by Kit Rocha
In that, she envied him.
She didn't make the decision to drift toward him, not on a conscious level. It simply happened, like it was inevitable. Like he was a magnet, and she was steel instead of ice, tugged toward the only person in the room who was like her.
It was an illusion. It had to be, if he was here at an O'Kane party. Putting on a nice shirt didn't make a man safe and boring any more than putting on a leather skirt made her wild. But she still stopped next to the couch and did her best to smile. "May I sit?"
He looked up at her, his gaze lingering for only a moment on her breasts. "Please."
The drugs weren't working. They couldn't be, because her cheeks warmed as she did her best to sit without flashing the room. Even with her knees together and her ankles crossed, the skirt barely covered her underwear. She was showing more skin than she was hiding, but she hadn't really felt exposed until he looked at her.
He shifted his glass—whiskey, from the looks of it—and held out his hand. "I'm Jared."
He didn't give a family name, so maybe she didn't have to, either. It wasn't as if she had one she was eager to claim. "I'm Lili," she said instead, slipping her hand into his. So intimate, his skin brushing hers, his fingers wrapping around her hand. These people touched all the time, and Lili wasn't sure she'd ever grow used to it.
"I know who you are."
She studied his expression, searching for signs of disapproval or distaste, but his mask was even better than her own. "Is that a problem? Who I am?"
In response, he flashed her his naked wrists, clearly visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. "It doesn't matter what I think."
So he wasn't an O'Kane, either. Just a man secure enough in his place with them that he made no effort to fade into the background. Not a man to cross. "It matters to me."
Jared shrugged. "I never knew your father—or your husband. Except by reputation."
If he was lying, he was flawless. His lack of concern was as perfect as his face—and oh, how perfect that was. So many of the men here were rough-hewn, rugged, and worn. Jared was a sculpture carved by a master, all strong lines and beauty.
Maybe that was why he didn't intimidate her in the same way as the O'Kanes. He didn't seem entirely real. "I wish I'd only known them by reputation."
A sympathetic smile tilted his lips. "Of that, I'm sure."
She gestured to his wrist. "Why are you here? Are you thinking of joining Dallas's men?"
That made his smile widen. "Me? I'm here for the view."
He looked to the side, and her gaze followed his before she could stop herself. And then the warmth wasn't just in her cheeks, but creeping down her throat and bubbling up from inside her.
She knew Rachel. The blonde bartender had been friendly from the beginning, making overtures to Lili even after her inability to reciprocate had driven away some of the other women. There was something comforting about her, especially when she was dressed in overalls and smudged with engine grease. She wasn't familiar, but her differences were tantalizing, a hint that women might have more choices than cooking and sewing. Rachel fixed cars and brewed beer. She wore whatever she wanted.
She wasn't wearing anything at all right now. Naked and apparently unconcerned with the fact, she knelt in front of the two men sprawled on a couch, pleasuring one with her mouth and the other with her hand.
Lili groped for the safety of chilly numbness, but those two sad little tablets weren't strong enough for this. If it had only been fear, she could have managed—fear was vital, the basis for survival. But the sick, confusing way her body heated, the way it prickled and ached, like a limb waking up…
She averted her gaze and tried to unfocus her eyes again, but there was no safe place to look. Not even at Jared, because when she turned back to him, the perfection of his face didn't evoke polite appreciation.
He made her tingle and ache, too.
"This must be odd for you." His voice was lazy and low, casual as he lit a cigarette. "Even after a few months. It isn't much like Sector Five, is it?"
"I don't know," she admitted, flinching when her voice wavered. "I didn't see much of Sector Five. But no, it's not like my life was."
"And you doubt it all." It wasn't a question.
To doubt it, she'd have to have a point of reference. Something she could comprehend to begin with. "I don't understand it."
"Fair enough." He drained his whiskey. "Out of curiosity, what do you see?"
