Page 22 of Murder & Mayhem

He simply nods his head. “Yes, I did. You cheated.”

I scoff. “I didn’t cheat, and I’m sure as fuck not moving in here.”

His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and his gaze turns molten as it sears into me. When he speaks again, his voice is a low husk composed of pure sex. “Not the prize I want anymore.”

He leans in closer, a move that has the tip of my blade digging harder into his erect cock. He groans in undisguised pleasure at the bite of pain—masochistic whack job. Anyone who pierces their dick must get off on the pain, at least a little.

Lifting his hips slightly, he nudges my hand aside, and I drop the knife. He doesn’t waste a second before flipping me over on the mat. His large palms wrap around my hips, hauling me up onto my knees as he kicks my legs apart. A shiver of desire wracks my body as he makes quick work of divesting me of my workout pants and panties, practically ripping the sneakers off my feet in his haste.

I’m panting heavily—and not from exertion—by the time he presses the obvious bulge of his thick erection between my ass cheeks. He’s still wearing his basketball shorts, but they do nothing to disguise his obvious hard-on.

“Fuck, you’re drenched,” he grunts as he trails his fingers along the seam of my pussy, before I hear the rustle of him pushing down his shorts. A second later, I feel the nudge of his head against my entrance before he slams all the way into me in one hard thrust that has me nearly face-planting as I cry out. Not that he seems to mind as his fingers dig into my hips, and he sets a fast, relentless pace that quickly has my legs trembling and my arms like jelly as they struggle to hold me upright.

Noises I’ve never even heard myself make slip unbidden past my lips as he pushes me closer to that sweet release. Releasing my hip, his hand slides into my hair, gripping the back of my head firmly as he tugs me upright. The new angle makes his piercing hit that perfect spot deep inside me, and I cry out as I clench around him.

“Yeah, you love the feel of my cock inside you, don’t you, stripper?”

I’m incapable of answering him, not that he seems to be looking for a coherent response as he ups the pace, rutting into me in a frantic frenzy and immediately starting me back up that hill once again.

He must have removed his jersey at some point, and I can feel the heat of his skin against my exposed lower back as he slams into me. He continues to hold me in a painfully tight grip, and the sharp bite of pain at my skull every time he thrusts forward only heightens the pleasure. I lift my arm to cup the back of his neck, digging my fingers painfully into the skin and relishing his grunt of pain. “Fuck.”

Pulling harder on my hair, his other hand snakes around the front of my abdomen. Even though his tight grip on my hair means my head is tilted back, I can’t help glancing down, wanting to see the contrast of his dark tattoos against my milky skin. All I can see is the tensing of his tattooed biceps as his inked hand slips between my thighs. He pinches my clit, immediately sending me cresting over the edge as I scream my release.

“Such a pretty little whore when you’re coming around my dick,” he pants, seconds before emptying himself inside me. I don’t even have it in me to get angry at that statement as I sag against him, breathing heavily.

With his mouth by my ear, I can hear his labored breathing and feel his heart hammering against his chest in the same chaotic rhythm as mine as we both crash land back on earth. I’m still floating on a cloud of dopamine when he tilts his face toward me, burying his nose in my hair. His lips press against the damp skin over my thundering pulse point in a strangely intimate move that makes my skin tingle. It doesn’t last more than a couple of seconds before he pulls back, sliding out of me, and when I glance back at him over my shoulder, his expression is shuttered; unreadable.Why does such a confusing man have to have a body made of sin?

Shrugging off the unexplainable moment, I quickly yank up my pants, once again mentally chastising myself for not using a condom. Not only is it the sensible, adult thing to do, but it would save me having to walk around with cum-soaked panties until I get home.

“You seriously have to start carrying condoms around,” I bite out angrily, grimacing as I fix my leggings. Dressed, I look up to find Cain frowning at me, which only pisses me off further. He just got his dick wet, shouldn’t that post-orgasmic bliss have lasted at least a little longer?

He just stands and stares at me, and I get the impression it’s not me he’s truly seeing. Like his mind is elsewhere. After a moment, he shakes his head and digs his hand into his pocket. “Who says I don’t?” He waves a fucking condom packet in front of me, and all I can do is gape at him.

“Then why don’t you fucking use it!”

