Chapter 3
ELGIN
We spend most of the day in a room that reminds me of a cigar room. No one smokes, for which I’m grateful. I feel like my hungover stomach might vomit in response to smoke of any kind. I’m not a fan on a good day.
People come and go throughout the day, handing Ara tablets or paper, or asking him vague questions that Ara seems to understand without further detail.
He taps away on his phone periodically. Takes a call in which I’m pretty confident he’s talking about me, the incidental target of whomever this Empire is.
Otherwise, we play cards. Sometimes just the two of us, and sometimes others join in. I get the impression that the other guys in the house work here. They’re all armed. All the time. They don’t hide the fact, either.
I didn’t realize that Philly had this kind of crime life.
Every city has its problems. I get it. That happens when there are a lot of people condensed within city limits.
The more people there are, the more likely a seedy business is going to go unnoticed.
There are only so many law enforcement officers to go around. There can’t be eyes on every corner.
The only time we leave the cigar room is for lunch.
We gather in the kitchen where there are half a dozen guys milling about.
There’s an assembly line moving along the counter where we build our sandwiches.
All the fixings you could imagine—a dozen options of bread, a dozen condiments, a dozen various meat slices, a dozen different kinds of cheese slices, and then all the veggies you could imagine.
There were chips, a couple of cold salads, and then a damn platter of pastries. Honestly, I felt fucking spoiled as I built my sandwich and gathered all the goodies I could fit on my plate.
Then we were back in the cigar room, only this time, the television was on, and we were watching soccer. Soccer! I was not impressed. It’s hockey playoffs. They should have hockey on. When I suggested as much, everyone looked at me with disgust.
Something that made Ara laugh loudly. In response, my cock wanted to wave at him.
Now we’re heading back to the table where we ate breakfast, only this time, we’re not alone.
More than a dozen guys are gathered around it.
There are platters of food and big pots of chowder.
Based on the color of the base, there are three different kinds of chowder. I choose whichever comes to me first.
Actually, Ara chooses for me. As he did for breakfast, he fills my bowl with chowder and my plate with other foods. I watch him shrewdly, trying to decide why he’s doing this. Why me and no one else? Is this part of the damsel-in-distress rescue routine?
I don’t comment. Not even when he lays a napkin across my lap and then turns to fill his own plate. I stare at him, eyes narrowed.
“Eat,” Ara says.
While I’d like to argue or maybe ask him why he’s doing this, I’m aware that there are so many others around us. They’re not watching us more than they are each other as they pass plates and talk.
I do as I’m told and determine to ask about it later.
Instead, I listen to the guys at the table.
I’m a little surprised at the conversation.
One of the guys sitting across from me is telling everyone else about his baby?
Wait… the baby is walking now. These are adventure recaps of their first steps.
He promises to show everyone the video after dinner.
Then another guy at the end of the table is talking about him and his partner visiting rescues looking for the perfect dog. Another guy has a suggestion for a rescue network. They foster dogs as opposed to being put into shelters.
A third guy recaps accounts of their online dating experiences. I can’t help laughing along with them as he talks about the date that kept poking him with their fork at dinner. In a restaurant. Other people were even getting concerned, but at least it wasn’t a knife, or he’d look like a pincushion.
We help clear the table together, and three guys take their turn in the kitchen to put the food away and do the dishes.
Meanwhile, Ara guides me to the bedroom.
I’ve been yawning for the last hour. I’m hoping to turn in early.
Maybe get a full night’s sleep without the excitement of being someone’s target or being too drunk to remember that refleshes isn’t a damn word. Yeah, that came back to me.
“Shower if you like,” Ara says as he follows me into the bedroom.
As I head to the bathroom, he disappears through the closet door. I don’t follow him, though I’m curious about the closet, and take the offer to shower.
It feels good to be clean. I spend some time messing with all the different levers and enjoying the various spray patterns it has for the water falling on me. The shampoo and shower gel smell like fucking heaven, and I love everything about it. I could get lost in this shower.
Sighing, I step out of the shower with yet another yawn and find clean clothes on the counter for me alongside a toothbrush.
I dress and brush my teeth, trying not to think too much about the gesture.
He’s essentially a host right now. That’s all this is.
It isn’t special treatment specifically for me.
When I open the bathroom door, Ara is just shutting the door to the hall.
He has a couple bottles of water in his hands and sets them on the side table.
I climb into the bed, and he tucks me in again.
All I can do is stare at him. Who knew I enjoyed being tucked in so much?
I want to say something. Ask one of the millions of questions swimming in my head.
Instead, I just look at him. At his handsome face and those dark eyes and the questions get lost inside me.
I’m expecting to be left alone, so I roll onto my side and close my eyes. It isn’t long before the bed dips, and he joins me. I inhale sharply, eyes opening wide, and hold perfectly still. Except that his big body has made the bed dip, and I’m rolling back to meet him.
