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Everything explodes inside of me, and I rock against him, grinding hard, only my core muscles keeping me upright. His hand bites into my thigh, my knees, and I keep my legs locked against his head.
I’m literally sitting on his face, pushing into him because I want him to suffer. I want him to feel some of what I do when he makes me do things, when his cock cuts off my air. I want to unleash. I want to come. The build that starts as his mouth bites and pulls, his tongue strokes, and his fingers curl within me, it’s ready to consume me whole.
The pressure is big, getting bigger, and all my nerve endings coil down into this. The pleasure, the release is there, right there, and he’s pushing me to it. Suddenly, I explode and shake and shudder, my body clenching and every endorphin in me erupts, releasing all the good things in the world.
I’m bright light.
Floating.
A total mess of orgasmic bliss.
When I come down from the euphoric cloud, I’m no longer on him. He’s got me in his arms and he’s stroking my hair.
I’m trembling, and all I can remember is the fracture of the orgasm, the way it changed the world, just for those precious moments.
“Up.” Malone eases me off him. He stands and helps me up, and then he turns me around and undoes the cuffs. “Good girl. Now listen up. After you shower, I’m going to tell you what I need you to do today at your father’s.”
I just stare at him, reality coming back with a bang. Pun absolutely intended.
When I get to Dad’s place, it’s quiet, empty. Usually I’m here later than this, not midmorning.
After I showered and dressed, I left the apartment with the intention to check out my dad’s office for information. I don’t know what Malone was doing. He’d locked himself in his office. I didn’t bother to let him know I was going. Bruised and delicate, I quietly slipped out. Bruised and delicate in a way that has nothing to do with the physical, and everything to do with the emotional.
Once I get to the townhouse, I grit my teeth and trudge to Dad’s office. I wander around, rifling through the file folders in unlocked cabinets, searching for anything out of the ordinary, like Malone asked me to.
Unease trickles down my spine when I pull at the lowest drawer. It doesn’t budge. Maybe there’s something in there.
Malone wants all the information my dad and uncle might not know… or might not give.
If this’ll help them, help us, end the whole Malone business, then…
I take in a deep breath and start trying to jimmy the lock with a letter opener.
The front door slams, and I freeze when voices trickle in.
Uncle Grant.
And…
Malone.
NINETEEN
malone
“It’s not just a matter of protection; it’s also a matter of finding out who’s after you.” I pause. “Unless you don’t want me to know.”
Grant Hanlon gives me a look that, at its heart, is pure contempt.
And fear.
He fears me. All the rumors he’s heard about me, and him poking into my character, have paid off. Usually, no one ever goes beneath the surface, but I always make sure there are layers, just in case.
He clearly has delved deep.
And he knows of James Malone’s reputation outside of New York. He’s seen that other criminals vie for my time, to visit my club, to buy my products.
It says to me that Hanlon Shipping knows they’re up to no good with the things they transport, but they try to keep their hands as clean as possible.