He just smirks, turning on his heel and striding across the pool floor without another word. He doesn’t stop. Hell, he doesn’t even slow down or acknowledge that I’ve spoken to him as he hauls himself out of the pool and walks toward the exit.Infuriating fuckwit.Gritting my teeth, fury burns a path through me at the apparent dismissal right after what we just did. Just before the door slams shut behind him, he calls out, “Better get used to it, Red.”

I growl in frustration, not that anyone is around to hear me, before I drop, deflated, down onto the mat. I run my hands over my face, suddenly feeling exhausted as I give myself a mental berating for letting my vagina make any decisions. I don’t understand Cain at all. Just when I think we’re making progress, he shifts gears. I’d assumed his avoidance of me all week was because he felt uncomfortable showing his vulnerability the other night. Something I could understand because I felt it too. Yet he’s back to fucking me and calling me stripper. I just don’t get it. What I hate even more is the sharp sting of feeling used that’s currently carving up my chest. Fuck him. If he’s unwilling to be a fucking grown-up, then fine. I can forget all about the other night and accept there’s nothing except amazing sex and hatred between us. It’s his fucking loss, anyway.

Chapter 9

I release a low groan as the door swings shut behind me, running my fingers through my hair in frustration as I attempt to put as much distance between myself and Red as quickly as humanly possible.God-fucking-dammit. Thisis why I have been avoiding her all week. I can’t fucking think straight when I’m around her. My dick just constantly wants to be buried in her hot cunt, and I have to bite back from spilling every single thought in my head. I can’t focus on anything except her alluring presence. Not even on Evie and my promise to her, which is all Ishouldbe thinking about; all that should matter.

Oliver was wrong when he said I deserved happiness. Until Giovanni and every one of his men are lying dead at my feet, I don’t deserve to feel anything other than this yearning need to vindicate my sister. I did give it a try. Itriedto be more like Oliver by taking her for ice cream. Well, it hadn’t been an intentional thought. She just seemed so deflated after her shift, and I thought it might cheer her up. I hadn’t even realized that’s what I was doing until I found myself in that part of town.

It hadn’t been quite the de-stressor I’d been expecting, but when she brought up the topic of Evie, I didn’t feel the crushing ache in my chest that I usually get. It felt almost cathartic to open up and talk to someone who never knew her. I hadn’t realized just how much Red and I have in common. Even though Evie is dead and Luc is still very much alive, we both would sacrifice anything for our siblings—me for justice; her for protection. I hadn’t looked at it that way before, and now that I have, it’s fucking changing things. Things that I don’t want to change, things that I’m not ready for, that I don’t deserve. This is why I reverted back to my standard dickhead mode around her. Even still, I couldn’t deny the opportunity to be close to her. To breathe in her flowery scent. I swear I could still smell her soap even though she’d clearly been working out for the last few hours.

To say I was impressed as I watched her take Bones to the ground would be an understatement. I know first-hand how well trained those kids are. The skills they have are insane. But fuck, I wanted to rip his head off when I saw his hands all over her.Iwanted to be the one sparring with her, the one teaching her. Except I’m not that person. I’m not cut out for that shit. I don’t have that sort of patience, and there’s no way I could keep my temper—or dick—under control for long enough to actually teach Red anything useful. Still, it was all I could do to get the kid out of there so I could have her all to myself for a second. Which is the fucking farce of it all, because as much as I want to stay the hell away from her, I can’t stop seeking her out. I only lasted five minutes after finding out she was here before stomping my way over to the gym. It’s fucking pathetic.

Needing a distraction before I do something stupid, like turn around and go for another round with Red—or even worse, fucking talk to her—I head in search of Oliver. I find him helping some of the guys set up a bonfire out back. They’re chucking some of the old, wooden furniture we dragged out of the building onto the fire to burn, and it takes a moment before he spots me.

He says something to a couple of them, receiving confirming nods before he claps one of them on the shoulder and makes his way over. “What’s up?”

“Tonight.”

That's all I have to say. He knows exactly what I’m referring to, and his eyebrows hitch in surprise before his eyes narrow, roaming over my face. He must notice the mood I’m in as his lips purse. “What the fuck happened now?”

“Nothing,” I gripe.

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