TWENTY-THREE
Harry
Jamie fucking Callahan. London socialite. Only child. Son of Demi and Stewart Callahan. Lives in Chelsea. Drives a Porsche. Sounds like a twat. Looks like a pretentious fucking wanker.
He has a clear record, which took all of two minutes to find out, along with his address. But those are all the reasons why he’s fucking perfect for her. And the only reason I retracted the thought about slitting his throat. Catching sight of Gigi after all those months was a shock to the system, but seeing a man with his hands on her sparked a jealous streak I certainly wasn’t expecting.
I truly thought I’d rid all feelings for her. And then, when I saw her, they returned like wildfire. I did a full one-eighty before I had a chance to discover what that weird sensation meant … until the toxic little devil bumped into me outside the pub and then followed me to my car.
Of course she didn’t mention Jamie. Why would she? That’s why I had to get my hands on her and make sure she still felt something between us. I regret the decision now my cock is rock-solid and I’m sitting in my car outside her family home after warning her to leave me alone …
It’s the first time I’ve truly considered not fighting the temptation of her. While that’s hard to believe, it’s not because seeing her with someone else has made me fucking ravenous … but because she still wants me .
She knows everything. Close to everything. Well, no, not really . But her desire for darkness is still unmistakable. And who am I to keep denying it? Even if I’m convinced she can still protect her sanity.
Richard has been hush-hush about the matter, which I can’t wrap my head around, but I’m not a fucking fool either. I’m no idiot – I know he has his own plans for her. And the unease is sharp enough to make my bones crack. But until then, there’s no reason for me to hold back.
Lord knows she craves the darkness, and perhaps it’s too late for me to save her. I see it in the depths of her eyes – the intrigue. I saw it in Jack too. And that Thomas fire is fucking lethal if they don’t get their own way.
After I crane my neck and hear the satisfying crack, I climb out of my car and head to her front door. Despite everything I said about her mother potentially hating me, I knock on the door with confidence.
“One moment!” Gigi calls out through the door, fiddling with the lock.
Fuck, I’ve missed that voice.
When the handle twists and she opens the door, the scent of her rose petal body wash is something akin to pure fucking euphoria. While my eyes are close to rolling into the back of my head, her whole body freezes.
“You miss me?” With both hands pushed deep into my pockets, I rock back on the heels of my shoes before daring a step forwards. Leaving no room for question, I say, “Let me in.”
I thought she was beautiful when she was mad, but she’s fucking breath-taking when she’s caught off-guard.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses under her breath, stopping my advances as I try to walk through the front door.
Oh, baby. I’m coming in.
I wet my lips, taking my time as I watch her eyes drop to the movement. “I decided I’m done watching you walk away from me.”
She shakes her head like she’s trying to get herself out of a trance. As if I’m not standing on her parents’ doorstep like I have a death wish.
“You need to leave.”
“We’re not interested. Sorry!” someone calls from inside – her mother, I assume.
Gigi’s pupils increase with panic. As she places both hands on my chest, attempting to push me out the door, I grip her wrists and turn us both. Toeing the door shut with my foot, I press her against the wall in the hallway. She’s still pulling herself together by the time I’ve snuck a peak at her family, flickers of television reflecting off their faces from where they lounge on the sofa.
“Who was that?” a man’s voice calls out.
Tilting my head down to meet her state, my eyes darken in warning.
“N-no one, Dad. It must have been a prank.”
“Ugh,” her mother responds. “I hope they didn’t step on my hydrangeas.”
“Hydrangeas?” I mouth silently. She’s amused until I ask, “Where’s your bedroom?”
Her cheeks flush with pink and her breathing picks up, eyes darting up the staircase and back to me. I’ve army-crawled through enough situations to get to my intended destination, but someone will have to bloody shoot me before I even consider doing that in this house. And I’ve definitely met bigger threats than her mother. That’s why I crouch down, wrap my arms around the back of Gigi’s legs, and throw her over my shoulder like some deranged kidnapper.
I stride past the open living space without raising suspicion from those in the room. Climbing up the stairs, Gigi pounds her fists into my upper back, insisting I put her down.
“Which room?” I ask.
