11. Victoria

Watching Luke stride away,his dark side having reared its head in full force, has my knickers damp. Alive and thrumming with a heady mix of power and desire, I hear the front door slam and then head upstairs. There’s something about pushing him to the brink, dictating his pleasure with just my words and gaze, that makes me feel untouchable. I can still hear his ragged breathing, the haunting echo of his voice as he falls apart under my command.

As I make my way to my room, I smirk, pleased with myself. I’m playing a dangerous game, flirting with the lines between loyalty and betrayal, pleasure and control. It’s exhilarating.

I close the door behind me and lean back against it, closing my eyes to savour the lingering rush. The image of Luke undone, pleasure contorting his handsome features as he follows my orders – it’s enough to fuel fantasies for weeks. He wants reciprocation, and he’ll get it. When he least expects it, he’ll get it.

Checking my phone as I pull it out of my jacket pocket, I see a message from Cian saying he’s on his way back and he’s coming here. That was over an hour ago, so he will be here soon. Time to put at least part of my plan to torment Luke into action. I strip off and take my phone into the bathroom. I set it up to record as I step into the shower, not giving the camera a view of anything but my ass.

The water cascades over me, hot and insistent, and I let out a soft moan for effect. My hands roam across my skin, making sure to stay mostly out of shot – it’s all about the tease, the suggestion of what he can’t have. I run my fingers through my hair, the wet strands slipping through like silk. The knowledge that Luke will be watching this later, his body hungry for what I’m not giving him, sends a thrill straight to my core.

I finish my shower with an exaggerated shiver of pleasure, shut off the water and step out, wrapping a towel around me without giving the camera any satisfaction. As I replay the recording, I smile at the perfect balance of invitation and denial in every frame. This will drive him mad, and it’s not even the start of it. The illicit thrill is intoxicating.

Wiping steam from the mirror, I peer at my reflection—a flushed face with eyes sparking mischief back at me as the doorbell goes. Snatching up the phone, I set it back to video. Now that I’ve started this game, I want all sorts of scenarios to torture Luke with, and myself as I watch them back.

Hurrying downstairs, still in my towel, I place the phone on its side on the table near the door, angling it to have some kind of view and press record. Cian’s presence is like a punch to my senses when I open the door—masculine energy mixed with danger and an undercurrent of raw emotion that clings to him like a second skin.

“Hey,” he says with a tight smile as he rakes his gaze over me. His voice is heavy with something unspoken, but whatever it is, gets lost in the passion that overtakes him.

He sweeps inside, kicking the door closed as he takes me in his arms and crashes his mouth onto mine. It’s not a kiss of tenderness—it’s hard, desperate, a little bit punishing. He’s staking his claim, one of possession and control.

Cian’s hands explore every inch of my glistening skin, sending sparks of intense pleasure through me. I eagerly part my lips, silently begging for more as he rips away the towel, leaving me exposed. His eyes hungrily trace my curves from head to toe, and a low groan escapes his lips at the sight. He takes a step back to fully appreciate me, his urgency etched into his features.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growls before lifting me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “You’re fucking mine.” The rough texture of his jeans scratches against my thighs as he turns and slams me up against the front door, playing right into my sneaky video. I don’t even have to ask if he minds. I know he will find it as big a turn-on as I am. Although part of me, the part that needs consent, screams at me.

My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as our kisses deepen into something chaotic and raw. “Recording…” I breathe.

He chuckles and doesn’t waste time with pleasantries or foreplay—not here, not now. Cian’s fingers slide between my legs, eliciting a sharp gasp from my lips as he twists my clit just this side of painful. He feels how ready I am for him. How ready I’ve been for him all fucking day, how ready the encounter with Luke has made me. “Fuck, Victoria,” he hisses. “You’re so wet for me.”

“Yes,” I moan in response, pressing myself into his hand with desperate desire. “Only for you.”

That seems to be what he needs to hear because the next second, he’s unbuckling his belt and freeing himself from the confines of his sexy black jeans. His cock is hard and ready, and he doesn’t hesitate to thrust into me in one smooth motion.

