7. Mila
7
MILA
I towel-dried my hair after a shower as I stood in front of the mirror and wiped away the foggy surface to take in my reflection.
I was in a thin white T-shirt and gray baggy sweats that belonged to one of the brothers—I didn’t know who. I found them in the drawers this morning, and they looked like they would offer better protection than the shorts I usually wore.
I shook my head. I could have laughed at my own ridiculous thoughts.
As if anything could really protect me from these men. But aside from the late-night visits from Maverick my first three nights here, that one night I’d spent with Silas, and the fucking trip and waxing , nothing had really happened.
I thought the waiting was worse, because now, all sorts of scenarios were popping into my head, and only most of them were bad.
There was still a stupid part of me that hoped it wouldn’t be so bad.
Or perhaps that was just my own mind, hoping for something foolish, as if to help protect my own sanity.
But that was probably the mind games they were playing on me. Somehow convincing me that my situation could be worse, and perhaps I should be— grateful .
I snorted and took in my clean skin, pink from the hot water.
I stayed in the shower far longer than I should have. I was hoping Maverick, should he come into my room tonight, would run out of patience waiting for me and just leave.
My thoughts were na?ve. I made my way back into my bedroom after doing my nightly routine, and there was a huge man waiting for me on my bed.
He was still in his day clothes: a black suit minus the jacket, and a black dress shirt that molded to his form well. The tie was undone, and the sleeves were rolled up, showcasing the veiny, muscular forearms, plus a little bit of ink I told myself I was not fascinated by.
My eyes moved up and met his.
He still looked as formidable as ever, but his hair was mussed and his eyes were tired.
It seemed he’d had a long day.
I should not feel anything for this man, least of all sympathy.
Yet my heart pinched at the sight of him.
Like this, he looked more human—just like two days ago, when he’d carefully held me on his lap and let me listen to his heartbeat.
He needed to be careful.
The mask was being peeled away, and neither one of us wanted to see the man beneath the monster that was Maverick Tiernan.
His attention had been on me since I stepped foot out of the bathroom door, and when our eyes met, he patted the space beside him on the bed.
It looked like a request, but the glint in his eyes told me there was only one answer he would accept.
Slowly, I made my way over to him, my movements made awkward by the intent focus of his gaze on my body, as if he was stripping me of my clothes without even touching me.
I tilted my head to the side.
“Help me dress the wound, little monster.”
“Wound?” I asked. It wasn’t until the words left my mouth that I realized there was something off about his arm. Red seeped through the fabric and it took me a moment to make sense of what I saw.
I moved closer. “You’re bleeding.”
He smiled a little and pulled off his tie all the way before unbuttoning his shirt.
I looked away when I caught sight of the golden tan skin of his chest.
He laughed softly beside me. “You know, your shyness really got me thinking. I wondered just how many men you have invited into your bed before.”
“That’s none of your business,” I gritted.
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. And by the end of this month, I’m going to have a complete list of their names.”
His words took me out of my thoughts and I turned back to him, frowning. “Why would you need the list?”
He grinned sadistically. “It’s going to be my new hit list.”
I gasped and tried to move away. I was sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re sick.”
He laughed harder. “Perhaps so. But my sickness has now become your problem.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want it.”
He shrugged, as if we were talking about something less… gruesome. “Tough. Now, tend to me, baby.”
He pushed a clear plastic container toward me. I didn’t even realize it was there in the first place. So much for awareness.
“Aren’t you afraid I might do something to you?” I asked, opening the lid of the first-aid kit and poking through all the stuff there, looking for something sharp.
No such luck.
One side of his lips pulled up in a small smile. “You really think I can’t stop a little thing like you?”
I grunted, but didn’t say anything to that.
Maverick pulled off his shirt all the way until he was in nothing but black suit pants and black socks.
I licked my suddenly dry lips and resisted the urge to shiver when a small droplet of water from my still-wet hair dripped down my shoulder and ran down my back on the inside of my shirt.
He was beautiful, but that was no surprise.
Beautifully done tattoos covered his torso, from the black and white lotus flower on his chest to the burning feather that stretched from his hip up to his armpit.
