Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Tristian
The adrenaline from the ring hadn’t fully settled as the night went on. I sat on the edge of the couch, the apartment quiet after the roar of the gym. In the other room Ingrid was sketching. I could hear the soft scratch of pencil on paper.
I leaned back, my mind racing. I had almost killed a man tonight.
I had broken him apart with my bare hands, and instead of recoiling in horror, Ingrid had pressed herself into me.
She was more clingy, more desperate for my touch than ever, justifying the blood on my knuckles. She was afraid, but not of me.
It was a dangerous kind of codependency I was watching take root—a manifestation of her trauma, her fear of abandonment, and her need for a protector. As long as the monster wasn’t snapping at her, she was content to curl up in its shadow.
The soft padding of feet on the hardwood pulled me from my thoughts.
She walked toward me, looking achingly small in one of my oversized sweatshirts and a pair of socks.
She looked at me with a deep trust and longing that I didn’t deserve.
I reached out, my fingers disappearing into the silk of her hair as she sat beside me.
“Something on your mind, doll?”
She bit her lip, a flush creeping up her neck. “My boyfriend...” she whispered, the word sounding like a secret she was embarrassed to share.
I felt a dark tug of satisfaction. I maneuvered her until she was straddling my lap, her heat grounding me. “Your boyfriend, huh?” I muttered. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin of her neck, breathing her in as she trembled. “And what about your boyfriend is on your mind, doll?”
“Even though the fight was brutal, and I was scared you were going to get hurt... I love how athletic you are... and I like the way you did your combos.”
“Combos?” I chuckled.
She nodded. “You were so fast and quick. It’s scary… but impressive.” She added, that bloom of red in her cheeks deepening, “It was even… kind of sexy.”
I shook my head, a grim smile tugging at my lips. “Something tells me you’re happy that guy is in the hospital after all.”
Her eyes softened. “I’m just happy it wasn’t you.”
“I know, doll. I know.”
I glanced at the clock. The night was fading, and I knew I should get her home before her father noticed her absence—maybe he’d lay even more bruises on her porcelain skin—but she stopped me before I could speak.
“Can I ask you something?” The blush on her face deepened to a bruised red.
“Anything, baby.”
Her lashes fluttered. I could feel what was coming next, already knew from the look in her eyes. I could see the hunger in them, the same hunger that she’d brought to me before.
“Can... can I have another one of my firsts with you?”
I looked at her legs, the way they gripped my waist, and felt my resolve crumbling. My hands tightened around her waist harder than I meant to. “Baby, it’s getting late,” I muttered, though my body was already betraying the lie.
“You ignored me this afternoon...”
The guilt-trip hit its mark. I’d ignored her because I had planned on losing. I had planned on being a broken mess tonight to satisfy Darragh. But looking at her now, her body pressed against mine, I realized Darragh’s terms weren’t worth a damned thing.
“I know.” I sighed, my eyes darkening as I looked at her. The protector in me was losing the war to the predator.
“On your knees.”
She didn’t hesitate. Like a good little girl, she slid off my lap and sank to the floor between my legs.
I held out my hand, and she slipped her delicate one into it, gasping as I guided her palm to the heavy, throbbing weight behind the fabric of my pants.
I leaned forward until we were inches apart.
I could hear her breath hitching, feel the shallow, desperate breaths she was taking.
“You have two options. Forget this ever happened and get dressed so I can drop you home, or... open your pretty little mouth and take my cock down your throat.”
I wanted to scare her. I wanted her to realize what she was asking for, to see the darkness I was offering. But she just bit her lip, her hand moving tentatively against me.
She wasn’t running.
She looked up, uncertain. “P-pull it out?”
“Unless you want me to do the work for you...”
I twirled a lock of her hair around my finger, watching as her nervous hands went to my waistband. She slowly worked my sweats down, inch by inch, until her breath caught in her throat.
A flare of self-loathing hit me. I was taking advantage of her devotion, using her need for me to satisfy a craving I should have suppressed. But as she bared me to the cool air of the room, her eyes went wide, and my thoughts scattered, the lingering ones of self-control I’d built disappeared.
“Are... Are those—”
Her words faltered, eyes glued to the steel glinting at the tip and base of my cock.
“Doll, I work in a tattoo and piercing shop...” I muttered.
“Didn’t it hurt?”
“It did, baby, but when the time comes, I bet it’ll make your little pussy feel real good, yeah?”
I watched her squirm at the words alone, thighs pressing together. The self-loathing was replaced by satisfaction at her reaction. I reached down, deftly unfastening the jewelry and sliding the piercings into my pocket. I didn’t want to hurt her—not tonight.
I guided her chin up. “Grab me by the base and stroke at your own pace. When you feel comfortable, let me feel that little tongue of yours.”
She did exactly as she was told, no hesitation.
I leaned my head back as her small hand wrapped around me, the groan pulled out of me before I could swallow it. When she finally leaned in and took the tip into her mouth I went completely still.
Fuck.
“Fuck…” I hissed my thoughts aloud, my hand sliding into her hair. She looked up at me, her eyes wide, dark and full of a terrifying innocence even as she worked her tongue.
“Look at how adorable you look, sucking my dick,” I cooed, my hand tangling deeper into her hair.
I took control then, slowly guiding her deeper, testing her limits. She choked slightly, pulling back with a soft cough, clear strands of saliva trailing down her chin, and she looked up at me like she was apologizing for it.
“A little deeper this time, baby; breathe through your nose.”
She nodded, trusting me implicitly. I pushed back in, filling her, watching her eyes flutter as she focused on her breathing, forcing herself to relax. “That’s a good girl…” A darker note crept into my tone. “Now keep that little mouth open while I fuck your throat.”
