6. UNSTOPPABLE
Lavinia
I ’m already awake when I hear the quiet squick and soft thwuck of the freezer door opening and closing across the room. Even half asleep, I know it’s a Prince–Lex in particular. He’s too quiet to be one of my men, plus Remy left earlier, fingers grazing over the star on my hip, with the whispered promise of making the streets of West End blue again. Sy’s arms are wrapped around me, his chest rising and falling under my cheek. He actually is asleep, finally succumbing to the exhaustion of sitting by while his brother is stretched out in the middle of the room, fighting for his life.
Even though Lex Ashby and I have forged a strange bond over keeping Nick alive, I pretend to be asleep as he passes the three of us, and he doesn’t hesitate before entering Verity’s bedroom. I don’t blame him. Sy and I are both down to our underwear, our outer clothes in a pile on the floor. I’ve read grief does strange things to you. Apparently, it makes us horny or, at the very least, desperate for connection.
When I’m sure Lex is in for the night, I disentangle myself from Sy’s long limbs. Or try. His hands grip my ass. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice gruff with sleep.
“Nothing. He’s fine. Go back to sleep.”
His eyes flutter open, and I see the fear and anger in them. We’ve been through a lot in our time together, but none as scary as almost losing his brother.
He rubs his hand over his face. “I should catch up with Remy.”
“No.” My voice is firm. “You promised.” I’ve got one man recovering from a bullet and another hunting down the shooter. The only reason Sy is still here is that I begged him to stay. “He’s got backup and support from the other territories.” Pace had been the one to get the intel on where Oakfield had been holed up since he made the biggest fuck-up of his life. Sy’s a King now. He doesn’t need to get involved in carrying out justice and revenge.
Also, we need him here.
Fine. I need him here.
“Head to bed.” I press a kiss against his throat. “Your real bed. If shit hits the fan,” which it undoubtedly will, “you need to be rested.”
His fingers graze under my eyes. I don’t need a mirror to know they’re shadowed. “Only if you come with me. You’ve been up for two days.”
I nod, but add, “Let me check on him one last time.”
He lifts me off his lap and I get an eyeful of his body; the hard muscles of his chest, tapering down to the ladder of abs that come from Perilini genetics plus hours of relentless training. His boxer briefs are tight, molded against his ass and thighs. There’s no missing the thick line of his cock resting against his leg. That thing used to scare the hell out of me. Now, it ignites a warm pool of heat in my lower belly.
“Don’t take long,” he tells me, flicking his eyes over Nick’s resting body, the soft sound of his breath rising and falling. The monitor Lex hooked him up to is beeping with regularity and the drip of fluids has another hour or two left. I watch as he crosses the room and enters our bedroom. We’ve only been living in this building for a short period of time, but it hasn’t taken long for it to feel like home. It’s nice no longer living in a glorified frat house overlooking Forsyth, but the cozy feeling is definitely marred by the sight of the den being turned into a makeshift hospital room.
The events unfolded in a way that there’s no doubt in my mind divine intervention came into play. The universe wanted Nick alive. Otherwise, why would that shot hit the side of his neck and pass through? Why would Lex Ashby even be in West End, much less living in our house? Why would he have a refrigerated truck of blood at his disposal? Why would everything be aligned, perfectly in place, to save the man I love?
Whatever it was, I’m not questioning it, because it’s all too clear how close Nick came to dying.
Once Sy has closed the bedroom door, and I’m alone with Nick, I stand over him, staring down at the bandage covering the bullet wound. The opposite side is the tattoo where I kissed him after he won his fight. Slowly, even though I probably shouldn’t, I peel off the bandage to inspect the wound. The bullet shredded his throat, nearly taking out his jugular. God, one millimeter over. Less than that.
I try to stop my hands from shaking as I replace the bandage, tearing off new strips of tape to keep it securely in place, but the wave of emotion has been building since this all started, and for once I can’t hold it back.