A watercolor tattoo of the Chicago skyline took up a small space on his rib. The inside bicep of the arm that had the wound held a simple black cross, and black tribal designs of some sort covered his other biceps.
I shouldn’t be affected simply because the man showed some skin, and I tried not to let my eyes roam over the ink on display— too much.
I had always been fascinated by ink.
Not that I would get any—there wasn’t really anything I was sentimental about, or thought was important enough to permanently mark my skin with it—but on others, it was beautiful, and the Tiernan brothers had plenty from what I’d seen, even with their shirts on.
I had also imagined all the places I couldn’t see where they might have tattoos.
My cheeks flushed at the thought, and I could feel Maverick’s intense eyes on me. I shifted on the bed and focused on the wound.
“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?” I asked.
“Why? Are you worried about me, babe?”
I scoffed. “Only wanting to know if I can celebrate your impending death from an infection.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry. I haven’t had a chance to feel your pussy quivering around my dick from coming hard yet. I don’t plan on dying any time soon.”
I paused, my heart rate speeding at his words. I knew he was only saying that to get a rise out of me, but also because sex with him was a forgone conclusion I’d signed up for when I agreed to be theirs instead of their men’s.
It wasn’t much of a choice to begin with, and it was fucking messed up that he was even talking about it now.
I pressed the cloth on his wound a little harder than necessary. He grunted in pain, but when I moved my eyes up to his face, he was smiling.
“I’m sure you’ll be the least memorable,” I said.
“Compared to all the other men you’ve had before?”
I nodded. “Yup.”
“And how many is that?”
“Nice try, but my sexual history is none of your business.”
He laughed again, and I hated the way my skin heated at the sound. Such a horrible man should not have such a nice laugh.
I pulled the cloth away.
Now that it had stopped bleeding, I could see the wound wasn’t as deep as I’d initially thought.
I wrapped the wound and once I was done, he leaned down until his lips gently grazed the skin on my cheek.
I froze, like a fucking helpless baby gazelle staring into the bloodthirsty jaws of a lion.
His hot breath fanned across my face when he said softly, “I don’t think there have been many men. I think the shy act you’ve got going isn’t an act at all. Fuck me, but my little Mila really is shy, isn’t she?”
I tried to shove him off, but he was like an immovable wall. He came even closer to me. I tried to back away. He wrapped his arm around the small of my back and pulled me against him until my belly was pressed firmly against his hard one.
“Fuck you,” I said, meeting his eyes.
“Promises, promises. One of these days, I might just show you how much that mouth of yours can get you into trouble.”
I glared at him but held my tongue.
“You want to know what I think?” he asked.
I shook my head.
His smile widened. “I’d say between zero and three men. Which is it? Why don’t you give me a number, sweetheart?”
“A hundred,” I lied.
“A hundred dead men, then. But we both know it’s not true, is it? Do you want to know what my guess is?”
I pushed him off once more, and surprisingly, he let me go. I pushed back into the mattress and looked at him.
“I helped you dress your wound. Now, get out.”
He stood up to his full height on the side of the bed and silently took me in.
I didn’t want to be scared, but I could feel the shiver of fear that wracked my being from having his dark eyes on me.
Fear… and something else.
Something far more potent, and something I wasn’t willing to admit to myself just yet.
I grabbed the pillow and hugged it to my front.
He seemed amused, and I watched as he closed the first-aid kit and placed it on the bedside table.
“You know, it’s been over a day and a half since your waxing. You’re supposed to abstain from any sexual activity for at least twenty-four hours, but now…”
He knelt down on the bed, and I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t even know about the twenty-four-hour rule. Maverick seemed well-versed in female grooming, and I wondered just how experienced he was.
“Did you miss me? Did my little pussy miss my mouth?”
I scrunched up my face. Did he… did he just refer to my pussy —as his?
What the hell was I supposed to say to that?
Slowly, as if he was afraid of one sudden movement and I’d break, he crawled closer to me.
I was stuck, frozen, as he moved over my body, and I was forced to lie back down on the bed—else we would touch, and touching him felt like such a dangerous thing.
He leaned down until our lips were mere centimeters from each other.
Of all the fucking things he had done to me, I didn’t think I could handle kissing…
Not like this.
