by Bethany-Kris
His hands wandered up under her skirt, the softness of her skin a bright contrast to the roughness of his palms. Her arse fit perfectly into his hands, and when he grabbed tight to hold her still against him, she simply pushed into him even harder.
Connor barely noticed the stray person walking past the mouth of the alley only a few feet away, as his attention was on something—someone—else entirely. Evelyn didn’t seem to mind, or care, where they were, letting him turn her around and back her into the closest wall.
Her wrists fit into his hands, and his knuckles scraped against the brick as he held her arms high above her head. Not once did she break their kiss, and he swore she only breathed when his lips kissed a path down her jaw and neck.
“The truck can’t be far,” Connor told her between kisses.
Evelyn didn’t respond, instead tugging his shirt out of his slacks so she could get her hands on more of his skin. Her skin tasted divine—sweet and salty, a bit addictive, and he couldn’t get enough. His teeth found her collarbone, making her gasp, and his tongue swirled along the hollow of her throat just to taste her body there, too.
Connor let her wrists go because he wanted to find more of her to touch, have more of her skin against his. His hands traveled under her skirt again, his fingers diving between her thighs to find her legs already spread and her knickers damp to the touch.
“Shite,” he grunted against her throat. “Tell me to stop if you want to, lass.”
“Talk less, fuck me more, Connor.”
With those words, she grabbed his wrist, and pushed his hand against her lace-covered cunt, grinding her core into his fingers to make her point clearer. He didn’t need the help—he had this figured out, all on his own.
A quick tug on her knickers and he had them pulled to the side, a second before two of his fingers swept her sex and then thrust knuckle-deep into her clenching pussy. Tight and hot, her walls clamped down around his fingers in a vise-like grip. Evelyn whined against his mouth at the intrusion, her hips falling into a fast, steady rhythm with his hand. Every time his fingers thrust in, her hips came down onto his hand.
“Not enough,” she breathed.
“It is—it would be—but you’re too feckin’ greedy, love. You’re too impatient.”
Her laughter washed over him like smooth honey. “Do you blame me?”
Connor pulled his fingers out from between her thighs, and yanked her knickers down her legs right after, tossing them aside. “Not for a damn minute.”
They probably shouldn’t have been doing what they were doing in a dank, dirty alley, just a few feckin’ feet from the opening, where any arsehole could walk by and see them. He shouldn’t have been such a bastard, and taken her elsewhere—the truck, home, anywhere—other than there for a quick ride against a brick wall. It shouldn’t have been so fast, so quick that he barely felt the condom sliding down his cock after she’d shoved his slacks down and lifted her dress.
Connor didn’t think about any of those things until he already had Evelyn lifted against the wall, his cock sinking into her cunt, and he was watching her head fall back to the bricks with a pleased smile curving her lips wickedly.
He knew that feeling she was experiencing—that blissful disbelief—because it coursed through his nervous system, starting at the base of his cock and flooding through the rest of his body as fast as it could go. For a long while, he just held her there, up against the wall, balanced in his hands, his forehead meeting hers as he exhaled.
She was feckin’ hot—her skin, her kiss, and her cunt.
And soft, too.
Like wet satin.
“Jesus,” Connor grunted under his breath.
Evelyn’s tongue snaked out to wet her bottom lip. “You’re making this more painful of a wait than it needs to be—move.”
“You’re awfully demanding, lass, considering you’re full of my cock.”
“I’d like to be riding it, too, so get on that.”
Feckin’ hell.
She had a smart mouth, for it being so damn pretty.
“Hold on to something,” Connor uttered.
If it was a ride she wanted, he was more than willing to comply. Had she wanted soft or sweet, she wouldn’t have climbed on top of him in a dirty feckin’ alley for a ride. His guilt over the whole thing disappeared just like that.
She wanted this just as badly as he did.
Connor ignored the bite of the bricks scratching his knuckles as he grabbed onto Evelyn’s arse with both hands, and flexed his hips forward, hard enough to send her back into the wall. She didn’t seem to mind his roughness, instead laughing breathlessly while demanding more and again.
He gave her exactly what she asked for, hard, sharp thrusts that forced her hands to drag against the walls, likely scraping her soft palms up as she struggled to gain some kind of traction with his brutal rhythm. Connor didn’t slow enough to let her find any support—he couldn’t, not once he got started.
All he could focus on was the way she fell onto his cock with each thrust, how her cries bounced off the alley walls, and how entirely free she looked in that moment.
He liked that the most.
Freedom—seeing her take what she wanted, giving her what she asked for—that was hers, and not entirely his.
It didn’t take long at all before a telltale tremor began to work its way over Evelyn’s body, and her hot cunt clamped down around his cock hard enough to almost hurt. He kept hold of her backside with one hand, but grabbed her jaw with his other, wanting her to look at him while she came on him for the first time.
Wide, blown pupils stared back at him. Pretty, pink, parted lips opened for a broken, high cry. A flush worked its way over her flesh, starting in her cheeks and rushing down her neck and chest.
