Chapter 70
CHAPTER 70
BETH
O liver’s arm tightens around my waist as he snuggles up against my backside, pressing his face into my hair. It’s so early that I can’t open my eyes yet, and just the feel of him right there brings me peace at a time when the world is so chaotic. I run my fingers down his arm, and he groans against the back of my neck.
“Sleep.” His lips barely move against my skin, but the single word meets my ear, and a smile pulls at my lips.
This thing between us is so toxic it puts the early days of me and Nigel to shame, but I’m glad he’s here.
“I love you,” I mumble before pressing my face into my pillow. His only response is a hum, and that bothers me.
He’s never actually said it back. His only response the first time I said it to him was, “me, too,” so it was a confirmation that he returned my feelings, but it's been eating at me that he’s never said the words.
Turning over in bed, I bury my face in his chest, tracing the big skull surrounded by roses on his pec. “Why don’t you ever say it back?”
His grip on me tightens, and his chest stills for a moment before he sucks in another breath.
“I’ve said it.”
A smirk tugs on my cheeks. “No, you haven’t.”
“I haven’t?”
“No.”
“Huh.” He groans, stretching his long body before putting his arms back around me. “You’re right. I haven’t. That’s weird.”
I snicker. Sleepy Oliver is a lot like drunk Oliver. He gets a little goofy and way less grumpy.
“Well?” I press, and his lips lazily kiss along my temple as he pulls me tighter to him.
“I love you, crazy girl. You and you alone.”
The rush that moves through my body and settles between my thighs is something I’ve never experienced before. It’s not arousal, but it affects me the same way. I want to feel him joining me physically just as deeply as he is emotionally, but we are still way too tired for that.
“I love you, too.” Then, his lips ghost across mine, and he pulls me into him, making me lay my head on his chest like an obedient little toy, which he knows I am not. However, I’m really sleepy, so I don’t fight him.
My eyes trail along his chest and up to his neck, where I catch something I didn’t notice before.
A new tattoo. It’s so small it could easily be missed, just a simple calligraphy tattoo, but the words bring tears to my eyes.
I’m with you. Always.
It’s our thing, what we always say to each other, and he tattooed it on his flesh.
“When did you get this?” My voice cracks as I run my finger along the smooth words. It couldn’t have been in the last week. The skin is too even.
“A month ago.”
He got a tattoo for me before the accident, before the contract, before Nigel was arrested, and before he knew we might actually have a chance to be together in any way.
He put me on his skin to memorialize our time together, and that on its own is better than any declaration of love.
* * *
Oliver wakes me a few hours later with his hands kneading my ass and his tongue teasing the column of my throat. I whimper as he nips at the hollow of my neck and presses his hips into mine.
“Morning.” My fingers run through his hair as he trails down before sucking a nipple into his mouth, licking and biting it until the areola is a bright purple and throbs on his tongue. He knows I love how rough he gets with my body. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He growls as he flips me onto my back and forces my legs apart, pushing them down to the bed so I’m fully exposed to him. Oliver teases me with the head of his cock, sliding it through my wetness, and I moan, begging and pleading for him to give it to me.
“Please, Daddy.” Reaching down, I stroke the length of his cock, hoping he’ll stop torturing me and start fucking me. Instead, he smacks my ass.
“Such a good fucking girl. You’re desperate, aren’t you? I bet you’re so needy you’ll start to come as soon as I put my cock inside you.”
I run my fingers down to his balls and squeeze. His eyes darken as his knuckles wrap around my throat.
“You don’t play fair,” he growls before slamming his cock inside me.
“Neither do you. You are the dirtiest player of them all.”
A narcissistic grin spreads across his face as he pulls back and slams into me again. My entire body is on fire with need, desiring all the darkest parts of what he could do to me, but his phone rings.
His eyes snap to the bedside table, and mine quickly follow suit to see Nigel’s name flashing across the screen.
We’re not doing anything wrong, yet seeing his name is sobering, especially while Oliver is still inside me.
He curses and pulls out of me before moving over to the bedside table to grab his phone. Meanwhile, I pull the blanket around my body and watch him put the phone to his ear.
“Do you have any fucking clue what time it is?” Ollie hisses as I run my hand down his back, trying to calm him however I can. Oliver has a terrible temper, and the last thing he needs is to get into an argument with Nigel over the phone.
“Where the fuck are you, man?” Nigel’s voice is so loud even I can hear him. “We’ve got business to deal with. You’re not the only one trying to get his dick wet.”