“Shouldn’t you know … since you’ve broken in here before?”
I hear the bite in her tone, and if she’s trying to provoke me, it’s fucking working. When we reach her room I put her down on the floor, wasting no time in stalking towards her. Her eyes flicker over to the open door in panic .
“Door open,” I order.
“Are you crazy?”
“No, baby. I’m fucking obsessed. There’s a difference.”
With parted lips, she stutters and backs up several paces the closer I approach, her neck craning as she looks up at me. Reaching the bed, the backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she falls back against it when I stand just inches from her.
I’ve spent enough time fighting my urges for the little brat.
“Harry, I have—”
“You have a what?” I taunt. “You have a boyfriend?”
Her face stills. Those pretty brown eyes speak a thousand words. She didn’t expect me to know. Maybe she isn’t as corrupt as I thought since her first thought wasn’t that I’d sniff the fucker out before I even spoke to her.
“You weren’t being very loyal when you were asking me to kiss that pretty pussy, now, were you?”
Her expression changes instantly. She watches me warily, like I’m unrecognisable from the man who fought to resist her just hours ago. She’s still wearing the cocktail dress from this evening, and thank fuck, because she looks sensational in it. She looks incredible in anything, actually, but this dress will forever hold a special place within me for reigniting my passion for her.
I lower myself onto my knees, bunch the material around her hips, and decide to worship the fabric along with her.
The underwear can go, however.
When I part her creamy thighs and bring my head closer to her aching heat, I wrap my finger around the lace, pulling it down her legs with ease. Her upper body freezes with realisation, but she lifts her ass with surprising grace, the actions completely contradicting each other. If she doesn’t want this, I’ll stop. I’m not going down on the pussy that smells like her sweet body wash unless she wants me to .
“Are you sure you want this?” I ask, kissing the inside of her knee.
Nerves jumbled, she nibbles on her lower lip as my kiss drags down her inner thighs.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll stop.”
“Please …”
“Please stop?”
“No.”
“Please, what? Use your words, baby.”
“I want it. Please.”
At hearing her desperation, it takes me a fraction of a second to realise I don’t want the possibility of any fucker ruining this moment for her – for us. I extend my leg and kick the door shut before lowering my mouth to her sex.
It’s as soft as fucking silk and as sweet as the ripest strawberry. My tongue runs over her slit, gathering her arousal on my tongue before I focus my attention on her clit.
“Harry,” Gigi moans, fisting the sheets beside her head.
Holy fuck.
She threads her nails through my hair, teasing my scalp. My dick jerks with awareness, and it swells painfully against the fabric of my jeans as she whimpers the moniker. Sliding my hands up her legs, I tug them over my shoulders with urgency and kneel up higher, pulling her closer to my mouth as her whole lower body rises off the bed.
“I’ve thought about this pussy every fucking day since you’ve been gone,” I mumble against her.
Wrapping my arms around her legs, I press my fingers deep into the insides of her thighs to keep her still and stop her squirming. Flicking my tongue against her clit, I groan at the sweet taste and drag my teeth over the sensitive area.
If I wasn’t an impatient bastard I’d sink my fingers into her and relish the feel of her pulsing around the digits, but I’m selfish and I want my cock to be the thing stretching her.
Her body starts to coil, toes curling, breath stuttering, and I know she’s close. I pull my mouth from her and lower her back to the bed.
Before she’s returned from her comedown I’ve already unbuckled my belt, slipped down my boxers and jeans, pulled off my T-shirt by the back of the neck, and pressed the tip of my cock to her entrance. She grips onto my shoulders, fingernails piercing the skin as I sink myself inside of her.
Pure. Fucking. Bliss.
Catching me off-guard, she snatches my mouth with hers and runs her tongue against mine with urgency, her moans a stuttering mess against me. I tug her bottom lip between my teeth, piercing the flesh as I thrust forwards into her.
“Fuck me like you’re a criminal,” she tells me.
Fuck my life.
My hands start to shake with adrenaline, palms sweating as I lose composure and pound my cock into her without remorse. Her eyes squeeze shut, sweat beading around the top of her chest as her body becomes pure fucking submissive to me.
