"Did you find out who sent him?"
"Of course I did. It was the Sparrows. And we need to have a talk about that," I rumbled, "just not now."
"N-Not now." She blinked. "I-I don’t know what to say."
"What is there to say? I told you, this world is cruel and filthy. It’s not a nice place to be. The second I listened to your articles, I knew what you’d do to me. I knew that inquisitive mind, that opinionated bitch who brought experienced editors to their knees, would be like nectar to me. Someone with a voice, who wasn’t afraid to use it. Who wouldn’t be afraid of me." I jerked my head to the side. "I knew you’d be the one to flay me. Then I saw you, then I met you, and I knew it like you’d signed my death warrant yourself."
"Then why the fuck would you walk away?" she grated out, her hands smoothing over my chest to grab my shoulders. Her nails dug in, biting deep as she screamed in my face, "Why the fuck would you do that? Why would you ghost me?"
"Because you think you know my world but you don’t. You saw one sliver of it in real life and it sent you into a spiral that triggered an unhealthy obsession with the mafia.
"Your therapist should be shot, because here you are. Yet again. You’ve waded headfirst into the fray and are a part of it whether you like it or not. The difference between here and now, Savannah, is that I’m not the man I once was.
"Back then, I was a conceited prick who thought I ruled the world because I was Da’s heir. I had any pussy I wanted, could buy a fleet of Ferraris... most of humanity was at my feet, and I was more than okay with that. I had a rep for being a nasty piece of shit when things went south but that was it.
"Now, I know what pain is. I know what suffering is. I know that it’s there, whether you’re a part of this fucking life or not. This time, I’m not going to walk away. You won’t be chaining yourself to me. I’ll do that so you’re the one who has to decide. Run, little girl, because that’s the only way I’m going to let go of you now."
"You’re giving me whiplash, Aidan," she rasped, and I saw exactly how unafraid she was. After my confession, she should have been cowering in front of me, but she wasn’t. If anything she stood on tiptoes to get in my face. "One minute, you’re pulling back, the next you’re chaining me to your side? I think you’re the one who needs to learn to be more decisive."
The way she prodded my chest with her finger had the beast gnashing its fangs.
"Don’t play with monsters, Savannah," I warned, "not unless you’re willing to get bitten."
And with that, I dropped my mouth to hers, pressed my teeth around her bottom lip, and did as I promised.
I bit.
Sixteen
Savannah
The second his teeth pressed into the soft, tender flesh of my lip, I moaned. I had no choice.
It hurt.
It stung.
It was exquisite.
I needed that more than he could know, more than he could possibly recognize.
A growl escaped him as he pressed down harder, enough that my ass clenched and I popped up onto tiptoes once more as I moved into him to diminish the sting. As I did, I lowered my hands, pressing them to his pecs, touching him, softening him with my caresses, needing him to keep on biting, to never let go, but wanting the pain to fade.
A whimper escaped me when, finally, he released his hold, but not for long. Just enough time for him to slip his tongue between my lips, to thrust it against mine. To take my mouth. To claim it. To do as I’d known he always would—to possess me.
Own me.
God, how I needed him to own me.
My whimper morphed into a mewl as he ate into my mouth, teasing me and tearing into me, ripping me apart and building me back together.
I cried out as his hands finally moved, those long fingers and wide palms pressing into me, parting my ass wider until the tips dug into my labia.
I knew I was wet.
Shamefully so.
Ridiculously so.
My body was a patchwork quilt of bruises and aches after last night, but I didn’t feel any of it. Didn’t know it was there because my pussy had taken control. Just like it had been begging to for years.
As he fucked my mouth, I let him, head tipped back, taking everything he gave until he started to pull away. The second he did, I followed, not letting him stop, wanting him to carry on, needing this to never stop, to forever continue. To always happen.
A growl escaped him the longer I tangled my tongue with his, when I started to fight back, to fuck back, to savor and sample, to taste and to tease.
Soon, we weren’t just sharing saliva, but air. I could feel his cock digging into me as much as I could feel the exertion that came from breathing with how heavily his torso rubbed up against mine. Then he lifted me. By my ass alone, and I squeaked, squealed, pulling back because I wasn’t sure what he was doing until he raised me to the massage table.
The brute strength of the move, because I wasn’t a small woman, and because of his injury had my heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t like he’d carried me across the Brooklyn Bridge, but still, it was unanticipated.
No more so than when he dove for my throat and started sucking down on it, biting it and nibbling it before palpating his tongue against it, continuously raking his teeth down against the flesh so I knew I’d be wearing a hickey.
A groan escaped me as my head tipped back, giving him better access, needing that to be the biggest fucking hickey any woman had ever worn. Maybe, every time he saw it, he’d remember. Be reminded of what we had together—this insane chemistry that hadn’t died with the years that separated us, that couldn’t even, I believed, be killed through neglect. Something this powerful just couldn’t fade away.
Then he froze, and just when I thought I’d lost him, when I felt sure he was going to walk away, he rasped, "I need to shut the door."
Dazed, I blinked at him. "What? Why?"
"Conor—" He growled. "I don’t want him to see you like this."
Touched, I slipped my fingers through his hair, dragging my nails along his scalp, feeling his shudder as he bit me there, like he couldn’t stop himself from touching me that way.
Good.
"He’s busy," I rasped.
I had to pray that he was, because sweet lord, I didn’t give a damn if his brothers waded in so long as they fucked off immediately.
I needed him.
I needed him so bad.
I arched against him, grinding into him, encouraging him to forget. It seemed to work, because when I brushed my tits into his chest, his mouth slid down, down, down to my nipple. His teeth caught the tip, and he pulled on it with a ferocity that had me yelping.
Every move he made spoke of the violence in him, and I knew that at this moment, I was feeling the raw Aidan. The man who’d killed. Who’d committed violence.
In my name.
But all I could think was that Thomas’ killer had gotten what he deserved.
That wasn’t a PC thought, and I knew I should have found Aidan’s confession abhorrent, should have been repulsed but maybe he was right.
Maybe I was gruesome.
Maybe violence didn’t scare me.
I’d seen it when I was young, had seen my dad be violent during situations that were out of his control. I’d seen him beat a paparazzo, watched as he destroyed rooms if any of his kids were ever injured or harmed. I didn’t fear fists. They could hurt, but I’d never had them used against me.