CHAPTER 27 ROMAN #2
Growling, I slam into her repeatedly, chasing both our orgasms. I can tell she’s close; I move one hand to her clit, rubbing firm circles around it. Her whole body trembles and I feel the release building. My balls pull tight as my back tingles.
Fae screams one final time, her orgasm ripping through her as I drive up in one last forceful thrust before holding her still, my cock buried so deep inside her I can almost feel her womb. She whimpers at the stretch.
My cock pulses as I come, throwing my head back as the muscles in my throat pull taut with the first wave of release. My legs twitch. My breath stutters. My vision blacks for a second as I groan long and low, rocking her against me as her pussy takes every last drop.
Our breathing matches, coming out in short gasps as we come back to reality. Fae looks down at me, that shy smile she only shows me spreading across her face and I feel bashful for the first time in my life as it dawns on me what I’ve done.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I mutter, swiping my hand down my face as I catch my breath. My eyes close. I’m not willing to see her disappointed face when she processes it. Call me a coward all you want, but if you had HSAM, I promise you would do the same.
“I really did try to give you control,” I continue, screwing my eyes shut as I feel her body slump on top of mine.
I’m not sure what I was expecting next, but the light sound of her laughter wasn’t it. Her body shakes and the vibrations roll through mine. My soft cock is still lodged inside her, slowly slipping out with the movement.
Opening one eye, I find her cheek resting on my pec as she looks up at me. Her amusement is written all over her face. It’s a much better look to immortalise than disappointment.
“It was hot,” she muses, nuzzling closer as I stare at her, gobsmacked. Fae reaches up and closes my mouth, which must have fallen open. Mirth dances in her eyes as she gives me a dazzling smile. “Let’s do it again sometime.”
I chuckle at that, pulling her close as her breath finally evens out. My hand moves lazily up and down her back, tracing patterns I don’t consciously think about. The room still smells like us. Sex, sweat, and sin.
Morning light filters through the curtains in pale gold strips, catching her hair and threading it with gold.
If I let myself, I could pretend this is all there is.
Just this bed, this house, her weight on me.
We could pretend there are no fathers causing trouble, no blood oaths, no room full of men waiting to measure whether I am worthy of the name I carry.
Fae presses a soft kiss to my sternum, unaware of where my thoughts have drifted. Or maybe she knows. I wouldn’t be surprised. Over the course of three weeks, she has learned to read my moods no matter how hard I try to hide them.
I have prepared for this my entire life. I have trained for it, bled for it, killed for it. I know the expectations and I know the consequences of failure. But all of that feels insignificant now. Like somehow none of it would matter if I didn’t have the girl lying in my arms.
Today, I step fully into my dad’s world, not as a son standing beside him, but as something equal.
Today, I become a threat to most men in the organisation, no longer just a recruit but a man who carries the legacy of one of the most important names in our bloody history.
Today marks the start of the most dangerous time in my life.
Men do not want to hand over power. They want to test it, break it, bend it.
I look down at Fae resting against me and all the fear I feel about today hits even harder. It’s not just me who’s a target after today, it’s her too. The thought of anyone using her to bend me makes something cold slide through my veins.
My fingers still against her spine for a second too long; she notices, tilting her head slightly. That little frown forms between her brows.
“You’re thinking too much,” she murmurs.
I sigh, squeezing her closer. I shift, pressing a kiss into her hair before carefully moving her off my chest. Her warmth leaves too quickly.
“We should get ready,” I say.
She nods, her fingers trailing down my arm like she’s memorising it. Sitting up, I move to the edge of the bed, placing my elbows on my knees and staring at the floor for a moment. Fear is a useless emotion unless you know how to weaponise it. So that’s what I do. I catalogue it.
I am not afraid of pain.
I am not afraid of blood.
I am not afraid of the men in that room.
Behind me, I feel her breasts press into my back as her arms wrap around my waist. Fae doesn’t speak. She presses her face into the middle of my shoulder blades.
What I am afraid of is hurting her.
What I am afraid of is losing her.
What I am afraid of is men getting to her.
Fuck.
I groan, swiping my hand down my face and breathing in deeply.
I can’t give my dad a reason to doubt me.
I can’t show weakness. I can’t fuck this up.
I move my hand to hers, squeezing gently before we separate.
I hear her moving, drawers opening and fabric shifting like this is any other normal day we’ve woken up together.
I stand and head to the shower, blasting cold water onto my body. The temperature shocks my system and hardens my thoughts into something sharp. When I step out, I catch my reflection in the mirror. To everyone else, I look calm, controlled, and unreadable.
Good. That’s what they need to see.
After Fae showers, we finish getting ready in companionable silence. I dress with precision, my dark suit fitted with crisp lines. When I turn, Fae is watching me from the dresser. There is pride in her expression and… something else.
“Whatever happens,” she says quietly, “promise me you don’t let them change you.”
A faint smirk pulls at my mouth.
“They won’t.”
But internally, I know that’s not entirely true. Initiation does change people. It’s the moment you stop being protected by your family’s shadow and start standing where the knives can actually reach you.
I walk towards her, adjusting my cufflinks.
Pressing a finger under her chin, I lift her face towards mine, studying the lines of her mouth, her skin, her cheekbones.
Leaning down, I press a chaste kiss to her lips, lingering but not advancing before resting my forehead against hers to ground myself.
“Stay close if you can,” I mumble as her hands find my tie, adjusting it so it sits straight.
“I can take care of myself, you know?” she smirks and I tap her arse before stepping back.
“I know. You just shouldn’t have to.”
I take her hand, brushing my thumb across her knuckles before leading her out of the bedroom.
I can hear the rest of the guys downstairs.
The smell of coffee and tea is a tell-tale sign everyone is already up.
Each step down the stairs feels heavier than the last. Not because I doubt myself, but because today I stop being a son and start becoming something far more dangerous.
Today I am the kind of man you either kneel to or try to kill.