He was asking now, so she forced herself to look at Rachel again. The taller man—Cruz—had his hand in her hair, trapping her so that she had no choice but to let him take whatever gratification he wanted from her mouth. But she was still working at the other man, too, as if having the responsibility for one man's satisfaction wasn't enough.
Lili closed her eyes, but that accomplished nothing because of the sounds. The trio was close enough for her to hear the men's groans of pleasure, and Rachel's moans of—
Satisfaction? It should have been impossible, but she was as loud as the men, and so sincere it rattled Lili's confidence. "I don't know," she told Jared without opening her eyes. "I told you, I don't understand."
The leather cushions creaked. When Jared spoke, his voice was only inches from her ear. "She has them both begging," he rumbled. "Completely at her mercy. That's what I see."
The tingling in Lili's body intensified. Goose bumps rose on her skin, and she rubbed her hands over her arms. This was the danger of all those years of numbness—being raw, vulnerable to feelings she'd never experienced, much less learned to manage.
And Rachel was still moaning. "What I'm seeing isn't the confusing part," Lili whispered. "She sounds…"
"Like she's getting off on it?"
The words were incoherent, obviously slang for something else her life in Five hadn't prepared her to understand. "Does that mean she's enjoying it?"
Jared huffed out a soft laugh. "You enjoy a fine drink, good company, or a particularly beautiful desert sunset, Lili. Something like that? It tears you apart, then puts you back together again. It's pleasure, love. Real pleasure. It's not something you merely enjoy."
The ice protecting her nerves was melting. The ice beneath her feet was cracking. One more whisper and it would shatter, plunging Lili into the depths of sin.
And she wanted it.
Chapter Two
The girl was flailing.
Jared could see it in her eyes, behind the drug haze softening the sharp blue, as he watched her from his new position across the room. He'd decided to give her some distance, just in case he was the cause of her raging nerves, but it didn't seem to help. She kept glancing around, then staring down at her lap, as if she didn't know where to look. Perhaps she wasn't sure whether it would be acceptable to let her gaze linger too long in one spot.
Of course, they were in the inner sanctum of the O'Kane empire. Everything was acceptable, provided someone got off on it.
He pulled a second cigarette from his case and had just popped it between his lips when a battered lighter, already struck, appeared in front of his face.
"Evening, Jared." Finn—Trix's man and new O'Kane—offered the lighter, stretching out one scarred, inked arm.
Jared arched an eyebrow as he lit his cigarette, then nodded his thanks as the man flipped the silver lid shut, snuffing the flame. "How's it going, Finn?"
"Not bad." He shoved the lighter into his pocket and nodded toward Lili. "She talked to you, huh?"
She was still sitting there, barely moving. Not even shifting or fidgeting the way a person usually would, but immobile, static. As if simply being here was a test she had to pass.
She didn't belong. Not because she wouldn't be accepted, but because she wasn't comfortable with the rampant, naked affection curling through the room, and Jared couldn't blame her for that. It took some getting used to, even if you were as accustomed to sex as he was.
And she wasn't, not even close. He could read it in every innocent line of her
lush body, through the brash clothes she wore like armor, or a costume. Little Miss Lili was damn near untouched.
Finn was watching him, waiting, so Jared cleared his throat. "I spoke with her a little. I think I remind her of home."
"Yeah?" Finn leaned back against the wall, but he didn't look relaxed. "Wouldn't think that'd be a plus, all things considered."
"Maybe not, but familiar's familiar." And even bad reminders could be comforting when you were out of your element and drowning. "It'll pass. It always does."
"What? Needing something familiar?"
He shrugged. "Thinking that maybe I'm the answer to her problems."
Finn stared at Lili for another endless moment before swinging his gaze to Jared. "Happens a lot, huh?"
"Every other day." A flash of white caught his eye as the music changed, and he looked up in time to see Jeni—in her favorite platinum-blonde wig—dragging Lex out onto the makeshift dance area in the middle of the room.
Heads turned. People always stared at Lex, especially when she decided to be wicked, and now Lili was staring too, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide.
