Chapter 5 Eden’s Law #3
I kissed back. Couldn't help it. My body responded to the stimulus, to the hands still touching me everywhere, to the mouth that had just worshipped places no one had ever paid attention to before.
The kiss deepened. Harrow's teeth caught my lower lip, bit down until I tasted copper, then his tongue soothed the sting.
“Perfect,” he breathed against my mouth.
“Absolutely fucking perfect.” He kissed me again, harder this time, one hand tangled in my hair while the other wrapped around both our cocks, stroking them together.
I felt his length hot and thick against mine, felt the slickness of oil and precome making the friction devastating.
He broke the kiss. “I'm going to untie you,” he said, voice rough. “And then you're going to fuck them both while I watch. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.” His hands worked the knots at my wrists. Circulation returned with pins and needles that made my fingers flex involuntarily. The ankle restraints followed. “Sit up. Slowly. Let your blood resettle.”
I obeyed, still blindfolded, still disoriented. Harrow's hand gripped my shoulder, steadying me. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“Liar. But I appreciate the effort.” His thumb stroked my jaw. “Lori first. Make her come on your cock. Then Damian. Then we'll see what else you can handle.”
He guided me by the shoulders, positioning me where he wanted. I felt Lori's hands on my chest, her body pressing against mine. She was shorter than me, her breasts soft against my sternum, her breath quick with anticipation.
“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Hard. I want to feel it tomorrow.”
I gripped her hips, lifted her like she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around my waist, already slick when I positioned my cock at her entrance. Then I lowered her down, filled her in one brutal thrust that made her cry out and dig her nails into my shoulders.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Like that. Don't stop.”
I didn't. Fucked her standing up, using my strength to lift and drop her onto my cock with punishing rhythm. She was tight and wet, her inner walls gripping me with every thrust, her moans getting louder as I drove deeper.
“Against the wall,” Harrow commanded. “Pin her there.”
I walked us backward until I felt the wall against Lori's back. Then I really let go. Hammered into her with enough force to make the wall shake, her body trapped between me and the unforgiving surface, her legs locked around my waist as she took everything I gave her.
“Touch yourself,” I told her. “Make yourself come.”
Her hand found her clit, fingers working frantically while I continued fucking her.
I felt her getting close, felt her inner walls tightening around my cock, her breathing turning desperate.
Then she shattered, crying out my name or maybe just crying out, her body convulsing as her orgasm tore through her.
I pulled out before I could follow. My cock was slick with her release, throbbing with the need to finish, but I wasn't done yet.
“Good,” Harrow said. “Now Damian. On the bed. I want to watch you take him apart.”
Hands guided me back to the bed. I felt Damian beneath me, his body smaller and more delicate than Lori's, his breathing quick with nervousness or anticipation. I ran my hands over him, mapping his shape through touch alone. Narrow hips. Smooth chest. His cock hard where it lay against his stomach.
“He's already prepared,” Harrow said. “Stretched and slicked. Just take him.”
I positioned myself between Damian's legs, felt his thighs trembling as I pushed them wider. My cock found his entrance, pushed inside with resistance that gave way to impossible tightness. He gasped, his body tensing around me, his hands gripping my forearms hard enough to bruise.
“Breathe,” I told him. “Relax. Let me in.”
He tried. I felt his muscles loosening incrementally, felt my cock sliding deeper until I was buried completely. Then I started moving. Slow at first, letting him adjust, then faster as his body opened for me.
“Harder,” Damian begged. “Please. I can take it.”
I gave him what he wanted. Fucked him with brutal focus, my hips snapping forward with enough force to drive him up the bed, his moans turning into broken sounds that might have been words or might have been pure sensation.
His hole gripped me with devastating pressure, hot and tight and perfect around my cock.
Then I felt Harrow behind me. His chest against my back, his cock pressing against my ass, his hands gripping my hips. “Keep going,” he breathed in my ear. “Don't stop.”
He didn't enter me. Just ground against me, his cock sliding between my ass cheeks while I continued fucking Damian. The sensation was overwhelming. Damian's body beneath me, Harrow's against me, hands and mouths and heat surrounding me from every direction.
