Page 13 of Heirs of Havoc

“Feliks, wait—”

His palms slam on either side of me. The smell of sandalwood, vodka and pot rushes over my senses as Feliks' blonde head hangs. “Put it on, Mia.” He drops my nickname, pushing me against the wall.

“Or what?” Why am I whispering? Clearing my throat, I speak up. “You going to kill me? Is that why he sent you here?”

His eyes flick up, gold boring into mine for the first time in… ever. I know what’s coming, but it’s too late. “Why who?” And that question is enough to make my words still. He scoffs. “He’s still the only thing to shut you up.” Feliks reaches into his pockets. I wince, waiting for the shiny metal to come to my skull. “I’m not gonna kill you, Mia. But I will make you do what I say.” A squeal escapes me when my feet lift off the ground and I’m swivelled around the room.

My back hits something soft. My mattress.

Not what I expected.

I also don’t expect him to climb on top of me, his weight making me gasp as air rushes out of me. Both my wrists come into his grip before he pulls out a packet. Guitar strings? He pulls one out with his teeth like he’s pulling out a condom. And with the way something hardens against me, I wonder if he wishes it was. Fitzgerald lulls in the background and this almost feels intimate, but his rough hands remind me it’s not.

“Feliks!” Fighting against his hold only strengthens him. He doesn’t growl, he doesn’t curse. He appears as calm as a priest in church as he wraps a string around one of my wrists, the metal harsh against my skin. While he’s distracted, my free hand lands on his smooth face, trying to push him away. But I end up scratching him instead.

“Bad move, Bunny.” When he leans over, he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

My stomach tightens before that burn erupts on my skin. The shock is enough for him to tie another guitar string around my free wrist. Now I’m bound to my bed. Thrashing my legs from underneath him only gets me a raised thick brow. “Keep thrashing. I bet it feels as good for you as it does for me.” One hard thrust shows me how hard he is and I hate the twitch that comes to my thighs. But he gets what he wants. My struggle slows.

I’m not going down that path. I know what happens. The relaxed ones are always trouble, especially with the company he hangs with.

“Fuck,” he mutters, reaching into the pocket on the front of his hoodie. He pulls out a small baggy before he sprinkles a line of white powder from my cleavage up to my neck. “I’m gonna need this if I’m handling you all on my own.” His nose hits my skin, another spark to my body but relief hits my chest with it. He’s alone.

That gives me the bravery to ask what’s on my mind. “Is he out?” I’ve seen three of his men in the last twenty-four hours. If the crew is back together, there’s a high chance he’s not far behind.

Sniiiiff!

“Who, Bunny?” Feliks wiggles his nose, hovering those thick lips over mine. “Tell me who.” His eyes drop to my chest before he finishes the fat trail on my body, my core lifting beneath him. “Not gonna tell me?” He lets out a soft chuckle when I don’t answer his question. “Well, at least I won’t have to gag you.” He’s only trying to quiet me, but the way his fingers travel down my sternum makes my breath shake. His weight shifts, his fingers moving to the band of those leather panties. He snaps it against my skin, my core rising again. “Who the hell is this for, Bunny?”

“What's with you guys and being obsessed with my underwear?” First the twins, now Feliks. While a girl would be crazy to complain about having the hands of these desirable men all over her, I have questions. His brows furrow like he’s confused. “As if you don’t know the twins spread my legs to get answers."

The band snaps against my skin again, a sting rushing from my hip right between my legs. “They weren’t supposed to touch you,” he mutters, then his dilated eyes meet mine, a twitch in his nose. “But I can’t blame ‘em.” His soft voice doesn’t make this any less sensual. Especially when he pulls those panties further down my legs.

“Feliks …”

He groans, like he’s enjoying the way I damn near moan his name. “Don’t worry, Bunny, I know your cunt’s wet, but I’m just doing my job.” When he tugs a red thong from underneath me, he proves it’s all business. The lace feels soft against my skin, his eyes on my body like he’s taking it all in. They travel up to my tits before landing on my hoodie. “Hmm… how am I gonna get this off you, huh?”

I smirk, relishing in his small fuck-up. “Should’ve thought about that before you tied me to my bed, you psycho.”

Rising, he shrugs and dare I say I miss his lean body on mine? With the way I can see the long outline of his shaft through his jeans, he might feel the same.

He saunters over to the bathroom without a care, like he’s modelling for Skatepark Magazine.

Pushing up on my elbows, my brows lower.

Is he leaving me here?

Trying to pull at the strings, they’re stronger than I expect. They seem so easy to snap, so why can't I break them?

He returns to the room with a pair of scissors, and that makes my eyes widen. “What’re you doing?” The bed dips under his weight as he climbs on top of me, straddling me. His cock pushes against my centre as he brings the icy blade of the scissors to my skin. He pulls on the sweater, lining up the blades to the fabric. “No, wait!”

Dean McQueen already hates me. This won't make it better.

“What? Your boyfriend gonna get mad?” His jaw twitches again. “Doesn’t he know who you belong to?”

“Who? You?”

His soft stoned chuckle doesn’t amuse me. “Something like that.” He slices through the fabric with ease, making his way up to my sternum.

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