Page 22 of The Price Of Possession

I shove my dick between her open lips. She welcomes it like a trained whore. Her mouth is warm and inviting. Fuck gentle. I know she can take it. I jam it so far back it slams into her throat. She makes a gag noise and pushes at my brawny thighs. Good luck, Nightshade. I don't skip leg day. Once she realizes I'm not letting up, she tongues the underside of my length, giving into temptation. I throw my head back and choke out a deep snarl.

“Fucccccck,” I curse. This may very well be the best Goddamn blow job of my life. My balls ache with the need to pump every last drop down her pretty little throat. I can't remember the last time a bitch had me so consumed with the need to come. I make the mistake of looking down into her sapphire pools, and I'm fucking done. I roar through my release, snapping my hips forward so she takes it all. Rope after rope of my hot cum pumps down her esophagus. I watch the way her throat swallows and clicks with each pulse of my cock. It's erotic as hell.

“Mmm, that's my girl,” I praise her. I'm not into that shit, but she did a hell of a job, so I make an exception. When I pop her free from my cock, she's panting. Her body trembles. I put my cock away. I stroke her cheek with my knuckle. Her fear feeds my frenzied mania.

“Please, let me out,” she bows her head down. She's defeated. No spitfire? A fucking shame.

I stroke her cheek reverently. Chilled to the bone and utterly appetizing. She's real fucking lucky they heat this motherfucker or she'd be royally screwed.

“Nah, I'm a selfish fuck if you've not gathered. I'm protecting you from bigger monsters than me.” I'm full of shit and I know it. Really, I just want her to myself. She feeds my frenzied desires. It's not the safest option. I know I'm playing with fire and I'm likely going to get burnt. It's easier to fuck her without attachment. I should drug her, numb myself and leave it at that. I shouldn't give a shit if she's passed around. It's the sick compulsion to break her myself that drove me to this level of cynicism. Vesper and Zain will be grilling me about her whereabouts. Of course my impulsive ass made no plan. I think with my dick too much, I'm told.

Her eyes fall shut; her matted hair clings to her tear-stricken cheeks. Such a beautiful disaster. I tilt my head, dissecting her. Someone broke her. Long before me. I'm just the one delivering the final blow. A strange sensation tugs at my insides, but I ignore it. I crouch. Her puffy eyes offer no hint of her past. Like me, she locks that shit up tight. I'll uncover her secrets, and when I do, I'll make her drown in her past until she flounders.

“You did somethin’, didn't you?” Zain shakes his head as he sits across from me in the Ops building. I shoot him a guilt-ridden expression. What can I say, lying isn't my fashion, at least with Zain. The guy can see right through me. I lean back in the chair, propping my muddy boots on the tabletop with a non-committal shrug.

“Your pathological fixation has gotten the best of you, Kieran,” Zain warns, rubbing his thumb and forefinger along the arch of his nose. I flip him off. My patience is running thin with his dissection into my life and choices.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't,” I shrug, picking at my nailbed. Val and Grey spot me from the lunch line. I shake my head, letting them know I'm not sitting with them today. I haven't been as social as usual. They're definitely picking up on it. Zain wants nothing to do with the Elites and their bullshit, either. I don't blame the guy. He's always preferred solitude, though Vesper is getting him to slowly open up in minor social settings.

“Vesper is pissed. She hasn't been able to get ahold of Clara in a fuckin' day and a half. Whatever the fuck you're doin’, wrap it up. I can't keep lyin’ to her. She's worried Clara will agree to their Void bullshit,” he spouts.

He has no clue she already has. And I stole her for myself. Then locked her away. I raise a brow. “Can’t you? You lied to all of us for weeks about shit,” I glower, sitting up straight in my seat. I’m still sore at him for not trusting me enough with his secrets.

Shit, he even used my gun to commit a crime. Still sore about that.

He bares his teeth, grunting at me. He leans back in his seat crossing his arms. “So did you,” he counters casually.

“Lying and withholding information are two very different things,” I point out with a head tilt. Skirting around the truth is more like it. My boots fall to the floor, and I reach for my plate to start devouring my lunch. Bread, beef stew and butter with a protein drink for later.

Zain massages his temples. I snigger. Getting under his skin is something I relish. “Kieran!’ a shout echoed through the Ops hall, quieting the subtle mindless babble and kitchen bustle. I let out a breathy sigh, drop my spoon, and glance over my shoulder. And who do I see?

Fucking hell.

Zain smirks, picking up his spoon. “Feel her wrath, Kieran. She's grown a backbone now, courtesy of yours truly.” The fucker is smug as shit in his seat as he sips his soup. I want to punch the dickhead.

Vesper's shoes slap against the flagstone floor in quick movements as she rushes across the room, and I grunt internally. Normally Vesper doesn't bother me. Hell, she's quiet and shy. At least she used to be a docile little thing before Zain got his claws in her. Dealing with women is my least favorite. I prefer fucking them and not dealing with their needy bullshit. In this case, that isn't an option. Instead, I'm stuck on the receiving end of her fury. Clara means the world to her. If she had an inkling I was hiding her in a damn mausoleum with a handful of clothes, a dirty old mattress and limited snacks as my fuck slave, she'd go mental.

She materializes beside me into a ball of choler. Her temper rises with each passing second as I ignore her. Zain keeps quiet, watching his wife radiate rage.

“Don't you dare ignore me! What happened to her! You have to know something!” She taps her Docs impatiently.

I take a bite of my bread. “She's a bit . . . tied up right now.” I shrug with a mouthful of food, holding back my snicker. Tied up, chained up, shackled? All the same to me. She blinks a few times before rounding the table to plop down next to Zain. She looks back and forth between us. “One of you two better start talking. You don't understand, she suffers from . . .” She chews the loose skin on her lip, trailing off.

That piques my interest. Another layer to polish away in hopes of revealing the real Clara.

I push my tray back and recline in my seat, intrigued. “Such as?” She clings to Zain like a lifeline. He kisses the top of her head in a tender display of affection that is just weird as fuck, even for him. “Well, I don't know exactly. She's never opened up. I suspect some type of abuse and mental health episodes.” She glares at me as if I'm the root cause. If she thinks I did anything to Clara she didn't want, she couldn't be more wrong.

My eyes narrow and I tilt my head. “I never did anything she didn't already want,” I hiss sharply. It's half true, I just withhold the full truth. I drugged her for my own selfish gain; it just so happens she enjoys being comatose, too.

She purses her lips and looks at Zain before glaring back at me. For assurance? The truth? Fuck if I know, but Zain doesn't get involved in my bedroom activities, despite being offered numerous times.

“Who knows what the hell you did at the party. She clearly doesn't want you around, Kieran. You're lucky Zain came and removed me or else I would have—”

I snicker. Lucky? She's maybe 140 pounds and 5'1, she isn't capable of shit. “—Or what? You would have sicced Zain on me? Please. As much as the fucker and I spar, I'm bigger than he is muscle wise,” I chuff.

Zain shoots me a sullen glare. He knows it's true. Though it never stops him. The guy is fearless, and very territorial over his girl. He would fight someone twice his size just to prove a point.

The loud speaker crackles overhead before she can fire off a