Chapter Ten
Kieran
The tender touches Tomás gave so freely after admitting what happened to him felt like icepicks driven into my heart. I had expected the chaotic sex we’d had in the past. Filled with feral lust and need.
Not the tender kisses along my scars.
Not the soft touches on my body.
Not the careful acceptance he showed as he kissed near my pump. As if accepting me and all my imperfections. As if I were worthy of something to be valued. It’s what I wanted. For him to accept all of me. To be complete in his eyes. Whole. I wanted someone to tell me I was perfect just as I am.
He didn’t have to tell me. He showed me.
And I still couldn’t accept it.
Instead, I made this about the sex.
He met me thrust for thrust. His hard cock stretching me to fullness. The sharp pain of the intrusion exploded into bliss when he canted his hips, knocking on my prostate. I bit down on the pillow to keep from crying out. The only sounds were the sharp intake and release of our breaths, the slapping of our slicked flesh against flesh, and the shift on the bed. Otherwise, the house was silent.
His fingers dug into my hips, and I imagined the marks I’d see tomorrow. I wanted more. This wasn’t fucking enough. I wanted to see his face, I wanted to watch as he came undone.
“Tomás,” I managed.
He quickly stopped. Despite the pleasure, the lust, he was still aware of me. Focused on my needs. Even if it meant stopping. It made my heart sing. “On my back,” I said. “I want to look at you.”
A crease formed between his brow, but he did as I asked and slowly pulled out. I felt used, sore, and empty. His eyes lowered to where we’d been joined, and he blanched. I felt my heart jolt.
“Fuck, Kieran. I didn’t use a condom.”
For a moment my world lay suspended in midair. I’d always used a condom. I’d never went bare. Ever. The risk too great. I fucking knew this, but I hadn’t cared. Not with Tomás.
“I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested when I came here,” he said. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should’ve—” he started to pull away. Panic swallowing him whole. My Tomás. Whose brain wouldn’t just shut the fuck up. One of the many things I loved about him.
Love.
Shit. I shoved that shit back, grabbed him behind the neck, and pulled him into my body. “We’re okay,” I said as I kissed him again until he felt pliant under my touch. “I was tested too, and I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
“I’m sorry,” he said into my mouth, and I knew he meant it. “I should’ve asked permission. I shouldn’t have—” I cupped his face and slammed my mouth against his in a kiss to shut him up.
I hooked my leg over his and pushed him onto his back, grinding our cocks, bringing his to full hardness again. I needed him inside me. I positioned myself over his cock and released all the tension surrounding me. His thick girth opened me completely as I impaled myself in one slow glide until I was seated completely on him. His breathing hitched into my mouth. My dick painfully hard between us.
“Move, Kieran, please.”
I did. Lifting myself up to the tip and slamming myself back down. I couldn’t stop moving, every time I sank into him, his cock brushed my sensitive spot and I couldn’t stop the gasps and moans coming from my mouth.
He squeezed my hips hard and I wanted to see the bruises on my skin. I’d take any mark he’d leave me just to remind myself of this. Of his beautiful face just inches from mine. Brown eyes blown with lust. His bottom lip inside his mouth. Our eyes locked onto each other. I wanted to know what he saw in me. Why me? Why the fuck had he burrowed himself inside me in such a way that I’d never be able to free him.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
He was fucking mine. I swallowed his pleasure with a feral kiss of my own. My whole body became a live wire. The tips of my toes to my scalp buzzed as if I’d been electrified. My dick leaking, hard as fuck. I ground my hips, pulling back, twisting. The sounds coming out of my throat unintelligible, and I didn’t give a fuck. Tomás drew me into him and slammed our mouths together, but I couldn’t stop the rumbling out of my throat.
Fuck. Fuck. I was going to fucking die.
It’d been too fucking long since we’d shared this, us. I lifted myself up and slammed back down, impaling myself. The bite of pain and sweet pleasure so damn good. I knew the moment he was going to blow. His hands squeezed me harder. The jolt of pain sent me over the edge, and I came without being touched. Ropes of cum, spilled out onto his stomach and chest as I threw my head back and let whatever the fuck sound burst out of me. So fucking good. He came right after I did and we kept chasing the high. I slanted our lips together, bit and tugged his bottom lip. The kiss long and hard until my ass became too sensitive. He dropped his arms to his sides, exhausted, wrecked, and so fucking beautiful.