Hearing those words is like a slap to the face.
I never expected it to be. It would be highly hypocritical if I did, but the difference is Nigel knew I had feelings for Oliver. It shouldn’t be surprising that we’ve had our own thing going on. I was the only one Nigel wanted, and he didn’t waste any time, especially rubbing it in Ollie’s face like that. Maybe Oliver knew this entire time that Nigel had plenty of women in his bed since the break-up and just didn’t tell me because he didn’t want to hurt me.
No matter how much I fought it tooth and nail, it’s clear to everyone that I slowly started to fall for Nigel over time. I hated myself for it, but I also couldn’t deny it. I loved Nigel, but even that didn’t hold a candle to the way I feel about Oliver or Martin.
“Yeah, yeah, alright. I’ll be there.” Oliver hangs up instantly, not even giving Nigel a chance to respond. I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in his hair. “Sorry, baby,” he mutters as he rubs my arm. “I’ve told him to just text me when I’m not there, but he’s not listening to anything anyone says.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper softly. “Is he okay?”
I shouldn’t be asking, but I’m worried about him.
Oliver lets out a deep, long breath. “Not in the slightest. He’s always either tired, drunk, high, or pissed off. There is no middle ground. He’s not Nigel anymore. Ro is barely holding him together. None of us know what to do to help him.”
Nothing hurts me more than knowing that Nigel is suffering, but what could I possibly do? He wouldn’t hear me out, and I did what I had to do to keep him alive. As long as his heart is beating, it’s worth it. Even if he hates me, that doesn’t change the truth of it.
“You could try to talk to him again,” Ollie offers.
I cringe. “It wouldn’t work. He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.”
He sighs in defeat. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Don’t apologize. I would if I thought it would help.” I kiss the side of his neck and run my hands down his biceps, feeling each vein bulging over his muscles. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” I whisper, not sure if there is anything that could make this entire awkward situation easier for him.
“Mmmm. There is one thing.”
“What’s that?” I ask, and he turns his head, giving me one of his desiring looks that makes my core weep with need.
“You could sit on my face.”
That was not what I expected him to say. It seems a little trivial considering everything that’s happened. Still, it’s a bit strange that I’ve been in two sexually thriving relationships before now, and I never sat on Shawn’s or Nigel’s face. I’ve always been more into giving than receiving, but I still really like receiving.
“Don’t you have to go?” I ask, my face heating up from the possibility of what he wants.
“Not until I make you come. I’m a reasonable man. I can wait until I come back and make you scream with my cock inside your perky ass, but I’m not going to make you go that long being as wet as you are.” His fingers slide between my thighs and tease me, probing my slit with a single finger. “Yeah, so fucking wet, crazy girl. You really need to sit on my face.”
I moan as I grind down on his finger, and he lays back on the bed, positioning his head on the pillow. His finger leaves my pussy, and he calls me to him using only the finger covered in my juices.
I crawl up the bed and kiss him passionately before straddling his shoulders.
“Should I just hover or…” I trail off for him to fill in the blanks, but he just glares at me as if I offended the very essence of who he is.
“If I tell you to sit on my face, you don’t hover or put ten percent of your body weight into it. You…” He grabs my hips and positions me over his head. “...sit the fuck down.”
“But what if I crush you or you can’t breathe?” I gasp. It must be clear that I’ve never done this before, but he’s not aggrieved. Instead, he seems amused.
“Then, I’ll die a happy man.” He lifts his head and takes a long lick of my slit, and I cry out at how good his tongue feels. “Grab the headboard and sit down,” he demands before smacking my ass.
“Are you afraid I’m going to fall?” I joke as I grab the headboard, and he grips tight onto my hips, pulling me down to his face.
“You need handlebars for this ride, crazy girl.” Then, he pulls me straight down onto his mouth, and I drop my weight, just like he asked. His tongue presses inside me as he nudges my clit with the tip of his nose, and I cry out from the shock of pleasure to my system.
I scream from how good he feels as his finger that was inside me a few minutes ago presses into my backdoor. My mind fogs as I grind down against his mouth, gasping for air from the sheer torture of his oral skills. It’s been long enough that I forgot how incredible he is with his tongue and how he uses it for evil. I guess what they say is true. Sex is way better with an older man.
Reaching behind me, I struggle to hold onto the headboard as I grab his thick cock and stroke him to the beat of his tongue ravishing me.
He growls against my core, and my nails dig into the wood of the headboard as my walls tense around his tongue.
“Fuuuuck! I’m so close.”
