Honored: An Alpha Mob Romance (City Series Book 4)

by Hamel, B. B.

  At least I was until some mobsters decided they wanted to murder me.

  I walked back downstairs, practically shaking with worry, and dropped back down on the couch. I didn’t know what to do; there really wasn’t anything I could do, other than wait. I had to practically physically force myself to stay seated, my jaw clenched and my hands gripping the cushion.

  Worst-case scenarios kept running through my mind. If he was dead, I was probably fucked, too. Maybe they already knew where the safe house was, and they were on their way with huge men who wanted nothing more than to shoot me down. Or maybe he had decided that I wasn’t worth his time or his loyalty or his life, and he was turning me into his boss and begging for mercy. That last part didn’t seem like him, actually; I could imagine him cursing the guy out and killing me himself, but never begging.

  As the thoughts swirled around my mind, I heard something scratching against the front door. I froze, terror in my chest, as the doorknob slowly turned. The door pushed open; I clenched my jaw, waiting for the guns to follow.

  Instead, it was a green cardboard box, with Liam lugging it.

  “Liam!” I yelled, jumping up from the couch.

  “Hey—” he said, but it was cut off as I practically tackled him.

  The box fell to the ground and papers spilled out of it as I wrapped my arms around his strong chest, his perfectly ripped body, and pushed myself against him. I wasn’t crying, couldn’t cry, wouldn’t let him see how weak I was, but I needed to feel him. I was desperate for him.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around me. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I’m late.”

  I looked up at him. “I was worried, asshole.”

  He grinned. “Miss me?”

  “Only because you’re the only person I can see right now.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”

  That was the cocky man I was used to. Slowly, I disengaged from him, and it felt like I was giving up a life preserver in the middle of a stormy ocean. I looked down at our feet, at the papers all over the floor.

  “What’s this?”

  “That’s our ticket out of this fucking shit.”

  I nudged the papers with my foot. “Looks like nothing.”

  He bent over and began to shovel it all back into the box, and I helped. When we were finished, he hoisted it up again, shutting the front door and locking it.

  “Doesn’t look like much, but it is.”

  He walked upstairs, and I heard him toss the box into one of the empty rooms. I followed him up, leaning against the doorframe as he pulled the lid off and began to spread the pages out on the floor gingerly, like they were some sort of precious treasure. I made a face at him.

  “Never pictured you as a paper pusher,” I said.

  “I’m not, or not usually, at least. I do some financial stuff for the bosses, or at least I used to back before Colm took charge. I guess they saw how successful my business was and wanted someone with half a brain to do this shit for them.”

  That surprised me a little bit. I didn’t picture him as the type to be good with money. Maybe good at getting it and spending it, but investing and accumulating are two very different things.

  “So that’s what, bank statements?” I walked into the room and peered over his shoulder.

  “Yeah. Some of them are. Some of this stuff is useless. But buried in here somewhere is exactly what we need.”

  “What are you going to do, blackmail them or something?”

  “Something like that,” he murmured.

  He was so fucking frustrating. All day I waited for him to come back, all day I was cooped up in this shitty safe house with only the crappy books he brought me, plus the television. And now that he’s back, all he wants to do is go through his papers. I knew it was important, but at the least he could include me, maybe tell me was what going on. Instead, more fucking mysteries.

  I was done with mysteries.

  Without thinking, I walked over to him and shoved, hard. He rocked over to the side and sprawled over onto his back. He looked at me, surprised.

  “What the fuck?” he grunted at me.

  I followed immediately, straddling him. I grabbed his hair and pulled it hard, and he grunted with pain, anger, and something else flashing through his eyes. I wanted to hit him and scream at him and beat the living crap out of him. Instead, I pressed my lips against his, hard, and kissed him deeply. At first, he didn’t respond, but he quickly relaxed into me, letting our tongues press together, his warm taste flooding me. Desire shot through my core as his strong arms wrapped around me and he twisted himself to face me more easily.

