Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cinna

“Just go,” I snapped, cutting the zip ties off of the wrists of a man I’d bound to a chair a few hours before, intent on getting some fucking answers.

Three weeks.

Three weeks without a fucking lead.

Three weeks of looking over my shoulder, of jumping at shadows, of changing my routes and routine.

Of not being able to sleep.

Though, to be fair, that was only partially my attacker’s fault. The lion’s share of that problem had to do with a certain mafia capo, his wicked mouth, his perfect cock, and the way he could so effortlessly bring me to world-shatteringly intense orgasms.

While fear kept me from falling asleep for a while, it was the sex dreams that woke me up, sweaty and aching for touch.

That I couldn’t have.

Not ever again.

I wouldn’t lie. The desire was so strong that I’d considered going out, finding some other man, and taking him to bed just to get some relief.

But something held me back.

Something I chose not to consider.

So I just lied to myself and said I was too busy with work to be wasting my time in bed.

“I’m… I’m… I’m sorry, Cinna,” the man, Tobias, sniveled, wiping his shirt sleeve under his nose, making the material come away red.

He was. Sorry. And from the looks of him, he would be for a while. But, to be fair, he didn’t have much to be sorry for, save for being a complete fucking idiot.

He was the culmination of three weeks of unending work on my part. Chasing down flimsy leads to figure out who my attackers were.

This particular lead was about one of my attackers, my damn stolen phone, and Tobias, a local guy known for being able to hack into them.

But no amount of pounding on Tobias could wedge free a memory that just wasn’t there. My attacker was one of dozens, nothing notable about him, since all the phones Tobias worked on were stolen.

Still, would it kill the moron to have a security camera or keep some sort of records?

I made a quick stop at the convenience store, getting some antiseptic to clean my knuckles before finally making my way to Renzo’s.

My stomach wrenched into tighter knots with each passing step.

Because there was no way I wasn’t going to run into the star of all my sweaty dreams tonight. After weeks of being careful not to step foot in his usual hangouts.

I was being an idiot.

I was cursing myself the whole ride up to Renzo’s apartment.

I needed to get myself together.

In lieu of that, I’d get myself a drink or two to dull the nagging voice inside my head. But not so many drinks that I got flirty and stupid.

It was packed. The get-togethers always were. Especially these days when they weren’t as frequent, now that Renzo had a wife he wanted to spend most of his free time with. So when there was a hangout, everyone felt the need to show up and reconnect.

I spotted him almost immediately.

I swear the man practically had a homing beacon on him, calling for me to notice him even in a room full of people.

Seeing him, nodding at something someone was saying to him, made my sex clench hard.

On a grumble, I whipped off my jacket, hanging it with the others, then made my way toward the bar, needing something to take the edge off.

But, of course, he had to follow.

If there was one thing you knew about Dav, it was that the man was a dog with a bone when it came to women he wanted to fuck.

Even if, it seemed, he’d already fucked you.

But then Saff made a comment that reminded me exactly of what a hound he was with women.

I didn’t look at him.

I couldn’t.

There was too much of a risk of giving away the weeks of need inside of me.

So I did the only thing I could.

I walked away.

No one had been talking to me anyway.

I made some rounds, catching up with Renzo, Elian, Rico, and that new kid, Coal, that I was kind of salty about not getting to have in my own crew.

I was just about to slip out when a series of texts came through, making me slip into Renzo’s office to be able to think straight over the music and clash of conversation.

I should have known Dav would take it as an opportunity to corner me.

But his lips were on me before I could even come up with some nasty thing to say to make him forget all about that final night in his apartment.

And the second he was touching me, every bit of determination I had to stay away from him evaporated.

When his hand pressed between my thighs, every bit of longing for the past several weeks came charging back. Then doubled.

A chorus of laughter pulled me out of it for a second.

“There are people ten feet away,” I insisted.

“Then you’ll have to be quiet,” he said, his lips sealing over mine again, damming up any further objection. Not that I had any left in me.

I wanted this too much to fight it.

His fingers pressed harder against the material of my jeans, but the pressure did little to ease the growing ache between, making me grumble against his lips.