He thrusts against my hand as he pulses against my grip, and I know he’s riding that edge as much as I am.
Then, I yell so loud I won’t be surprised if the cops are called. If I die right now, I’ll be a happy woman, too. And, like that, I fall over the edge to the sensation of his orgasm squirting against my spine.
Pulling out his tongue, Oliver drinks up the mess he made between my thighs as I struggle to move to my knees, my legs shaking as he works. He even gives my clit a teasing flick that has me shuddering, my body pleading for more of that.
However, I don’t expect him to lay me on my stomach and lick my back clean of his come, but the entire time, I’m in heaven.
It’s hot as fuck that Oliver has no aversion to tasting his own come. In fact, he seems to like it, which just makes me want him even more.
“Keep that up, and you won’t be leaving this bed for days,” I taunt playfully.
My Ollie chuckles against the swell of my ass before pressing a soft kiss to the cheek. “Don’t worry, crazy girl. I’m going to fuck you so good when I get back.”
“Killing people really gets you that hard, huh?” It’s meant as a tease, but his response lacks all the friskiness I expected.
“You have no fucking idea.”
A small gasp leaves my lips as he bites my ass. “You’re such a fucking psycho.”
“No, baby. You’re the one fucking a psycho.”
Oliver climbs out of bed, and I turn over, pulling the sheet around my body, watching as he pulls on his clothes, piece by piece. It’s so sad to see his gorgeous tattoos covered up. That art should always be on display. Don’t even get me started on his ass or his strong shoulders. This man really needs to just stay naked.
“Don’t be too long,” I say as he walks over to me, a smile across his lips. He bends down to me, pushing his hands into the mattress on either side of me, and he presses a deep kiss to my lips, one so passionate my toes curl from the warmth spreading down my body.
He slowly pulls out of the kiss before an uncomfortable look flashes across his features. “Mind if I talk to our…” he trails off, unable to bring himself to say the word.
Our baby. He wants to talk to our baby.
“Go ahead,” I say, and he pushes the sheet off of me before sinking down to my lower abdomen. He places a soft kiss on the flesh protecting our baby before a rumbling growl leaves his chest.
“Behave.”
That is all he says, and I can’t help laughing as he stands to his feet. He can be so many things at once. On one hand, he’s intense and chaotic. On the other hand, he’s sweet, goofy, and insanely romantic. Oliver Doyle is the best of both worlds and all the extremes that come with it.
However, that is one command I am positive no child of ours would ever listen to.
Before Ollie has fully stood up, there’s a loud bang on the door. It’s not like a knock, but more so like something was either thrown or fell into the door. I nearly jump out of my skin and even Ollie looks surprised.
“What the fuck?”
I climb out of bed and throw on my oversized sleep shirt to cover my body as Ollie pulls out his gun from the back of his pants.
“Who’s there?” I call, but am just met by a groan through the door. Then, what sounds like a cough before a raspy response.
“Little rabbit.”
Martin.
I reach for the doorknob, but Ollie pulls me back.
“I’ll open it,” he insists, but I yank out of his hold, scowling.
“It’s just Martin.” I roll my eyes as I walk over to the door and pull it open. I’m thrown off when Martin, who was leaning back against the door while sitting on the ground, falls back onto the floor.
My entire chest tightens and twists with pain when I see his face. If I hadn’t heard his voice, I wouldn’t have recognized him at all from all the bruises and cuts.
“Martin!” I cry as I drop down to his side, his face twisting with agony. “Who did this to you?”
I already know the answer to that question, though.
Nolan did this. He hurt Martin to punish me for mouthing off at him and he hurt Martin to punish my sweet man for protecting me.
“We need to get him inside,” Ollie mutters before leaning over his cousin. “Can you get up?”
Martin groans and tries to push himself up, but his body falls back down with a loud groan. He shakes his head, his face twisting with agony.
“Okay.” Ollie throws Martin’s arm over his shoulder and pulls him to his feet. Martin screams in a way that makes my entire world feel like it’s crumbling around me, shattering into a million little shards.
Tears fall down my face as Ollie helps his cousin to the bed we haven’t fucked in and lays him down. I close the door and rush over to Martin, crawling onto the bed.
“Oh, my god. This is my fault, isn’t it?” I cry as I lay his head in my lap while Ollie stares at us, his expression blank.
“No,” Martin groans as I push his sweat coated hair out of his face. “Don’t blame…yourself.”
Another sob falls from my lips as I run my fingers through his hair.
