Chapter Thirty Eight
Demon
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Two buzzes. The cavalry was here. And for once, not late. Just as well, because there was a gun pointed straight at my head. I relaxed a little, staring at the ugly Polish mobster with his fingerless hand, his left hand pointing the Russian Glok at me. Fucking O’Sullivan. Why he couldn’t have done his other hand too, then at least he could never have fired a gun again. That’s what I would do. I’ll take those stubby little fingers from his left hand. He’d be no good to the Top Dog without the ability to fire a weapon or hold a knife. Shit, he wouldn’t even be able to wank himself off. Now that would be fun. I felt my lips pulling at one side. I’d barely heard the shit he was rambling about. But I knew it was all about Ciara.
Her voice cut through my thoughts, but I was still focussed on those fingers and the fun I was going to have when I decided whether to rip them off or cut them off. His gun hand moved, tracking up my forehead a fraction. The fucker was going to fire.
Behind him, shadows moved in the dull light of the hallway. Nowak licked his lips, and that’s when I slipped sideways, hearing the deafening shot roaring from the doorway. The two-bore shot straight through his chest, moving him forwards and for a moment he staggered two steps, realisation crossing his face and then he fell onto the floor, a three-inch hole through his back.
“No! No! No!” Ciara screamed, and the man with the knife against his throat opened his mouth, his hand dropping.
I stood up, shaking my head at Indie, who was pushing cartridges back into the sawn-off rifle. Ciara was too close. The shot would go through her too. The Northern Kings filled the doorway behind us. Indie, Fury and the twins. One in, all in.
“Let her go,” I instructed. The man stared at me, pulling the knife back up to her throat.
“Demon. I thought he’d shot you,” she breathed, her voice unsteady.
“I’m fine, darl’,” I wiped at my mouth, at the blood that oozed from the cut. Then I spoke to the man holding the knife to my old lady’s throat. “This will only end one way, fella. So now I’ll give you the choice. My fists or his gun.”
The remaining Pole turned, pulling Ciara with him, glancing at the four leather clad men in the doorway. Then he turned back to me and pushed Ciara forwards. She stumbled, her legs giving way, buckling as she sank towards the floor. Reaching out, I caught her before she hit the deck, pulling her into me, pushing her head to my chest as I nodded at Indie. From the door, he raised the rifle. But the man was quicker, pulling the knife along his throat. His eyes widened as the blade cut through his own flesh, gargling as blood flooded from the wound, and slowly he sank to his knees, his eyes never moving from mine, until his heart stilled and he fell face down beside his boss.
And just like that, bodies lay on the floor. Three dead, one unconscious. Ciara sobbed against my chest, and I clutched her against me.
“All dead?” Indie asked.
I shook my head, pointing to the stirring man with a nasty wound on the back of his head, as I made a mental note never to piss Ciara off.
“We’ll deal with it, brother. Get her home.”
I nodded, making no deal out of his choice of words, and scooped her into my arms.
*****
I sat on the bed, the early summer sun flowing through the windows. The water in the bathroom shut off, and the shower hissed dully as she pulled it back. I waited patiently, sat on the side of the bed, listening to the soft padding steps behind the closed door. And then she stepped out. Wet hair hanging down her back, a sexy, tousled damp mess. The towel hid my view of her body, of those perfect tits, the fleshy stomach and the swell of hips that would have given her an hour-glass shape if she’d eat better.
Her eyes caught mine. She was exhausted. I could see it in her face. In the way she shuffled towards me and the weak, uncertain smile.
“Thank you, Demon.”
I cocked my head, studying her, and she moved closer, nudging my legs open and standing inside them.
Her hand cupped my left cheek, her fingertips smoothing over the skin, gently touching the cut in my lip.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Not really, darlin’. What about yours?”
“Stings a bit. Demon…tonight…you were…”
“Crazy?”
“No. Amazing.”
I smiled, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her closer. My lip stung, but I didn’t care. I’d missed this. Her body. Her gentle voice. And the thoughts filled me with sadness again.
“What is it, Demon?”
“You. I missed you. I’m sorry for what I said. The other night. I didn’t mean any of it.”
Ciara frowned.
“What happened? With you and your dad?”
“He’s not my Dad.”
“What do you mean?” Her brow furrowed further.
“He came to tell me, after all these years, that he’s not my father. That my dead uncle is actually my father.”
“I’m sorry, Demon.”
“It’s not your fault. No need to be sorry.”
“I’m sorry for you. That you’ve had to go through that.”
“Yeah. Well, guess it’s done now.”
“Family is shit, isn’t it?” she said lightly, running a hand through the back of my hair.
“You can’t choose your family. But you can choose your ol’ lady.” I watched her carefully, studying the response on her face.
Ciara smiled. “You asking me to be your old lady again?”
“Yes. I’m asking you again. Will you be mine?”
“I’m already yours. But if you have to refer to me by that stupid title, then fine. I’ll be your old lady.” She rolled her eyes, and I ripped off her towel.
Her tits stood out, plump and full, just under my chin, and I pushed my face down into her, swirling my tongue around her nipple, feeling it harden immediately. Ciara let out a steady breath. Linking my fingers together around her back, I pulled her into me, diving on the pink nub just in front of my face. Her nails scratched my scalp, pulling my head closer, the bulge of flesh under my nose. I inhaled her and ingested her, sucking until she squeaked then raking my teeth over the nipple I’d pulled out of shape, swapping sides and working the other the same way.
