Page 16 of The Devil's Price

Her hands are braced on the cushions as I start to drive in and out of her, her ass jiggling with my motion and clenching around me in time with her moans. My engorged cock pistons in and outof her tight channel, each thrust becoming more aggressive than the last. She whimpers a moan, writhing and arching her back but forcing her hips backward into me. It’s hot, erotic, and I can’t get enough, even when I slap her ass harder than ever.

“Jaysus, fuck,” I growl, my lust building. My hand finds her clit, rubbing it faster and harder until Siobhan is coming around my cock once more. The added tightening is all it takes, and I erupt deep inside her, emptying myself with a growl.

My cock pulses as she continues to twitch, and when I pull out, she collapses on the sofa, curled into a ball on her side. Her breathing matches mine, heavy and labored, and I stand there for a moment watching her recover, admiring her perfect, silken skin.

I head for her bathroom, wash my dick and my hands. It goes limp as I stroll back to find my clothing, which she has in her hands. She's perched on the edge of the couch with a serious expression.

"I need that," I tell her, but she hugs my clothes to her chest.

"Stay with me. I don't feel safe. I want you here."

"Yeah, okay," I tell her as I sit next to her.

Siobhan drops my clothes and curls into me as I put an arm around her. She buries her face in my chest and we lie back on the sofa so I can hold her. My heart is still racing. So is hers, but my breathing is almost back to normal. It was incredible, but even more so is this moment.

"It was the judge," she whispers, but I catch it. She's confessing who came here to me, the person in her apartment when she got home.

"What did he want?" My wheels are already turning. What the hell would a criminal judge be doing visiting the home of the prosecutor of one of his trials? Is he looking for a mistrial? No… he's in on it somehow. I just know it.

"We're friends. He was here to warn me. Do you think I should get security?" Her question hangs in the air while I stay lost in thought for a moment and decide yes, she should.

My arm tightens around her. "I'll help you with that."

"This can't get out, Finn. No one can know this… this thing between us is happening." Siobhan looks up at me, and I kiss her forehead.

"No way in hell I'll tell a soul." Except Ronan… Because if the judge is in on it somehow, we have a new problem to deal with. Larger forces are trying to bury Mick, and that means they'll come for us next.

11

SIOBHAN

Istand behind my table as Mick O'Connor rises and smooths his tie against his chest as he walks toward the witness stand. The court official swears him in, but I'm shaking. The man is intimidating. He's run his entire empire for years without anyone in this city suspecting a thing, perhaps because he typically runs a clean game. Not one murder or theft has been reported out of his family until now. He usually sticks to guns and drugs.

As he sits, I approach him. It's been weeks since this trial has started and I'm down to only a few witnesses left. Ronan O'Rourke's testimony as one of Mick's most trusted allies was very damning. O'Rourke painted O'Connor as nothing but a model citizen, the way this entire city views him, but I have evidence that says otherwise.

Today, Mick must bail himself out of hot water because I have a bomb that's about to explode and he won't like it one bit. I take my sworn statement, written by the only person in the world who can reveal the lie Mick's been telling, and I stand in front of him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. O'Connor, how are you doing?" The paper flutters in the breeze I make moving into place, and Mick stares at it.

"Good," he says coldly. He looks tired, haggard even. Most defendants do at this point, months into their trial and holding. He's probably not eating well, not sleeping right. He misses his family and he's desperate to do anything. By now, some of them crack, but he's a practiced liar like the rest of his allies.

"Very well." I sigh and glance at the judge, still feeling chills from his impromptu visit last week. "Well, I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind." My insides quiver like jelly. It's going to get wild in here in only a few minutes, and I can't say I'd like to be his wife when this news comes out.

"Get on with it," Quinn says from his place behind his table, and Judge Callahan eyes him angrily but says nothing.

"Mr. O'Connor," I start, "did you murder Aiden Hughes in cold blood on the night of April twentieth?"

"I did not." His cold, calculated stare isn't directed at me, but I don't turn to see who he's staring at.

"Mr. O'Connor, let me remind you that you're under oath."

"I did not kill that man." Now his eyes are focused on me.

"And were you at the residence, three twenty-three Portsmouth Road that night?" I have a footprint that matches his boot, soaked in mud from his farm to prove he was, but I know he’ll lie anyway.

"I was not, nor have I ever been on that premises." Mick's eyes are black as coal, dangerously studying my face.

"Mr. O'Connor, were you at the pub known only as 'The Pub' by locals, located on Drury Lane, the night of April twentieth as you claim you were in your sworn written statement?" Excitement zings up my spine as he stares me dead in the eye and lies yet again.

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