Not when I didn’t feel like I had a choice in the matter.
I turned my face to the side, and his surprisingly soft lips skimmed over my skin. The stubble around his jaw tickled me.
“Soon,” he whispered, the dark promise unmistakable in his voice.
“W-what are you going to do?” I asked, as his hands wandered down my body. I sucked in a sharp breath as they settled on the top of my ribs—so close to my breasts, it wouldn’t take much for him to touch the bottom curves.
I should have worn a bra.
But when he didn’t come to visit me last night, I thought I would be safe for at least another night.
Now I knew he’d been letting the waxed skin recover.
How very considerate of him.
“What would you like me to do?” he asked, as if I had a choice.
“Leave.”
He chuckled softly against me, his chest rumbling. It was not unpleasant.
“Tell me, Mila. Did my pussy miss me?”
“I’m— it’s not yours.”
He gently nipped at my jawline. “Oh, that is where you’re wrong. This pussy belongs to me. No one, save for me and my brothers, will make our pussy weep with want. We’ll make it pulsate and shake as it comes. Do you understand?”
I shook my head, trying not to let his words affect me.
“No answer? You don’t have to say anything. I’m sure your body will tell me exactly what I want to know. And don’t worry. For being such a good girl and helping me with my wound, I’ll make sure you feel good tonight, okay?”
“I-I don’t want… I don’t want that?”
Why the hell did that come out as a question?
Perfectly arched eyebrows rose over amused, hard eyes. “No? Would you like me to edge you instead?”
My brow furrowed. Edge?
He pressed another kiss on my cheek. These kisses were so gentle, they contradicted the man he was. The man he wanted to present to me. I didn’t respond.
“Edging,” he said. “My sweet little innocent. It means I would bring you to the brink and not let you come.”
My eyes widened. For some stupid reason, that sounded worse than anything he could do to me.
I tried to slide out from under him, but he pressed his lower body down against my spread legs, letting me feel his erection.
My eyes fluttered shut.
He rocked his hips against me once more.
“Stop,” I said. “S-stop.”
The first one was said strongly enough. The second protest… I wasn’t really sure if it was one.
He did it again, and tremors ran through the small of my back. I bit my bottom lip.
“Are you wet for me?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Liar,” he taunted, his hands drifting down my waist, under my shirt, and onto my bare skin.
His palms were like molten hot lava. Goose bumps rose across my skin, causing a small shiver to come out.
I caught the tail end of his grin right before he buried his face into my neck. I gasped as he suckled the skin there, and a gush of arousal spurted out of me.
I should have fought him.
I didn’t want this—did I?
I belonged to them. They’d said it time and time again.
They intended to share me.
I should be disgusted. My skin should crawl from letting this mean man touch me.
But my reaction was far from disgust, and tears stung my eyes when he palmed my breasts fully in both hands—not because I didn’t want it, but because I was brimming with anticipation, wanting to see where this went next.
It was harder and harder for me to distinguish the man from New Orleans from this monster in Chicago. Fuck, but why was it so hard?
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he said, and though his tone was soft, the command was unmistakable.
I opened my eyes without thinking, staring into the bottomless depth as he plucked at my nipples until they hardened to little nubs.
Arousal moved through me sharply, and I could feel wetness soaking the fabric of my panties.
I gasped as he pushed against me once more, and I wondered if he could possibly make me come from this alone.
“P-please,” I begged him. At this point, I didn’t know if I was begging him to stop or continue.
“Shh,” he said, pinching my nipple harshly.
I squirmed a little beneath him, and as if that was what pushed him to the brink, he pushed my shirt up until it rested on my collarbone.
I didn’t stop him.
I should have, but I didn’t. I lay there while he took in my torso, studying my bare breasts and playing with my nipples.
“Fuck,” he said, leaning down and taking one in his mouth. He toyed with it, using his teeth, and my fists clenched the bedsheets beneath me.
“Maverick,” I said, my back arching, trying to get closer to him, and pulling away in the next breath.
“You taste like heaven, and I fucking missed this. I fucking miss you. Now, you’re going to be a good girl and let me see my bare pussy, aren’t you? You’re going to show off what the esthetician did, preparing you for me?”