Absently, my fingers pushed between her legs, feeling up her thigh, to the warm heat from her pussy and the slick that pooled. But despite the wetness at the entrance to her cunt, she wasn’t ready for me just yet and I needed her soaking, because tonight I needed the ball aching tightness of that pussy. I needed it clenching against me and I wanted her screaming while I fucked the pair of us unconscious.
I slid in two fingers, listening to her gasp and tense around me, my thumb teasing her swollen clit. Ciara moved her hips, rubbing herself against me, pulling at my hair. The pain against my scalp was delicious, and I pumped my fingers inside of her, turning and swirling, pushing in a third and listening to her cry out. The ecstasy filled whine drove me insane, my cock rubbing against my boxers, straining against my jeans, driving me wild. I pumped those fingers harder, the sticky wetness coating them, her sexy whimpers filling the room. Fuck, I needed her full of me.
My cock pulsed in my boxers, raging and desperate. Reaching up, I detangled her fingers from my hair, pushing her hand down between us and under the fabric of my pants. Her fingers swirled around the tip, collecting the thick bead of pre-cum and stroking it down my shaft, lubricating my skin. I grunted, control corroding. Her hand tightened, and a jolt went through me, hitting me in the stomach. Fuck, I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t wait.
I pulled my fingers from inside of her, beautifully coated, pushing to my feet, gazing over her. She was incredible. Her figure was incredible. There wasn’t one thing that I didn’t love, not even that scar. By itself, it would have been ugly. On Ciara, it was everything I loved about her, even if she didn’t love it herself. My cock twitched, reminding me of what I’d missed, of what I caused to myself. And suddenly my thoughts went dark. I could have lost her. Not because she’d walked away, but because I had pushed her away. The one thing I loved. Apart from the dog. But the dog would be dead before me.
Dead. That was nearly Ciara. Because I’d lost my temper. Never again. I made the promise now silently as I looked at those beautiful tits, at the nipples that stood asking for my attention, at the gentle covering of flesh on her stomach and the gap between her legs. Where I was about to bury my cock in the only person who could really deal with me.
I spun her around, pushing her chest on to the bed and hoped she was ready for me, because I needed her. She squeaked vulnerably at the suddenness and that was the end of me. Knocking her legs apart with my knee, my hand pushed hard into the small of her back, keeping her where I wanted her.
“Demon….” Her words rushed out at a whisper across the duvet.
An invitation or a warning, I wasn’t sure, but I was already rubbing the head of my cock over her wet slit, lubricating the tip, making it easier for her. It would never be easy. I was too big for many. No matter what they thought when I entered them, they never really liked it. Ciara was different. I knew it was uncomfortable to start, but something about it excited her, and that made her tolerate me. I coated the tip again, pushing it into position, feeling the first part of it force through her flesh. She exhaled loudly, half a breath, half a whimper.
“Oh, God…” her words were soft, almost breathed out.
My Ciara. My old lady.
Folding over the top of her, I bit the skin at the base of her neck. She winced, and at that moment I thrust forward, my cock impaling her roughly, and she let out a loud cry.
“Demon!” I’d never get bored by the sound of her whenever I entered her. Never.
Ciara struggled underneath me, tensing as she knew what was coming. Me. Soon. That’s what. I stilled for a moment.
“Fuck. I love the feel of you round my cock, darlin’. Don’t move. Stay still.”
She stopped squirming, opening her legs. Opening her pelvis. Making more space for me. To take me.
“Fuck…” I breathed out as I moved my cock back and forth.
No one could stroke my dick like she could. No one could grip it like she could. No one could make the sounds that she could when I pushed in roughly all the way to the hilt. No one. There was only Ciara. Only her. No matter what.
She whimpered, bent over my bed, my hand round the back of her neck keeping her there whilst I punished that tight pussy, pulling in and out in slow strokes and pushing back in before she’d even got her breath. At my mercy, underneath me as I punished that tightness. I tortured her, knowing that with every forceful, heavy thrust, all she wanted was for me to make her come. And all I need to do was reach round the front of her and rub that beautiful, sensitive nub, whilst drilling her from behind. Her cries built, an orgasm on the tip of her tongue. But I wasn’t going to let her have any of it till I heard those words.
“What am I, Ciara?” I demanded, thrusting as far into her as I could, hearing the exhalation of air as I did.
“Yours, Demon. I’m all yours.”
“Good darl’. What does that make you?”
“I dunno.”
I pumped my cock in and out of her, pushing her body into the bed, my hand coming round to the front, feeling for that little nub. And then I pushed hard into her, hitting her cervix, jolting her forward into my hand, stimulating her from either side.
“Who are you, Ciara?”
“Yours, Demon. I’m your old lady,” she panted, desperately trying to stay in control. “Do whatever you need, baby. Hurt me. Punish me. I’m yours. Your old lady. Always.”
Fuck. I thrust my hips like a machine, my fingers dancing over her clit, till her screams filled my room and the dog barked in alarm from outside the door.
“That’s it darl’. Come for me.”