Chapter 29
Kellin
For the first time in my entire life, my dick is actually sore from fucking. Might’ve sprained it on her world-class pussy.
I slip back under the covers after my bathroom break, trying not to wake her. Maeve’s skin is pink with sleep, her lips extra pouty.
I want to take her again, but instead I decide to enjoy the moment, to absorb all the little details. I don’t deserve this—or her—but like everything else that’s presented to me, I’ll still seize it.
Claim her as mine for however long I can.
I’m a selfish prick that way.
She talked to me about her mother. Opened right up. I learned a little of her mother’s fate from the files. But files don’t reveal the pain anyone suffers. Or the quiet life of misery the woman must’ve led up until her death. Being married to a mobster’s not an easy way of life.
Files don’t tell you how her death affected her children either. Maeve’s history probably suggests susceptibility to a parasite like me. I wonder if a file on me somewhere predicts a woman like her could bring me to my knees.
Maeve is teaching me a lesson I’m not especially eager to learn. And yet, even though the clock keeps ticking, I can’t let go of her.
I’m so far off the mission, it’s not even funny. My father’s voice echoes at me from beyond the grave.
“You’re soft, boy. Like a damn girl.”
He would not approve of how I’ve been handling this situation. I try to imagine what he’d do if he were here. Would he hurt Maeve just to prove a point? Just to toughen me up?
Maybe.
Probably.
When I recall my life with him, I can’t remember happy days or a time when I wasn’t angry. When my mother didn’t live in fear like I bet Maeve’s mom did.
When I look at my reflection in mirrors, that frown line between my eyes—that faintest of scowls—reminds me of my past. But in photos from my younger years, before my father started exerting influence over my upbringing, I see a different kid. A free one.
I played baseball and wanted to go pro, or possibly grow up and own a farm with a dozen animals. Like so many other little kids, I did a lot of dreaming.
My father was a violent man. Not overly so with me or my siblings. He found other ways to shake the dreams from our systems. But he threatened my mother. Took his rage out on a string of family dogs until we learned not to bring home pets.
All in all, he was a real piece of shit.
I left the family for the Irish Kings years before he died, on the advice of Dear Old Uncle Thomas, and never glanced back.
The Kings accepted me into their fold. Became my family.
So I can’t let Finn down.
But I also can’t stop falling for Maeve.
I’m trapped in a situation I never predicted.
I’ve always relied on logic and reason, which is why cybersecurity came so naturally. I’m a man of action, someone who longs to devote my talents to a family I can trust. One that protects its own.
I’ve trained my whole life to serve as a silent infiltrator, a killer for a higher command who rids the world of worthless rats like my uncle or that idiot who almost hurt Maeve.
I wonder if I’ll ever be done trying to claim my place.
Will I ever lose that deep ache in my gut that whittles away at my insides?
Self-loathing
Utter worthlessness.
That my dad was right about us all being wastes of space. That Finn and the others will never fully trust me, and at some point, they’ll see me as a pawn and sever ties.
And then where would I be? They’re all I have.
No. That’s not true.
I don’t have anyone. Not really.
And that’s how I like it.
Or liked it—past tense—until this chestnut-haired beauty came along to challenge me body and soul. I can’t catch my breath when I’m in her presence.
My mind travels down all these impossible paths.
Love. Happiness. Real fairy-tale bullshit.
Maeve rolls toward me and releases a tiny sigh. I blow the softest of breaths across her eyes, hoping the breeze on those lashes will tickle her awake.
Success.
As her lashes flutter open, she scoots closer and grazes her lips over my shoulder. “G’morning.”
I can’t help but smile. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Have you been watching me sleep?”
“Maybe.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Perv.”
I swallow her grin with my lips and slide my hands down her side.
She flails and attempts to pull away. “No fair! Someone brushed their teeth!”
“I cheated earlier before you woke up.” Not that it matters. I find her taste addictive. Her mouth, her neck, her stomach… She’s salty from sleep, and I love the tang on my tongue. As far as I’m concerned, her pussy’s a spoonful of fucking sugar.
Ignoring her, I close my lips around her tight nipple, enjoying her shudder when I scrape the tender flesh with my teeth. I switch and give the other side equal attention, until Maeve quivers beneath me.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders. “Kellin, please,” she whimpers. “I need you.”
I crawl up her body until we’re face-to-face. My mouth crashes into hers as my cock plunges inside her. She’s warm and wet and tight and feels like home.
The world falls away. It’s just the two of us floating in a void where history and family ties don’t matter. We’re not in a famous hotel on the Sunset Strip. I’m not lying to her, and she’s not lying to me.
We’re two people who, against all odds, found each other.
And I’m not sure I ever want to return to the real world.
Not sure I want to give up this moment with just us. Just Maeve.
And whatever this tangled mess of emotions in my chest is.
My full weight bears on her as I drive into her again. And again. Poor girl is barely awake, but I spent the past hour banking my reserves while watching her sleep, and I’m out of control.
I cannot stop. The building could catch on fire, and I’d still fuck my woman ’til we both came good and hard before either evacuating or incinerating into ash.
Maeve grabs the headboard, her moans low and throaty in the early morning dark.
That’s my girl.
With time slipping away from us, I plan to eke out every ounce of enjoyment I can.
Relish in her scent, her sounds, the way her legs open wide for me and then squeeze. How her lips part and her head flies back when she orgasms.
Come for me, babe.
The sound of my name as it falls from those sweet lips.
I thrust, driving my cock in until our hips collide.
Scream my fucking name, Maeve.
And she does—“Kellin!”—as we both catch fire together.
Deserving or not, her calling my name is a thing of beauty.
“… Oh, fucking hell, darlin’. I can’t get enough of you.”
We both slow down to avoid passing out while continuing to devour each other with kisses. We’re wet and tangled and panting as I collapse on top of her, a sweaty, shivering mound of muscle and flesh cradled by her softness.
In the aftermath, I can’t tell where she ends and I begin.
And I don’t know what to do about that anymore.