I kissed the top of her head and then began to move, my hips finding a rhythm that had me seeing stars. The muffled, choking sounds she made were the sweetest thing I’d ever heard. “That’s a good little fuck doll,” I growled, the words slipping out unbidden.
She was heaven. Her throat was tight, warm, and perfect. I pushed all the way down, hitting the back of it, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The thought of anyone touching her, of anyone thinking about her this way—I felt a surge of possessiveness fester under my skin.
Because she was mine.
“Just a little more,” I hissed, feeling the swell of the release.
My thighs tensed. If I didn’t hold myself back, I’d fuck her mouth raw, take more than she was ready to give. I pulled back, breathing hard as she sat back on her heels, gasping for air, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, saliva running down her chin.
“Lift the sweatshirt up,” I ordered. My voice was a gravelly wreck.
She lifted the fabric, exposing her tiny waist and the soaked cotton of her panties. I jerked myself off over her, the sight of her making my vision swim.
Her breath hitched, a tiny sound that made my cock twitch so hard it hurt.
I wasn’t built for fragile things like her.
“Fuck...” I muttered as I came across her abdomen in hot, thick ropes, watching every drop paint her skin. For a split second, a feral thought flashed through me—smear it across her body, mark every inch of her, make her wear it home.
Instead, I forced control back into my mind. Then I swiped a thumb through the heat on her stomach and held it to her lips. She sucked it clean, her eyes never leaving mine.
I wasn’t thinking about getting her home.
Wasn’t thinking about Darragh and the shitty night that I’d endured.
Wasn’t even thinking about what her father would think if he saw his precious “asset” covered in cum on her knees.
All I could think about was her.
I’d ripped a man apart tonight, and she wasn’t hiding from me. She wasn’t afraid of the monster. She was kneeling in front of him, looking up at me like she wanted to be claimed by it again.
A man like me shouldn’t have something this sweet.
But I wanted her anyway and I was going to keep her.
Whether I deserved to or not.
I had just finished cleaning my doll up, her skin still warm, lips still plump red, and was about to escort her to my Mercedes when my phone rang.
I checked the screen. It was a call from my father, and not the first tonight.
Ordinarily I would ignore it, but his insistence was irritating me—and despite my hatred for the man, a sliver of doubt always caught in the back corners of my mind: that something had happened to Mom, and he was calling to let me know.
I glanced at Ingrid, who watched me with wide, curious eyes before I stepped toward the window, answering the phone.
“Noah.”
“Why the hell haven’t you answered the phone?!” he roared, his voice distorted by rage.
“I’m busy,” I muttered.
“You’ve been fighting,” he stated, his voice dropping into a low growl, “again. Are you out of your mind?”
“I thought you didn’t care about what I did,” I said, my voice cold. “Aren’t you the one who told me to get a real job? Why does it matter what I do in my own time?”
“Because,“ he heaved, “I know what happens in that world, Tristian. I know what happened before. You need to get out.”
“Because working for you would be better?” I shot back.
“Yes,” he said. “You’d finally be doing some good, honest work—”
Noah was cut off by the laugh that tore out of me.
“Your work, Noah, is anything but those things.”
“Tristian—”
“You’re corrupt,” I spat. “Your whole business is. So don’t act like you’re saving me from anything.”
Noah was quiet for a moment. “You’re working for Darragh again, aren’t you?”
My blood ran cold.
But my answer was honest: “No.”
“I know he’s on the scene again,” Noah said.
My brows furrowed. “And how would you know that, exactly?”
For a single, ugly heartbeat, suspicion twisted through me.
What if it was Ingrid feeding my father, telling him about Darragh given that was her job, her assignment?
She was my handler after all. Keeping tabs, bailing me out of prison, doing things my father would have called tedious and chastised me for again and again.
But the thought left as quick as it came.
The girl kneeling for me minutes ago wasn’t capable of that kind of betrayal.
“I have contacts,” was all he said. “I hear things. I know he’s been around. Tristian. Whatever you do, do not get drawn into working for him again. You know what happened before. He will use you again until there’s nothing left.”
My father wasn’t wrong. And yet, I couldn’t help myself from snapping back, “And you won’t?”
Noah tried again. “I can keep Darragh off your back. Only if you clean your act up. Forget the gym, forget the ink. Come work for me. You know I can keep you safe.”
For a single, fleeting moment, it was tempting to give in. My father was offering me something I needed right now, not for myself but for Ingrid: protection.
Yet even though the little scared boy in me craved it, even craved the love of a father who didn’t just treat his family as pawns in his business, I couldn’t.
Noah couldn’t stop Darragh. Whatever protection he was offering came with conditions.
More control, more compliance, more of myself handed over until there was nothing left.
My mother would be leverage. Ingrid would be leverage.
Nothing would change except the man holding the leash.
I would save them from nothing.
“No,” I answered, cold.
“Tristian—”
He began to protest, but I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the rug.
From the corner of my eyes, I could still see Ingrid watching me warily, her expression fragile. “Is everything okay?”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Everything is just fine, baby.” I walked over to her, pulling her into my arms. I lifted her, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms locking behind my neck.
I squeezed her ass, feeling the heat of her through the thin fabric.
“Promise?” she whispered, her eyes searching mine for the truth.
“I promise, doll...” I responded. I leaned in, catching her lips in a deep, possessive kiss, swallowing her little moan as she melted against me.
My father wanted control. Darragh wanted blood. Samuel wanted his daughter back in a cage.
But as Ingrid sighed into my mouth, her body pressing to me, the softness of her lips making me hungrier for them, for her… I knew she was worth every war I’d have to fight to keep her.