Lori joined us. I felt her hands on my chest, her mouth on my neck, her teeth scraping my pulse point.
Someone's hand wrapped around Damian's cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts.
He came with a shout, his body clamping down on my cock with enough force to make me see stars even through the blindfold.
I followed. Couldn't stop it. My orgasm ripped through me with devastating force, made me bury myself as deep as possible in Damian's body, made me fill him with heat until it leaked out around my cock and onto the sheets.
I collapsed forward, crushing Damian beneath my weight, my body shaking with aftershocks.
Harrow's hand stroked my back. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.” His cock was still hard against my ass, grinding slowly, seeking friction. “One more thing.”
He pulled me up, positioned me on my hands and knees beside Damian. Then I felt slick fingers at my entrance, pressing inside me. I tensed involuntarily.
“Relax,” Harrow commanded. “You've earned this.”
The fingers stretched me, worked me open with experienced patience. Then they withdrew, replaced by the blunt pressure of his cock. He pushed inside slowly, giving me time to adjust to the intrusion, to the burning stretch that walked the line between pain and pleasure.
“That's it,” he breathed. “Take it. All of it.”
He fucked me slowly at first, then faster, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave fingerprints.
Lori appeared beneath me, positioned herself so my cock hung above her face.
She licked the sensitive head, tasting the mixture of Damian's release and my own, her tongue working with devastating attention while Harrow continued pounding into me from behind.
I couldn't think. Could barely breathe. Just existed in the moment, in the overwhelming sensation of being used and using simultaneously, of bodies moving together without pause or mercy.
Harrow came with a guttural sound, buried deep inside me, his cock pulsing as he filled me. He collapsed against my back, his weight driving me down onto Lori, his breathing harsh in my ear.
“Fucking perfect,” he muttered. “You're hired.”
The words barely registered. I stayed there, pinned beneath Harrow's weight, surrounded by bodies and heat and the aftermath of what we'd done.
My mind tried to catalogue it, tried to fit it into the framework of investigation and intelligence gathering, tried to make sense of the fact that I'd just fucked two people and been fucked by the man I'd been hunting for three years.
This better be worth it.
Harrow finally moved. Pulled out carefully, his hands gentling as he helped me roll onto my back. “Damian, clean him up,” he instructed. “Lori, yourself. I need to make a call.”
The blindfold stayed on. I heard footsteps, a door opening and closing. Felt warm cloth cleaning me with quiet efficiency. Damian's hands, shaking slightly. Then Lori's softer touch, wiping down my chest and thighs.
“You can take that off now,” Damian whispered, touching the blindfold. “He's gone.”
I pulled it off. The light stung, made me blink against the sudden brightness. Damian knelt beside me, his expression haunted. Lori sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping a silk robe around herself with tired movements.
“I'm sorry,” Damian said quietly. “I didn't know he was bringing someone else.”
“It's fine.”
“It's not. He does this. Uses people. Makes promises he won't keep.” His eyes were red, his voice thick. “You should leave before he comes back. Before he decides you're interesting enough to keep.”
I sat up slowly, my body protesting. “What promises did he make you?”
“Doesn't matter. They're lies anyway.” Damian moved to untie my ankles. “He said he'd make my assault charges disappear. That he'd fix the evidence. That I'd walk away clean if I gave him what he wanted.”
“And you believed him.”
“I was desperate. Still am.” He finished with the restraints, stepped back. “But I'm starting to think desperation is what he feeds on. That he doesn't fix problems. He just makes them worse and calls it help.”
Lori laughed bitterly from her corner. “Smart boy. Took you long enough to figure it out.” She lit a cigarette, blew smoke toward the ceiling.
I wanted to tell him that he was right. Wanted to offer proof that Harrow was exactly as corrupt as they suspected. Wanted to recruit them as witnesses who could testify about bribery and coercion and the systematic abuse of legal authority.
But witnesses against Harrow had a habit of recanting or disappearing. And both Damian and Lori looked fragile enough that Harrow could break them with one well-placed threat.
“Get dressed,” I said instead. “Both of you. Find someone who actually helps instead of exploits. And stop believing men like him can fix anything without making you pay for it twice over.”