This man has proven he’ll do anything for me. He’ll fight for me. Kill for me. I know he’ll challenge me on my bullshit and insecurities. I love him for it. Which is why I finally blurt out what I’ve been holding in since I first saw him dying on the table: “I’m so fucking pissed at you.”
Despite the tremble in my voice, my words come out harsh, especially in the quiet of the room. I know Nick can’t hear me. As soon as it was safe to give him a sedative, Lex made sure he was out. Good. The last thing I need is for him to hear what I’m about to say. No. Unleash .
“You’ve hurt me before, Nick. You’ve scared me, but nothing like this. Nothing like seeing you with blood spilling out of your neck. Like seeing your skin pale as death and your lips turn blue.” I take a deep breath, but it falters, slipping into a sob. “You almost died on me. On them . You almost changed our lives forever because you think you’re invincible.” I steady myself. “You think that just because you ran around South Side and made it out unscathed, or got in the ring with Perez and won back your title, or held a gun to your temple in the Baron King’s crypt and survived his fucked-up, insane games, that you’ll live for-fucking-ever. Well, you won’t. You’re flesh and blood. You’re human, whether you want to believe it or not.”
I exhale, feeling a weight slowly lift off my shoulders, and take his hand, threading our fingers together. I flip them over and trace the letters on his knuckles.
“You can stop fighting now. Sy is King. Killian wants change. Verity is working to make East End different. My father…” I swallow, not allowing myself to think about what I did to my territory, of the destruction I caused. “Lionel is gone, which means that we should be able to take a breath and you can stay out of the line of fire.”
Of course, this isn’t entirely true. Brice Oakfield, looking to settle old scores, took a shot at Nick tonight. There are lingering factions of old-school Forsyth all over the city. There are missing girls, snatched right off the streets in broad daylight. Dealers slinging Scratch from the rubble in the North. Disgruntled former frat boys looking to make a mark. But I want it to be true. I need it to be, just until he’s back to me, safe and strong.
“I know you took to the streets, took to South Side, for answers.” I take a deep breath. “Well, you have them. You have your answers now. You have me. You have your brother and your best friend.” I bend and press a kiss against his lips. “I love you, Nick Bruin. And if you ever do something like this again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Nick
“You know, the polite thing to do, since I’m in some kind of medically induced sexile, would be to at least leave the door open so I can watch you have sex.”
I admit it. I’m a terrible patient. Impatient. Bored. Irritable. And horny as fuck. Waking up to the soft floaty sounds of my girl’s orgasm as she gets pounded by my brother and best friend in the next room isn’t helping. The raging boner in my shorts isn’t either.
It’s not the fact that they’re fucking that bothers me. It’s the fact that they’re fucking without me.
“What sex?” Remy says, tucking his shirt into his pants. He spares a glance at Sy and Lav, and I don’t miss the quick wink. To their credit, I know they waited until I was asleep and probably made a valiant attempt at being quiet.
Unfortunately, my sex-dar is impeccable, even in my sleep.
“The sex that you reek of,” I mutter from my spot on the couch. It’s been a week or so since I refused to get back in the hospital bed they had brought in, choosing to camp out in the living room. I’m dressed in a half-zipped black hoodie and every time Lav walks in the room her eyes skip over my chest and go straight to the white bandage that is still plastered over the wound on my neck. Underneath it’s no longer bloody and raw, but healing. My eyes lift to hers and I shoot her a glare and add, “And that’s all over your face.”
“My face?” She touches the corner of her puffy, red lips, confirming my suspicion that she was just sucking one, if not two, cocks.
“I’m not talking ‘bout jizz, although thanks for that visual.” I roll my eyes. “Trust me, Little Bird, you have a completely identifiable ‘I just got fucked’ face.”
Her jaw drops in offense. “I don’t have a ‘just got fucked face’.”
My brother, best friend, and I look at one another and we all laugh–well, until the twinge in my neck shoots a pain down my shoulder and arm. Fuck .
Remy circles his arms around Lav and traps her close. “You do, Vin, but it’s hot. Just makes me want to fuck you again.”