I shook my head, but nothing came out.
He pulled away from me, sitting up between my legs and tugging at the sweatpants.
I closed my eyes as he shifted my legs around to take them off, along with my panties.
“Fuck, baby. Look at the way you soaked your panties. Such a good little girl for me,” he said, dragging the rest of the fabric away.
Cool air teased me, contrasting with his heated gaze, and my eyes jumped open when I felt the pad of his finger on my clit.
I looked to see what he was doing, and he pressed down even more.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Look at my cunt. Look at the swollen clit, begging for my lips. You’ll let me taste what’s mine, won’t you?”
“And i-if I say no?”
He paused and smiled viciously. “If you say no and mean it, I’ll leave you alone.”
I took a deep breath, but that only drew his gaze to my naked breasts.
I tugged the shirt down, and his smile widened, baring teeth.
He reached into his pants pocket and took out a folding knife.
Fear wracked my body, and I made a small noise in protest, but he was suddenly there, his hand resting on top of my head.
“Shh, baby. I would never mark your skin,” he cooed. “Would never use this knife on you.”
“T-then why did you take it out?”
He didn’t answer me. He unfolded it, the sharp blade glinting in the light. I didn’t say anything as he ripped through my shirt and cut it open straight down the middle. The dull edge of the knife touched me as he moved, but he never cut me. I would have been amazed by his quick movements had I not been scared shitless.
He threw the knife somewhere behind him. It hit the wall with a clack . He probably didn’t want it within my reach.
Smart man.
He kissed my temple. “I love the sight of you in ruined clothes.”
I tried to stretch the torn fabric over my body, but he had cut it in a way that made it impossible to cover anything. It was ruined.
Then he kissed his way down my body.
I turned my head to the side and bit my lip roughly, afraid some noise might slip out that he could use against me later.
I didn’t want to show him how I felt about the hot glide of his lips, the gentle way he kept his full body weight off me, or the confusing emotion he was able to evoke in so little time.
And I had thought Silas was dangerous.
Maverick was just as formidable.
“Make as much noise as you want,” he said when he got to my belly button. He dipped the tip of his tongue inside, and I shuddered in response.
He pushed down to my mound and paused. I could feel his hot breath on me.
His lips came down before he licked me, and he covered the entirety of it with the flat of his tongue.
My legs clamped around him, and Maverick moved his hand up and gently slapped the side of my breast.
I gasped, even though it didn’t hurt.
“Behave while I enjoy my treat,” he admonished.
“You— Maverick .”
He licked my slit, and I closed my eyes, seeing stars.
“Yes?” he asked, pulling the outer lip into his mouth.
He nipped at it sharply before moving to my center and dipping his tongue inside.
“Oh, God.”
“God? I suppose that would be right. I’ll be your god and your owner. I’ll be your keeper and your fucking everything. Isn’t that right, little monster?”
He used his other hand and lifted one of my legs, exposing me even more.
I tried to push him away with one hand to his forehead when I realized where he was going next.
He clutched my breast harshly until I let him go.
“Good girl,” he said to me. Then I felt his lips on my back end.
“Oh, no.”
This shouldn’t be normal. He shouldn’t be so acquainted with this part of my body—a place even I hadn’t fully explored save only for when I cleaned myself. Yet as his lips moved across the tight muscles I wondered how I was supposed to feel.
“Maverick, please.”
“Please what, baby? Don’t you like it when I play with your little asshole? Do you think there will ever be a part of you left unexplored by me? I plan on fucking this soon, and by the way you’re reacting, I assume no one has had you here yet, right? Well, I’m going to fucking claim it, and you, so just lie there and enjoy the ride.”
“Oh, God.”
Wetness gushed out of me, sticking to my thighs. I hoped to God he didn’t notice, but that was stupid. He noticed. He licked the arousal as if it was the tastiest treat in the world.
His eyes met mine as he did it, too, before he spread my legs further and sat up on the bed.
I tried to close my legs, and he slapped my outer thigh. Not hard, but it was enough to catch my attention.
Sweat coated my forehead, and I watched as he rubbed my clit around in circles, driving me crazy.
