Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Feenix Blaylock

W ith Charlie’s elbow firmly in my grip, I haul her from living space to living space in search of somewhere private. I know a room, one that doesn’t have any cameras or listening devices. We weave between the people who occasionally reach out and touch or greet her, but I ignore them entirely. I have to get her out of here before she says another goddamn thing that could end up with her dead.

It doesn’t take long to find the room I’m looking for, and thankfully, it’s unlocked. I open the mansion’s den and steer her inside before shutting the door softly behind me. What I really want to do is slam it closed just to show her how pissed off I am, but the last thing I need is to draw attention to her admirers.

I face the door and bow my head while my shoulders rise and fall heavily with my rage. I don’t bother turning on the lights. The lit fire on the other side of the room is enough to see.

“What?” Charlie hisses sassily. “Am I not allowed to speak either?”

I raise a hand and reach out in front of me to grip the door frame with more strength than necessary. “Watch your tone.” My head still bowed, I add, “You have no idea who you’re talking to.”

“I know enough.”

I whip around to face her. I clench and unclench my fists at my sides, letting my nails bite into my palms to calm me. “No, you don’t. You don’t even know that your actions tonight, what you said to Andre, will only come back at you, and not in a way you’ll like. He may seem all nice, Charlie, but he’s a wolf, just like me. The only difference is that he’s hungry for you, and you just gave him the fuel he needs to hunt you.”

She laughs without humor and crosses her arms. “I’m not an easy meal, I can assure you that.”

I cross the distance between us quickly. She stands firm as I shout, “Keeping you alive is difficult when you won’t let me!”

Her head whips back as if I’d slapped her. I’ve never talked to a woman like that before; I’ve never lost my cool, but damn it! She’s making this impossible. “What are you talking about?”

She has no idea. She has no idea what I do behind the scenes to make sure she still breathes by the end of the night.

I shake my head and raise both of my hands to cup her jaw. And then I kiss her.

My kiss is full of rage, full of everything I can’t name because it’s been so long since I’ve felt them that they feel foreign. I slide my lips roughly against hers, and at first, she stiffens, but then she melts into it and kisses me back with just as much emotion as mine.

Her arms uncross, and she rests her palms on my chest. The kiss develops into something so frantic, so heated, that my cock hardens immediately. She tastes as good as she smells and it’s like a goddamn drug. I can’t get enough. I know then and there I’ll never get enough.

Before I know it, I’m unzipping her dress and she’s fumbling with my suit buttons. A minute later, mouths clashing in a frenzy, we’re both naked, and I’m backing her toward the pool table.

I lift her up and set her on the edge, never breaking the kiss, and once she’s seated safely, I fist the back of her hair and nibble my way down her jaw, nipping in a punishing way. I hate her. I want her. I hate that I want her.

A cop. A liar. A fucking addiction.

“Spread your legs, mama,” I mutter against her skin before I bite down on her collarbone.

She listens as she hisses from the pain, and once she does open them, I slide in between. The shaft of my cock rests against the slit of her pussy, and the heat of it makes me press into it. She moans, and the sound vibrates her chest and urges me to do it again.

I kiss my way back up because, even though this woman will blow my world up, she’s quickly becoming all that I see. All that I want. All that I need. It co-exists with my hate, making my blood boil and my skin light on fire. I can feel all the hairs on my arms rise because of it.

Unable to wait any longer, I pull her closer to the edge of the table and line myself up with her pussy. “You’re going to be the death of me,” I whisper in her ear before pushing inside.

She gasps as I stretch her, and I moan at the tightness of it before I scrape my teeth against the soft flesh below her ear. “Mine,” I growl against her skin. I grip her hips tightly to the point of bruising to emphasize my words. “All. Fucking. Mine, mama.”

All those people out there want her. Either dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. They want to fuck her; they want her to be theirs. They’ll never get her because she belongs to me in more ways than I care to admit.

I pull out and push back in, and we both lean away from each other to watch her pussy swallow my cock whole. Not just my cock… my fucking soul.

Every time I pull out, the firelight glints against the wetness of my shaft. And every time I push back in, I’m rewarded with the most beautiful moan. The same moan she gave when she pleasured herself for the camera, but this time, it’s sweeter. This time, it’s for me.

“Feel that?” I ask, tone heavy with need.

She nods, and I grip her jaw to force her to look at me. “Yours,” I rumble. “All. Fucking. Yours.”

Her eyelids are hooded, but by opening them wider a fraction, I know she gets what I’m saying. If I needed more reassurance, she nods in my grip.

“Good girl. Now touch yourself.”

Her mouth parts, and she sucks on two fingers before she reaches between us. I can’t help but watch as she touches those wet fingers to her clit and begins to circle. Her hips buck against me, and I curse under my breath, holding her tightly to keep her ass from leaving the pool table entirely.

At first, her circles are slow, as measured as my pumping, but then they become faster. Her breath quickens, and she tips her head back in ecstasy, and I don’t like that, so I growl, “Eyes on us.”

I want her to see it all, to see me stake my claim, even if it is just us two and the world doesn’t witness me claiming her for myself. Witness me completely marking my territory.

I don’t need them to because no one is going to touch her. I won’t let it happen. I’ll murder and burn whatever I have to make sure she still breathes. I don’t know who that makes me or what that makes me, and I still may hate her for her secrets and lies, but I do know this.

My pumping becomes harder and faster, matching her quickening pace, and her moans become more frantic and delicious. And then she stiffens, goes rigid, and screams her release.

The fucking feeling – the tightening of her pussy, the warmth of her cum – has me nearing my edge. “Fuck,” I growl as I pound. My tailbone tightens, and a tingle spreads down my back and wraps around to my balls. And then I’m pulling out. Cum shoots from my tip and splatters against her thighs. I groan as it does, as it makes a mess of her thick bare skin, and I wish like hell I had recorded this so I could watch it whenever I fucking wanted to.

Breaths heavy, I gather up some of my cum on my fingers and bring it to her lips. She opens obediently. When I stick them in, my lips part as she swirls her tongue around my fingers to suck them clean.

“Fuck, mama,” I whisper. And then I step away as my senses slam full force back into me. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Frowning, she asks, “Had sex?”

I nod.

“Why?”

I shake my head, not wanting to tell her my thoughts because it’ll ruin the moment as quickly as it came. Reality is crashing back, and it’s almost painful.

She hops off the pool table and heads to her clothes, never once breaking eye contact with me. “No. Don’t do that. Tell me why, Nix.”

“Why are you in this business?” I demand of her. “Why do you need the videos?”

As she steps into her dress, her frown only deepens. “I told you; I need the money.”

“Why?”

I watch as she seals her lips.

I tsk mockingly. “I’m not the only one keeping secrets, Charlie.”

Her eyes turn into narrowed slits. “Do you really want to know?”

I raise my eyebrows at her in challenge.

Clothes on, she pinches the bridge of her nose, contemplating whether she’s going to rise to my challenge or not. Eventually, she drops her hand and looks me square in the eye. “My husband died and left me with nothing. I’m just trying to survive.”

I blink at her, surprised that she went with the truth – partial truth, anyway – and I just can’t help it when I ask, “And the cop job doesn’t pay enough?”