The sensation is sharp, a mix of pain and pleasure that sets off fireworks behind my closed eyes. I wrap my legs tighter around him, urging him to take everything he needs. The sound of our bodies slamming against the door creates a rhythm that feels like it’s been set to the beating of my heart. “Cian,” I cry out, the word a plea, a demand, an acknowledgement of his claim over me.

He doesn’t relent, his thrusts are deep and punishing, each one driving higher stakes into this dangerous game we’re all playing. Life or death, love or lust—it’s hard to tell them apart anymore. His breath hitches as he leans in, burying his face into the crook of my neck. “Mine,” he repeats between pants, each word punctuated with another thrust.

My response is loud and uninhibited, cries that echo through the entrance hall as he hits all the right spots. This isn’t just sex; it’s a reclaiming, a branding of sorts. But it’s also temptation—fuel for the fire between Luke and me, stoked by each scream that rips from my throat, each grunt that pulls from Cian’s.

Abruptly, he pulls back slightly to look at me. Those blue eyes are dark with desire but also something else—something heavier. Something happened at his dad’s place earlier, but now isn’t the time to ask.

He growls, grabbing my chin roughly and forcing my eyes to meet his. “You’re a goddamn masterpiece when you let go for me.”

The intensity is too much, too fierce. It’s a blend of raw authenticity and dark fantasy, and it’s all-consuming. I claw at him, nails digging into his skin as if trying to pull him even closer, to merge with him entirely. My body climbs, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. I can feel the tension coil tighter as I grip him with my thighs, rising up so he can hit that spot in my soaking pussy dead on.

“Cian,” I gasp, the name coming out as a strangled plea.

“Do it,” he commands, his voice rough. “Come for me, killer. I need to feel you.”

It doesn’t take more than those words for the dam to break. My climax crashes over me in waves, relentless, fierce. My scream of release could wake the dead as pleasure obliterates every other sense.

Cian follows shortly after with a low curse, pulling me impossibly tight against him as he spills his cum into me. His face is buried in my shoulder, his body shuddering against mine with each pulse of his cock buried deep in my cunt.

He’s still for a long moment, his breathing ragged against my skin. The door to the world outside might as well be a million miles away; it’s just us in this tangled, fucked-up moment that I can’t get enough of. His weight presses me into the wood, and I feel every line and curve of him.

“I need to tell you about today,” he rasps, and I nod, still trying to catch my breath. The catch in his voice sobers me up quickly from the post-orgasm haze. Cian never shows weakness. If he’s rattled, things are worse than bad.

He gently sets me down, his hands steadying me as I find my footing. The cool air hits my skin. I watch as Cian turns away from me to fix his jeans. Every movement is precise but slower than usual, like it takes effort for him to control his body after what just happened.

I grab the towel from the floor and wrap it around myself. When he finally turns back to face me, something in his gaze shifts. It’s like he’s steeling himself for what comes next. “Oisin is dead,” Cian states flatly.

“What?” I ask in surprise. “What happened?” I have the presence of mind to grab my phone and flick it off, cutting the video off.

“When I arrived, they were there, masked men, probably Kellerman’s crew. Shot Oisin in the head before I could stop them. The fucked up thing is, I don’t think I would’ve even if I’d had time. You know?”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, going to him and stroking his face. It’s what he needs to hear. He doesn’t need to be guilt tripped. He needs me to understand him. I’m probably the only one who can. Well, Luke and Gianluca, as well. “So you’re it?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I’m it. Head of this faction of the Gannon family. Robert is pissed.” He almost seems pleased by that.

“That’s a weight.”

“No shit,” he spits out, but he’s not angry with me. “I can’t deal with this right now, Tory. I need…”

“What do you need?”

“You. And maybe someone to punch.”

I grin. “You wanna go looking for a fight? Maybe fuck a little after? I’m down.”

He returns the smile, shaky but genuine. “Knew you would be.”

“Let me get dressed, and we’ll go looking for trouble.”

He grabs my hands as I move to pass him and kisses it. “You’re fucking perfect for me.”

“As you are for me,” I say lightly and pull away so I can get dressed; thoughts of tormenting Luke not far from my mind as I grip my phone. Not now. I want him with Cian when I send the video of me in the shower. I want him to watch it on silent, turned on and desperate for me.

I remember the box and turn back to tell Cian, but he slumps down the wall and stares off into space.

So, I leave it for now.