“What happened?” Ollie demands as he grabs a washcloth and runs it under the tap before ringing it out. He brings me the rag and I gently rub at the blood on his face. Martin groans and I press a kiss to the top of his head, knowing that’s probably the only safe place to touch without hurting him.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper before looking at Ollie. He gives me a strange look, his gaze darting between me and Martin over and over. Now, I understand the expression on his face. He wants to know if I feel the same way about Martin as I do about him. I’ve never hidden my feelings for either of them.
I slowly nod, but instead of being angry or territorial, his face relaxes. I send him a tense smile before saying, “You have somewhere to be. I got this.”
Then, his eyes narrow. “Tell me what happened.”
My gaze drops down to Martin’s broken and battered face as more tears fall down my face. “Nolan happened,” I admit while removing as much of the blood from Martin’s face. Ollie’s face fills with rage as I look back up at him. “I mouthed off at him and he got mad. He wanted to hurt me, but…Martin protected me. He got me out of there before Nolan could do anything.”
“Beth,” Martin groans as he grabs my hand, stopping the motions of cleaning the blood off of him.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I lean down and softly kiss his fingers as another sob racks my body. “We should’ve just gone back to Hempstead and never left. At least, then you’d be safe.”
Martin matters more than Nigel and any guilt I would’ve felt and so does Ollie. We could’ve just left, but my goddamn conscience wouldn’t let me.
Nolan wouldn’t have been able to reach him then.
“Martin,” Ollie hisses as he presses his hands into the mattress. Martin groans as he turns his head to look at his cousin, who gives him a grim expression. It takes more strength than it should for Martin to open his eyes. Another sob falls from my lips at the strain it takes him. “All you have to do is confirm everything she has said and I will personally make sure your father is dealt with.”
My expression drops.
He can’t though. That’s the problem and Martin knows that.
Before dinner started, I saw Nolan hand the contract to Martin for him to read it, which I thought was strange. None of it had anything to do with Martin, but maybe he requested to see it.
Martin groans as he slowly shakes his head.
“I won’t do that to you,” Martin admits in a raspy voice. “And, I won’t do it to her , either.”
Ollie’s eyebrows knit together before his eyes meet mine.
Fresh tears blur my vision as I say, “If anything happens to him or anyone else in his family, he’ll have all of the Bastards arrested. He had it all set up so that in the event of his death, it would still happen. That includes me in the equation. I would be arrested along with you, Nigel, Ronan, Oisin, Charlie, and anyone with a close association with the Bastards. That means Judy, Arely, and Perla, too.”
It’s never been easy to decipher his emotions, but the devastation is clear on Ollie’s face.
“I’m not going to ask you not to do anything—just to wait until my contract is up. Then, you can torture him all you want. Hell, I’ll be right there with you, watching him suffer with a smile on my face. It just can’t be until then. I need your word, Oliver. Swear to me. Swear by me. Swear on my life, on the life of our baby, on Martin’s, and on your own, because if you don’t, you’ll put us all in jeopardy.”
Hurt echoes deep within my chest as it becomes clear for my crazy man that he can’t avenge his cousin’s agony or the threat against me. All he can do is just accept it.
For now, at least.
“I swear,” he finally speaks after a minute as Martin groans. “Watch him. If he gets any worse, call an ambulance, okay?”
I nod as Ollie walks out the door and I spend the rest of the day nursing Martin’s wounds. I hold ice with the washcloth and try to ease some of his bruises, but his injuries are so bad. I’ve never even seen someone come out of the ring looking like this.
I swear, if he dies, I’ll kill Nolan myself. Consequences be damned.
“Little rabbit,” he mutters in the late afternoon as I stroke his hair.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t feel bad. I asked for this.”
My eyes widen. “What do you mean?”
He clears his throat as he forces his eyes open, the oceanic blues I fell so hard for completely bloodshot. “I took your punishment so you wouldn’t have to. You and the baby matter more than my pretty face.”
I cry while rolling my eyes at how he could say something sweet yet heartbreaking and somehow make a joke out of it.
“Don’t ever do that again, please. I can handle bruises. What I can’t handle is seeing you like this.”
A rough chuckle comes from him mixed with pain. “Ditto, baby.”
“How are we going to make it through the next thirteen years?” I ask, fresh tears falling.
“By keeping our heads down.”
That’s it, then. The only way we can survive is by doing whatever Nolan wants us to do. I’ll bite my tongue and curb my attitude if it means this never happens to Martin ever again.
I can’t take seeing him like this.