She stutters my name again, knocking me out of whatever trance I was in. I grip her hips between my hands, flipping us over so she’s straddling my hips. Pieces of brunette hair cover the sides of her face, sticking to the sweat there.
“Ride my cock,” I tell her, digging my fingers into her sides. “Ride it in a way that would make your boyfriend proud, baby.”
Something flickers across her eyes and she blinks it away as I bring my hips up to meet hers. She whimpers, a strand of hair hovering above her plump, shaky lips as she grinds herself down against me.
“Does he fuck you better than I do, baby? Tell me. ”
“Harry, I—”
“Does his cock feel as good as mine?”
She stutters, bringing her hips down onto my cock like she was fucking made for me, hitting it at all the angles that make me want to rip her apart. Her tits are confined to the dress, struggling to move, and I suddenly decide I hate the black piece of fabric. Ripping the dress at the top of the chest, I hum in satisfaction as her breasts bounce out.
Her nails pierce my shoulder blades as I grip her in my palms, kneading the flesh before I raise my head and tug at her erect nipple with my teeth. Through my haze I realise I didn’t ask her about fucking birth control.
Her breath stutters, her walls squeezing around my cock like a vice, signalling she’s close. “Harry, I’m—”
Gripping her hips between my hands, I order, “Grab the headboard.”
I slip out of her, forcing her hips up to my face before she even has a chance to catch her breath. Gigi catches herself on the headboard and brings her cunt to my mouth like a magnet. The connection has her throwing her head back.
Grinding against my mouth, she chases her high as I start beating my hand on my cock behind her. Her nails scrape the headboard, no doubt leaving imprints, while her other hand fists the hair on top of my head, threading it between her fingertips. I’m panting against her clit, groaning into it as I centre my lips around the area, sucking harshly.
“Harry—!”
“Come for me.”
So she does.
Her body coils, back arching hard, and I wrap my arm around her out of fear she’ll snap. I’m not far behind, and when I reach my peak, ribbons of cum dance up her back.
She presses her cheek against the headboard, chest heaving. I stare up at her spent and breathless, like an angel descended from heaven. I suddenly wish I could stop time. I want to relish this feeling and never let her go .
But time catches up with us, and I find myself smoothing back her stray pieces of brunette hair as she climbs off me, pulling her dress off her sticky skin and climbing under the covers. She drapes the bedsheet haphazardly over her body, covering her breasts but exposing her thighs. I’ve concealed myself with my boxers and jeans, and I run my fingertip up and down the length of her thigh.
It feels fucking surreal to have her like this. I’ve spent the best part of a year trying to keep away from her out of fear she’ll be corrupted. But maybe Richard really has no intentions for her. Maybe he’s forgotten her invitation still stands.
After I exposed the truth to her, her intrigue to join stuck with me, so it shouldn’t shock me as she randomly says, “You never did tell me how you join.”
But it fucking does.
I steady my breathing and tell her, “Whatever you’re thinking – don’t. Promise me you won’t even entertain the idea.”
With her eyes hovering over my face, I take her wrist, exposing the sensitive flesh as I bring it to my mouth and place a gentle kiss against it. She smiles at the touch, but her eyes seem distracted as she says, “I promise.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I murmur, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
“I thought that man said I was … interest.”
Her statement causes my heart to pound.
“I can only pray he’s forgotten about it. Since you left that day, it’s never been mentioned.”
“Why do you seem so scared of him?”
Choosing my words carefully, I say, “He may be just a man, but there are people who will avenge him before you’ve even thought about the idea. You kill him and you have an army of people to end you. He’s untouchable, and we’re just his minions. Going against what he wants would mean fighting a battle we’re bound to lose.”
She nods her head, running over the thought.
During the moment of distraction I gaze around her bedroom, taking in the abundance of fluffy pillows, dainty furniture, and clothes strewn haphazardly over a desk chair. My eyes land on a photo frame on her desk, and I feel a pang of guilt when I spot the decade-old photo of her and her brother.
There’s still so much she doesn’t know.
While he’s on my mind, I ask, “How long had you known it was me in your brother’s room?”
The question has been eating away at me since she announced the revelation after meeting Richard for the first time. She’d never said anything, never given any indication that she knew it was me. Never even asked.
