Before the End (Beyond Series Ultimate Glom Edition)

by Kit Rocha

  Then he released her chin, reached down between them, and pressed his thumb to her clit.

  No, she hadn't been coming, but she was now, sobbing his name as pleasure wrecked her. It was like being caught out in a storm, the friction of his cock dragging her one way as the sharp pulsing of her clit slammed her in the other.

  Too much. Too fucking much, and still not enough, because now she was wet and open to him, and the sweet edge of discomfort that had made the rest bearable had vanished.

  Whimpering, she fought to spread her thighs wider, to let him go deeper. No, not just deeper. "Harder," she pleaded, scratching desperately at his arms. "Fuck me harder."

  Bren clutched her closer with a groan. Harder and faster, every plunge slamming his hips against hers. There was no room for his hand between them, not like this, but he tangled his fingers in her wet hair and pulled.

  Hard.

  The third orgasm didn't even build, just crashed over her, sweet and brutal. It washed away everything else only to linger as a fuzzy, dreamy bliss. Everything seemed distant, disconnected.

  Everything except Bren. His muscles flexed under her hands as he bucked and shuddered, driving into her wildly. Something crashed behind her, almost drowning out the sound of her name, torn from him on a tortured groan as he thrust deep one last time and stilled.

  It took all the strength in her shaking limbs to wrap them around his body. Burying her face against his throat was easier. His pulse pounded in time with hers, and she parted her lips, tasted the salt on him as she pressed a kiss to the rising bruise.

  She'd marked his skin. Only fair, since he'd marked her world.

  "You'll have bruises too," he mumbled, as if he could read her thoughts from the kiss.

  Probably, though her body still tingled so pleasantly she couldn't begin to guess where. "I get 'em from sparring all the time. This is more fun, I think."

  Bren hoisted her against him and walked into the bedroom. "Why do I think you'd like it best if we did both?"

  Her sleepy libido stirred just imagining it. All-out warfare, fighting to see who got to be on top. "Were you ever imagining it? All those times you got me beneath you?"

  He hesitated. "No. But I think only because I wouldn't let myself."

  Her heart pounded. There'd been a trap under the words that she hadn't meant to set--not consciously. Answering yes would have stripped away Bren's careful protectiveness, turning him from a source of safety into some sort of pervert in waiting.

  But he'd passed. And now her pulse raced as she tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "What will you think about if you get me under you tomorrow?"

  He didn't answer until he'd laid her down on the bed and stretched out behind her, one arm around her middle. "You'll have to fight me and find out."

  Lex

  Dallas was washing blood off his hands. Again.

  Lex watched him, only speaking when he looked up to meet her eyes in the mirror. "How'd it go?"

  "Not so good." He grimaced and turned his attention back to the sink. "Most of the blood is from the gunshot in his leg. I didn't have to hit him. I didn't even have to frown. The bastard heard my name and spilled every secret he knew, straight back to the time his grandpa screwed the neighbor's wife. And not a damn bit of it was useful."

  It was pretty much the worst-case scenario. "So we don't know who's behind the bootlegging, and all we can do is shut down this operation and then...wait."

  "Pretty much. Whoever set these sorry bastards up sure isn't coming to look for them." He slammed off the water with a sigh. "What a fucking mess."

  She handed him a towel and rubbed at the knotted muscles between his shoulders. "We'll find them. We'll track down every case of bogus liquor and trace it back."

  "Eventually." Once he'd dried his hands, he tossed aside the towel and dragged her from the bathroom. "But all that takes time, plus men on the ground. Goddamn, we're still spread thin. And too many people know it."

  Inarguable facts. Lex rubbed her face and dropped to the bed. "Do you have a better plan?"

  "No." He slumped beside her and fell back to stare at the ceiling. "You don't think Dom has anything to do with it, do you? It's a long shot, but he's carrying a big enough grudge, and he knows my operation."

  Dom was an idiot, barely capable of tying his own shoes, much less aspiring to beat Dallas O'Kane at his own game. "I called in a few favors to see if our intel on Dom was accurate, and it seems to be. He's still over in Five, sucking up to Mac Fleming."

