d been to our home before. My father knew these men. He’d worked with them. They were his friends.
&n
bsp; But if they were his friends, why had they been yelling at each other? Why the sound of a blast ripping through the house? Why were they running away? I watched as they disappeared through the front door and out into the night. Only one of them turned around, and he looked me in the eye, his expression grim and menacing. Placing his fingertips to his lips, he hushed me in a way that felt entirely threatening before turning and running away once more.
Mr. O’Brien had been his name. Dolan O’Brien is what my father had called him.
His was the last face I saw before I rounded the corner and found my father on the ground, laying in a pool of his own blood.
“Oh, my sweet Ava,” he choked out, his voice raspy and weak.
I was young, but I wasn’t dumb. I knew what had happened and what it all meant. I screamed and ran to him, looking for the phone, looking for anything I could use to call for help. But it was too late.
My father’s body tensed as his eyes turned glassy and fixed on a point far away. I knew he was gone.
***
I woke up in a pool of sweat, gasping for air. My body dripped with perspiration, even though the air was cool and I was naked. I pushed off the blanket and stumbled out of bed, trying to banish the thick cobwebs in my mind as I struggled to figure out where I was at. I knew I wasn’t in my bed, and my mind immediately started to panic.
Taking a few deep, calming breaths, I stared out at the city landscape, the sun coming up over the skyscrapers. Coming back to myself and shaking off my disorientation, the previous night came flooding back into my mind, and I felt my face flushing with the memories. I turned and saw that Ian still lay in the bed, completely undisturbed and oblivious to my presence as he snored softly. He was mostly covered by a sheet, but one splendid leg was uncovered, allowing me a peek at his firm and toned ass.
Spending the night with him hadn’t been the smartest move, but it allowed me to see him in a different light. Not to mention he had given me the most amazing night I’d had in quite some time.
And of course, there was the fact that he was gorgeous and charming as well.
But I couldn’t allow myself to get too close. It was something I reminded myself of often and something I knew I was having trouble adhering to. I shouldn’t be here, I thought to myself. My clothes were lying in a pile on the floor, which I scooped up as I quietly made my way into the bathroom, careful not to wake Ian.
I looked in the mirror and saw that I was a hot mess, with my hair standing on end and my makeup smeared all over my face. I washed my face, but he had no hair ties that I could snatch. My pins had all been carelessly tossed on the floor downstairs.
Not knowing what else to do, I ran a hand through my curls, wetted them down a bit, and got dressed. At least I looked somewhat more presentable, I hoped. I was hoping to avoid looking like someone taking a walk of shame down the streets of Chicago. But as I stared at my reflection again, all I could think was, yeah, one could hope.
I tip-toed out of the bathroom doing my best to avoid waking him. I slipped down the stairs, careful to not make any noise, and grabbed my bag. I held my shoes in my hands and waited until I was in the elevator to put them back on. As I pressed the button for the ground floor, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d managed to escape without him waking up. No awkward goodbyes, no explaining myself, and least of all, no temptation to go for another round.
He was damn irresistible after all. It very well could have happened.
I glanced at my phone as soon as I was out of the building. Several missed calls from work. Of course. As I hailed a cab, I listened, knowing full well that I’d have to hurry down to the station as quickly as possible.
As was typical of my life.
***
“How’s it going with the Irish?” Chief Wheeler popped his head into my office. “Any luck?”
“Yeah, I have a good grasp on the new leadership of the syndicate I think,” I replied. “I know what we’re up against at least.”
“Good. Glad to hear you’re making some progress,” he said. “We really need to take these bastards down a few pegs.”
We still weren’t any closer to knowing who’d killed Sean Malone, though we had an idea. We also weren’t any closer to knowing who killed the two police officers. Assuming they were dead, which was something I’d cautioned others about assuming. But at that point, given the amount of blood at the scene and lack of anyone seeing them since the pools of blood had been discovered, we had no real choice but to operate under the assumption that they were, in fact, dead.
Which wasn’t helping morale at the station, not one little bit.
That was why Chief Wheeler had been breathing down my neck and had been on top of things. He desperately wanted me to catch whoever was in charge of the Irish. In his head, we’d get our answers and hopefully recover the bodies of our fallen officers. Even if it wasn’t the Irish–which I was pretty sure it was, though perhaps a newbie in their group looking to make his bones–it could bring down a lot of powerful crime families in its wake. At the end of it all, it would hopefully uncover what had happened that night.
