CHAPTER SEVEN

SPARROW

DRUNK WITH HAPPINESS and high on bliss, I could barely contain myself during the drive home. The thought of working in the kitchen of a high-end restaurant made me want to break into a silly dance in the middle of the street. I was going to get five shifts a week, which meant my culinary school days were over. But my real career was only just beginning.

Sparrow Raynes. Runner. Summer-air lover. Boyfriend-jeans enthusiast. Chef. Hear that, Mom? Your daughter, the girl you so easily tossed away like an empty soda can, is someone.

Will be someone.

My imagination went wild. I could gain some experience and then go and do my own thing. Truth be told, I wasn’t the fancy-food type of girl. I’d buy a food truck and serve blueberry pancakes to all the suits working in downtown Boston. Be the height of their gray working day. I’d hire Lucy to work alongside me, and maybe Daisy, too. She couldn’t bake or cook to save her life, but she was always good with people.

I practically jumped up and down in my seat next to Troy. He shook his head and ignored me for the most part, but occasionally, I’d glance sideways and catch him grinning to himself.

Something in him had cracked. I could feel it, and despite my best intentions to stay away, to protect myself, it stirred something in me. Did he feel it, too? Did he care?

In the elevator, I studied his face, drinking in his reaction. Searching, guessing…

“You care.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed.

Yeah, he definitely cared.

Even though I wasn’t tired, I danced my way upstairs and into the bedroom. Troy was left behind to get himself another whiskey and to lock the front door. He had a habit of checking all the rooms in the apartment, looking for God knows what before he went to bed every night. I’d heard him when I was pretending to be asleep.

I guess I, too, should have been worried about my safety, but everything about his security measurements pissed me off.

And especially Connor, my very own guard dog.

I felt Troy enter the bedroom, my back to him, a few minutes later. I was pulling my PJ’s out of my drawer, just about to go into the bathroom and change.

The thing about Troy was that he always walked into a room bringing the atmosphere he wanted to convey. Like a human thermostat, he not only controlled every situation, but also the mood you were in. Sometimes he brought anger and rage, sometimes gloom, sometimes terror and very rarely something positive and hopeful.

Tonight, he brought lust.

He took a step toward me, and then another one.

More heat gripped my body. I blamed adrenalin and the damn alcohol—I’d downed three more drinks while Troy and Pierre were tasting my food. The drinks and the rush from my new job were a lethal combination. Something buzzed in the air, something that made the space between my thighs quiver in response, a pool of heat washing over my lower belly.

I knew if I opened up to him, it would end in tears. The writing was on the wall, the text smeared in blood, no less. Stay away, Sparrow. Don’t let your curiosity get the better of you.

The floor-to-ceiling windows were fogged with condensation, and my breathing grew heavy. My back still faced him, and I knew that if I turned around, I’d cave. I was holding the top of a six-drawer dresser, the expensive kind, my feet still clad in those goddamned high heels. He closed the space between us and stood behind me, his body pulsing heat at mine, wave after wave.

But he didn’t touch me, and somehow, it made me want him even more.

My body froze, legs clenched together in fear and...No. He was corrupted. A monster. No.

My mind raced and I struggled to read my own feelings. He said I needed to reciprocate. But also that he wasn’t a rapist. That with him, I’d want it. So right. So wrong. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Bend over,” he ordered, his lips pressed behind my ear. I wanted to respond, but felt his fingers already moving down my back, unzipping my dress slowly, deliberately brushing my spine in the process. I leaned forward to take off my heels, and he yanked me closer to his body by my waist, my ass hitting his groin. “Leave them on.”

My dress fell on the floor, exposing my simple cotton underwear and matching white strapless bra. I stepped out of the pool of fabric beneath me. He kicked the dress into a pile and, still behind me, trailed one of his long fingers along my collarbone. A shiver tickled my skin, raising goose bumps in its wake.

“Spread your legs.”

I did.