  Suddenly, he moved and rolled me over, down onto my ass, and he pressed my back down against the floor. He pinned me easily, grinning at me, his eyes full of joy and hardness. I could feel his shaft pressing up against my core through his jeans, and I worked myself softly against it, moving my hips slowly back and forth.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked me.

  I shook my head. “No, asshole. I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

  He held my hands above my head as I continued to work my hips against him. I couldn’t help myself; I let out a gasp as he adjusted himself, pressing the full thickness of his cock against my core.

  “What do you want to know, sweetheart?”

  “What are those papers?”

  He pressed his lips against mine, kissing me fiercely, almost painfully, and he began to work his hips in time with my own, adding to the friction. I was soaked through already, I could tell, and he kept me pinned down, kissing my mouth hard, our hips moving in tandem. When I felt like I couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back, smirking at me, a look full of lust.

  “Why should I tell you?” he asked.

  “Because you’re not a total piece of shit.”

  He cocked his head. “What gave you that impression?”

  I let out a gasp as pleasure flooded through me. “I hate . . . being stuck in here,” I managed to say.

  He let go of my hands, moving down to cup my breasts. I ran my fingers along his rough cheek, loving the stubble, and laced my fingers behind his neck.

  “And you think my plan will help you?”

  “At least I’ll be a part of what’s happening to me.”

  He grunted as I pulled myself up to him and began to kiss his neck. I had meant to pull him down, but he was like a rock wall. I felt his hand run up my chest and through my hair, pulling it gently.

  “That’s what this is?” he asked softly.

  I bit his ear. “No, prick.”

  He pulled my hair, forcing my chin up and my head back. I gasped, loving the rough way he moved me.

  “What is it, then?”

  He relaxed his grip and I looked him in the eye. “This is because I want to.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  He pressed himself back against me and began to kiss me again, this time without any hesitation. Our bodies wrapped up into each other, I dug my fingers into his back as he kissed me with force. He began to undo my jean shorts, tugging them down over my ass, exposing the bright pink panties. He grinned at them as he softly began to rub my spot, kissing my neck. I moaned into his ear.

  “Fuck, this is so much better than those shitty books you got me,” I gasped.

  “Quit complaining.”

  “Have better taste.”

  He rolled back onto his knees and tore the jean shorts off my legs and tossed them across the room. Then he slipped my panties off my body. My ass pressed against the cold hard wood floor and I shivered softly. He moved forward again, pressing his mouth against my spot, his hot tongue rolling through my soaked folds, and I moaned loudly.

  “Ah, fuck Liam,” I groaned, shocked that he had gone directly for me. He wasn’t shy or playing games; I knew how badly he wanted me, too.

  He looked up at me. “Admit that I have great taste.”

  “Never, asshole,” I said.

  He slippe
d a finger inside of me as he began to lick my swollen clit, his stubble playing along my sensitive skin. I groaned at the pleasure and pressure, amazed at his skill. I worked my hips against him, greedy for everything he’d give me.

  He looked up again. “Say it.”

  “No,” I said, pulling his hair.

  He moved away from me, slipping his finger out, and I gasped. He rolled back onto his feet and pulled me up with him. He tore off my shirt and bra, working my full breasts as he pushed me back up against the wall. He kissed me neck, feeling along my smooth skin, as he gently worked my hard nipples with his fingers. I reached down and grasped his large heavy rod, rubbing him up and down his length, and I heard him grunt in my ear.

  “You’re going to regret not saying it,” he said.

  “I doubt that.”

  He moved back and began to unbuckle his belt. “You don’t think I can punish you?”

  I shook my head. “Good try, though.”

  He pulled his belt off and dropped it on the floor. He unbuckled his pants slowly. I watched him, breathing deep, as he slipped his jeans down off his body, leaving only his tight black boxer briefs. Finally, he slipped off his tight white T-shirt, revealing his sculpted chest and abs, his incredible body. I bit my lip, excitement building as he stepped forward.

