CHAPTER 55
Riven
Young God - Halsey
Two, maybe three, months since I first met Evren, and he hasn't changed a bit.
He is completely infuriating.
Why do I say that? Because that bastard made me drag his ass down by his ear after I refused to take his car, and he refused to go shopping even though he already agreed.
But while I was dragging him, he was half bent over, his hands resting on my hips.
He didn't seem to mind being manhandled by me.
Murmuring filthy things and growling at any men.
Fucking animal.
The Upper Layers' Shopping District, District 2—the Financial Grid—is pristine and crowded, filled with people dressed in white, black, and neutral tones, their outfits broken only by subtle neon or actual color accents or flashes of bare skin.
The Financial Grid is the economic heart of Kairo-9, where wealth and commerce converge.
Towering glass skyscrapers, luxury boutiques, fine-dining restaurants, and corporate headquarters line immaculate streets illuminated by holographic displays.
It's so clean you could almost eat off the ground, but no one does that—not that I know of.
Evren is currently in one of The Tailor's House—a high-end bespoke tuxedo house—dressing rooms.
I can hear growling and yelling at the tailor.
“If that hand fucking comes near my balls,” he growls dangerously, “I'm shoving it down your throat and making you eat it!”
I sigh and let my forehead slump against the counter with a soft thud.
“Mr. Calder,” the tailor says, “I need to take your measurements since you refused to let the robot do it.”
“It doesn't change the fact that if your hand grazes my cock, I'm carrying out my threat.”
“Evren,” I call out. “Just shut the hell up!”
Suddenly, I hear a sharp yelp.
I straighten up instantly.
The tailor stumbles out, one hand clamped over his nose, blood seeping through his fingers.
I follow his path with my eyes before they snap to Evren's fitting room.
He shoves the curtain open and stalks toward me.
“Who do you think you're talking to?” His bleeding hand brushes along my jaw, smearing blood across my skin. “This bastard fucking put his head on my cock.”
My eyes widen, my lips pressing tightly together.
“Wh—” I can't get the words out, my voice straining as I try not to laugh. “He...”
Evren's eyes narrow, and his touch shifts from brushing my jaw to gripping the nape of my neck, tugging my hair back just enough to make me look at him.
“You think it's funny?” he snarls. “I am doing all this Upper Layers shit for your brat ass, so I expect people not to put their heads on my cock while they're taking my measurements.”
I lose it completely.
I can't stop laughing, my stomach hurts from laughing so hard.
“I can't breathe!” I shout, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I thought you loved getting sucked off!”
I manage to see his face flooding red from irritation and then complete murder.
“Alright.” He grits out, bends down, lifting me up like a misbehaving cat. “Let's see if you're still laughing in a second.”
He starts walking, but despite being manhandled, I can't stop laughing.
He shoves me into his fitting room, pulls the curtain closed, and sits down on the cushioned chair before grabbing my wrist and pulling me between his legs.
I yelp, my laughter dying instantly.
My face is inches from his.
“Since you're so eager to know if I like getting sucked off...”
He gives my cheek a light slap before tangling his fingers in my hair and guiding me down on my knees.
“Hell no!”
“Hell yes.” He smirks. “You're going to suck it off. Maybe that'll shut those pretty lips.”
I look up at him, his eyes are glowing.
“I hate you, can’t even let me laugh at you.” I grumble.
“Then hate me harder,” He grip my jaw, his fingers digging and opening my mouth. “On my cock.”
He leans in and spits in my mouth.
I freeze.
What did he just? What was that?
He is smiling fully, his thumb brushing roughly my bottom lip.
I don’t know what to feel about that, I think I kind of like it.
I shift my hips side to side and rubbing my legs together, I can feel myself getting aroused.
I unzip his tailored pants that are not even fitting him, I can see his cock straining and printing the shape on the tissue.
I shove it down and free him.
I start stroking him, slowly and from base to tip.
The lights glint off the metal of his piercings.
“That’s it.” His voice rough and hungry.
I open my mouth and lick his length, my thumb brushing roughly his head and applying pressure on his tip-piercing smearing his pre-cum.
A sharp breath escapes him, his grip tightens in my hair.
I start sucking the head, the wet sounds seem so loud in the confines of the fitting room.
The curtain opens abruptly, I stop dead.
I watch Evren's head snap upright, his expression shifting from lust and hunger to a different kind of hunger—one that has nothing to do with sex.
“Out,” he warns. “Three.”