He moved away from me for a second. My heart drummed fiercely with anticipation as I placed my palms on the dresser, my body bent and my ass up in the air. I heard something click and watched as his hand snaked from behind my back, reaching over my shoulder. He put his gun on the dresser top in front of me. His holster dropped to the floor with a thud. Still completely and impeccably clothed, he trailed his lips over my neck, just barely touching me.

My skin was on fire and I lowered my head, staring at our feet. I was so needy I thought I’d collapse.

“Hold the dresser real tight unless you want a busted lip. I don’t want you hitting something.” His hand covered my throat as he pulled me into his face.

I had no sexual experience to speak of. I didn’t know what was about to happen. But truthfully, I didn’t not want it to happen either. If there ever was a good night to do something with Troy, this would be it. Hell, I wanted to experience what other girls were having.

I gripped the edge of the dresser, sucking on my lower lip.

“How’s your magical period tonight?” he taunted into my ear.

I moaned, arching my back to meet more of his body. He shoved his huge, warm hand into one of my bra cups, massaging and tugging at my nipple. I groaned, not uttering one word.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” His tongue flicked over my earlobe as his hand moved down to my stomach, his rough fingers caressing my skin. His mouth traveled down my jawline, stopping inches from my lips. “Tell me that you’re not ready yet, that you want me to stop.” He nipped the tip of my chin seductively, and my head dropped backward, to his chest.

Suddenly, it felt so hot in the room I was barely able to breath.

I cleared my throat. “Would it even matter?”

He nodded yes into my shoulder, his firm body pressing into mine. I didn’t want him to stop, thought I’d die if his hands left my wanting body, but I hated to admit that he was right. I loathed him but loved his touch.

“Don’t stop,” I barely whispered, my self-control evaporating.

Troy dropped to his knees behind me, ignoring my silent plea for him to keep teasing my nipples. His head disappeared between my thighs, and then he tipped back his head, pressing his lips upward to my underwear. He kissed my opening through the cotton. A shudder ripped through me, head to toe. I gripped the bureau tighter.

“You’ve never had oral sex.” His voice was silk, traveling the short distance between my thighs to my pussy.

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. There was something intoxicating about seeing him below me like this, this powerful man, on his knees for me. His coal black hair contrasting with my white skin, his mouth so hot, so close…

“So this…” His long finger trailed between my folds, over my panties. “Has been waiting for me all this time. Did someone ever touch you there?”

I thought back to that awful day when someone did, despite my pleas, and all the days he did it over and over again after. I shook my head no, fighting my gag reflex. Brennan wouldn’t care, and it was too intimate to share with him anyway.

“You’re lying,” he said, hooking his index fingers into my underwear from each side, his voice suddenly harsh behind me.

Another statement.

His mouth was there again, between my thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling my legs shaking. Desperate… wanting…falling in lust with this twisted man. One step from grinding my crotch against his face.

“I know how to smell bullshit from miles. So tell me now, who was it?” His warm breath felt good on my skin, especially as I could barely make out his face from that angle and didn’t know when it was coming. “Who was stupid enough to mess around with you?”

It sounded peculiar, even insulting—why would a guy be stupid to be with me? But at that moment, logic and thinking weren’t the thing on my mind. With my head hanging low, I felt the familiar burn behind my eyes and the lump in my throat.

“Paddy.” My voice thickened. “At his wedding. When I went to the girls’ room. Paddy Rowan touched me there. And many times after. It became a hobby of his at some point.” I swallowed a bitter lump. “I was only nine.”

I didn’t break down in tears. Instead, I delivered the information like I was talking about someone else’s problems, someone else’s sexual abuse. Maybe because I’d hidden it for so long, a part of me almost doubted it had really happened.

After all, no one knew. Not a soul. It went on for nearly a year, and yet, nobody knew. I couldn’t tell my father. He was working for Paddy and Cillian back then, and I knew how much he feared them and needed the paycheck. I had to choose between the truth and food on our table. So I kept it to myself.

