Page 50 of Razors & Ruin

I’ve fallen for a monster. A true-blue, dyed-in-the-wool killer, damned in this life and the next.

But as God is my witness, I am his. Wherever he goes, wherever he takes me, I will go gladly, content to be at his side.

I rest my forehead on his as he screws me, my arms around his neck. His eyes never leave mine; they are fathomless, infinite, and as desolate as oblivion.

So much death and pain he’s wrought, such chaotic fuckery.

I’m so in love.

The skin of my bloodied chest flushes a hot pink as my orgasm gathers in my abdomen, and Sweeney sees it. He steps up the attention on my clit, digging his heels into the ground for leverage so he can get deeper inside me.

“Sing for me,” he whispers, leaning forward so he can bite my ear. “Let me hear my woman’s beautiful voice when she comes on my cock.”

He skewers me firmly, and with a firm press on my tortured clit, I’m undone. I give a sweet, shuddering moan as the tension unspools in my core, a flood of fluid accompanying the release, and Sweeney holds me close as he fills me, his creamy come oozing from my back passage as he pulls his softening cock free.

We sit awhile in the space between heartbeats, coming down from the peak. Sweeney’s body supports me, firm and warm, and I drop my head onto his shoulder like a child.

Then comes the guilt, flooding my senses with shame. What a thing I’ve done, what a foul secret I must now keep.

In this moment of intimacy, fat with love and triumph, a brutal truth threatens to engulf everything that matters to me and snuff out my dreams at the wick.

If Sweeney finds outIwrote the letter, he will kill me.

27

The next morning…

Sweeney

Iawaken to Nellie shaking me by the shoulders.

“Get up!” she hisses. We have a problem.”

“What?” I ask, rubbing my face with my palm. “Is it late?”

“Lateenough, you lazy bastard, but that’s not my main concern.” She lowers her voice. “A copper. Downstairs, waiting to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“Fuck me to tears, Sweeney. There are a hundred reasons for the law to call in on us! I didn’t ask, and he didn’t say, but it’s you he wants.” She leans in to pull the pillow from behind my head. “So shift it!”

I snatch her throat in my hand and pin her to the mattress. “Enough. Don’t start with the fish-wife shit with me, Nellie, or I’ll get nasty.”

Her voice is hoarse in my grip. “Get off me. You’re sodramaticsometimes, you know that?”

I roll out of bed and dress quickly, following Nellie downstairs. I’m relieved to see a constable in uniform rather than a detective or senior lawman—it suggests it may be a routine call.

“My lady here tells me you’d like a word, officer,” I say, gesturing at the lounge door. “Come and sit. What’s the trouble?”

The man shakes my hand. “I’m Hawkins. I appreciate your help with a matter of some import, Mr. Todd. Do you know Lord Francis Wetherby?”

I shake my head as we sit on the couch. “Personally? Not at all. I have met him, certainly, just last night.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Hawkins eyes me, annoyed that I didn’t tell an immediately disprovable lie. “You attended The Regent’s Ball as the guest of the Beadle Higgins, correct?”

“As you say. I left when instructed at around nine.”

“That’s consistent with what I’ve heard. Did you speak to Lady Beatrix Wetherby last night? Or any other time?”

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