There’s nothing like this feeling. Nothing at all in the world compares to Aodhan O’Cronin sliding inside of me like he’s coming home, and he doesn’t at all ease me into it. His hips move rhythmically, not pounding into me but relentless as he stokes my body into a frenzy.
I’m a squirming mess but one of his hands clamps onto my chin and holds my face steady as he stares down at me, taking in every shaking moan and desperate gasp until I’m coming, my pussy clenching around him and his hips stuttering for a second as he groans.
He doesn’t come though.
The control he’s got over himself right now is fucking unreal, and the moment I come down from my high, his hips start up again. It’s not until my body is breaking apart for the fourth time that he grunts and grinds his hips into mine, his lips desperate on mine as we both groan through the high.
My legs are numb so he definitely did exactly what he said he was going to do.
He leans down to press his forehead against mine, his breath fanning out across my cheeks before he pulls out and away from me, and it’s a more intimate moment than when I’d straddled his smirking face.
I think I’m in love with him.
It shouldn’t shock me at all, I wouldn’t let him in if I didn’t think that this could be something serious, but I didn’t think I was close to those feelings yet.
It almost feels like it’s rushed… because my feelings for Atticus have been with me forever and to find someone else so quickly and to fall so hard feels freaking terrifying.
And just like that, my brain clicks back on and there’s no escaping from everything swirling around in there, processing and assessing and calculating the risks and rewards.
I want nothing more than to curl up in Aodhan's arms and sleep for the next month. It's so unlike me, I never run from the hard stuff like this and I'm always planning out our next moves, but right now that seems... terrifying.
What if our next moves are to kill Atticus?
"Stop thinking about it, Queenie. Stop worrying about what the asshole is doing, that's tomorrow's problem. Fuck, maybe we need to go again to ram that home for you."
I roll my eyes at the suggestive tones, but a smile creeps over my face. Nobody is perfect, no matter how much they mean to me, but Aodhan comes pretty close.
I used to think the same of Atticus.
Jesus H. Christ, I'm never going to be able to get him out of my head.
"This is the way my brain works; I can't shut it off. Get some sleep, you've been up for longer than I have."
He lets out a breath and shuts his eyes, the exhaustion still radiating off of him in waves. He looks like the last two days have aged him, like the grinning and easygoing guy that has become such an important part of my life has been replaced with a world-weary man.
Okay, that might be a little dramatic of me to say but of the two men who have found their way into my heart, he's the balance. He's the one who manages to walk that line between treating me like I know what the hell I'm doing and trying to make me enjoy life just a little more. He doesn't coddle me or protect me into captivity.
He wants me to live.
I lean over to kiss him softly and then I pull away to grab my phone from where it's fallen the short distance to the floor. There's a dozen messages from Ash, all of them worried and savage in his hatred of Atticus. I know Lips wouldn't have told him any of the details, but my brother hates Atticus enough that he doesn't need details.
He only needs to hear his name.
Lips has sent through some more theories and the names of the photos she didn't recognize thanks to Illi. Everything is vague in that way that she is in messages, too worried about being hacked and having her messages land in the wrong hands.
It's a valid concern.
You can ruin someone's whole life with a handful of screenshots.
There's also a message from Jackson to call him when I wake up which has me wincing at the idea that I still haven't gone to sleep yet. I move to get out of the bed so I don't disturb Aodhan, though there's only the bathroom to hide in, but his arm snakes around me and holds onto me tight.
"I need to make a call. Just get some sleep and I'll be back in a minute."
He grunts and pulls me in closer. "You're not fucking leaving this bed. Call people, threaten them, plan a coup—I don't give a fuck, but your ass isn't moving."
I huff at him like I'm annoyed but he's a little too charming for me right now because I need to focus on my work for a minute.
I dial Jackson's number and he picks up almost instantly. "Good morning, my liege."
Christ. "What have you found, Jackson; I'm not in the mood for games."
He grunts at me and I hear the sounds of his fingers on the keyboard. He has one of those loud, extra clicky types that would make me want to murder him if I were Viola.
Thank God I'm not.
Being stuck with Jackson in the bunker is a fate worse than hell.
"Did you recognize the guy in the basement at all? Was there, like, anything at all about him that seemed familiar to you?"
I roll my eyes and huff at the idiot. "If I did recognize him, why the hell would I ask you to figure out who he is? Honestly, Jackson—"
"There's no security cameras in the tunnel or the basement, obviously, because I didn't even know the basement existed. So I had to go through the security footage to figure out who went into the house and has never come out."
I shrug, that's obvious enough. "How far back did you go?"
He groans. "I went as far back as it took for someone not to fucking leave the place. Crawford doesn’t shit where he eats, thank God, so it's not like I had to look for body bags either."
Aodhan pulls me further into his body, tucking me in close and burying his face into my neck while he tries to sleep through the phone call.
Just once I'd like to enjoy it rather than dealing with this bullshit.
"The only person who has gone in but not out was his brother, Bingley. The Butcher delivered him there four years ago and the pervert has never left."
Bingley.
Jesus H. Christ, could it have been him? I didn't get a good look at the guy, the smells and moaning were terrifying and I was too goddamn distracted by the murder board to get a proper photo of him, but... I mean, it could have been. Four years of captivity and if Atticus wasn't exactly taking care of him then it definitely could have been him.
Why the hell would he be keeping him down there?
The obvious answer is that Bing is a pedophile who was possibly worse than Randy and Holden in his depravity because he aimed his perversions at innocent children, but why not just kill him? If Atticus paid the Butcher to find him and bring him in then why not just get him taken care of in a more permanent way?
Obviously, Randy and Holden don't know that Atticus has him locked up, so he could have easily hidden his death. Illi has access to cannibals, for Christ's sake, they don't exactly leave much evidence behind!
I'm going to have to speak with him.
I don't want to but there's too many inconsistencies, too many variables, too many different scenarios that could be happening. He could be innocent.
As innocent as the Crow can be.
"Thank you, Jackson. As always your work is impeccable."
He huffs down the line at me. "Does this mean I'm off your shit list? I like breathing."