FORTY-ONE
Gigi
The aftermath of mine and Harry’s kiss lingers in the air. I feel intoxicated, drunk on the raw intensity of the taste of his tongue on mine. That’s why I lock myself in the bathroom of the jet for an eternity after take-off, attempting to compose myself since we barely escaped the Italian mansion alive.
The party turned to chaos with the news they’d been infiltrated, but we managed to sneak out right under their noises.
But fuck … it was close.
Revisiting the events of today, desire assaults my core. I catch the wall as the edges of my vision darken, my abdomen tightening with lust. Every part of me screams to stay clear from Harry. Yet something inside me – something raw, savage, and sadistic – forces me to stay.
Cautiously I open the door of the bathroom to find him leaning against the cabin wall opposite. His head is tilted back, watching me through dark eyelashes.
“What do you want?” he asks, his deep voice wrapping around me.
I wet my lips, acting on pure instinct. “You.”
His nostrils flare, and the muscle in his neck pulses. “Where?”
His steps are slow and torturous as he crowds me against the wall beside the bathroom door, his hands pressed either side of my head. In response to his question I grind my hips forwards, feeling his growing erection pressing against my thigh. He catches my hip in one hand, balancing his weight on one strained arm. His fingers bite into my side as if he’s physically restraining himself.
“You have to be quiet, though, princess.” His voice lowers to a hushed whisper. “This jet is tapped with a voice recorder. I don’t want anyone hearing those pretty whimpers, so you’re going to have to be really quiet. Do you think you can do that?”
I nod, anticipation burning my thighs raw.
Harry kneels before me slowly, and a rush of adrenaline surges through my veins at the power of having him bowing at my feet. It sets my skin alight with fire until it burns like a furnace.
“The gun stays,” I tell him.
He draws my underwear down my legs slowly, and when I step out of them he pockets them in the back of his trousers. As he brings his hand up my skin, from my ankle to my calf to my knee to my thigh, I feel the strength in his palm. He carefully rests my leg over his shoulder, letting my heel press into his upper back.
There’s a murderous, carnal look in his eyes as he pushes my thighs apart and tilts his head up, pressing his lips against me. I gasp and push his hair from his forehead, pulling at the base as his tongue slides inside of me, licking, swirling, devouring me. My breasts ache to be touched, and I roll my nipples between my fingers.
He shifts underneath me, releasing a low, feral groan as he mumbles, “Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
My eyes fly open. He watches me intently as my back arches from the wall and he pushes a finger into my entrance, replacing his tongue. Remnants of blood have dried on his cheeks, making him appear animalistic. He spreads my folds with his fingers, lapping at my clit with maddening intensity, maintaining eye contact the whole time .
My thighs threaten to squeeze around Harry’s head, but his hands are steel traps, keeping my legs apart. I part my lips, choking on air as liquid heat, raw euphoria, overwhelms me. All it takes is for him to slip another finger inside of me, curling them both into my G-spot, and I’m chasing the crest of my orgasm.
My teeth catch my lower lip, piercing the skin as I struggle to remain quiet. And when Harry nibbles on my clit I’m a goner. Fuelled by lust and animalistic desire, I’m ready to unleash the pleasure coursing through me, but he forces two fingers into my mouth to silence me.
His tongue continues lapping at my clit, pushing me through as my stomach crowds with fireworks and my vision turns black. My body burns with pleasure, blistering with heat and sensation, as I suck on his fingers, desperate to keep my moans silent. I taste myself on his digits, which are crowding my mouth, and my whimper comes mumbled against the intrusion.
When my body becomes spent with exhaustion Harry scatters kisses across my thigh, pausing on the spot where my bullet scar lingers. His breath hovers over the skin as he pays particular attention to it before rising to his full height and pressing two fingers underneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His lips are wet and swollen, and he runs his tongue across them slowly, savouring the taste.
Despite how beautiful the sight is, I force my throat clear. “This is the last time anything’s happening between us.”
“Keep telling yourself that, princess.” He smirks, finding the statement utterly hilarious. “Now get on your knees and tell me you love me.”
“I don’t love you, Harry.”
I really don’t.
But I do get on my knees.
His cock is hard and already tented against his trousers as I pull down the zipper and reach my hand into the fabric. He hisses as I take him into my palm, pulling him free of the restraints. I swirl my tongue around his slit. Harry tenses at the touch, slamming his palm into the wall behind my head. As I look up I find his eyes glued on me, and I wrap my lips around his tip.
His lips part, eyes darkening and pupils blowing until the black has eliminated the green. He pulls the clip from my hair, disposing of it on the floor, to wrap my locks around his wrist. When I take him in my mouth Harry throws his head back, groaning, and I thrive off the hurt as he tugs his hand.
I take him as far down my throat as I can, and he thrusts harder into my mouth, guiding my head back and forth in unison. I soak up the tightness of his jaw, the beauty in his features, as he comes undone at my touch.
Fuck, he’s breath-taking.
I rake my hands up his thighs, gripping him by the base as I pump the remainder of him, which my tongue can’t quite reach, into my mouth.
He opens his eyes to find me watching him, at which he pants, “You’re perfect.”
As his muscles start to strain and the vein in his neck throbs harder I know he’s about to come. It’s only a moment before he spills into my mouth, his limbs shuddering with his release.
“D-don’t swallow,” Harry stutters, shaking with aftershocks.
He slips his cock free and reaches his hand down, pulling down my chin to encourage me to open my mouth. Hooking two fingers against my bottom row of teeth, he turns my head slightly back and forth, smirking at the sight of the liquid filling my mouth.