“Oh.”
Her exclamation came out soft and airless, a deep surprise coloring up the word. Almost as though she didn’t believe the way her body reacted to what was happening.
Connor pulled her face forward just enough to catch her mouth in a bruising kiss. He didn’t relent in his pace, even as she came, thrusting his way to his own orgasm until his knees went numb and his spine feckin’ ached.
It should have been different.
It might have been better.
He could have taken his time.
Connor couldn’t find it in himself to care in that moment. Not when Evelyn’s smiling, silky lips kissed over his bearded jaw as he emptied himself as deep into her pussy as he could manage, and even minutes after they were done and the calm had returned, she still didn’t push him away.
No, this was grand.
Feckin’ perfect.
• • •
Evelyn perched herself on Connor’s waist, her thighs tightening to his sides as she shifted to a more comfortable position. With the morning light spilling in through the windows, he couldn’t find it in himself to be irritated that she had woken him up so damned early. He certainly couldn’t be pissed when her shifting and moving turned into rubbing and grinding, making his morning erection all the more noticeable.
“You’ll do well to stop that moving and let me wake up a bit more,” Connor mumbled into the crook of his arm.
“I think you like my moving.”
Connor grabbed her hip with his free hand, making her still. “I like it too much. Relax.”
Evelyn leaned down, her nose nudging along his arm until he moved it just enough for her to press a soft, sweet kiss to his mouth. “Morning.”
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a half bad way to wake up.
Connor grinned and moved his arm entirely so he could see her pretty face. “Morning, love.” He used the tip of his thumb to trace the shape of her lips, enjoying her smile. Then, she kissed his digit, too. “You’re awfully sweet in the morning.”
“Oh?”
“Like a kitten.”
Evelyn winked. “With claws.”
“They must be hidden, then.”
She didn’t deny it.
<
br /> “This one is my favorite,” Evelyn murmured.
Connor didn’t even have to look to see what she was talking about. He could feel her fingers ghosting over the tattoo of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, on his side. The only difference was, it did not look entirely like the cat from the tale. Instead, it took features of the only kitten he had cared for.
“And this one, too,” Evelyn said, her hand moving higher, resting over his ink of three skulls resting atop one another. One was blind, another deaf, and the final one was mute.
“There’s a lot of them,” he admitted.
She hummed under her breath, her fingers dancing over the artwork that covered the majority of his torso, upper chest, and the full sleeves down both his arms.
“Why so many?” she asked.
Connor stiffened involuntarily at her innocent question. His tattoos, and the reasons why he had gotten so many over the years, were not a story he was willing to share. At least not right then, anyway.
“I like art,” he said, half telling the truth.
“You didn’t pick just one thing, though,” she said.
“It didn’t have to be one thing,” he replied simply, “it just had to be art, love.”
“Huh.”
Silently, Evelyn went back to her exploration of his tattoos. Occasionally, she found another one she liked for some reason or another, and he knew only because she stopped to linger on the piece longer than she had the others. Her soothing touches, soft skin, and the warmth of the bed were damn near enough to put him back to sleep.
Except, he didn’t fall asleep.
He didn’t want to miss something from her.
So, he watched his lover instead, under his lowered lashes, just as transfixed as she seemed to be on her task. He couldn’t bring to memory a morning that had ever been quite as quiet, yet good, as this one was so far.
Evelyn placed her palms to Connor’s chest and pushed up to sit straight. She was careful about doing so, but he still didn’t miss the slight wince as she sat upright fully.
“Your hands hurt,” Connor said.
She balled her hands into fists, and hid them at her sides. “It’s okay, really.”
“Let me see them, lass.”
“Really, it’s fine, Connor.”
He wasn’t taking no for an answer again. While the night before had come and gone from his memories in brief, yet poignant flashes, he still remembered the most important details. Things like the restaurant, the bar, the fool whose face had gotten broken, and the alleyway behind the business where …
Connor cleared his throat, and reached for Evelyn’s hidden, clenched hands. Carefully, he unballed her fingers, and opened her palms up flat for him to survey the damage. Red, angry scrapes covered her palms, likely from the roughness of the brick wall where they’d ended up together the night before. The scrapes weren’t dirty, and a bit of antibiotic cream would do wonders.
Connor sighed. “Shite.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad.”
“Maybe not, but they should be cared for. It’s feckin’ rude of me to have you like that, and not take care of you properly afterward.”
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
Connor met Evelyn’s gaze, seeing some unknown emotion flash in her eyes. “What, lass?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Mmm, it’s something.” Connor set up in the bed, taking Evelyn with him. “You tell me what it is while I fix your hands a bit, all right?”
She didn’t look entirely agreeable to that deal, but nodded. “Okay.”
Connor found the items he needed in the bedside table—some antibiotic cream, and a half empty roll of gauze. He had a few other emergency essentials in there, should he need them, as this wasn’t even close to the first time he had woken up with a bloody something needing wrapped or cleaned. Usually, it was him that needed the care, not someone else.
