Page 71 of Vicious Hearts

“And just so you know,” I rasp into her ear. “The next time I do this, you won’t see it coming. You’ll be completely unaware when I grab you, tie you up, and fuck every tight hole in your fucking body, without mercy, and without a care, ignoring everynoyou manage to choke out around my cock while it’s down your fucking throat.”

Unaexplodes, coming like a bomb exploding as she screams and writhes and wriggles in my lap. I bite down hard on her neck again, driving the pleasure higher as I pinch her nipple and ram my fingers deep in her eager, clenching, orgasming pussy.

Then she goes jelly-like in my lap, her whole body trembling and shaking as her eyes fight to focus.

“Good girl.”

Heat floods her face—from shame, or desire, or probably both, given who she is.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.Fuck.Frowning, I snatch it out to shut it off, until my eyes land on Hades’ name on the screen. Double fuck.

“I need to take this.”

Slowly, I ease her off my lap, stand, and then sit her back in the chair.

“Stay.Eat,” I growl, nodding at the plate of food before I turn and march across the floor to the main living area. Standing by the massive clock-face window, I glare out over Manhattan as I call Hades back.

“Well?” I growl when he answers.

Hades exhales slowly. “We’ve hit a dead end with the brother.”

Shit.

For a second there, I’d harbored a brief hope that if we could find the boy, I could use him as leverage to force Una’s hand in this insane marriage idea, if I had to.

“Hang on,” he mutters. “Sending you a photo.”

My phone buzzes. I pull it away as the next message pops up on my screen. My eyes narrow at the grainy image of a grim, clearly drug-ravaged young man.

…Who looksidenticalto Una.

“That’s FinnSmith,” Hades is saying when I pull the phone back. “And that’s a picture the nuns at a halfway house on Staten Island showed me. I don’t know about you, but that sure as fuck looks like the kid from the photo all grown up to me.”

It doesn’t just look like it. Itis. I’m looking at Finn O’Conor—Una’s twin. Slowly, my jaw clenches as my brow deepens.

“How dead of an end do you mean?” I growl quietly.

His brief silence says it all.

“I mean a literal dead end. Finn Smith was a heroin junkie who overdosed and died at that halfway house eighteen months ago.”

Fuck.

“So now it’s on you to find that psycho bitch who stabbed—”

The phone flies out of my hand as I’m yanked around and slammed against the clock-window.

With a kitchen knife shoved against my throat, a scared, angry, and unhinged-looking Una holding the handle.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes, her eyes wide and wild.

“Una—”

“I have to,” she blurts, shaking, her gaze piercing into mine. “I have—”

She shakes her head, then she gasps I step closer to her, until my throat is pressed hard against the tip of the knife. Her wild eyes lance into mine, pupils dilating as she shakes her head.

“I…” She’s blinking rapidly, her chest rising and falling with her breath. I can see her pulse thudding in the hollow of her delicate neck.

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