Jealous heat builds in my chest at the simple way he’s got his arms around her. I know I shouldn’t be petty about this. I’m alive. I’m off all the tubes and drips that had me chained to that bed. Even I can admit it was touch-and-go for a minute and I’m damned lucky to be here.
Fucking Oakfield. It’s always the times when everything seems to be going smoothly. It was just a regular exchange of some hardware, or at least that’s how it seemed, until Oakfield decided to sign his death certificate. Because that’s all it was. He didn’t even take me out. Nah, he took a shot at me and fucking missed . Remy said he cried when he was down on his knees and he asked him if it was worth it.
Didn’t even take it like a man.
Thank God, Pace filmed it. I’ve been watching that shit on a loop.
But now that I’m actually getting out of bed, eating real food, showering, and weaning off the meds, I’m impatient. I want my girl. I want LB and her sweet, tight pussy.
She slips out of Remy’s arms and sits beside me on the couch. I’m greeted by her well-fucked scent, making my cock throb between my legs. “How are you feeling?” She touches my forehead with warm, soft fingertips. Fuck, I’m desperate. “You look flushed. You don’t have a fever do you?” Ever since Lex drilled it into us that if I get an infection, he’ll have no choice but to send me to the hospital, Lav has been obsessing.
“I’m fine.” I rest my hand on her thigh, ignoring the strain down my side with every movement. I just want to touch her. Feel her and push aside the intrusive thoughts that I could’ve lost this forever. I dip my fingers below the hem of her skirt to feel the soft skin. “Just tired. But also tired of sleeping,” I add a dramatic groan, “and did I mention bored?”
It’s not that they haven’t tried to alleviate my boredom. There’s been a constant parade of visitors in the loft. Pop and Dad came as soon as Sy told them what happened. Our mother, Sarah, was noticeably absent, making it clear she had been left out of the loop–at least for now. God bless whoever lets her know. Mama B arrived with an army of cutsluts carrying enough food to feed an army, stocking the pantry and freezer. Since then there’s been a steady stream of frat brothers visiting, giving updates and reports on what’s happening in the territory. I’ve made a couple of trips out of the house. Nothing major–and nothing public. I went with the guys to meet up with the Royals at the Courthouse, but that was low risk. Even my quasi-doctor was on site. None of that is enough to make up for what I’ve been missing of life. There’s been no training, no family dinners, no Furies, and definitely no fucking.
“All of that just means you’re feeling better.” There’s no masking the worry that flickers on her face. It’s been there ever since I woke up. If the bullet didn’t kill me, seeing Lav upset almost did. I wanted to make that anguish go away, but at first all I could do was fight to stay alive. Now that I’m better, she can’t seem to let that worry go.
I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands and not only prove to my girl that I’m okay, but get some godforsaken relief.
“So I was thinking,” I say casually, rubbing my thumb over her flesh, “maybe I could go to the Fury this week. Just go. Not participate or anything. No booze,” I promise, my eyes meeting Lavinia’s. “I’ll sit up in the box and be a good boy.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she says immediately. “Maybe next week?”
“That’s what you said last week,” I argue.
“Back me up here.” She looks over at the guys for support. “It’s too soon, right? Especially for something unpredictable like the Fury.”
Look. I get it. There are too many people. Too many unknown factors. The crowds get rowdy and the frat boys are often on edge, especially if their guy loses. And me… well, I’m not exactly known for my self-control.
“She’s right,” Sy says, giving me an apologetic half-smile.
“You’ve only just started making progress,” she adds. “Getting out of bed without help. Going to the bathroom alone…”
Remy, who has been quiet other than tapping his marker against the arm of the chair, studies me for a long moment before saying, “Tell me something, Nicky…”
“Okay.” It’s impossible to know what Remy is thinking.
His eyebrow lifts. “Can you fuck?”
“What do you think I’m doing in the bathroom alone?” I snort, pumping my fist up and down. “I got shot in the neck. Everything down below is in top-notch working order.” I reach for the elastic of my pants. “Want to see?”