The women weren't dancing. They were grinding against each other, their arms in a tangle, legs entwined, their mouths only inches apart. And inches away from something else, judging from the look on Jeni's face.
He knew that look. She'd thrown it his way more than once over the last couple of years. An invitation to sin, sure, but something more, too—an invitation to explore the sweetest depths of her submission and pleasure.
In her shadowed corner, Lili shifted and crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt rode damn near all the way up her smooth thigh, but she didn't seem to realize. She dug her fingers into the leather couch until it dimpled under her grip and watched. As if she wanted to look away but couldn't, because she was teetering on the edge of some painful revelation.
"Lex'll be the one who fucks up her ordered little world," Finn murmured as the woman in question slid one hand beneath the fluttery hem of Jeni's tiny black dress. "If Lili was less sheltered, she'd probably figure they're climbing on each other because the guys like it. So maybe that'll make the truth easier on her, not knowing shit about what assholes like."
She might still assume they were putting on a show. She'd been in Sector Four long enough to understand the concept. But Jared was more interested in what she'd do when she realized all of it—every slow caress, every lingering touch, every kiss and sigh—was for their own pleasure.
Lex pushed the top of Jeni's halter aside, baring one breast, and pinched her nipple so tight that Jeni's head rocked back. She moaned, a tortured, satisfied sound that twisted in Jared's gut, and he took another long draw from his cigarette.
What would she do?
"Shit's about to change, you know. With Lili." Finn dug out his own cigarette and held it in one hand without lighting it. "She came here with her pockets stuffed full of all the drugs popular with Eden's high-strung wives. She must be out of the good stuff, or she wouldn't be turning pink over there."
"I'm surprised Dallas let her keep that shit in the first place." The only person who got away with being high around the O'Kane compound was Dylan Jordan, and that was only because the man's medical skills made him indispensable.
Finn shrugged. "Her family was dead, and Dallas had just trotted her past the other sector leaders and made her tell them all the ways her husband was a crazy motherfucker. She begged. So I told him and Lex I'd keep an eye on her while she came down."
An act of mercy, then, in a world that lacked it all too often. "I can't tell if Dallas is getting softer or smarter."
One look at the man answered the question. Dallas was standing at the edge of the room, talking to Jasper, but his gaze was on one thing, one person, and it wasn't soft. Not nearly.
By the time Lex released Jeni's nipple, the pale flesh was pink, savaged. The brunette bent her head and soothed it with her tongue, licking in slow, languorous circles that left Jeni clutching at her hair. Begging without saying a word.
Lex dragged her down to the cushions on the floor, one hand already between her thighs. Jeni arched, writhing as Lex's teeth scraped her nipple and the line of her jaw before fastening on her lower lip.
Jared chanced another glance at Lili. She was still watching—riveted, barely breathing. He could almost hear her heart pounding as she drank in the scene before her, and it kicked his own into a faster rhythm.
The question sprang to his lips, every syllable counted out by the visible pulse throbbing in the hollow of Lili's throat. "Will she make it without the drugs?"
"I don't know." Finn finally dug out his lighter, and Jared could tell he was buying time as he lit his cigarette and exhaled slowly. "I was there, you know. The night her father gave her to Logan Beckett. She was fifteen, and she started doping herself out of her skull the next week."
And escape got to be a habit, just like anything else. She'd never know if she could stand on her own, if she could walk into an O'Kane party without cringing, until she had to. Until she tried.
Jeni grew louder, her moans melting into cries. She bucked, clutching at Lex's arms as they rocked together. Faster and faster, until Jeni stiffened and threw her head back. Nothing showy—no screams or squeals, just a long, shuddering orgasm that didn't end until Lex pulled her hand away and trailed her wet, glistening fingers down Jeni's leg.
Lili exhaled unsteadily.
Jeni made a sound that was part laugh, part growl and rolled Lex over onto her back. She straddled her hips, her light skin contrasting wildly against the supple black leather the other woman wore, and pinned her wrists to the cushions.
