Before the End (Beyond Series Ultimate Glom Edition)

by Kit Rocha

  Then Dallas snorted. “Great. I’m fucking surrounded. Way to make me feel old, Lex.”

  She wrapped her fingers around his belt buckle and gave it a teasing tug. “You’ll live.”

  Mia’s pulse slowed. A little. “I’m sorry if—”

  Noelle cut her off with a laugh. “No, don’t apologize to him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Watch it, kitten,” Dallas growled. “You get too mouthy, and I’ll tell Jas not to spank you tonight.”

  “Then we’d all be sad.” Lex eased Noelle off her lap, rose, and whispered something in his ear.

  Whatever it was, it must have been filthy. Dallas groaned and claimed Lex’s mouth in another of those hard, messy kisses, one so raw and carnal Mia felt her own body react. God, she’d seen shows designed to titillate that contained less passion than this spontaneous, shameless kiss.

  In the end, she had to look away. But that only made the confusion churning inside of her worse, because Ford was making his way across the room, his gaze fixed on her.

  He stopped beside the raised platform that held the couches. “Ladies. Dallas.”

  “Ford.” It was Dallas’s voice, low and lazy. “Are you here to rescue your woman? She’s looking a little dazed already, and Lex hasn’t even crawled under Noelle’s skirt yet.”

  Ford didn’t blink. “I thought you might like the grand tour, Mia.”

  Fleeing was nothing short of cowardice—and she was okay with that. “I’d love a tour,” she said quickly, hopping off the couch and then the stage. She landed next to Ford with a wobble, and if she heard Dallas laughing behind her...

  Better laughing than growling.

  Ford tucked her hand around his bent elbow and led her away. “Does he frighten you?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. She might tease Ford about always getting his way, but one look into Dallas O’Kane’s eyes and anyone with wits would know the truth—Dallas was a man who never had to settle for the word no. “No wonder Cerys loathes him.”

  Ford arched one eyebrow. “When it comes to people, he doesn’t take things by force. He doesn’t have to.”

  That only made him more dangerous. The other sector leaders might force you into a cage. Cerys would do her damnedest to trick you. But Dallas could make you walk into captivity and hand him the key with your own two hands. “I’m not worried he’ll hurt me,” she said quietly, tightening her grip on Ford’s arm. “He’s just...intimidating.”

  “Because you don’t know him like I do.” Ford sighed. “You should have seen him in the early days. He never wanted to be a king, not really, but it’s the best way for him to keep this sector safe.”

  “I think I understand.” How could she not, with the crowd parting in front of Ford as he led her back toward the bar? The ink on his wrists wasn’t magic, after all. It drew its power from Dallas, from his reputation, and he had to be intimidating to be strong enough to protect anyone whose life brushed his.

  “It’s a show.” Ford slowed to a stop near the cage, his voice pitched low but carrying easily enough under the raucous din. “Not all of it. Not the life. But there are some things about it an outsider will never see. Hell, some things it’s taken me a while to see.”

  She shivered as a shout of pain drew her gaze to the fight. She didn’t recognize either of the men taking swings at each other, but there was something intimate even in their anonymity. It was a different way to be naked, violence stripping away everything but the base desire to survive.

  On the couches they’d left behind, a different sort of base desire was playing out. Noelle and Lex again, seemingly oblivious to the attention they were stealing from the fight as they exchanged lazy kisses and touches. Goose bumps shivered up Mia’s arms, and she rubbed at them lightly and forced her attention away. “I thought...”

  She trailed off, unsure if it was rude to ask, unsure what she’d do with the answer. Everyone knew Noelle had hooked up with Dallas’s right-hand man, but she wasn’t acting like an owned woman—unless Dallas and Lex shared ownership of everyone who wore ink.

  Ford glanced back and huffed out a laugh. “Don’t worry—Dallas and Jas are down with it.”