“When do you think we can bring him in for questioning?”
“Who?” I asked, lost in thought. “Oh, you mean Flynn O’Brien? Umm, well–honestly, I’m not sure we have enough to bring him in yet. There’s a lot of loose ends out there still that need to be run down. But hopefully soon?”
“Alright, Agent Finley, I trust you’ll come to me when we’re ready to question the prick.”
I cringed as Wheeler left my office. I hated lying to him, and I knew it could cost me my job. Hell, it could cost me a lot more than that if I fucked this all up. As I stared down at the file on Flynn that laid on the desk before me, I flipped through everything we knew. Which admittedly, wasn’t much. I’d learned more about him last night than we had in the file. Of course, that wasn’t the type of information we’d been hoping to build a case against him on.
Officially, we didn’t have enough information to serve him with a warrant. Not yet.
But soon.
I looked down at my phone, which was silenced, to see a missed text.
I enjoyed last night, sweetheart. Sorry I missed you leaving this morning. Hope everything is okay between us. ‘Til next time…
No, sweetie, I sighed. Everything is not okay between us.
And I’m afraid it never will be.
Seventeen
Flynn
“What the fuck’s going on?” I asked.
Nothing like being woken up by your phone ringing nonstop only to find the girl you’d been with the night before was mysteriously gone. So my mood was pretty shitty to begin with. I’d hoped to have a nice morning with Ava before I got on with the day. Only, that wasn’t going to happen now that she’d disappeared. So, when Colin said I needed to come to the warehouse right away, I didn’t show up happy-go-lucky, glad to see everyone, with that “Hey, I just got laid and laid well” smile on my face.
I joined my men at the table–Colin, Red, Emmett, and a few others. The chair where Aidan sat just nights ago was empty, which wasn’t uncommon. He tended to keep the syndicate at an arm’s reach as not to raise suspicions with the feds, though one other seat was empty as well. The look on the men’s faces toned down my attitude some. They were grim. Upset. Something was going on. And I had to imagine it had to do with that empty seat.
“Where’s Sean?” I demanded. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean ‘Where’s Sean?’” Colin asked me, leaning over the table to give me a good, stern look. “You were the last one to see him alive. We assumed you knew.”
“See him alive? What the fuck are ya talking about?”
Colin gave me a look that answered my question.
“He’s dead? You sure about that?” I asked.
I replayed what happened the night before in my head. I gave the kid a good scare, tried to get him to talk. Honestly if he had been guilty of snitching I think he’d have said something. I
think he’d have copped to it. But since he hadn’t, I left. I told him we’d talk more about it later and then left.
“Yeah, we’re fucking sure, man. His body was found last night, in his apartment. Gunshot wound to the head.” Colin made the motion of being shot in the head as he spoke. “We thought maybe things got outta hand, and you laid down the law. Which is why we brought you in here, brother.”
“Wait, you brought me in here? To question me? Like I’m some fuckin’ hump? What the fuck, Colin? Who the fuck do ya think ya are?” I lunged across the table at my cousin, and he came up with his arms swingin’. But Red acted swiftly and jumped between us, planting a hand on each of our chests and shoving us back on our asses.
“Sit your arses down now, lads. We’re brothers. You two”—he motioned his hand between us—“are cousins, and there’s no need to go at each other like mad men, aye. Now, calm ya fuckin’ heads and let’s talk this shite out.” Red may not have chain of command, but when that fucker spoke, we knew to listen. He was an old bloke who didn’t fuck around.
I nodded to Red, then scrubbed my hand over my face and inhaled a long breath. I couldn’t wrap me fuckin’ head around Sean’s death, and the heat of the moment—the accusations that me brotherhood were making—was too much at once.
“Listen, Flynn, when we had the last meeting, you had told us you were planning to talk to Sean about him possibly being the rat. Now with the fucker comin’ up dead, of course it’s got people concerned that you’ve gone off the rails. This isn’t how you usually handle situations like this.”
I turned my attention to Red, settling back in my seat and glared at Colin. “Was it not that gobshite cunt fucker there who clearly said Sean was the rat and he wanted the chance to talk to him himself?” I pointed directly at Colin.