“Maybe later,” Remy says, pointing the marker between me and Lav. “But I think that if you can fuck Vinny you should be able to go to the fight.”
Lav swings her head toward him. “What? That is not an appropriate test!”
“Why not?” I ask, taking her hand in mine and placing it over my very hard erection. “I’ve been trying to get you to sit on my dick for a week now. You’re the cockblocker.”
“I’m not ‘cockblocking’. I’m being responsible.” She shoots Remy a glare but he just smirks in return. “Lex said no rigorous activity.”
“My rigor or yours?” I ask, getting a vision of her bouncing on my lap that’s so intense I have to adjust myself. “Because those are two different things.” I give Sy a pleading look. “Tell her it’ll be fine.”
Sy leans against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “It seems like a valid test. But,” he adds, “you have to get through the whole thing without exhibiting any pain or discomfort.”
“Done.” I say it with absolute confidence but a streak of pain runs down my arm.
“This is ridiculous,” Lav argues, but I tilt my head and give her an appreciative once-over. Something in her expression flips and yep, my Little Bird is a goner.
The rest of the room must realize it too, because Remy strolls over, pushes her hair back, and kisses her. His tattooed hand lifts to her tit, and he tweaks her nipple, making it tighten into a hard point. When he withdraws his tongue from her mouth he asks, “You need any help getting ready for Nicky or are you still wet from before?”
“Sorry, bud,” Sy interjects, “but Nick’s going to have to do the work on his own–following the parameters.”
“Fine, but we get to watch, right?” he asks hopefully. “You know, for safety reasons.”
Sy raises his eyebrow at me in question. Can they stay? Sure. Do I care if they watch me and LB fuck? Absolutely not. But I’m feeling vulnerable as fuck right now and my brother doesn’t need me to say it.
“Come on, Rem,” Sy pushes off the counter, “let’s give these two some space. I told Kaz we’d go over that new order with him.”
Remy scowls, clearly not happy about that decision, but he stands, leans over Lav and gives her a hard kiss. “Fuck him good, okay?”
Once we’re alone, I exhale and reach for Lav. Normally, I would have picked her up and set her right on my dick, but I’ll fail the no-pain-test right away if I do that. Instead, I encourage her to come to me. “Come here, Little Bird.”
She stands and faces me, and I reach for the hem of her skirt, fingers curling underneath. Fuck, even that sent a twinge down my arm. She waits for me to drag her closer, to take the lead, but I’m frozen, gathering the fabric in my fist and holding tight.
Look. Nick Bruin is hard. He lives hard. Plays hard. Fights hard. And he fucks hard.
Even when my guard is down, and it’s just the two of us, quiet and alone, I don’t ease up. Sure, I’ll tell my girl how I feel about her, that is never in question. I love her. Nah, I fucking worship her. I’ve got no problem saying those sweet words that get Lav all hot and bothered, her pussy dripping for me, but my motions–my hands and body–they’re always harsh. Every thrust bruising–meant to claim. Every touch possessive.
I want her to know she’s mine .
The difference is that for the first time in my life, my body isn’t fully in my control. I’m not at full strength. There’s a weakness I don’t like and can’t accept. Death met me on the doorstep and invited me in. It was only sheer luck and stubbornness that drug me away. I don’t need to have sex with Lavinia to prove I can go to the Fury. I need to have sex with her to prove I’m still alive .
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”
I nod, and it’s enough to get her to take the lead, placing a knee on each side of my thighs, straddling me. My hands move on instinct, pushing up her skirt, feeling the warmth of her flesh. Palming her ass, I groan.
“Fuck, babe, no panties?”
My cock thickens between us.
“Someone ruined them,” she tilts my head to where my brother had just been sitting, “because they were impatient.”
“Remind me to thank Sy later. Less work for me.” I massage her cheeks, fingers inching lower with every pass until they dip underneath. “You are still wet.”