  “It’s different,” Mia admitted, leaning into his side and telling herself it was for the warmth, as if the heat of the lights and the crowd weren’t more than enough to counteract the evening chill. “I’m starting to think I don’t know very much about sex at all. Not the kind people have together.”

  “When they both want it, you mean?”

  Not just that. Her gaze drifted back to Lex and Noelle, and she recognized those touches. She’d touched other women like that, and had been touched in return. There’d been comfort in the intimacy, and true desire. But every caress had been stolen, laced with tension and worry, because your body wasn’t yours to give. And if you gave too much to the wrong person...

  “The kind you have when you’re allowed to want it,” she corrected softly. “I’ve never been that free. They’re not performing, but they don’t need to hide. Because they can do anything they want.”

  “So can you.” Ford slid his hand under her hair and wrapped it around the back of her neck. “You don’t ever have to go back there.”

  Desire crept through her, starting in the oddest places. Her fingertips tingled. Her toes curled in her borrowed boots. His hand felt dangerous and protective, resting at the top of her spine, and she felt the dichotomy in every inch of her body. She barely heard the crowd roar as the fight in front of her spun its way to a violent conclusion.

  Every molecule in her body was focused on where he’d touch her next.

  His thumb stroked up the side of her throat, all the way to the spot just behind her ear.

  Mia shivered and let her eyelids droop, shutting out the new fighters climbing into the cage as well as the crowd around them. “Tell me what you see in them. The things you didn’t notice at first.”

  “Trust. Dedication. Love.” The word blew hot over her lips. “This isn’t just my job. It’s my family.”

  Envy stole her breath. She was greedy, because she wanted all of it. Him, his mind, his body, the chance to work beside him—

  They were so close now, so close she could lean up and her lips would brush his. “I’m jealous. I feel like I’ve been alone forever.”

  “Do you feel alone here? Now?”

  “Not when you’re touching me.”

  “Then I won’t stop.” His hand slipped around, nudging her locket before dropping lower. “Unless you ask me to.”

  His knuckles grazed the skin bared by her plunging neckline, stroking between her breasts, and her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the sound of the new fight. He was touching her, caressing her in the middle of a crowd, but even though her skin prickled with awareness, one glance around them made it clear no one was staring.

  Maybe the fight was too exciting, or the sight of a man teasing his fingers over a woman’s body was too tame to merit notice. Or maybe no one would dare gawk at Ford even if he bent her over the nearest table and took her on the spot, because that was the power of being an O’Kane.

  She tilted her head back, letting her eyes drift shut as she floated on the energy of the crowd and the sensation of his fingers. “Please don’t stop.”

  His touch ventured beneath the fabric of her shirt and followed the inner curve of her breast. “How far, Mia?”

  Only one answer to give. The only one that mattered here in the heart of O’Kane territory. “I trust you.”

  Ford moved, nudging Mia until she hit something hard that dug into the middle of her back—the bar. Glass clinked as he leaned over her, his mouth close to her ear. “Do you care if people watch? Do you want them to?”

  “What other people?” She slid her hands up over those gorgeous arms to the broad shoulders that blocked out the rest of the world. “I only see you.”

  He lifted his hand to her chin and turned her head toward the couches on the platform.

  The O’Kanes dare
d to watch.

  A man had taken Mia’s abandoned place on the couch, one with massive shoulders and a full beard, and his fingers tangled casually in Noelle’s hair. He and Lex were taking turns toying with Noelle’s body while all three of them stared at Ford and Mia, and the illusion of invisibility vanished.

  “Oh,” she whispered, clutching at his shoulders. “Do you care?”

  His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he stared down at her. He took a step back—mere inches, but it felt like miles—and grabbed her hand.

  “Come on,” he growled. “Let’s go.”

  Oh yes, Ford cared—and not about being seen with his hands under his assistant’s clothing. He was a marvel of possessive hunger, his gaze so intense people scrambled out of their path as he tugged her toward the door, and Mia almost laughed at the sheer relief.

