Page 68 of Ashes of Saints

You should be.

His possession took me by surprise tonight. Up until now I’ve not been sure if I would see him again. Each night I’ve hoped he would turn up, and he has.

Have I underestimated his feelings?

Your pussy is mine. How fucking dare Travis touch you!

There’s a part of me that quite likes this side of him but I did meant it when I said he was scaring me.

It’s definitely time to talk and find out where he sees this relationship going and set some boundaries.

And I’m curious, I want to know about the club.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

PARKER

We go back to my place. I’m not in the mood to be in Mary-Anne’s penthouse. While my memories are vague, I have sensed evil in those walls. Or maybe it’s my imagination.

I know Aurora is confused, but so the fuck am I.

She means nothing to me. Right? I like her pussy—no, I love her pussy—and she’s beautiful, but I’m using her.

It doesn’t go any further than that.

Travis just triggered me. Why, I don’t know. Sharing is what we do. Women are in our lives for pleasure and they receive it in return. We never stake a claim, letting them decide if they want one, two, or fuck, even four cocks.

It makes no difference to us.

There’s no sword crossing but when you’ve spent time in a boarding school, you get used to seeing other guys' cocks.

It doesn’t turn me on.

But Travis should have known not to go near Aurora. He knows who she is—the girl from my past. I don’t know what the hell he was doing touching her like that. Or why I reacted. But I can’t think about that right now.

She’s the conduit to the information I need to put my nightmares to bed. But what have I been doing? Wasting time between her thighs. To be fair, coming home every night and having her suck my cock hasn’t been horrible.

At all.

The elevator opens and I hold it so Aurora can step inside my penthouse. The one I never ever bring women back to.

“Holly f... My god Parker. This is incredible.”

Her mother’s penthouse has a great view, but it has nothing on mine. Situated at the top of the building on Billionaire Row in Manhattan, it is worth over fifty million dollars.

I click the lock on the elevator so the guys can’t get up. We all have access to each other’s homes. Not tonight.

I need to breathe.

I need to see Aurora lying in my bed and work out what the fuck is going on in my head.

“Do you want—” She starts, but I slam my mouth down on hers.

Her purse hangs over her arm and I heard the chain tinkle as she reaches to loop her hands behind my neck.

“Let’s shower.”

“We should talk.”

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