A provocation—but not to Lex. Dallas broke away from Jas with a grin and stalked over to sink a hand into Jeni's hair. He hauled her upright with practiced ease, dragging her head back and leaning down to whisper something that had her trembling all over again.
Lili went rigid, and her nails dug into the couch until they threatened to pierce the leather.
"She still needs someone to keep an eye on her," Finn said quietly. "Maybe more, now. But I can't do this part. All I am to her is some scary bastard who was there for all the worst fucking moments of her life."
Jared watched the blush that had bloomed in Lili's cheeks creep down her bare throat to her chest. "I'm the wrong person to ask, Finn. She can't even watch Lex and Jeni screw around without wanting to cover her eyes. What makes you think she'll want a whore looking out for her?"
"Not asking you to fuck her," Finn retorted. "But like you said—you're familiar. Maybe something familiar will make the first few weeks without the drugs go a little easier."
Dallas had Jeni bent over again, her ass in the air. She had pushed Lex's shirt up, and the woman arched and keened as Jeni lavished attention on her breasts. As a reward, Dallas shoved Jeni's dress higher and worked his fingers into her pussy.
It was a shameless display of lust and pleasure, and Jeni was falling into it like a starving woman. And she was starving, of course she was. Selling sex could make you rich, especially when you were as dedicated to your craft as Jeni had always been, but it couldn't get you the kind of raw affection the O'Kanes traded about like it was nothing.
Like it was easy.
Jared sighed and faced Finn. "I'll think about it. But I'm not one of you. O'Kane might prefer that I stay the hell away."
"She's not one of us, either." Finn's lips turned up on the word us, as if he couldn't help but smile every damn time he said it. "I don't think Dallas will care, not if it keeps her from unraveling."
He wasn't a caretaker. That had always been Gia's thing. Hell, even Ace was better at it than he was. Jared's specialty was the fantasy, a grand, sweeping passion that ended when the sun came up.
That was easy. Caring for people was hard. And letting them rely on you? That was damn near unthinkable.
"I'll keep it in mind," he murmured. "That's the best I can do."
"Fair enough." Finn leaned over to crush out his
cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "If you know someone who's got a piano, it'd be easy. You could park her in front of it, and she wouldn't notice if you were there."
"I have one." A slick, polished baby grand in the middle of his living room.
"No shit." Finn quirked an eyebrow. "You play it?"
"It's not for looks." Watching his fingers dance nimbly across the keys usually gave women ideas about what else he could do with his hands, even if they weren't musically inclined.
Finn's hands were big and scarred, his joints popping as he flexed them. "Better you than me. If you could let her borrow it…" He trailed off, flexing his fingers again before letting his hands fall to his sides. "I'd owe you one."
If it was worth a favor, then it meant something to the man, but damned if Jared could figure out what. Lili had lost her flat expression and now wore one of confusion. Her chest heaved with every breath, her breasts threatening to burst free of her corset.
She was flailing, but she wasn't in danger. Finally, Jared just asked. "What does it matter? The girl is Dallas's responsibility, not yours."
"Now, maybe." Finn glanced across the room—not at Lex and Dallas and their display of filthy, beautiful passion, but at the opposite corner, where Trix stood chatting with Nessa, clad only in Finn's shirt. "I spent a lot of years watching bad shit happen to Lili. Used to think you couldn't go back, but it turns out it's never too late to start giving a damn."
An inarguable motivation—and an equally unassailable reason. "All right. But you owe me, and I will collect."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
The worst thing about a king was his tendency to keep you waiting.
Jared spun a pen on the scarred surface of Dallas's desk. When it slowed and finally wobbled to a stop, he reached for his whiskey and drained it before checking his watch.
Four in the morning. Plenty of time for a man to exhaust two women—if the women in question weren't as voracious as Lex and Jeni.
It took two more spins of the pen—and another double whiskey—before the door clicked open and the king made his appearance. Dallas O'Kane had palpable presence, even barefoot in threadbare jeans and a rumpled T-shirt.