by Lane Hart
“I’m so sorry,” I say to Wirth when I end the call and go to him. “About everything. Thank you for warning me before and now. I wish there was some way I could make it up to you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can think of something you can do to repay me,” he says when his hands shoot out to grab the hair on either side of my face. He catches me so off guard that my phone falls from my hand and hits the floor. Spinning us around, Wirth walks me backward until I’m pinned between him and the hard wall. With his lips brushing mine, he says, “One last favor for a dead man?”
Hearing that makes my blood turn cold. I didn’t mean to put him in danger by protecting my brother.
“Come with us,” I beg him, yanking his sunglasses off and tossing them down to see his deep blue eyes. “Please? I-I’ll spend every day trying to repay you.”
“Let’s start with you repaying me right now and go from there,” he says, his jaw tight, neither refusing nor agreeing to my offer.
I don’t have a chance to say anything else after his pouty lips crash down on mine. His tongue forces its way inside of my mouth with so much force that the back of my head hits the wall. After that, I’m lost to the lust, the need for him. I think I would do anything this man asks. So, when his hands slip from my hair to my shoulders, pushing me down, I gladly go, knowing that getting his dick nice and slick with my mouth is more for my benefit than his before he attempts to ram that monster inside of me.
I don’t waste any time undoing his belt and the fly of his jeans, shoving the denim down to his knees to free his cock that springs up long and hard, nearly slapping me in the face. Wrapping my fingers around the base of his shaft to hold it still, I close my eyes and get to work licking it up one side and down the other before my lips part to take him deep into my throat.
“Fuck, Maeve,” Wirth groans above me. When I glance up, I see he’s got one palm flattened against the wall while the other comes down to cup the back of my head to guide my movements. Instead of watching me, his eyes are closed, head thrown back in pleasure.
Unlike before, Wirth isn’t gentle about showing me what he needs. But all too soon, he’s pulling me to my feet and spinning me around so that I’m facing the wall. I try to catch my breath while he tugs my boy shorts down. When his palm lands with a loud smack on my ass, I jump forward until the side of my face is flattened to the wall. My ass cheek is still stinging when Wirth pulls my hips back and then shoves his cock all the way into my pussy with one hard thrust.
“Oh god!” I scream at the intrusion. He’s nearly the size of a fucking baseball bat. If I wasn’t so accustomed to rough treatment, I would probably be sore afterward. But my body has learned to be accommodating, and I’m so wet for Wirth it doesn’t hurt. I just want more – more of him and more of us together. “Please!” I beg when he doesn’t move. He just stands there, filling me up with so much of him I can’t breathe.
He finally does what I asked. His fingers dig into my hip bones even harder, then he pulls his cock almost all the way out of me before slamming in hard again, deeper than anyone has ever gone before.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” Wirth pants against my ear in a rush, his entire body weight pressing me into the wall so that my nose is close enough to smell the paint. “Even when it’s life and death, I would rather have you one last time.”
“Me too,” I agree on a near sob because I feel the same. I shouldn’t want him, but this doesn’t feel like a choice. Wirth is a necessity that I don’t want to live without.
One of his hands comes around to squeeze my breast before getting frustrated by the tank top still covering it. His strong hands rip it right down from the neck so that it’s gaping open. Squeezing my left tit, he presses his entire arm tightly to my chest, thrusting into me so hard and fast that I end up on my tiptoes. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an imprint of the front of my body being left on the wall.
My pussy clenches around his girth, pulling him impossibly deeper as my arousal coats his hot, velvety shaft.
Oh shit!
He’s not wearing a condom.
That thought shouldn’t make me come, but it almost sends me over the edge. Wirth isn’t the type of man to be so careless. I love that he’s so out of control with need for me that he didn’t stop to put on a condom, like I’m not the only one lost to the lust.
As my inner walls begin to pulse around Wirth’s pumping dick, trying to hold it inside of me, he says, “Oh fuck!” like he just realized the same mistake. I’m still riding him and the waves of pleasure when he abruptly pulls out, making me whimper at the enormous loss because I wasn’t done yet!
Understanding my dilemma, Wirth strokes himself between my legs, pressing his length against my clit to keep getting me off while his hot, thick release lands on the wall before he shoves himself between my tight ass cheeks to finish coming there.
When the heat of his body leaves me, I look over my shoulder and find him stumbling backward before he slumps down on the sofa, his dick still hanging free from his pants. “That…wasn’t part of the plan,” he says out of breath.
“It wasn’t?” I ask. “Because I liked it,” I say when I pull my bottoms up and shrug out of my ripped tank to go to him. Kneeling between his legs, I ask, “What was the plan? To yell at me and tell me to leave?” Before Wirth can answer, I lean forward to take his semi-hard cock into my mouth to clean it off, loving his taste and mine combined.
“What are you doing?” he asks, now watching me suck and lick his dick unlike earlier.
“Worshipping you on my knees,” I reply between licks. “You should get used to it.”
“Yeah?” he asks, gasping loudly when I suck on his head.
Releasing him from my mouth, I say, “Tell me to stay down here on my knees for you the rest of my life and I would do it.”