  “Haven’t even started.”

  He grabbed my hips and spun me around. I put my hands up to steady myself against the wall as his left hand held my hips and his right found my aching spot. I felt his fingers tease my clit as his body pressed up against my back, his warm breath on my neck.

  “Say it,” he whispered.

  “No,” I moaned back.

  He spanked my ass then, hard. I gasped, shocked.

  “Say it.”

  “No way.”

  He spanked me again. And again. And when I was ready to cry out for more, to say anything he wanted, he went back to teasing my clit in practiced circles. Pleasure flew through me, turning the stinging pain of his slaps into earth-shattering joy.

  “Fuck,” I groaned.

  “You should have just said it.”

  “Shut up, ass.” I pushed off the wall hard. He stumbled back a step as I turned and came at him. I grabbed his cock, hard, and began to work its length. He grunted, and I could tell that he was surprised at how fiercely I moved and how hard I kissed him. I felt him stiffen even more in my hand as my tongue entered his mouth and I worked his length. Finally, I pulled away and dropped to my knees, slipping his boxer briefs down his muscular thighs.

  I knew it was crazy, I knew I was in the most dangerous and stressful situation of my entire life, but I couldn’t help myself. There was something about him, something that I needed. Something savage and dark overtook me as I gripped the base of his thick rod, feeling his stiffness in my palm. He looked down at me with one of the most intense gazes I’d ever seen, his entire expression locked on my mouth as I slowly slipped the tip of him against my tongue. I tasted his salty skin and moved him deeper into my mouth, wrapping my lips around him and sucking hard.

  He groaned, and his hands began to caress my head as I grabbed the back of his thighs and slipped him in and out of my mouth. I worked him with my tongue and he grunted as I moved faster. I reached up and felt his ass right as he grabbed the back of my head, pressing himself deeper into my mouth. I grabbed and tensed but loved the feeling of his hands on the back of my head.

  “Fucking hell, keep doing that,” he grunted.

  I let him work me like that, gently pushing my head down as I grabbed on to the backs of his legs. His cock pressed into my throat, fucking me, and the slapping wet noises echoed in the empty room. I loved how he grunted for me and how he took what he wanted, like there was no question that I’d let him shove his heavy dick down my throat.

  And there really was no question: I wanted every inch of him, ever speck of his manhood, every ounce he’d give me.

  He pulled back, letting me catch my breath, and leaned forward to smell my hair and kiss the top of my head. I stroked the back of his legs, a thin strand of saliva connecting my tongue to his cock, as he tipped my head back and kissed me hard.

  “Been thinking about that since we met,” he said as he pulled away.

  “Of course you have.”

  He gripped my hair, pulling softly, and I let out a small gasp.

  “You fucking sexy bitch,” he grunted, kissing me again.

  I could feel myself beginning to lose whatever was separating me from him, whatever was holding me back. I could feel it slipping away, dropping down between the cracks in the hard wood floor as his tongue roamed my mouth and his hand held the hair behind my head. Finally, he pulled back, eyes fierce.

  “Get up,” he commanded.

  I obeyed and stood. He leaned forward and pulled a condom out of his back pocket. He kicked his pants and underwear away.

  I smirked at him. “You always keep one of those handy?”

  He grinned at me. I gaped at his hard body as he grabbed my hips and spun me around, pushing me back up against the wall. His rough fingers found my moist spot again, rubbing it as waves of pleasure rocked my spine.

  “Only when I have a girl like you in the house,” he said.

  “Why would you . . . think I’d put out?” I breathed.

  “I see how you look at me.”

  Annoyed, I tried to push away again, but he held me then. My anger was quickly forgotten when I heard him rip the condom and deftly slide it down his length. He grasped my hips and I steadied myself against the wall with my hands. I felt the tip of something hard press up against my dripping wet spot.