When I try to shift so I’m not the victim of gravity, I feel his hands on me, pulling me back into his chest. I’m not a small man. But somehow, he dwarfs me as he holds me against him. I squeeze my eyes closed, willing my body to stop responding like a sex fiend.
Ara hasn’t moved or said anything. But there’s no way he can’t feel the way my heart pounds like the drums of war. I’m going to lose my mind.
“Do you want me to move?” Ara asks.
I should say yes. I should put the entire width of the massive bed between us. Instead, my traitorous body is already shaking my head no. I definitely don’t want any of that.
His hand releases my wrist—which I didn’t even realize he had—and rests flat over my heart. Telling me he can feel how wild my heartbeat is. Yeah, I know, dude. I’m working on it.
But his hand doesn’t stay here. It moves down my chest, then down my stomach. And fuck if my body doesn’t do whatever the fuck it wants, as my legs try to stretch out so he can feel just how much I’m enjoying his body against mine. An invitation, clear as fucking day!
All I can do is squeeze my eyes shut as his fingers brush the crown of my very hard dick through my pants. It’s barely a touch. Just the barest of hints. But I feel it all the way down my spine. Only because I’m fiercely biting my tongue do I not whimper.
Fucking hell, I need him to touch me.
“Breathe, Ellie,” Ara murmurs, his voice dark and alluring in my ear.
I groan, unable to help myself.
“Want me to touch you?” he asks.
I nod. Like I have any choice in the matter. Yes. I want all the things right now!
Ara’s hand immediately dips beneath the waistband of the pants I’m wearing and grips my cock. “Mm,” he hums in my ear. It’s deep and growly. “So beautifully hard. This for me, Ellie?”
Okay, when he talks like that, I can’t stop the whimper. I nod. What choice do I have? It’s the truth. I am definitely hard for him.
We’ll unpack that later.
My body jerks as soon as he has me in his grip. His hand is big, engulfing me entirely. I groan, pressing my back harder against his chest. Ara shifts, letting me stretch out. His legs capture one of mine between his, and his mouth finds my neck while his hand works on my dick.
Long, slow strokes. His hand is firm but not tight as he draws out my pleasure. Rubbing his thumb over my slit with every other stroke.
“That’s it,” he says. Fucking hell, his voice. My hips jerk into his hand. “Just like that, hockey player. Show me how you use this dick.”
There are a lot of things I want to say right now, but if I let my tongue go from between my teeth, the only thing that will be coming out of my mouth is evidence of how good it feels to have his hand on me.
“I think we need some lube, don’t you? So I can truly make you feel good.”
I nod frantically. Fuck, yes.
But he doesn’t reach for anything at all. His hand comes off my dick, and before I can protest, my pants are down to my thighs, his mouth swallowing my throbbing cock.
“Fuck,” I say, and grit my teeth.
It’s too late now. The way his mouth moves on me tells me two very important things. One, he’s done this before and he’s fucking good at it. I’m putty. I’m 1000% at his mercy and he’s going to make a mess of me. And two, I don’t want him to ever stop.
I thrust my hips up, chasing his mouth when he slides up my dick. His big hands curl under me, using my ass cheeks as handles, and he swallows me down. Rutting his face into my groin when he reaches my root.
Tangling my hands in his hair, I go buck-fucking-wild. There’s no holding back the sounds now. The desperation grows inside of me because I’m so fucking hot and horny for him. I’ve never lost control like this. I’ve never lost the ability to keep myself decent.
He swallows around my dick, and that’s all I can take.
I barely get a warning out—not a complete one, mind you—before I’m filling his mouth.
It feels like it lasts forever, as the pleasure spirals through me like a cyclone.
His mouth is magic, sucking every drop from my balls like he’s sucking the last drips through a straw.
When he lets me go, I collapse. Limp fucking noodle, right here. Panting. Seeing the flashes of stars bursting still bright behind my eyelids.
Ara pulls my pants up and then takes his position behind me again. Wrapping around me, he holds me securely to his chest. This time, I’m aware that he takes my wrists in his hands and holds them to my chest. Pinning me against him.
I don’t even care.
“Better, sweetheart?”
Fuck.
“Yeah,” I croak. God, my voice sounds like I’m the one who choked on a dick just now. Speaking of, I feel his against my ass. Nestled along my ass crack. My cheeks heat. My entire body heats.
He’s hard. For me.
He feels big, too. The dildo that we jokingly put into my teammate Max’s cubby one year flashes in my head. It was the size of my arm, I swear. Interestingly, if I’d have held it, I imagine that Ara’s puts that one to shame. He just feels impressive.
If I were brave enough, maybe I’d suggest reciprocating. At least a handie.
I’m not brave. I close my eyes tightly and will my body to relax enough so that I can sleep.