  Dallas huffed out a laugh. "That's one bastard I should have killed. Two bastards."

  She soothed him with a kiss to the temple. "Slow and steady," she breathed. "It feels like there aren't enough of us right now, and it's true. But it'll turn into legitimate weakness if we take on new members just to have more warm bodies. You know it."

  "I know." He sighed again and looped an arm around her, hauling her close to his side. "Time. As long as I can keep buying us time, it'll shake out."

  "Uh-uh." Lex propped her head up on her arm and turned his face to hers. "You'll make it work, because you're Dallas fucking O'Kane. You're good at this, you work hard, and you're the smartest damn man I've ever met in my life."

  He smiled slowly. "Keep going. What else do you like about me?"

  "Not like," she corrected softly. "Love."

  Growling, he twisted a hand in her hair and dragged her into a long, deep kiss. "What else do you love about me?"

  "How much you worry." She rubbed her cheek against his and relished the burn of his stubble on her skin. "How much you care."

  His chest rumbled beneath her. "I was hoping for something a little more lewd, love."

  A lie, revealed not only by the warmth of his voice, but the tenderness of his touch. "You'll figure it out, Declan. We'll do it together."

  "That's the word I love the most."

  Together. "Good, because you're stuck with me now."

  He pulled her head back far enough for him to kiss the ink winding around her throat. "For life."

  The seductive lure of his lips on her flesh was tempting, but Lex steeled herself against arousal as another idea hit her. "What if they tried to peddle their booze under their own label first? They might have approached some of your buyers."

  His fingers loosened, and he frowned. "That'd be fucking stupid of them, but what about this situation isn't? I'll put out the--no, I'll have Jas put out the word," he corrected grumpily. "See? I know how to delegate."

  "Mm-hmm. It gets easier, I promise."

  "Might get even easier if you were naked."

  "Lech. I'm trying to work here."

  "You can keep working. I'll just have a better view."

  Lex arched an eyebrow and sat up to kneel astride one of his legs. "It's my turn to watch. You forgot, didn't you?"

  His lips curved into that slow, lazy smile that made her heart skip and stutter. "Then open my pants."

  "You're supposed to jerk off for me, and I have to do all the prep work?" She unbuckled his belt with a single rough tug. "That doesn't seem right."

  He moved without warning, not so much as a flex of muscle to give him away until it was too late. She wound up on the bed, on her back, with him straddling her waist. "Well, if that's how you feel about it..."

  "You wouldn't," she breathed, even though she knew damn well--he would.

  "What's wrong?" His fingers toyed with the button on his fly. "Don't like the view, love?"

  His cock was already straining his pants, and Lex licked her lips and scratched her nails over the back of his hand. "Could be better. Get them open."

  His grin widened as he batted her hand away and cupped her breast. "You didn't want to do the work, so now you're on my timetable. Maybe I want to talk business after all. How'd your meeting with the girls go?"

  He already knew it had gone fine. He only wanted an excuse to hear her voice crack and her breathing hitch while he played with her nipples, pinching and tugging until she was squirming beneat
h him.

  Delicious bastard.

  She gave it to him, the same way she gave him everything--with a little fight, and a lot of attitude. Dallas took it all and demanded more.

  And then gave her back everything.

  Chapter Nine

  Fight night was still her favorite part of Sector Four.

  Once a week, the Broken Circle closed early, and Dallas's employees packed up the liquor and hauled it across the cracked parking lot to the original warehouse, where they'd sell it at marked-up prices to the bloodthirsty spectators.

  Supposedly, this building had been the heart of the O'Kane empire in the earliest days. Now it was a cavernous empty space dominated by the cage in the middle, with the crowd jostling for good vantage points in a three-quarter circle around it.

  The northwest corner of the warehouse was privileged space, made up of a scattering of tables and seats and a raised dais reserved for Lex and Dallas. Six headed in that direction, toward the collection of plush couches that made up the gang's unofficial cheering section.