He slapped my sex, and I cried out in pain, which quickly morphed into pleasure, and more wetness seeped out of me.
Another slap, before he smoothed away the sting with the gentle touches of his palm.
How cruel.
He would hurt me and comfort me just as quickly.
“How does it feel, Mila?” he asked. “My pussy seemed to like it, and I wonder if you will tell me the truth.”
I glared at him, but didn’t say anything.
He slapped my pussy once more, this one harder than the first two. I squirmed in the bed, whimpering, and Maverick soothed away the pain with soft, feather-light touches.
Slowly, he inserted his finger inside me.
I clenched around him at the invasion, trying to adjust.
His eyes widened before he shot me a Cheshire cat smile that had my heart beating out of control inside my chest. I didn’t want to know the reason behind that smile, but he seemed to come back to himself quickly enough.
He met my eyes, then fucked me with his finger, slowly.
I gripped his wrist with my hand, unsure if I was trying to push him away or keep him there.
He looked at me as if waiting for me to make my decision, and when I didn’t do anything, he pumped his finger in and out of me faster.
My toes curled at the sensation, and I was completely blinded by lust.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel, and when his thumb found my clit, I didn’t really care.
Spasms rocked my body—the impending explosion was just within the horizon.
I just needed?—
I made a small sound in frustration.
“Shh, I’ve got you, baby,” he said sweetly. For a moment, I wished he were a sweet man. Wished he could be the hero in one of my many fantasies I’d had growing up: someone strong enough, mean enough, to take on my dad and rescue me from the hellhole I had been living in.
I had long ago buried all those useless thoughts, and I knew better than to dress Maverick Tiernan up in a hero’s costume. He added another finger, drawing me out of my thoughts and into sharp focus on him and what he was doing.
“Lost you there for a moment, didn’t I?” he asked. “Gotta get you back.”
He finger-fucked me harder and harder and harder, drawing me up so high, I was afraid to fall.
It didn’t seem to matter. Maverick was determined to push me off, and he did, three pumps later.
I screamed as I fell, and Maverick covered my mouth with the palm of his hand.
I could only lie there as tremors moved through my body, trying to get back from the high. Maverick withdrew from me and started to rub over my sex with his fingers, drawing out the orgasm.
My back arched from the sensation, and my legs wiggled on the bed.
Tears stung my eyes from falling so hard, and without a safety net or parachute in sight.
I was fucking doomed.
I knew it.
He leaned down and kissed my sex, taking in all my juices.
My legs twitched, and I felt him smile.
Then he looked up at me. “Good girl.”
I watched as he climbed off the bed.
His hard-on pressed against his pants, obscenely noticeable.
I estimated him to be bigger than average, and a note of fear came to me at the thought that he planned on putting that thing inside me.
He playfully chucked my chin. “Don’t worry. I won’t take you now. Tonight is all about you, and when you’re ready and begging me for it, then I’ll take you.”
“Then you’ll be waiting for a long time.”
Like, forever long , I thought.
Somehow, even the voice in my head sounded weak.
I had meant to sound strong and sure.
My voice just came out breathless.
He shot me a knowing look, but didn’t reply as he made his way to the bathroom. I was surprised to hear the faucet turn on and off before he returned with a wet cloth.
I knew what his intentions were as soon as he got back into bed with me, and I tried to take the cloth away from him.
He held it out of reach, and without saying a word, he spread my legs. I tried to close them.
He slapped the outside of my thigh once.
It wasn’t hard, and I was sure it wouldn’t bruise, but for a quick second, it had stung, and my cheeks heated at the reproach.
I didn’t fight him when he spread my legs once more and ran the cloth up and down my sex, cleaning me up.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
I tried not to blush at such an intimate act from such a man.
I stared up at the ceiling and prayed I wasn’t going to be affected by this, and it wasn’t long before he finished and moved off the bed.
I looked at him questioningly.
Maverick covered me with the blanket, tucking it around my naked body.
“Sleep,” he demanded softly.
I could only stare up at him, still reeling over what had just happened. Before I could respond, he had turned off the light and was out the door, closing it gently behind him.
“What the hell?” I whispered to the dark room.
No one answered me.