  “Fuck,” I whispered as he slid himself inside me.

  It was something I had never felt before. He was big, but there was more. It was probably how badly I wanted him, how soaking wet I was, practically dripping. But he slid easily inside of me, despite his size, and filled every inch. I groaned and dipped my head forward as he pushed himself deep into me. I nearly came right then and there from the sheer anticipation and joy of him. My knees felt weak, but his strong hands and arms supported my hips, holding me up as he began to rock back and forth in long, slow strokes.

  “You drive me fucking crazy,” he said in my ear, his breath warm and tingling.

  I reached back and ran my fingers through his hair, arching my back as he began to press harder into me, rocking again and again, his hands grasping my hips roughly. I had to lean forward again to support myself as he slammed himself into me, again and again. I didn’t know what I said or what I did, but I knew pleasure was rolling in waves up my body, and I couldn’t control the moans coming from my throat.

  He was an animal, pure and simple. His strong abs slammed into me, his thick cock filling my body, but he didn’t slow down. He reached forward with one hand and grabbed my tits, working them as he fucked me deep. I moved my hips back, practically standing on my tiptoes to take his dick better, gasping as the angle shifted and he moved deeper into me. I could feel my fingers digging into the wall as the feeling built up inside me.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he grunted, thrusting into me.

  Instead of responding, I pulled my hips forward, feeling him slide out of my spot with a groan. I spun around, his arms up over my shoulders, and pressed my body against his. We locked eyes, and it was like he knew exactly what I wanted. He took a step back and I softly pushed him downward, his body lying out on the floor. I straddled his hips and slowly slipped myself down along his shaft, my back arched and hands pressed down on his chest, pushing my breasts together.

  He grinned up at me. “I love that face.”

  I looked at him, slowly sliding up and down. “What face?”

  “When you take my cock, that first instant. It drives me fucking insane.”

  In response, I bucked my hips up and down, slamming myself into him. His grin disappeared, replaced with a grunt as I moaned, riding him hard. I twisted and moved my hips, riding in circles, and he reached up to grab my tits, squeezing
them and tweaking my nipples.

  I was drenched with sweat and wild with desire and pleasure as I felt my orgasm slowly build in my core. He obviously could tell how close I was because I dipped forward, my hair hanging down around him as I slammed my hips harder, working them back and forth, riding hard, my lower back bending and sliding.

  It came through me then, and my entire body began to shake. I moaned wildly, and he loved it, thrusting along with my rhythm. My back arched and tensed as I came, the perfect blissful blankness that follows overtaking my mind. There was nothing but him inside of me, his big dick, his powerful chest, his full lips, his smell and smile and everything about him pressed up inside of me as I came.

  Slowly, it passed. He sat up, arms wrapped around me, and I felt small in his embrace, my legs wrapped around him. I kept moving my hips, softly, overwhelmed by how sensitive it was post-orgasm. He grinned at me and kissed my nose and my cheeks and my chin.

  “Your knees sore?” he asked.

  I grinned. “Probably will be.”

  He rolled me over suddenly, keeping himself inside me, and pressed me down onto my back. He slowly began to work himself in and out of me again.

  I reached up and grabbed his hair, grinning. “You going to come for me now?”

  He grunted and pressed himself deep into me, and I gasped, releasing his hair. Without another word, he grabbed my hips and began to fuck me again, sliding in and out deeply, working up his pace. I could see the sweat dripping down his chest, and I reached up and grabbed my tits as he kept fucking me. I wanted him to look at me, wanted him to drink in everything. His whole face was wild with pleasure as he pushed into me, rocking deeply and hard.

  Our moans and the slap of our skin filled the otherwise empty room as he worked himself into me. I could tell he was close from the way he gripped my body, pushing and pushing hard. I wanted him to come for me, needed it so badly; I didn’t know why, but I wanted him to release. I moaned, realizing that every noise I made drove him nuts, and his eyes locked on my tits and my lips.