  She didn't feel awkward about being an unofficial O'Kane tonight. She'd rescued Lex's pants from Bren's floor, had even let Noelle braid her hair around her head in some ridiculously complicated style that looked like a crown.

  She didn't have the ink, but for the first time, she felt like she had the attitude.

  Noelle clearly agreed. The pretty brunette clapped her hands together and let out a delighted noise. "Oh my God, those pants. Lex, look at her. She's hot."

  "I know." Lex sat on a long, low table in front of the couch, leaning back against it with her elbows digging deep in the cushions. The position stretched her tiny T-shirt across her tits, her nipples showing through the thin white fabric. "Bren'll have to keep a tight lock on you tonight, honey."

  It was the sort of statement that would have scared her before she knew Lex. It went without saying that no man here would lay a hand on her without her permission, because if any man dared, Lex'd be the first to rip that hand from his body.

  Well, maybe not the first. "I think Bren's fighting tonight," she said, dropping to sit next to Noelle. "A few of the guys from Three will be here. Probably won't hurt to remind them not to piss him off."

  On the other end of the couch, Rachel finished her drink and laughed. "Sweet, but beside the point. I think Lex was talking about herself."

  Lex tilted her head back with a smile, her dark hair flowing over the deep black velvet covering the sofa. "Guilty."

  Oh. Six's cheeks heated, and not only from embarrassment. Lex had the same magnetic quality that Scarlet always had, a larger-than-life personality that radiated strength and confidence. Dallas's queen could be hypnotic, and sometimes Six couldn't tell if she was jealous of her, or just a little turned on.

  "Be nice," Noelle scolded, throwing an arm around Six's shoulders. She managed not to stiffen at the embrace, though being hugged still felt awkward. More so when she let herself remember that the woman hugging her was Edwin Cunningham's daughter, a legitimate princess out of Eden.

  It was kind of absurd for a sheltered city girl to protect her from flirtation. Her lips twitched, and maybe she'd gotten used to smiling, because it didn't even hurt. "Bren's not the boss of me."

  "But he'd have to be part of any games you play." Lex tilted her head. "I know how it is."

  "I'm glad someone does," Six muttered without thinking, setting off another round of hugs and sympathetic sounds, and she could see why Jasper had gotten Noelle a kitten to cuddle. It was probably the only way he could go fifteen minutes without being smothered in adoration.

  Against all odds, Six was starting to believe it was earnest. Weird and painfully naive, but how could Noelle be anything else? She was from the city.

  And Rachel apparently knew how to distract her. "Is Jas climbing in the cage tonight?"

  "I hope so." Noelle released Six only to drop a hand to Lex's hair, stroking her fingers through it absently. "If he does, I'm tempted to climb right on in with him after he wins."

  "That's not his thing," Lex teased. "It's Bren's."

  "I bet I could convince him. You don't think he'd get off on having everyone watch me blow him? On playing the victorious, conquering barbarian?" Noelle shivered, her expression dreamy. "Delicious."

  "Is that what it's about?" Six asked, unsure she wanted to know the answer. Everyone talked about how Bren liked to bang women in the cage after a fight, but she had yet to see him do it.

  "Could be about the rush." Rachel stretched out on her side, her head propped up on the heel of one hand as her other joined Noelle's in combing through Lex's hair. "They get all worked up for the fight, and that doesn't magically fade the second someone taps out."

  A vivid flashback seized Six, the memory of Bren's eyes and the way they'd looked with thwarted violence pulsing through them. He'd turned that intensity on her, and her mistake had been assuming he would burn through it by fucking.

  Now that he'd been inside her, Six knew the truth. Bren didn't fuck. He possessed.

  "She's blushing again." Lex nudged Noelle. "Should we congratulate her, or get all the dirty details?"

  Six fisted her hands to keep from covering her cheeks. They were burning, but considering how often Noelle turned pink, maybe there wasn't any shame in that.

  But she still couldn't make the mental leap. Rachel and Lex and Noelle were sprawled together, touching one another in a casual, comfortable way that had plenty of the outside cage fighters casting them appreciative looks. There was a belonging there, an easy trust that made Six's skin prickle in warning.