“I wish you could, doll,” Wirth says just as there’s a knock on my door.
In the afterglow haze, it takes me a few minutes to remember that Rian was on his way over.
“Shit,” I say, slapping my arm over my bare breasts and looking around me for something to cover them.
“Go get dressed. I’ll answer the door,” Wirth tells me. “Time for me and your brother to finally meet.”
“Okay,” I agree as I use his knees to pull myself up to my feet. On the way to the bedroom, I hear his zipper go up and then he’s opening the door.
Chapter Nineteen
Wirth
Maeve’s brother staggers back two steps when he sees me answering the door instead of his sister. From far away, he looked like any other guy, but up close it’s easier to see the youthfulness in his baby face. Thankfully, I’m also about three or four inches taller than him and have at least fifty pounds on him, which helps a lot for what I have planned.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.
“Maeve’s friend,” I tell him.
He looks me up and down, trying to decide if he should trust me or not. If I had been wearing my cut, I’m certain he wouldn’t have.
“Where’s Maeve?” he asks in concern.
“Changing.”
“I’ll be right out!” she calls from the bedroom, which is when her brother’s shoulders finally relax, and he takes the steps to come inside.
I quickly shut the door and then attack him from behind, catching him off-guard. Grabbing his arms, I tug his wrists to his lower back while using my body weight to pin him face first to the wall in almost the exact spot where I just fucked his sister. He never saw it coming.
“What the hell?” he asks, trying to buck me off while I pull the zip ties from my pocket to try and get them on him as fast as possible. He pushes me back and away before I can fasten the damn things, so I have no choice but to take him to the ground and use my knees on his back to hold him down while I finally secure his wrists.
“Wirth!” Maeve shouts when she comes in and finds me on top of her brother. “What the hell are you doing? Get off of him!” she yells, trying to gr
ab my arm to pull me up. I let her since I’m finished, going to stand in front of the door in case Rian’s able to get to his feet and make a run for it.
“Sorry, doll,” I tell her. “It had to be done.”
“I don’t…what are you talking about?” she asks while I pull my phone from my pocket and send the text I had already typed out before I came over.
“Your brother needs to pay for his mistake,” I explain. “You can’t protect him anymore.”
“W-what?” she exclaims, covering her gaping mouth. “No. Please, Wirth! We can all three leave together!”
“It’s too late,” I tell her just as her apartment door opens. Malcolm and the guys come in to collect her brother. They got here quickly since they were around the back of the building just waiting for my text.
“No! Don’t hurt him! Please! I’m begging you!” Maeve says as tears stream down her face.
“Smells like sex in here,” Devlin remarks, wrinkling his nose. Malcolm looks at me and arches an eyebrow in question as Silas and Nash get Rian up off the floor.
“I did what I needed to do,” I say in my defense, which I know is weak as fuck. “Shut up and take her too,” I instruct them before Malcolm can comment. I know I’m too weak to do it. If she’s left here, I have no doubt she would run to the Irish to tell them. If this plan of mine is going to work, then I need those Irish fuckers to be blindsided.
Maeve’s pleading turns to anger after the guys zip tie her hands behind her back. “I can’t believe you would do this to me!” she yells. “I hate you! I fucking hate you for this, Wirth!”
“Let’s go, sweetheart,” Devlin says as he grabs her elbow and escorts a sobbing Maeve out of the apartment.
“You fucked her first?” Malcolm asks when she’s gone.
“Yeah, I did,” I respond.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Rian yells as he gets dragged out by Nash and Silas.
“Pretty messed up,” Malcolm says. “She’ll never forgive you.”
I turn away and start for the door, so he doesn’t see me wince. “I had to figure out a way to distract her until he got here,” I lie.
“Whatever you say, man,” Malcolm mutters, shutting the apartment door behind him.
The guys get everyone loaded up in the stolen SUV we haven’t chopped up yet, and I climb on my bike, glad I don’t have to be in that vehicle with Maeve on the way back to Carolina Beach.
Instead of going to the clubhouse, we take them to Malcolm’s old beach cottage, not the house he shares with Naomi and his kid.
The guys bring Maeve and Rian in. They take her to the bedroom and sit her brother down in one of the kitchen chairs, his arms around the back rails to keep him from going anywhere fast.
“How’s the shoulder?” Rian asks Malcolm with a smirk, which was the wrong fucking thing to say. The kid has balls, but they’re going to get him killed before I have a chance to fix what I fucked up.
Our president hauls back and knocks the shit out of the boy’s face, sending a spray of blood across the wall. I can’t help but be glad that Maeve is locked in the bedroom and didn’t see it.
“Tell us about the Irish and maybe we’ll let you live after you tried to assassinate me and fucking missed.”
“Not gonna happen,” the kid responds.
“Well, if you don’t want to talk, maybe we’ll knock your sister around a little until you change your mind,” Malcolm says while I glare at him. I’m pretty sure he’s bluffing, but I don’t even like the threat of him hitting Maeve.
Rian doesn’t say another word for the next half hour despite Malcolm’s fists continuing to abuse his baby face.