There’s a warmth there that tells me it’s not all from the prior fucking. She keeps her eyes on me, like she’s searching for the slightest hint of pain, but right now I feel nothing but the urgent need to consume. I lean up, fighting against the pain, and slam my mouth into hers, tongue darting between her shocked lips. Her reaction is to grind down, and Jesus, I may blow my load in my shorts. Groaning. “You’re killing me, girl.”
Her mouth tastes so good. Her body feels amazing. She pulls away, kissing down my jaw, stopping to lick the tattoo of her lips. The feel of her hot mouth, her soft lips, makes my hips rock up. God, I need inside this woman.
There’s no rushed scramble to get our clothes off. I mean, I want her naked, but I don’t want to send a tremor down my arm and fuck this whole thing up. So I continue to rub her ass, fingers dragging over the crease between her plump cheeks. She reaches for my zipper, slowly dragging the tines down to reveal my chest and abdomen.
“I missed this,” she says, taking her time to kiss her way down my chest, exhaling a hot breath on my nipple. My fingers twitch, brushing against the rim of her asshole.
“Fuck,” she breathes, back arching, pushing those fantastic tits in my face.
“Feel good?”
“Mmhmm.” She refocuses, spreading the sides of my hoodie to expose my chest, but not taking it off. She’s aware of my limitations, and I get a tickle of fear that she’ll call this off, but to my relief, she runs her hands over my body and grinds against me with a heat so wet I can feel it through my shorts.
I push at the hem of her shirt. “Let me see your tits.”
Lav lifts her shirt and before she even gets it over her head, my mouth is latched to her nipple. “Jesus,” I mumble, mouth full, “I’ve missed these.”
She tosses the shirt and reaches down, releasing my cock from the confines of my shorts. When fingers graze over the soft tip, spreading the drop of cum over the head, I fall back against the seat and groan.
“You gonna tease me all night?” I ask, my hand moving to fist the base. I’m about to blow.
“You don’t like it?”
“I like it, LB, but I haven’t been inside you in weeks, and unless you want me to shoot off in my hand, you better pick up the pace.”
She rises to her knees, making room for me to slide my fingers over her clit to her pussy. I push one inside, then the other. “You ready for me?”
Her eyebrow cocks. “Are you ready?”
I was born for a lot of things, but fucking this girl has been the only one on my mind since the first day I saw her. I set my jaw, bracing for impact, then stroke my cock and slot it against her entrance. She’s slick and wet. Her eyes are on mine as I push into her wet heat.
“I’m okay.” Fuck, better than okay, although I do resist the urge to thrust into her. Pushing her hair back over her shoulder, I add, “All I’ve wanted is to feel your tight pussy around me, and it’s goddamn spectacular.”
She gives me what I want, lowering herself and taking me deep. Our eyes and bodies meet, and we both exhale, the ball of tension in my jaw loosening just a bit.
“All good?” She leans into me, tits pressed against my chest.
“The fucking best.” I lean back, hands moving to her hips and pulling her to me, ignoring the stab of pain in my neck. Worth it. “That’s it, Little Bird, ride me.”
Placing her hands on my chest, she rocks into me, slow at first, but with each stroke she picks up the pace. My eyes roam between her tits and face, the surge of want making it hard to focus. I swallow, thumb rolling over her nipple, making her legs clamp around me.
“Let go,” I command, fingers dipping to rub the swollen nub between her thighs. “Let go, Little Bird– fly .”
Lavinia’s jaw slacks and that line of worry on her forehead eases away as the orgasm rushes through her. She falls apart, using my body as support and I hold her, ignoring the pain that happens when I wrap my arms around her. I just want to feel her–all of her–when I pump inside. Her pussy, still throbbing, milks me, clenching around my cock until we’re nothing but a sweaty mess.
Looking up at her, I can’t keep the grin from tugging at my mouth.
“You look awfully proud of yourself.”
“Maybe I am.” I brush back a strand of teal hair and cup her cheek.
I don’t say why. She can think what she wants, but I know the truth.
Nothing can stop Pretty Nick Bruin from getting what he wants.
Not even a bullet.