  She’d be in Ford’s bed again soon, and this time she wouldn’t be alone.

  Chapter Ten

  For an O’Kane, sex was everything and nothing, all at once.

  It was everything because it meant freedom, not only from expectations but from the twisted morality that Eden held so dear. Here, there was a different culture at work, one that celebrated physicality and pleasure. Affection and release.

  And nothing—nothing because until there was a commitment involved, promises and collars and marks, it was all casual. An O’Kane had to be ready to walk when the sun rose, content in the knowledge that everyone involved had had a damn good time.

  This was different.

  He crossed the threshold and stopped in the darkness just inside his bedroom, but he didn’t turn to look at Mia. Not yet. He stared at the bed instead, picturing her dark hair spread across the pillow, her lips and thighs parted. Waiting for him.

  Fabric rustled behind him. A boot thumped against the floor, then a second. She was reaching for her shirt as he turned, but her hands stilled on the hem, fingers bunching the fabric. “I wasn’t trained to be submissive. I need you to know that.”

  Training. For a moment, the thought of it was almost enough for rage to overwhelm his lust. Then he focused on the bare strip of skin just above her pants, and everything else dissolved.

  He reached for her shirt, pulling the fabric out of her hands as he drew it up to reveal even more luscious skin. “It’s not something to train for. It’s not a job. You like it or you don’t, that’s all.”

  “You don’t understand.” She clutched his hand hard enough for her fingers to dig in as she met his eyes. “I know what submission is. It’s everything I was never allowed to have, because my job was to manage every moment without letting him see my power. When I give you control, I need you to know I understand what I’m doing. That I’m making a choice, because I want to.”

  Precious, fragile—not her, but the moment. So Ford nodded. “I’ll take it if you want to give it to me. But I don’t need it, Mia.”

  “Maybe only sometimes.” She traced her fingertips up his arm, ghosting along his throat and jaw before touching his lips. “Maybe tonight. This is the fantasy I never dared have.”

  Then he’d give her one she wouldn’t forget. He drew her shirt up higher, lingering over the fullness of her breasts, rubbing the satiny fabric over the tight peaks of her nipples.

  Her breath caught, eyelids fluttering shut as she lifted her arms. “What do you need?”

  The words came without thought. “Tonight,” he whispered. “Let me show you.”

  “Anything.” She shivered as he stripped her shirt away, but not with nerves. When her gaze met his again, he saw only hunger and need. “God, Derek. Everything. I want you to show me everything.”

  All the things she’d been missing. Ford seized one lock of hair and teased it over her bare shoulder. “It could take a while.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She tilted her head to the side, practically begging him to move his caress up the side of her neck. “I think I like Sector Four.”

  Good. He didn’t say it aloud. She was flying high on the seductive lure of the O’Kane lifestyle, not to mention her first real taste of freedom, and only an asshole would take advantage of that to lock her in to something permanent.

  But he could still fulfill her fantasy—ownership without begrudging lust or regret. Without punishment. So instead of tickling her hair up the delicate line of her throat, he leaned in and bit her.

  She moaned. Swayed. Her hands flew up to grasp his shoulders, fingers digging in desperately. “Oh God, I like that, too.”

  “Uh-huh.” He licked a path up to her ear and bit her again.

  Another moan. Her grip tightened until his shirt seemed in danger of ripping. “How many places are you going to bite before you’re inside me?”

  “You want me to keep count?”

  “Maybe.” She shifted one hand to his belt, tugging at the leather, fumbling to get it open. “I don’t know, I just—I want.”

  He locked his fingers around her wrist. “Mia, look at me.”

  Shivering, she lifted her gaze.

  She was spinning, reaching out for anything that would calm her nerves, but only one thing would work. “Trust me.”

  “I do,” she whispered. “But it’s the first time. And it shouldn’t be a big deal, because I’m not innocent. But they made it one. They made it the only thing about me that matters, and sometimes I just want it over with.”

