Page 32 of Always A Villain
Finally, he releases his hold on me, and I collapse to the ground, gasping for air. He kneels beside me, cradling my face. His thumb swipes at the cum dripping down my cheek, and he pushes it past my lips, forcing me to swallow.
Before I can catch my breath, his lips are on mine. His tongue invades my mouth, tasting himself, mixing his seed with his spit. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he yanks me to my feet, our mouths still fused. He presses me against the brick wall, and I moan as I wrap my legs around him. His hands are everywhere—my hips, my thighs, my ass, my breasts. It's a frenzy of need, both of us desperate to consume the other.
“Fuck, little siren, what you do to me…” His breathing grows ragged as he trails off.
I cling to him, my nails raking down his back. Groaning, he bites down on my bottom lip, and I arch against him. “If you don't stop, I'll keep fucking you until you can't walk straight.”
“That doesn't sound so terrible.”
His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back to look at him.
“Oh, trust me, baby, it will be.”
As the rush of pleasure fades, it hits me.
My eyes land on the two men bleeding out beside us—what the hell did we just do? We just fucked in an alley after he beat those guys into a bloody mess, and I loved every second of it. The violence, the power—it was hot, scary, and disturbingly erotic. His dominance, his anger, his possessiveness…He’s everything.
I straighten up, legs still shaking, mind reeling. I let my dress fall, smoothing out the creases.
“What about them?” I nod toward the bodies sprawled on the ground.
“I’ll take care of it,” he replies, his tone emotionless. Hisjaw tenses as his eyes land on them.
“What does that mean? Will they be okay?”
“I won't repeat myself.”
“Axe—”
He quickly steps in, caging me in with his body, his face inches from mine.
“You're pushing it, little siren. I'm not going to tell you again.” He inhales deeply, gently gripping my chin, tilting my face up. “Now, go clean up and get ready to leave.”
“Okay,” I whisper, still dazed from what just happened. As I walk down the alley, the afterglow makes me unsteady.
I sneak past the loud crowd in the ballroom, to the restroom. Glancing at my reflection, my eyes widen in disbelief. There are streaks of blood on my neck and collarbone. My lipstick and mascara are smeared all over my face. My hair is an absolute disaster—curls tangled and frizzy. I look like a woman who was just thoroughly fucked in an alleyway. I can’t help but smirk as I start cleaning myself up, but the weight of reality still crashes down.
What the hell is wrong with me? The adrenaline, the danger, the violence...
But honestly, watching him go off like that to protect me was ridiculously sexy.
And he called me his wife. I’ve been his wife this whole time, but he’s never said it before. Does it mean anything? Does it change things? Do I even want it to change things? You can’t get attached to a guy like him. But damn it, I am attached—attached to how he makes me feel, the way he touches me, dominates me.
I’m completely addicted.
I finish cleaning up and head back into the party, which feels more chaotic now. Spotting Spencer in the crowd, I push my way through.
“Hey, you disappeared!” Spencer says, wrapping me in a hug. “Where’d you run off to?”
“Uh, just stepped outside for some air,” I say, flashing a quick smile.
We chat for a bit, and I can tell he’s in a slightly better mood than earlier. But when he leans in, voice low, and tells me there are still no leads on who attacked the Red Arena, a knot tightens in my stomach. The Sovereign are supposed to be untouchable; for them to be scrambling to find out who did this, it’s unsettling. I didn’t think it was possible for the Sovereign to have enemies more powerful than them.
After a moment, I spot Axe by the door, and he gives me a quick nod. I hug Spencer and say my goodbyes, promising to catch up soon.
As I weave through the room to Axe, I ignore Dad—no need to waste breath on him. He put on quite the show tonight, parading me around like a trophy for all his colleagues and Associates.
Tonight…there was something different in his eyes. A spark of genuine pride, maybe? It ignites a tiny flicker of hope in me. Could it be that he actually cares? That he’s proud of me? For a split second, I think maybe I’m not the burden he’s always made me feel like. But I shove the thought away, the sting of years of rejection still fresh. It’s pointless to hope; he’ll never want me.