She pulls the covers further up her chest. “From the moment I saw you, I think. But it came to fruition when I saw the photo of you two together. I refused to think about it, hoping you’d come clean on your own … but you never did.”
My chest strains with a sharp inhale. “I was after … something. Sworn to secrecy.”
She nods slowly, and I imagine she’s going to press me further on the subject. Instead she backtracks and says, “Tell me about the society.”
Relaxed, she brings her knees to her chest, resting her cheek against her kneecap and watching me as I speak.
“We rob the biggest chains across London and Europe. We steal art. Eradicate criminals our boss wants us to. Assassinate when necessary. It’s a small price to pay for the luxuries.”
“Why were there loads of girls’ clothes at your house when I met you?” she asks, her voice wavering. “Did you have a girlfriend or something?”
I smirk, enjoying the bashfulness that spreads to her cheeks. “No, princess. I don’t have a girlfriend. They’re there … just in case.”
She’ll find out more about those one day – I’m sure of it.
She visibly swallows, and rather than investigating the topic further, she asks, “How do you know the people you’re killing are bad?”
“We don’t all the time. But being in the field long enough, you get the sense there are good and bad people around. More often than not, the world seems to be littered with the ugly.”
Gigi brings her hand forwards, running her finger over the tattooed skin on my chest. I shiver at the touch as she says, “And what about Greg? He’s in that small little house, and your house isn’t …”
“Luxury doesn’t always mean money, designer clothes, and a three-story mansion. I’m not sure what Greg told you, but I think he rebelled so much as a teenager just to spite me in my choice of job. Wiping a record clean every time isn’t cheap. Petty crimes he was caught for eventually piled up. I paid my way to give him a normal life. Ended up in debt with my boss and in a job that wasn’t traditional to pay the bills.”
“I didn’t know about any of that,” she admits. “I’m so sorry he was that way and you were left paying for the damages.”
I shrug, unfazed. I made use of the luxuries even if it wasn’t from my own pocket. Though there were times when I had more money than sense while Greg was going through a dry spell, hence the flash cars.
“Everyone has their reasons for staying. Andy enjoys materialistic things. He’d rake in so much money only to blow it on a mad night in Vegas or buy a yacht he’d never use. Once, the both of us went on a three-month bender across the Philippines, getting fucked on cheap beer and stale cider. It was pretty fun at the time but a death sentence when we came home to our responsibilities.” I chuckle to myself at the memory.
When I catch Gigi’s gaze, her eyes are alight with intrigue. The tell in her irises is eagerness beyond a shadow of a doubt. It’s as if the words are written across her forehead, momentary bliss as she envisions being able to spend money freely and never having to live with her parents again. My face drops almost instantly, but I have her word, her promise, that she won’t entertain the idea.
There’s an echo of movement out in the hallway that makes Gigi’s body stiffen.
“I should go …” I say, grabbing my T-shirt and pulling it on over my torso. When I turn back round her eyes have widened, causing me to ask, “Are you okay?”
She hesitates, but finally nods.
I assume she’s fearful about someone catching us. Assuring her, I say, “I’ll take the window.”
As I approach my escape route her bare feet pad against the floor, the bedsheet held onto the front of her naked body and trailing behind her like a goddamn ballgown. At that moment I declare it’s the most exquisite dress on the planet if it’s on her.
Hauling my leg out the window, I turn back to her and catch her cheek against the palm of my hand, tugging her back in my direction. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes – just go! I don’t want them seeing you.”
I haul my other leg out, gripping the edge of the windowpane as she says, “This is like Romeo and Juliet … you sneaking out my window and all.”
Before parting from her for the night, I ask, “Which film is your favourite?”
“The 1996 version, of course.”
“Baz Luhrmann, right?” Her smile spreads knowingly. “With the angel and the knight at the party.”
Gigi holds the bedsheet closer to her chest, her cheeks a light shade of pink.
“If I called for an angel, would you come to me, princess?”
“Only if you would be my knight, Harry. ”
I smile even though the motion stings. “I’m not sure if I deserve a title so honourable.”
The only part of their romance remotely similar to our story is the fact it ends in tragedy.