  And envy. God, so much envy. She wanted to lean into Noelle's hugs--return them, even. She wanted to share the wonder and giddy confusion of Bren's touch instead of hoarding it away.

  But her jaw wouldn't unlock, not until she saw Noelle's brows pull together and her lips part, and she knew she was about to get another one of those supportive hugs as the Eden princess chided Lex, and her pride wouldn't survive it.

  "I need a drink," she blurted instead, rocketing off the couch and out of Noelle's well-meaning reach. She plowed through the crowd and ducked between two fighters, only to smash headlong into one of the last people she wanted to see.

  "Whoa." Elvis steadied her with heavy hands on her shoulders. "Slow it down, sweetheart."

  Of the three men she'd vouched for, Elvis was the simplest--and the least civilized. He was good at crime, a veritable prince of Sector Three's black market, and a lecherous asshole. But he didn't have a taste for murder or unwilling sex, which was a glowing fucking character reference compared to most of the men Trent had gathered around him.

  Six knocked his hand away and glowered at him. "Still not your sweetheart."

  "Okay," he said easily. "Hey, you and the O'Kane girls are tight, yeah?"

  She glanced back to the couches, where Noelle was watching her with big, heartbroken eyes while her fingers traced meaningless patterns across Lex's bare collarbone.

  She felt like she'd kicked a puppy in the face, which made her even less patient with Elvis. "I guess."

  "They look pretty close."

  She'd thought Trent had beaten it out of her, but Elvis's transparent, glassy-eyed approval stirred protective anger. "Don't have too much fun looking."

  He snorted. "Well, that's the point, right? Show us all the good things we can stare at but never touch?"

  Her nails bit into her palms. "I dunno, Elvis. Maybe the point is that they like it?"

  "Do they?" He said it almost too casually, his gaze fixed on the women in the corner.

  He didn't give a fuck. Oh, he might stroke his dick a little faster at the idea of Lex and Noelle and Rachel being enthusiastic, but only because in his imagination, it was all about him. A show for him, or a tease as punishment, and nowhere in his pea-sized brain did they register as people with their own desires.

  Her temper slipped free. He had to be half a foot taller than her, but she still grabbed his chin and wrenched his face around, forci
ng him to meet her eyes. "You leave them alone, you hear me? Something good might finally happen to our sector, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it because you're a pervert."

  "Jesus Christ, Six." He shoved at her hand and glared at her. "What the hell's your problem? I'm not doing anything."

  Her problem? Her problem was that the comfortable shell of numbness that had allowed her to deal with Elvis and the other men from Three was cracking, and rage was bubbling up in its place.

  They'd all watched Trent abuse her. Elvis, Cain, even Riff. They'd never participated. Cain had quietly disapproved, and Riff had vanished from the ranks of Trent's men in silent, reproachful protest. Elvis had gone so far as to discourage others from taking advantage of her at Trent's invitation.

  That had made them decent in her mind. Hell, it had damn near made them heroes.

  But they'd never tried to stop him.

  She felt exposed all over again, humiliated and enraged, without the comfortable lie of imagining no one else would have done more. A few weeks in Sector Four had stripped away that delusion. "Why are you here?" she demanded. "To gawk?"

  "I came to fight." He said it as if it was obvious, his tone underscored by his mockingly upraised brows. "Fight night?"

  It should have made her feel better. The chances were good he'd face an O'Kane, and most of them had protective bullying down to an art. They'd beat some manners into him, make it clear he needed to stop leering at women like every breath they took was for his benefit.

  It wouldn't be half as satisfying as beating that lesson into him herself.

  Six shoved past him, ignoring the smug laughter that followed. She wasn't tall enough to see through the surrounding crowd, but she knew where Dallas would be. She ducked past fighters and dodged one or two friendly grins before breaking free of the crowd on the far side of the cage.

  Her stomach did a funny flip when she saw Bren standing with his leader, already shirtless and barefoot in anticipation of a fight. She'd woken up wrapped around that hard, merciless body, and he'd murmured with sleepy affection as she explored every flexing muscle in the soft light of dawn.