  He stared at her for a moment before he realized what she was talking about. “Honey, getting a dick inside you is only part of sex, not all of it.”

  “I know,” she protested, but then she let her head fall forward, burying her face in his chest with a groan. “I knew. I let them get to me. And then I let you get to me. I can’t stop thinking about your dick.”

  He might have laughed, if his dick hadn’t taken such a keen interest in her admiration. He reached for the button on her pants and backed her toward the bed. “In good time, buttercup.”

  “I trust you.” It sounded stronger this time, like an offer instead of a reassurance. She helped him strip away her pants before resting one knee on the bed. “Is this where you want me?”

  “Stop.” He stepped up behind her. She was wearing tiny black panties edged with a hint of lace, and he eased his hand beneath them to rest on her bare hip. “Stop asking, stop talking. Just stop.”

  She went still. Nodded.

  He turned her around and tugged his shirt over his head. Then he held her gaze as he dropped his hands to his belt and unbuckled it. Silence stretched out between them, broken only by ragged breathing and her gasp when he pulled her fingers to the top button of his jeans.

  She didn’t fumble this time. She went slowly, working the buttons free one at a time, her eyes never leaving his. When she was done, he captured her wrists again, eased her down to the bed, and finished undressing.

  Her gaze skittered away from him, nervous and uncertain, because watching was new. She’d always been the object of lust, never the one allowed to indulge. But after a few heartbeats of hesitation she clutched at the covers and looked straight at him, eyes meeting his for a grateful moment before her focus wandered.

  She stared at his chest. Lingered on his shoulders. She spent forever working her way down his arm to his hand, but from there her gaze swept straight to his cock.

  And stayed.

  His cock jumped as blood roared in his ears. “So hungry,” he murmured. “Time to stop asking, Mia, and start taking.”

  She parted her lips, but instead of speaking, she caught the lower one between her teeth. It took forever for her to rise to her knees, to inch to the edge of the bed, until she could reach out and trace her fingertips over his chest.

  Her fingers followed the outline of his tattoo, her touch a teasing graze that grew bolder as she drifted down. She spread her hand wide against his abdomen with a wondering smile. “You’re going to make me greedy.”

  That smile hit him in the gut. “You should be. Who the hell wants to be delicate and shy about sex?”

  �
�No one,” she whispered, and closed her hand around his cock.

  Heat sizzled up his spine as she stroked him—once, twice—and then dropped her gaze, her lip trapped between her teeth again as she watched her hand smooth back down to the base of his shaft. “This is what I can’t stop thinking about. How big you’ll feel inside me.”

  “We’ll go slow.” Or not, if her passion conquered the discomfort. She might beg him to go faster, to give her more, and that was the thought that drove him to the bed.

  He pushed her back and stretched out beside her, toying with the edge of her panties as he wound his other hand in her hair. She arched, dropping one trembling hand to cover his. But only for a moment, because this time she didn’t ask.

  She took.

  Her hand slipped past his, under the fabric of her panties, and she met his eyes with her first soft moan.

  Ford groaned. “That’s right.” He pulled her panties down, baring her fingers and her pussy to his sight. “Take it, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut as she lifted her chin, digging her head back into the blankets. She opened her legs, giving him a better view as she spread her fingers to part her pussy lips. Her middle finger swept in a lazy circle, up and down, around and around, close enough to her clit to make her squirm but never quite touching.

  She liked the tease. Ford hummed his approval and nipped at the soft skin beneath her chin. “Faster,” he whispered.

  Moaning, she dipped her finger lower, rocking it into her body before coming back to touch the slick fingertip to her clit. Her breath hissed out, and she shook her head. “It’s too good.”

  “Yeah?” He shifted on the bed, easing down to drop his next gentle bite to her hip.

  Her fingers froze, and she shuddered. “Make me feel it.” Not a command but a plea, and she was practically begging as she shoved at the fabric tangled around her hips. “I’ll run from the pleasure if you let me. Don’t let me.”