Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Sloan gave up on clinging to the counter after the third stroke. Jude was too strong, too driven by something she had no name for. So she clung to him instead, riding out the storm she could feel growing inside him. It had started with the look in his dark eyes, one she’d recognized from seeing it in the mirror often enough in the last few years.

Desperation.

And he’d come to her, to what she could give him, to escape it.

He hitched her higher, sliding his hands under her bottom so she no longer had contact with the counter. Jude used his hold to slide her up and down his length, his mouth against her ear and his words filling her even as his body did. “I can’t get enough of you. The little cries you make, the way your pussy tightens around my cock like you never want me to leave, your taste. I crave you.” He turned, and her back hit the wall. “I could spend hours fucking you, switching between my cock, my fingers, my tongue.”

“Do it.” She wasn’t sure she’d survive it, but only he seemed to be able to ease the emptiness she’d had inside her since Devlin’s death. Sloan hadn’t been actively living for a very long time, but when she was with Jude, she didn’t feel like she was just existing.

She felt alive.

His grin was almost feral. “You think you can take it?”

“I can take anything you give me, Jude.”

He cursed, shoving all the way into her, until he bumped against her cervix. She cried out, so close to coming, she felt more animal than woman. He knew. He always seemed to know. Jude kept her pinned there, pumping just slightly enough that he hit that spot over and over again. “I love how you say my name when my cock is buried inside you. I like it even better when you’re coming.”

He ground against her, and that friction was all it took. She orgasmed, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, her body becoming more and less at the same time. Distantly, she could have sworn she heard him say, “It makes me want to keep you.”

But that couldn’t possibly have been right.

Jude slammed into her, again and again, riding out her orgasm. He was close—she could tell by the tight expression on his face—but she also knew he wouldn’t come yet if he had any say in the matter. A few days into this and she already knew that he liked to make her orgasm several times before he finished.

Not tonight.

She twisted a little, sliding her hand around her leg to cup his balls. His eyes went wide and then narrowed. “Sunshine—”

She squeezed, letting her nails prick him, just a little, and that was all it took. He cursed and drove into her harder, until it felt like the entire house shook with the force of his strokes. Sloan squeezed him once more for good measure, pushing him over the edge.

Jude buried his face in her neck, her name on his lips as he came, his strokes becoming inconsistent and almost spasming.

He lowered them to the ground, still inside her, and lifted his head. “That was a shady little trick.”

“Mmm.” She’d discovered that part of him was sensitive last night, completely by accident, though she’d half convinced herself it was a fluke. It wasn’t, and she fully intended to torture him with the knowledge the same way he seemed to find pleasure torturing her by inexplicably knowing her body almost better than she did.

“I’m going to punish you for that.” He kissed her lightly. “And you’re going to love every single fucking second of it.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” She pushed on his shoulders. “Now get off me. I’m liable to suffocate before you get around to the punishment.”

Jude laughed and thrust against her one last time before he pulled away. Her smile died at his harsh curse. Sloan sat up. “What’s wrong?” But she saw what he held in his hand, and her body went cold, the last remaining pleasure disappearing as if it’d never been. “Please tell me that I’m not seeing what it appears I’m seeing.”

“Fuck.” Jude pulled her to her feet and dragged her to the bathroom.

She watched in disbelief as he turned the knobs of the shower to get the water going. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“The goddamn condom broke, Sloan. I didn’t pull out, and you were a fucking virgin until less than a week ago, so unless you’ve been hiding some sort of birth control, you need to get my motherfucking come out of you. Now.”

Perversely, his near panic made her calmer. She stepped into the shower mostly to appease him, even though she knew her next words would negate that completely. “It’s not going to be enough. I need…” She thought fast. “I need the day-after pill.”

He stared at her. “Do you really think there’s a pharmacy closer than Portland with one of those?”

She hadn’t thought about it. She hadn’t thought about anything—she’d been too busy enjoying her time with him. The thought of birth control had been a distant one because they were using protection, but now she felt incomparably stupid for not having gone and gotten a prescription for the pill after the first time they were together.

Except you need a doctor to get a prescription and I don’t have one of those locally, and I can hardly call up Doc Jones and ask her.

She ducked her head under the spray and when the water ran from her eyes, she found him staring at her. “What?”

“This is beyond fucked.”