With a tube of cream in his hand, and one of Evelyn’s palms opened to him, Connor said, “Talk.”
“It’s just … it’s unusual to have someone care for me if something needs it,” Evelyn said softly.
Connor clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he smeared her palms with the antibiotic cream, and went about wrapping them up. “That’s a damn shame, lass.”
“I can handle a bit of pain, Connor.”
“That’s grand. Doesn’t mean you don’t need a bit of aftercare to make sure you’re okay, and whatnot.”
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “Aftercare?”
Connor smiled crookedly, holding her palm up to his cheek before tipping his head to the side so he could kiss the bandage there. “I know you’re grand, and that this doesn’t bother you all that much. I get you like a wee bit pain, and roughness isn’t going to send you running scared, love. Fact is, you still let me do …” He kissed her palm again. “… This, which means it’s only right that I do something for you. Understand?”
“You don’t have to, though.”
That was the thing …
Just because she said it so indifferently, because she didn’t know any different.
“Yes,” Connor said firmly, “I do.”
• • •
Connor held out the piece of ravioli, and Evelyn took the bite with a serene smile. Her contentedness was the only thing keeping him from hauling her pretty arse back upstairs and keeping her in bed for the rest of the day.
That, and she was eating.
He never interrupted her eating.
It had become a habit for her to eat with him whenever she could, though. In the two months since he had found her, Evelyn had gone from frail to healthy. She was no longer underweight, she sometimes ate more than he did, and he was not about to complain.
It was only when the phone rang in the living room—his brownstone’s line, not the cell—did Connor finally decide to move the woman from his lap, and leave her to her own devices. Evelyn didn’t say a thing as he pushed her chair in, only reached for another ravioli as Connor kissed the top of her head.
“Save me some,” he said.
Evelyn laughed. “I promise nothing.”
That was his lass.
Connor made it to the ringing phone before the answering machine picked up, and he didn’t even pretend to be pleasant when he answered. Hell, it was whoever interrupting his morning, he didn’t need to be nice.
“What?” Connor snapped the second he had the phone to his ear.
“Connor, we’ve got a problem.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Killian?”
“Yeah, mate. You need to get down to the—”
Connor groaned. “First, I don’t have to do feck all. Second, I’m not in the mood to talk. Try again later.”
“I don’t have time for this cac, Connor. We’ve got a situation at The Ink Shoppe—a dead one.”
What?
Connor glanced back toward the kitchen, where he had left Evelyn. “At my Shoppe?”
“I just said that.”
“You can’t handle it?”
“I think you should see it,” Killian said with a harsh sigh. “I don’t think it was meant for me, you get me?”
Connor cussed a blue streak before muttering, “I’ll be there in twenty.”
He didn’t bother to say goodbye, instead hanging up the phone a wee bit more forcefully than was necessary. He tried to hide the irritation on his face as he headed back into the kitchen, but figured he was probably doing a miserable job at it.
Evelyn held up a bite for him to take as he rounded her side of the table, and he took it, chewing slowly. It allowed him a bit of time to think up something to say to excuse himself, without telling her something had happened. She didn’t need to be worrying about those sorts of things.
“I need to head out for a bit,” he said. “Not for long, but I’ll bring something home for lunch.”
“I can’t come?”
Connor frowned, but hid it by looking away. “Not t
oday.”
Evelyn shrugged. “Okay. I’d like some more of that pizza like we had last night.”
“Done, love.”
She flashed him with another brilliant smile, and reached for her sketchbook across the table, already distracted on something else. Connor took that as his chance to head out, though he would much rather stay right there with her, especially if she was going to be drawing.
Before he could convince himself otherwise, Connor left the brownstone and headed for his tattoo parlor. Traffic wasn’t too bad, surprisingly, so he made it there a few minutes quicker than he had actually told Killian on the phone.
The front of The Ink Shoppe was still locked up tight, like his employees knew to leave it when they finished with their final clients. Confused, Connor unlocked the front door, and went in, closing it behind him as he called out for Killian.
Silence answered him back.
Connor walked through the whole business before he finally found his friend hanging out the back door, a cigarette stuck between his lips.
“You know you’re not supposed to be smoking in here,” Connor said.
Killian took a heavy drag. “It’s one of those mornings.”
“Are you going back to that vague shite again?”
His friend didn’t answer, instead pushing the back exit door open wide, so Connor was able to see the body lying on the wet pavement in the back alley. It took him a second or third look before he recognized the battered, dead corpse.
Danny.
The man he’d been with the night he killed the Russian’s son. One of Connor’s few friends.
Frankly, he might have overlooked Danny getting whacked, considering he played on the wrong side of the law more often than not, and hung around with some pretty delinquent individuals. In their business, death was always close behind.
He couldn’t overlook Danny’s killing, though, because he’d been left at Connor’s doorstep.
Essentially.
Connor blew out a slow breath, taking in the lack of blood around the body. “He was left here, I’d say.”
“His father is going to feckin’ lose it.”
That, too.
“Do you have an idea about who did this?” Killian asked.