I felt his mouth curve into a smile against mine as his hand shifted up, working my button and zipper free, then slipping beneath both my pants and panties, teasing up my bare skin.

I swear I nearly came the second his finger brushed over my clit. That was how needy I was.

His fingers slipped downward, sliding inside of me, his lips muffling my moan as his palm pressed against my clit.

I rocked shamelessly against him, trying to get relief from the pressure in my core.

“Fucking drenched for me,” Dav said, his lips ripping from mine to press into my neck.

“Dav,” I whimpered, hand sliding down his chest to cup his hard length, my walls clenching at the idea of having him inside of me again.

“Not yet,” he said. “You’re going to come on my fingers, then my mouth, and then my cock.”

His lips claimed mine again as his fingers turned, crooked, and started to stroke across my g-spot, driving me up faster, pushing me to that edge, then sending me over.

The pleasure was still soaring through me as he dropped to his knees, yanking my pants out of the way as his fingers started to fuck me again.

Anticipation shot through me as he looked up at me, hunger in his gorgeous eyes, before he ducked his head, and his mouth was on me.

My head slammed back against the wall as my hands sank into his hair, holding him against me in case he got any ideas of pulling away.

But if there was one thing you could say about Dav, it was that he genuinely seemed to enjoy the hell out of going down on a woman.

My moans were answered with little rumbling sounds against me, vibrating into my clit, intensifying the sensations as he continued to work me with his tongue, his lips, and his fingers.

I felt like I was still recovering from one orgasm, and he was sending me hurtling toward another one at a breakneck pace, my chest feeling tight, my moans getting louder, less controlled.

Feeling me tightening, getting close, Dav’s lips closed around my clit and sucked, making me choke on a gasp as the climax crashed through me, the waves pulling me under over and over as he sucked my clit in little strobes, as his fingers worked my g-spot, intensifying it, dragging it out, until I was nothing but a trembling mess, gasping for breath, with my nails digging into his shoulders just to help keep myself on my feet.

Dav lapped up my release before he made his way to his feet, a satisfied little smirk on his lips.

I couldn’t even be mad about it. He’d earned that damn look.

“So sweet when you come,” he told me, face in my neck as his hard cock pressed against my stomach.

My sex clenched hard in response, craving the feel of him, despite the mind-numbing orgasms he’d already given me.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Not until he was deep inside of me again like I’d been remembering and fantasizing about.

My hand moved out, working his belt free, then his button and zipper, before reaching inside to free his cock, wrapping my hand around his thick length, feeling the way his body jerked in pleasure.

I worked him with my hand for a moment, loving the way his body tensed, how his breathing got shallow and uneven, the way he let out little groans.

“If you’re not careful, I’m going to come in your hand instead of in your pussy,” he said, nipping my earlobe, sending another thrill through me.

My free hand moved out, digging in his back pocket. Looking for his wallet. But I may have grabbed his ass a little in the process, and a little chuckle escaped him at that.

He took the wallet from me, fishing out the condom, then brushing my hand away, so he could slide on the protection.

Then he was reaching for me, turning me away from him.

His hand grabbed my shoulder as the other held his cock, sliding it between my lips, getting himself wet, then sliding back, and pressing.

Teasing, really.

Making me press back, writhe, whimper.

To no avail.

“Fuck me, Dav,” I begged, voice airy and desperate.

His cock pressed inward, just a bit, then back out.

I knew what game he was playing.

But I was too needy to give a fuck about my pride.

“Please.”

He surged inside me, taking me to the base in one hard thrust. If it weren’t for his hand on my shoulder, he would have sent me face-first into the wall.

“Fuck,” Dav hissed, pausing deep. “Fuck,” he added, voice softer, as his hand massaged my ass cheek. “I’ve missed your perfect fucking pussy, Cinna,” he said as he pulled back, then surged back in. And again. And again. Not as hard. Just slow and deep, making me take every thick inch of him each time.

It wasn’t long, though, before the need grew to a fever pitch in me, making me slam back into his thrusts.

Harder.

Faster.