She couldn’t argue that, but his obvious distress wasn’t exactly reassuring. “I’ll call around and see if I can find it.” She scrubbed down, feeling like he’d pointed a spotlight on her. “Actually, I have a shift in a few hours and nothing will be open before then. You’ll have to do it.”

“Call in.”

She glared. “Absolutely not. Broken condom or no, I need this job and I can’t start calling in after a grand total of two shifts spent working for Marge. She’ll fire me on the spot.”

“Everyone knows Marge has a soft spot a mile wide. Call in. This is more important than your fucking waitressing job.”

That he so casually dismissed something she was proud of grated. She turned off the water and grabbed a towel. “You’re free to feel that way. But you aren’t my father or my…my boyfriend.” She shook her head. “Pretend I never said that. The point is that you don’t get a say, Jude. As you’re so fond of pointing out, this is just sex. We set out the terms, and nowhere in those terms did it say you can tell me when I will and won’t go into work.”

“That was before this.” He waved between them as if that really meant something. “And that was before—” Jude cut himself off.

Another time, she might press to know what he’d been about to say. Right now, Sloan just didn’t care.

She strode past him and back into the bedroom. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was barely five. Sunrise yoga would be starting relatively soon, which was fine by her. She found the idea of staying in this house with an irrational Jude for a second longer than necessary stressful in the extreme.

Sloan pulled on a pair of yoga pants and was reaching for a sports bra when Jude grabbed her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sitting here worrying about something that is unlikely to happen isn’t going to do a single thing but stress us both out.” She pulled, but he didn’t release her. “For heaven’s sake, Jude. People have unprotected sex all the time, and it doesn’t result in…” Pregnancy. A baby. She couldn’t quite say either.

She’d spent too much of her life sitting and worrying about things beyond her control. It didn’t change anything except to make her feel helpless and useless. She might as well be proactive about the things she could control instead. “Unless you’re about to tell me that you have an STD and I need to go to a doctor immediately, let go of me.”

“I’m clean.”

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Okay.” She shouldn’t trust him, but he had no reason to lie about it now. The horse was out of the barn, or whatever that saying was.

“It’s the damnedest thing.” He said it so softly, she wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. “Even knowing what could happen, I still want you. If it’s possible, I want you more knowing that I could fuck you right now without a condom and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.”

Her body flushed hot at the thought of being with him without a single thing between them. She wanted it. She wanted it so badly she almost said yes.

Almost.

“It would make a difference.” She met his dark gaze and forced herself to be reasonable. “It would increase the chance of there being consequences.”

“I know.” But he still moved closer, and turned her around to face the dresser. She could see his expression in the mirror, see the familiar desperation there that called to her. He ran his hands down her sides and back up to cup her bare breasts. “I could have you just like this. It’d feel so fucking good, and seeing every inch of you in the mirror would be…Fuck, there are no words.” He let go of one breast and slipped his hand into her yoga pants, stroking her. “You like that thought.”

“Yes.” She spread her legs a little, giving him better access. “But it’s still a bad idea.”

“Every single thing about this is a bad idea.” He kissed her neck, his finger drawing her wetness up and around her clit before her pushed it back into her. “Say yes.”

She wanted to. She could picture exactly what he described, could see him sliding her yoga pants off, spreading her legs further yet, and pushing into her. The dresser was low enough that she’d be able to see him enter her, be able to see him watch her in the mirror as he took her.

I can’t. It’s too much of a risk. “No.”

He hesitated, and for a second, she thought he might press the issue. Sloan bit her lip, almost hoping he would. She wanted it as much as he did, all common sense aside. But that was the problem—common sense aside. In reality, they had likely just dodged a bullet. Having unprotected sex again was beyond foolish. Jude would realize that the second he started thinking clearly.

She gripped his wrist, all too aware of how much bigger he was, and pulled. He let her slide his hand out of her pants. “No,” Sloan repeated.

Jude exhaled harshly and gave himself a shake as if waking from a dream. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

He shook his head again. “I’ll find the fucking pill.” He left the room, left her feeling more alone than she’d ever been.

*  *  *

“Stop the car here.” Dmitri Romanov climbed out and paused to take in the building in front of him. It was a nondescript brick, with no windows and only a single service door. He’d seen many like it, though this one was being used for a distasteful purpose.

A rave.

Someone should tell the attendees that raves were something from the nineties and should be left in that godforsaken decade. Under normal circumstances, he would have sent one of his men if attending was required. That wasn’t an option tonight.