Until now.

Admitting this to Troy made me feel more naked than I physically was—it was like giving up an imaginary bulletproof vest. A part of me wanted to see if it would push him away. After all, now I was damaged goods. Tainted by his father’s right-hand man. Troy’s shiny new toy was broken and cracked. Would it put him off? Would he back down? I wanted to know if taking off my armor would inspire him to shoot me where it hurt.

I peeked down to search his face, but he was still behind me.

"What did he do exactly?" He pressed his face to my panties, inhaling gently. He sounded composed and attentive, but clipped. Even though his voice barely gave him away, the sudden twitch of his hand caressing my lower stomach did the job. He was disturbed by what I’d said, but not disgusted by me.

I let out a relieved breath when I realized he wasn’t going to be snide or cold about my confession.

Human, after all.

"He..." I didn’t want to elaborate, but not seeing his face when I spoke about it was liberating. So was getting this secret off my chest. "He didn’t rape me. But he was violent. He shoved his fingers into me. He was drunk, and I was small. Paddy was one of my father’s bosses. I didn’t want to make a scene."

More silence. Not the judging kind, though.

I released my breath, shaking my head. “I’m a little drunk. My normal self would never share something like this with you,” I admitted. “Let’s just drop it, okay? I just want to mess around tonight.”

Troy spun me around by my waist to face him. Still on his knees, he kissed each of my pubic bones, his firm hands keeping me in place. I think I might have loved him in that particular moment. Just for a second. For listening. For being there. For not being terrible for once, even though it was in his DNA. In his nature.

“Is that why you’ve never slept with anyone?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I just...never got around to it.” I knew this wasn’t exactly dirty talk between the sheets. Thankfully, I didn’t spend too much time worrying about trying to impress my new husband.

His eyes pinned me to the dresser, trying to estimate how upset I was. There was no need for that. Paddy happened a long time ago, and I was ready now. Ready for more of those kisses all over my sensitive area.

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, Red.” His voice was grave. “But I feel like it is my duty as a husband and a human being to tell you, sex can be great. Giving up on it just because one asshole…” He grunted his last sentence, pressing his face to my stomach and shutting his eyes, “Or even because we don’t see eye to eye—it’s a big mistake. You can hate me and still love how I make you feel.”

His eyes dropped back to my white panties, and he tugged them down to my knees, kissing the spot just above my slit gently. He then parted me carefully with both thumbs, leaning forward and inhaling me with his eyes shut. It was slightly embarrassing...but incredibly arousing.

My eyes met his as my hand brushed through his hair, so implausibly soft in comparison to the tough man it belonged to. I stepped out of the panties. “I know,” I exhaled. “I don’t want you to stop what you’re doing.”

He pressed his mouth to my center. Darting his tongue out, he explored me, every bit of me, building anticipation. I felt wetness pool inside me and leaned onto the dresser behind me, trying to stay upright. It was only then that his mouth sought—and found—my bundle of sensitive nerves and sucked on it, long and hard, building and releasing pressure like he was pumping a delicious drug into me.

I moaned and fisted his hair, tugging, urging him to continue. Everything tingled. My toes curled inside the high heels. I rolled my hips forward, wiggling out of his strong arms around my waist and wanting, searching, aching for more.

Troy sucked on my clit and pulled it between his teeth, applying more pressure. “Stand still,” he commanded, his hands roaming my body.

Stomach, hips, inner thighs…

“God, I missed eating pussy,” he sighed into me. “And you’re so delicious and tight.”

I blushed, smiling to myself. At least he didn’t do this to everyone. That made me feel stupidly special.

Troy ate me alive, making happy noises throughout. Little grunts and moans that told me he was enjoying this no less than I was. It was probably the first time I ever saw him happy, licking the length of me, sucking on my sensitive part and pumping his tongue in and out of me. He draped one of my thighs over his shoulder, digging his head deeper between my legs, and I threw my head back and cried out his name.