“I think it’s time for a new tattoo.” He dips his thumb into the mess, swiping it over my bottom lip. “That’s my good girl,” he whispers.
And just like that, I feel myself becoming transfixed to the man I’m meant to despise.
I’m a woman on a mission, storming into the gym with adrenaline charging my steps. There’s one thing I’ve been aching to do since I secured my position within the Circle, and it’s the perfect opportunity to unleash my pent-up rage.
Harry is becoming a problem. I can’t afford to have him around. Whether he’s fuelling anger inside of me or bringing me to mind-blowing orgasms, I can’t lose sight of why I’m really here. And if a sensible man knows anything, it’s that you don’t interrupt a woman when she has her eye on the ball.
Sweat and body odour burn my nose, causing it to turn up at the tangy stench as I throw open the double doors to the sparring gym. People turn towards me, muttering amongst themselves, as I make a beeline for my target.
And there she is.
Poppy is conveniently standing on the ringside. She’s shouting at one of the training candidates to tighten up their form as they circle their opponent in the ring. I make a silent apology to the young man in training and turn the corner into her line of sight.
“Poppy!” I bark. “I think it’s about time we settle this once and for all.”
“I’m not in the mood for games, Thomas.”
We’ve been keeping out of each other’s way for weeks, but I’m not prepared to walk out of this gym without fighting it out with her. Besides, I never quite got over her determination to have me killed at the Weathers bank robbery.
I duck under one of the ropes and step into the ring. “Since you had me shot , I think this is a fair retaliation. Don’t you?”
Poppy shakes her head, feigning disinterest.
“Codex says any member can call upon another member to settle lingering disputes. Denial to such a request results in instant loss.” I lean back against the ropes, crossing my arms over my chest. “What do you say, Green? Are you calling quits?”
She turns her attention the other way, acting disinterested. I know she won’t decline the opportunity with the intrigue with which people are watching us. She’d rather go down a fighter. That much we have in common.
When I hear her huffed defeat I grin to myself, offering her my hand. She slaps it away, ducking under the rope, and barks her orders once she steps into the ring.
“No breaks. No ref. No gloves. Loser claims mercy.”
“That’s against the rules!” someone shouts.
“Gigi!” another person hisses from behind me, trying to get me to come to my senses.
What they don’t know is that this is exactly what I want. It was only a matter of time before pride overtook her common sense. If she knew Jack at all, she knows it’s pathetic to call on a Thomas for hand-to-hand combat.
A dark smile spreads across my lips. “Gladly.”
Her own ominous expression covers her face, and we slowly start to circle one another.
“Fight!” someone shouts.
Dancing around on the tips of her feet, Poppy’s whole stance comes off jittery and way too overconfident. It works perfectly in my favour, all the training with Oliver swarming me as I rehash all my techniques. Poppy throws a sloppy overhead hook – probably interested in ending the game early – and I dart to the side, missing the throw with seconds to spare. Her posture weakens as she stumbles from missing the heavy shot.
The crowd roars, shouting for me to get a hit in.
But I’m not looking to end the game just yet.
“You’re sloppy,” I taunt. “Such a disappointment.”
She whips her head around to face me. “Don’t forget who won first, Thomas.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”
We start to circle each other again, and I watch the anger burn in her eyes as people start shouting from the ringside. I dart a foot forwards, taking a step into her territory as I rear my fist back, landing the jab directly on her nose and causing her head to recoil. In the same movement I sweep her feet from directly under her.
People scream from around the room for me to pounce on her. Instead I demand, “Tell me why you did it – you knew that man was in the storage room.”
She barks a growl and charges for my middle from her low angle. Her arms wrap around my waist, catching me off-guard. We tumble back a few metres, and I’m thrown to the ground. The air rushes out of me, and in my moment of vulnerability she lands a heavy right hook to my cheek that sends my head lolling to the side. Then she lands another. And another. Hisses echo around the gym, but if Poppy can play dirty, so can I.
“Ready to call mercy, Thomas?”
Spitting blood, I say, “Not quite yet.”
After letting her get another shot in I rear back my legs and send a blow into her stomach. It’s not enough to send her to the floor, but she stumbles backwards as she tries to regain her breath. I climb to my feet and swing my legs around so her body falls backwards, landing on the floor with a heavy thud again. This time, however, I pounce on her, straddling Poppy’s chest and pinning her arms down with my knees.
“You knew he had a gun,” I say, wincing with the shot.
My fist connects with her face, landing blow after blow after blow. My hand starts to go numb, and my eyes drop to the trail of blood trickling from her nose as it blends in with the colour of her hair.
Vision darkening, I cry, “Why did you do it!”
Poppy yelps below me.
From the state of her nose, it’s no doubt broken, but I know she’d rather die than surrender. Rather die than tell me the truth. One of her eyes is swollen shut, her lip is busted, and blood trickles from her nostrils. And when I see the look in her good eye confirming my suspicions, I draw my hand back on a heavy breath and decide to stop.
I came here to prove a point, not dismantle her face.
If she is so eager to protect her secrets, so be it. Besides, punching her in the face was surprisingly fun entertainment.
As I shake my hand to the side, the splatter of blood from my cheek sprays across the floor of the ring. I’m already stepping out from under the ropes before Poppy has time to get to her feet.
“I didn’t call mercy!” she shouts.
“Then I guess you win.” I turn, retreating back towards the door. Raising my hands in the air in defeat, I say, “I just hope it was worth it.”