He nodded at his driver and strode to the door. A few terse words and the password—the password, God save him—later and he was inside, every sense assaulted. He stood just to the left of the doorway, attempting to adjust to the sheer onslaught of sensation. Multicolored lights strobed, music shrieked loud enough to make every cell in his body vibrate, and the whole room smelled of sweat and sex.

The things I’m required to do.

He searched the crowd, looking for one person in particular. His man had followed her here, watching as she slipped her guard detail and made her way to this building. Aiden, you haven’t been taking care of your possessions.

A flash of dark hair caught his attention, and he turned to find the very woman he was looking for staring at him, not ten feet away. Keira O’Malley had all the beauty of her oldest sister, but it was sharper, more likely to cut than seduce. She watched him with the jaded gaze of a woman who’d seen so much that nothing surprised her any longer. He took in the torn-up jeans that bordered on indecent and the shirt that hung from her thin frame, revealing a lacy black bra that was expensive enough to buy a night’s worth of drinks for every person here.

Dmitri waited, part of him curious to see how she’d react. Would she run? Attempt a poorly thought-out attack? But Keira gave him a look that only an idiot would mistake as anything other than a challenge.

And then she slipped into the pulsing crowd and disappeared.

He followed, with his familiar harsh expression that made people retreat. A small path cleared, and it was enough for him to move freely after her.

Except when he reached the other side of the crowd, she had disappeared.

Dmitri turned a slow circle, irritated at himself for being drawn in. Of course she’d used the crowd to her advantage and slipped away. She was likely halfway back to the O’Malley house by now. Fool.

“You’re looking for me.” A voice in his ear had him turning to find the woman in question less than six inches from him. She went up on her tiptoes, giving him a good view of her dilated pupils, and spoke in his ear—or, rather, yelled, because anything less would be drowned out by the sad excuse for music. “What brings Dmitri Romanov to a rave in Boston?” She leaned back and pressed a hand to her chest. He didn’t need to hear the words she mouthed to understand. Little old me?

He could take her. She was drugged nearly out of her mind and alone. It would be child’s play to lead her to the back door where one of his men waited. They’d be in New York before the O’Malleys knew she was missing.

But, despite himself, he was intrigued by her.

Keira snagged his tie, studying the muted blue pattern as if it held the answer to the meaning of the universe. When she tugged on it, he allowed her to lead him to one of the little niches that had been built into the exterior walls. This one had a raggedy couch that had seen better days, but the music was slightly less than deafening, so it was an improvement regardless.

She pushed him, and he sat on the couch. Dmitri went still when Keira straddled him, her expression strangely contemplative despite the fact she was very blatantly blitzed. She ran her hands down his chest. “You’re awfully pretty for an evil bastard.”

“So I’m told.”

Her eyes went wide. “And a sense of humor. God really gave with both hands when he made you, too, didn’t he?” She palmed him. “Or should we make that three hands?”

Dmitri grabbed her wrist and removed her hand. “I don’t enjoy being fondled by children.”

She raised her eyebrows and mimicked his accent. “Do you not? Your hard cock says otherwise, Mr. Romanov.” She leaned down, giving him a good view of where her breasts were in danger of spilling free of their confinement. “I think you came here looking for a little revenge.” She rolled her body against him, and despite his control, his cock became even harder.

Keira’s lips brushed his ear. “It’s your lucky day. I’m a big fan of self-destructive tendencies and filled with self-loathing, so riding your cock would meet both needs nicely. What do you say?”

Yes.

He forced himself to take hold of her shoulders and move her back. “No.”

“Pity.” Keira shrugged like she couldn’t care less. She rose to her feet in an eerily graceful motion. “See you around, evil bastard.” Then she was gone, sliding back into the crowd. He suspected this time, if he followed her, he wouldn’t be successful in cornering her.

Dmitri stood, and it was only then that he realized she’d relieved him of both his wallet and his watch. He blinked, turned to look out at the crowd, and shook his head in reluctant admiration. She played me.

He surprised himself by chuckling, amusement high as he walked out of the building and climbed into the back of his car. Then he let it fall away and spoke to his driver. “Next time Keira O’Malley slips her leash, I want to be informed immediately.” He would keep his lead on Sloan because it paid to maintain several balls in the air, but his interest in the youngest O’Malley daughter was piqued.

More the pity for her.