I dressed quickly, checked Harrow's jacket while Damian and Lori pulled their clothes on with shaking hands. The wallet was too obvious. But his membership card sat in the inside pocket, plastic with a magnetic strip that probably granted access to rooms and records.
I palmed the card, slipped it into my trouser pocket. In the inner breast pocket, I found something better: a business card. I memorised both before pocketing them alongside the membership card.
“I should go,” I said, buttoning my shirt. “Thank you both.”
Damian nodded. Lori just watched me with tired eyes that had seen too many men like Harrow and not enough who'd walked away.
I left the room, moved down the corridor toward the main floor. My body still hummed with adrenaline and the aftermath of what I'd just done. The mask felt tight against my face, suffocating now that the scene was over and reality was reasserting itself.
The bar was busier than when I'd arrived. Members were in various states of dress and undress, some still wearing masks, others having shed them. I headed for the exit, calculating the fastest route out.
Then I saw him.
He stood near the bar, talking to someone in a burgundy dress, but his posture was wrong for casual conversation. Too alert. Too focused on the room.
Then he turned. His gaze swept the space and landed on me.
Recognition flared in his pale eyes. He knew the mask. He'd seen it at the wedding.
Our eyes locked across the room. I saw the exact moment he placed me, saw his body language shift from alert to predatory, saw him take one step toward me.
I kept walking. Steady pace. Not running. Just another member leaving after a scene.
But I felt his gaze tracking me. Felt the weight of his attention like a hand at my back.
I made it past the first cluster of members. Past the second. The entrance was twenty feet away, the receptionist behind her desk—she'd seen me when I came in, knew exactly who I was.
Then I heard his footsteps. Quick. Purposeful. Getting closer.
I moved faster, not quite running, weaving between the bodies. Someone called out in protest as I bumped past. The entrance was right there, ten feet, five—
A hand grabbed my shoulder, spun me around.
Him. Up close, even bigger than I remembered. Pale eyes locked on mine through both our masks.
“Going somewhere?” His voice was low, controlled, dangerous.
“Let go.”
“Not until you tell me what you were doing at the wedding.” His grip tightened. “And what you're doing here.”
I twisted, used his grip against him, broke free with a move I'd learned from men who'd taught me how to get out of holds. His hand caught my mask instead, fingers tangling in the elastic.
I bolted.
The mask ripped away in his hand. I heard him curse behind me, heard his footsteps as he gave chase.
A corridor stretched ahead. I ran properly now, no more pretence, just speed. Behind me, I heard him gaining ground—he was faster than he looked, moved like someone who'd trained for this.
The entrance. The receptionist looked up, startled, as I burst through. I didn't stop, didn't explain, just hit the door and exploded out into the November night.
Cold air hit my face. Rain was falling, a light drizzle making the pavement slick.
I ran left, toward the alley I'd scouted on my way in. Behind me, the door slammed open. His footsteps echoed on wet pavement.
“Stop!” His voice carried through the rain.
I didn't. Couldn't. The alley was ahead, narrow enough that his size would work against him. I ducked into it, boots splashing through puddles, one hand on the brick wall to keep my balance as I ran.
He was right behind me. I could hear his breathing, heavy and controlled, could hear the slap of his boots on wet stone.
The alley opened onto a side street. I burst out, scanned for options. Scaffolding climbed four stories up the building across the street.
I ran for it, grabbed the lowest bar, pulled myself up. My shoulders screamed in protest but I kept climbing, hand over hand, finding footholds in the metal framework.
Below me, I heard him reach the scaffolding. Heard him hesitate.
“Get down here!”
I climbed higher, breathing hard, muscles burning. Two stories up now. Three.
I looked down. He was on the scaffolding, climbing, but cautiously—his weight and size making every movement careful where mine was desperate and reckless.
I reached the top, hauled myself onto the building's roof. Flat, slick with rain, but open. I ran across it, jumped the gap to the next building—only four feet, easy if you didn't look down.
By the time I dropped to the street, three buildings away, I was shaking. Adrenaline. Rain. The sheer insanity of what had just happened.
Part of me was already looking forward to him hunting me down. I smiled despite the rain.