Unable to take anymore, I decide to go check on Maeve.
In the locked bedroom, she’s sitting on the floor with her back to the foot of the bed.
“Lean up, and I’ll cut off your zip ties,” I shut the door behind me and tell her. There is no risk in untying her. The windows have been sealed shut, and the door will be locked whenever someone’s not in here with her.
She scoots forward without looking at me. Taking out my knife, I slice through the plastic and then hurry to put the knife away before she gets any ideas, like stabbing me in the chest with it for betraying her. Now she knows how I feel.
“He’ll never talk,” she mutters, wrapping her arms around her raised knees that are drawn up to her chest. “Rian would die before turning on Cormac.”
“Guess we’ll see. All we want is to know what his fucking problem is with the MC. Malcolm’s threatening to hurt you, so he might just break before you expect.”
Maeve
I’m so furious that everything in front of me is blurry from the anger and tears.
I thought Wirth cared about me the same way I cared for him. I thought he was going to leave with me and Rian so that we could be together and be safe away from the Irish and the MC.
I’ve never been more wrong about a man.
That’s what I get for trusting one. I knew better. My own father showed me everything there was to know about men – they don’t care about anyone but themselves. The one thing I never understood about our father was that he had plenty of money. Tons of it. So, did he just want to hurt me by taking my innocence from me? It’s not like he needed the ten grand he made to feed us or keep a roof over our head. I told myself at the time that he must have been desperate for the cash; that’s the only reason a father would hurt his only daughter so brutally. But when he died, I had all the proof I needed that he had millions in the bank, even back then.
“I’m sorry it came to this,” Wirth says, making me scoff at his insincere apology as he towers above me in the bedroom. “I am,” he says again. “And I’m sorry that I took advantage of you earlier…”
“Right,” I huff. “You’re just like every other man,” I tell him. “All you wanted was one thing from me, like you think I’m nothing but a few body parts, not an actual person with fucking feelings!”
“You know that’s not true,” he replies. “I risked my fucking life for you and for what? You choose your brother over me, and I can’t blame you. But don’t act like you’re the one who got fucked over.”
I hate that he’s right.
Even more, I hate that we met because of my deceit with the Knights.
I think I could’ve loved Wirth and he could’ve loved me if things had been different.
But they’re not.
And now I don’t know what the hell happens next.
Chapter Twenty
Wirth
Malcolm is only aware of part of my plans to set shit right.
If I had told him what else I planned to do, he would’ve stopped me and called me a fucking fool.
And he probably would’ve been right.
I told him I needed to get out of the house for a while, to get some air.
Then I got on my bike and drove it right back to Wilmington.
When I park outside of the Irish pub, I lift the seat on my motorcycle and hide my gun in the storage compartment with my cut. For one reason or another, Malcolm hasn’t demanded it back just yet. As I stand outside the bar, even I can admit I’m having second thoughts about this risky plan of mine.
All I know is that going in guns blazing is not going to make things better but worse with the Irish. So, I’m taking a chance.
A huge chance.
But that’s how much I already care about Maeve, even though I shouldn’t.
I open the front door and walk inside like any other customer. There are only five or six patrons sitting and drinking in the booths, at a table, or at the bar.
“What can I get ya?” the middle-aged, tall and lanky bartender asks me.
“I need to see Cormac.”
“Did he know you were coming?” he asks.
“No.”
“Then I doubt he’s going to want to see you.”
“Maybe if you tell him I know where one of his men is being held against his will, he’ll change his mind,” I reply, mak
ing his sunken eyes widen. I would never give up the actual location, but I knew that information would get his attention.
“I’ll, ah, be right back,” he says in a rush, tossing down his towel as he leaves the bar. He goes down the hallway where I know from before that the bedrooms are located.
There are two big men standing guard outside one of the doors. I’m guessing Cormac is hanging out inside. The bartender passes on my message to the men, and then one of them leaves to step into the room, then quickly returns, walking over to me at the bar.
“We’ll need to check you for weapons,” he announces.
“Check away,” I say when I stand up holding my arms out to the sides. The guard pats me down thoroughly before stepping aside and nodding his chin for me to go into the room where he left the door open.
Inside is a man in his early to mid-thirties standing behind a desk. His hair is red and he’s wearing a business suit with a vest, minus the jacket. I’m guessing he’s Cormac, the one in charge.
“Who has my man?” he asks. “How the fuck do I know you’re not lying?”
“Well, have you been missing anyone since last night? Perhaps another ginger? I’d say he’s about eighteen and goes by the name Rian.”
“Rian?” he whispers the name as he sinks down as if to sit and has to grab onto the desk when he realizes his ass is nowhere near the chair.
Interesting….
He’s not reacting the way Malcolm would react to one of his guys being kidnapped, cool, calm and composed, possibly furious. Instead, Cormac looks distraught, like it’s a close family member. Maybe the Irish have tighter bonds than the MC, which I find hard to believe. I watch his face as several emotions pass over it, giving him a minute to let everything sink in. When it finally does, the ginger goes from concern to anger in a heartbeat as he stands up straighter and pulls a gun on me.