Page 58 of The Chief
Fuck, I must’ve said that out loud. “I will come on your tits, but I want to look at your pussy while I stroke myself.”
Wordlessly, she widened her thighs, and I positioned myself between them again. Her pussy was pink and wet, still swollen from my dick sliding in and out. I touched her puffy lips. “Sore?”
She shook her head. “Satisfied.”
Fucking yes. Sliding the head of my cock through her slit, I collected her arousal to use for lube. I ran my hand up and down my shaft, my gaze fixed on the heaven between Molly’s thighs. I felt her eyes burning into me and saw the movement of her hands on her tits in my peripheral vision. My speed increased, my strokes tighter, harder. Until…
The tingle started at the base of my spine, working its way to my balls.
With gritted teeth, I apologized, “I’ll be marking your cunt with my cum this time, baby.”
I didn’t wait for her reply. It wasn’t necessary. My orgasm was on me, owning me with a power that flooded my blood. It crested, like a wave, as ropes and ropes of cum landed all over Molly’s pussy, stomach, and the bed between us. My wrist kept working, pulling more and more cum from my body. The pleasure made my head spin and my vision turn black at the edges.
The intensity floored me, but I enjoyed the ride.
When I had squeezed the last of my orgasm from my body, I stared at the mess I’d made. Molly trailed a hand down her stomach, swiping her fingers through my release, then brought it to her mouth. She sucked her fingers clean and smiled at me.
Leaning over the side of the bed, I snagged my discarded T-shirt and cleaned her skin. I had to admit I liked her branded with my cum, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I’d do it. When most of the mess had been swiped away, I tossed my T-shirt into the corner and leaned down to kiss her. Molly returned my kiss, turning pliant in my hands. This woman was a fuckingpuzzle. Combative, but once I’d gotten her onto her back, she was like a kitten, nuzzling and mewling for me.
Ghosting my fingers across her swollen lips, I let my thoughts tumble off my tongue. “You have bewitched me, Jynx.”
Those blue eyes of hers flickered between my own before she pressed her mouth to mine. “I should change the sheets,” she murmured.
“Okay, baby. You get the sheets. I’ll strip the bed.”
Sliding off the edge, she got dressed and slipped out of the room.
I’d hardly looked at the space when we’d first arrived—too distracted by the late night and Molly’s confession. It was small, only big enough for a double bed, a side table, and a wardrobe. Though the walls were still covered in a soft pink wallpaper with tiny white flowers, sparking memories of a little girl’s room rather than the woman Molly was now.
Then I remembered what Molly had told me about her stepfather, and I saw this room in a completely different light. Angrily, I stripped the bed. This bed wouldn’t have been the same one that the bastard had crept into while her mother was out. It was the only thought that saved me from trashing the goddamn room.
I had just pulled the sheets completely free of the mattress when Molly burst through the door, her body vibrating.
I straightened. “Jynx?”
“She’s gone.”
Chapter 18
Keir
Molly disappeared from the room again, calling for her sister. Pulling on my jeans, I chased her, hopping from one leg to the other, attempting to keep pace. When I made it to Orla’s bedroom down the hall, I took in the destruction. The curtains billowed from the open window, which answered the question of how they got in. Stepping deeper inside, I took stock, trying to piece together what happened.
The window was shattered, the desk askew, and the chair had been knocked over and broken. The quilt lay in a rumbled heap, no doubt having been stripped from Orla’s body while she slept. On the nightstand, still plugged in, was her phone, along with a framed photograph of Orla and Molly. Molly looked like she was maybe thirteen, which would’ve made Orla around five or six, and their arms were wrapped tightly around each other.
Behind me, I heard Molly calling Orla’s name as she went from room to room. “She’s not here, Keir,” she said, desperation making her voice warble. “She’s not here. Where is she?”
I inspected the window, noticing the glass was on the outside of the frame. “I don’t know.” But I knew someone who would. Hustling down the stairs, I found my boots by the front door andquickly tugged them on. We were supposed to have eyes on this house, so where the fuck were they?
Outside, I scanned the street, searching for the blacked-out car or van all the clans seemed to use. I found a white transit van parked across the road, a couple of houses down. Nobody was in the front seat, and as I rounded the back, I found out why. A body lay partway out of the open rear doors, a pool of blood around his head. Further inside, I found the other Dog, shot execution-style, slumped against the side panel.
“Motherfuckers!”
Patting down my pockets, I found my phone and dialed Gael’s number.
He answered on the third ring, anger seething in his tone. “Do you know what time it is?”
“I don’t give a fuck what time it is. Your Dogs are dead.”