I climbed off of him, his cum dripping down my thighs. Aching and tender in the best way. I wanted to hold him, to kiss those swollen lips until morning, but he’d already closed his eyes, his breathing even. The guy should be exhausted after everything he’d been through.
And I was still an asshole for taking advantage of him.
I wiped his stomach with a clean warm towel, removing the traces of myself all over him. As I was wrapping him under the blanket, he blinked his eyes opened. They were so beautiful.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I ran my fingers along his forehead, moving the errant curls out of his face. “About what?”
He shook his head, sleep dragging him under. “I’m sorry for falling in love with you.”
A vicelike grip clamped my chest. A silent scream started somewhere inside my core. He’d closed his eyes, his breathing even, asleep when I wanted to shake him and force him to explain what the fuck he meant by that. Did he regret falling in love with me? Did he not love me anymore? Did he want out?
What the ever-loving fuck?
I pulled away from him, pressed my fingers to my dry eyes, and breathed. There was no way I was getting anything from him tonight and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fucking know.
I cleaned up in the shower, dressed, and headed out just as Morgan was sneaking inside. I turned on the lights and he almost squealed.
Morgan was a second-year scholarship student. A normie whose parents had run drugs for an MC that worked for the Brennans. Every fucking student here had some sort of tie to the Four. It was the design of this place.
After he figured I wasn’t going to kill him, he raked his hand through his short brown hair. I expected him to say something. He didn’t. We stared at each other until he finally took a sharp inhale and released it. His eyes lifted to the top of the stairs as if waiting for someone, then back down to me. “Are you taking him?”
I wanted to. Badly. “Not tonight.”
Morgan arched a brow.
“Why the fuck do you care?”
He opened and closed his mouth, his brow pinching. Smart motherfucker better think before he spoke. “Dr. Casera called me in for questioning and I lied ,” he blurted. “I lied to protect him .”
I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. Tomás. I took a step closer. Morgan wanted to talk so I was going to let him talk. We were breaking so many fucking dangerous rules right now. He knew it as much as I did. “And what do you know?”
“Things … about Jack.”
I cocked my head. “I don’t play games, Morgan.”
“You’re an heir now. People are saying shit’s going to go down in this place. Soon. I want protection. I can be your acolyte.”
I snorted. “Brands are earned .”
“There’s no time. But I’ll do what you want. Except,” he shifted on his feet. “I’m not a killer.”
“No. I am. And demanding to be branded is a good way to get killed.”
He swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I will honor you and the brotherhood. I know this is for life. So long as you know that I don’t kill, and if … you still want me. I can at least keep eyes on…” he lifted his eyes again to the stairs. To Tomás. “He’s different. Not like us.”
My jealousy flared. Before I could stop myself, I moved. Morgan didn’t have time to squeal when I spun him and anchored my arm around his throat. “You fucking think you have anything I can’t get from someone else?”
He shook his head.
“Tell me what you know.” Right. I had to release him for him to talk.
I did and he gasped. Coughed. Face red. “Amir,” he said between breaths, “was spooked about something. Said Jack fucked him over. I’m here on a scholarship. My mother was a club whore who OD’d. Maddox set me up here and I didn’t mind the handout. But Amir and Jack. They hated it here. Wanted revenge and Amir believed Jack had something to bring down the family.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Amir told Jack not to fuck with Tomás, but he wouldn’t listen. I don’t know anything else. I told them to leave me out of it. What am I going to do, man? If they find out about Jack having something…”
They’ll fucking reset the fucking school.
“You can brand me. Protect me. It’s the fucking code. The four won’t be able to force me to talk if I’m protected by you. Dr. Casera said they’d honor that. You’re an heir .”
Fucking Casera. Unfortunately, I trusted the fucker. He genuinely cared about the students and this place. If he sent Morgan to me, then I had to take the possibility that Morgan’s fate was linked with Tomás’s very real. I didn’t trust Morgan, but I didn’t trust anyone. “I do this and you betray me, I will make sure you get to see your entrails before I kill you. Are we clear?”
He nodded.
“Paper and pen.”
He quickly rummaged through the drawer, handed me both. I drew the brand of the acolyte which included all of our sigils, signed it, and handed it back to Morgan. “Go to Arcas and give this to River. He’ll mark you. Then you stay on Tomás. And if anything happens to him, the gods won’t save you.”
He swallowed hard but nodded.
Despite the early hour, he took off. I was sure Morgan wasn’t the only student freaking out over what came next. If they were smart, they’d be making alliances, prepping for the inevitable. Blood would be spilled, and we were all the sacrificial lambs.