When the orgasm coursed through me, intensified by the fullness of him, his hand slapped over my mouth, muffling my loud cries as the pulsations of pleasure racked my system.

But when I came back down, I found him still rock-hard inside of me.

“Been waiting weeks, love,” he said, using the hand over my mouth to pull my back against his chest as he slowly started to rock into me again, smaller, gentler motions. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His lips pressed into my neck, a sweet trail of kisses that made my belly flip-flop and that swooping sensation soaring through my chest.

One of his hands was around my hips, the other slid across my chest, holding me against him as he continued his gentle, unhurried strokes into me.

He was holding onto me like something precious, like he never wanted to let go.

It should have freaked me out, made me feel trapped, had me fighting to get away.

But I sank back into him, my head falling back onto his shoulder, eyes drifting closed, just letting myself have this moment, letting myself be held, letting him move inside of me in that soft, sweet way.

And as he drove me up slowly, I felt him again.

Seeping into my chest, spreading, filling me up.

“You feel so good, Cin,” he groaned in my ear as I tightened, as the pressure built, this deep clenching sensation before, almost in slow motion, the orgasm crested in slow, intense throbs of pleasure that had my legs shaking and a choked sob escaping me. “Just let go,” he murmured into my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Just for that moment, he did.

And I let him.

By the time the orgasm finally eased, I felt dampness in my eyes, so I squeezed them tight against, terrified the saltwater might break free and trail down my cheeks, evidence of the intensity of the feelings surging through me in that moment.

Fear, the likes of which I didn’t truly understand but felt the need to fight against, had me moving backward.

Dav obliged, walking us backward until he dropped his ass onto Renzo’s couch with me on his lap.

The only thing I could think to do was change the feeling of that moment. To reclaim this as something more primal, less emotional.

So I reached down, grabbing his knees to steady myself, and started to fuck him.

Hard.

Fast.

Desperate.

Familiar.

Physical.

Uncomplicated.

“Fuck, Cinna, I love how you ride my cock,” Dav groaned, his voice tight, his hands slipping under my shirt to grab my tits. “Fuck, that’s it,” he hissed as my moans grew, as my walls tightened. “Come around my cock, baby.”

And just like that, I did.

Hard.

Almost brutal.

Better, much better, I told myself, than the slow, deep, intense orgasm that made me tingly and emotional.

This time, Dav came with me, holding my hips against his lap, buried deep, as he hissed out my name as he climaxed.

His hands started to massage me after, always wanting to touch me.

And some part of me wanted to let him, wanted to lean back and feel his hands roam over me, stake a claim to me.

That was exactly why, though, I had to pull away.

I got to my feet, yanking my panties and pants back into place, and fumbling with my button and zipper before walking away to fetch my phone off of the desk.

“Thanks for the orgasms,” I said, tone a lot more flippant than I felt. “I hope you enjoyed it. Because it’s never going to happen again.”

I rushed to the door without looking back, scared that if I did, some part of me would run toward him, tell him that I didn’t mean it, that I didn’t understand what was going on, that I couldn’t stop thinking about him and wanting him, that I could feel him, even now, in my chest, that I never wanted to not feel him there.

But those were all things I could never say.

So I unlocked the door, disappeared into the crowd, then made my way to the hallway before he could catch up with me.

I was safely in the elevator car, the doors closing, making my heart fly up into my throat.

It’s worry, I insisted to myself, not hope.

But it wasn’t a man’s hand.

And a second later, there was Saff, moving into the car with me when I really, really wanted to be alone.

We said nothing as we rode the floors down.

And she was the first to move toward the doors when they slid open, stopping there, turning to me, pinning me with those intense eyes of hers, her head cocked to the side.

“You know,” she said, tone odd, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone take a ride on Davide’s disco stick and look like they’re about to cry after,” she said, making my stomach clench hard. “Weird, huh?” she asked.

But then she turned and walked away.

Leaving me frozen in place.

My secret was out.

And I was terrified about the fallout.

After a lifetime of working my ass off to prove my worth, to stand alongside the men, and all I would be in the coming week was a fucking punchline.

Great.

That was just fucking great.