He stopped sucking and slid his tongue into me, in and out, in and out. My vision clouded, my body shook all over. Even though the sensation was insane, it also felt like he was playing with my body and refusing to take it over the edge. He was teasing me, but every time I got closer to tipping over, an orgasm threatening to tear me from the inside out, he slowed down. On purpose.

“Please,” I panted, not really sure what I was asking.

“Please, what?” he urged.

That was a good question. I could see the gates of heaven open up, but Troy wouldn’t let me walk through.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, I kept on pulling his hair almost violently. When he picked up the pace pumping his tongue into me, and I literally saw stars. My knees finally gave in and I buckled, collapsing down on him. He hit the beige carpet with a thud.

“That’s better.” Troy put his hands on my waist to root me into place. “Ride my face, Red. Now…you were saying?”

“Make me come.” I panted harder, shamelessly grinding myself against his mouth. God, I would never be able to look at him again after knowing his tongue was buried so deep inside me.

He smiled into me—I actually felt it, shuddering violently against his lips—and went slower, licking more thoroughly and gently, while shoving one hand back into my bra, pinching my nipple hard. The bastard.

“I hate you.” I let out a grunt, meaning to rise and stand up from this delicious torture, but he jerked me back into his face, laughing into my core. His laugh vibrated inside my body. He was getting off on my frustration.

“Let me go,” I hissed.

“Say the magic word,” he answered, amused.

“Asshole.” I threw my head back, both turned on and exasperated. I was still riding his face, and had a feeling I would be, for hours, if I didn’t put a stop to it.

HolyJesus. Riding his face? My mind was filthy around this man, and I had absolutely zero filters when it came down to what I wanted him to do to me.

“That’s not the magic word. Beg me…” He dragged his tongue along my slit from top to bottom. “And I’ll let you come.”

“Keep dreaming,” I moaned.

His sucking became more intense, and he bit on my throbbing clit. My fingers dug into his skin.

“Beg,” he repeated. “Say what you want to say.”

It was tempting, but I couldn’t let go of my ego, of my sliver of self-control around him. We were not on the same team. Just because he indulged me tonight, didn’t mean he’d acknowledge my existence tomorrow morning.

“No,” I answered again.

He laughed long and hard, drunk on my resistance, loving that I hated his game. He spread my legs so I was wide open in front of him, took my clit in his mouth again and rubbed my entrance with his thumb in delicious up and down movements.

This time I knew I was really on the edge. All I needed were a few more strokes. I didn’t know what was going to happen with Troy, but I knew it would be worth more than the begging. It was magic. It was giving your body to someone else, feeling every single one of your muscles tighten deliciously, feeling a swell of pleasure about to overtake you like a tsunami…

“Beg,” he demanded one more time, and I knew it’d be the last.

“No.”

His wet lips left my skin as he dragged his body up so he could kiss my lips, inserting his tongue into my mouth and swirling it teasingly, forcing me to taste myself.

“This was fun.” His throaty voice tickled me, and I felt shattered. I wanted to come so badly. “Now let’s see how long you can manage without begging me to be balls deep in you. I like a challenge.”

“Good, ’cause you’re in for an impossible one.” My teeth chattered from the impact of his touch, but at least I managed a comeback.

He gave me another deep, intoxicating kiss, darting his tongue and twirling it over my lower lip. I felt his smile.

“Your spine…” He ran his index finger along my back. “Is beautiful. And here, I thought I could snap you like a twig.”

He propped himself up, leaving me to lie there on the floor, naked other than my bra and heels, as he walked out of the room unaffected, like nothing happened.

A chill gripped my body when I felt his footfalls in the hallway, echoing on the bedroom floor. He opened a door down the hall, probably his study, and banged it shut after him.

The pit of my stomach turned, worry and anxiety swirling inside. I buried my face in the crook of my elbow.

He could still snap me like a twig. He’d just decided not to…this time.