“Oh my—” the tailor starts, his voice filled with shock and terror. “My deepest apologies!”
“Two.”
I hear the footsteps retreating completely but not after yanking the curtain close.
“Fuck.”
I release his cock with a wet pop.
“Later.” He pushes himself to his feet. “Fucking bastard.”
He grabs the open waistband of his pants and yanks them up, but they catch on his thighs.
His nostrils flare. I see the veins bulge beneath the tattooed skin on the backs of his hands and along his forearms.
“Evren, maybe you—”
“Quiet!” he snaps, cutting me off.
In one brutal motion, he rips the pants off, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers, bunched halfway down his thighs and his cock bouncing right in front of my face.
I want to laugh, but I also want to have that monstrous dick inside my mouth.
I grab it while he is still panting furiously, glaring at the tissue in his hands like it owes him money.
I wrap my lips around him as I swirl my tongue against his cock until I gag.
His hands fly to my hair, letting the remains fall softly on the marble.
“What are you—” He hisses. “Don’t…” he moans “Stop.”
I bob my head back and forth.
His hips start to gives involuntary thrusts.
“Fuck it.”
He grabs my head with both hands and looks down at me, his thumb brushing the tears I didn’t feel.
The gesture is almost tender, it makes me confused and my heart pounds louder.
Is it because I just got caught by the tailor man sucking that monster tip?
Probably.
Surely.
The sudden movement of his hips snapping forward, setting a punishing rhythm makes me gag and push against his thighs—or I’m holding on for my dear life, I can’t tell.
I feel the tears rolling down, my pussy aching.
For a second, he stays buried to the hilt, blocking my airway before easing back and snapping back in, in brutal but controlled thrusts.
He sets a relentless pace that makes me grips his own hips to hold on.
“You’re so good for me.” He praises, his voice breaking into a moan “You’re going to swallow, every fucking drop.”
His thrusts start becoming more urgent, shallower, more frantic.
I feel ashamed by being seen by the tailor but it was kind of exciting.
He tastes like pink pepper.
“Take it!” He shouts “Fucking take it!”
One last time, his hip snaps forward, with a deep final push, he buries himself down my throat, his cum releasing by waves, his cock throbs against my tongue.
His piercing is a strong contrast of his heat and the cold metal.
He holds my head down
I swallow every drop.
I lift my eyes, his gaze is already locked into mine.
His grip loosening into my skull.
“Fucking beautiful.” He praises again, his voice a low, deep, almost longing tone.
I pull back and let his softening cock slip out, a thread of cum and saliva extends from my tongue to his tip before snapping.
He looks down at me as I settle back on my heels to catch my breath.
He bends down, reaches with his thumb, brushing a probable drop from my chin and brings it to his own mouth.
I push myself to my feet.
I can’t admit I thrilled on sucking him off here.
“I did it because you'll be more compliant.” I cross my arms. “You'll stay there, let the tailor take your measurements, and try on the tuxedo.”
I turn my back on him, refusing to meet his eyes and that fucking smirk plastered across his idiot face.
“The ball is in two days. So, for once, don't try to kill that poor man.”
“Can't promise.” He chuckles.
“You're unbelievable.”
“You like it.” He takes a step closer. I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
“No. Now stay still.”
I leave the fitting room, stomping away with my heart pounding, my ears probably burning bright red, and my hair undoubtedly a mess.
“Fucking psychopath.”
The tailor man walks back in, his eyes adverted.
I drop into a chair, cross my legs, and wait.
Five minutes later, he walks out, looking furious but cocky.
My eyes travel over his outfit.
The jacket is perfectly tailored to his shoulders, making them look even broader. The pants aren't too tight, leaving enough room to move comfortably.
I can't take my eyes off him.
And that pisses me off so damn much.
“Well...” I begin, my voice dropping into a low, almost intimate tone. “That is...”
What was that? I can't even form a sentence?
I am a disgrace.
“Cat got your tongue?” He walks toward me. “Try not to drool too much.”
He reaches out and closes my mouth, which had been hanging open without me realizing it.
My eyes widen in pure embarrassment. I need to get myself together.
Now, or I'm going to lose it.
“Tsk.” I scoff. “I'm not drooling. The tuxedo suits you, and I've never seen you wear one before. That's all. It's just... surprising.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he purrs before walking over to the gigantic mirror.
He looks himself over, then returns to me in an instant, bends down, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls my flush against his chest.
“I'm ready to fuck everything up.”