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Securing both my hands around her jaw, I held her immobile and fucked her mouth until I was spilling all over her tongue and down her throat. She hummed as she took everything I had to give her, and when I was finally sated, I pulled free and zipped myself back up.
There would be no aftercare. No fucking moment of sweetness. I had come to take something from her, and she’d given it to me willingly.
I walked into the club to find Mary—the clan’s Pull.
She took one look at me and her lips pressed into a tight line. “Raven need a ride home?”
I nodded.
“How bad is it this time?”
What she meant was did I whip her until she literally couldn’t move from all the pleasure rolling through her body. Raven was a pain slut—a masochist in the purest form. When she and I came together, it was a battle to inflict the most pain, and to suffer the most pain. Tonight’s session had been tame compared to what we normally did—downright vanilla—and I could only blame that on a certain blonde who had burrowed beneath my skin.
“A few rope burns.”
Mary bobbed her head and picked up the phone, calling whoever the fuck she needed to call, while I left Velvet the same way I’d come in, slipping out the back door and into the night.
FIFTEEN
FALLON
The bowl of pasta that I’d finished an hour ago was still sitting on the nightstand where I’d left it. After Orin had gone, I didn’t know what to do. I was confused by his reaction to me and wondered what the hell he’d meant when he said I shouldn’t touch him. One minute, he seemed as if he was ready to let me suck his cock, then the next … it was like a switch had been flipped.
What had I said that had made him change his mind?
And where had he run off to?
After getting dressed in one of Orin’s black t-shirts, which swallowed me down to my mid-thigh, and a pair of sleeping shorts, I’d tried to follow him. But as soon as I walked into the kitchen and living area, there were a bunch of men I didn’t recognize. Just like I knew would happen, panic started to bubble up, and the knowledge that I was alone in a house with strange men tipped me over the edge. I’d run back to the room, locked the door, and then locked the bathroom door.
After an hour, when it was clear nobody was going to try and break in, I emerged, sat on the bed, and waited for Orin to return. My gaze shifted from the empty bowl to my feet, then back to the bowl.
When was he coming back, and where had he gone?
My head jerked around when the handle on the door depressed, then released.
“Fallon? You in there?” Orin called.
I scooted off the bed, unlocking the door and yanking it open. The happiness I felt drained away when I got a look at his face. He looked as if he’d been dragged through the wringer, and as he walked past me to the bathroom, he smelled of another woman’s perfume.
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “Where were you?” I demanded of his retreating back.
He didn’t bother to answer. He just pushed the door closed behind him, but it didn’t close all the way so there was a couple of inches gap that I could see through. He stripped out of his clothes, then turned on the shower. I knew better than to barge back in there again, so I curled up on the bed and waited for him.
When he emerged from the shower five minutes later in a towel, I sat up. His dark eyes traced the way my hair fell over my shoulder.
His jaw tightened. “I need to go.”
“Go?” I swallowed. “Where are you going?”
“Limerick. I have a job to do.”
Ajob. A murder. “How long will you be gone?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders, and I traced the slope of his traps down to his broad shoulders and chest. He may have been older than me, but his body was still in phenomenal shape, and the tattoos that covered every inch of his chest and torso only enhanced the sharp definition of his muscles.
Licking my lips, I asked hesitantly, “Can I come with you?”
His brows rose. “You know what I do, Fallon. You really want to be an accessory to fucking murder?” He said it so casually—so cruelly.
