CHAPTER THREE
William
I WAKE TO sunlight burning through my eyelids and the taste of stale whiskey coating my tongue. My head pounds with each breath, a reminder of how many bottles I emptied last night. The sheets are twisted around my legs, damp with sweat, and I have no fucking memory of how I got home.
Rolling onto my side, I check my phone. One missed call from Matty. A text from Aidan that simply reads: “You alive?”
It's barely past noon. I've slept maybe four hours, and my body feels like I've gone ten rounds with someone twice my size—every muscle aches. My ribs protest when I sit up, and there's dried blood on my knuckles that I don't remember acquiring.
I stagger to the bathroom and turn the shower as hot as it will go. The water hits my skin like needles, but I welcome the pain. It's better than the numbness that's been threatening to swallow me whole.
Steam fills the small space as I scrub at my skin, trying to wash away the feeling that I'm drowning. The water swirls pink at my feet before running clear. My knuckles sting where the skin has split, and I watch the wounds close under the spray, knowing they'll scar.
When I finally step out, I catch my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes. Jaw tight with tension. I look like Da. The thought makes my stomach turn, bile rising in my throat.
I can't do this. Can't sit in this house and think about the fact that in a few hours, I'm supposed to meet the woman my family has decided I'll marry to save us all from the Russians.
I need to not think. Need to not feel. Need to lose myself in something that doesn't require me to be anything other than a body going through motions.
The Fitzgerald Hotel is one of mine, at least on paper.
A silent partnership that keeps my name out of the business while the profits roll in.
It's upscale and discreet, the kind of place where people come when they want privacy and are willing to pay for it—the kind of place where I can disappear for a few hours and no one will ask questions.
I dress quickly in dark jeans, a black shirt, and send a text to Marcus, the hotel manager: “Be there in twenty. I want two blonde escorts. Have them ready.” I'm out the door before I can talk myself out of it.
The city passes by in a blur of gray stone and morning traffic, people going about their normal lives while mine crumbles around me.
The hotel rises above the street corner like a monument to old money—red brick and cream stone, with gold accents that catch the morning light. I park in the underground garage and take the private elevator to the penthouse suite I keep for occasions like this.
The elevator doors open directly into the suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city, but I don't spare them a glance. I pour myself three fingers of whiskey from the bar and down it in one swallow, relishing the burn.
My phone buzzes. A text from Marcus, the hotel manager: “They're on their way up.”
I don't respond. Just pour another drink and wait.
The knock comes five minutes later. I cross the suite and open the door to find two women standing in the hallway. Both are beautiful in that manufactured way that money can buy: perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect bodies wrapped in expensive dresses that cling in all the right places.
The first blonde leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek that's dangerously close to my mouth. "Mr. Murphy. I'm Claire. This is Simone."
I step aside and let them in.
I cross to the leather chair by the window and sit, spreading my legs.
The leather creaks under my weight. Claire closes the door with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet suite.
Simone approaches, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
Her eyes lock on mine as she sinks to her knees between my thighs.
Her hands slide up my legs, nails scraping lightly through the denim.
I watch her fingers work my belt, the clink of metal filling the silence.
She pulls the leather free, then moves to my zipper.
The rasp of it fills the quiet as she pulls it down.
Her hand slides inside, wrapping around my cock, and I'm already half-hard.
She frees me from my jeans, and her mouth closes around me. Hot and wet and perfect. The sensation drags me under, pulling me away from the chaos in my head. I groan, my head falling back against the chair.
Claire moves behind me, her perfume wrapping around us. Her hands find my shoulders, kneading the tension there. Her lips brush against my neck, just below my ear, and I tilt my head back, giving her access. Her teeth graze my throat as Simone takes me deeper, her tongue working along my length.
My fingers thread through Simone's blonde hair, gripping tight.
I push her head down, forcing my cock deeper into her mouth.
She takes it, her throat working around me as she hums. The vibration shoots up my spine, and I groan.
Claire's hands slide down my chest, working the buttons of my shirt.
Cool air hits my skin as she pushes the fabric aside, her nails scraping across my abs.
"Bedroom," I manage, my voice rough. I pull Simone off me, and she looks up with swollen lips and dark eyes.
I pull Simone to her feet and walk her backward toward the bedroom.
Claire follows, her hands already reaching for the zipper at the back of her dress.
I shrug out of my shirt, letting it fall to the floor behind me.
My hands find the straps of Simone's dress, sliding them down her shoulders.
The fabric catches on her breasts before falling to her waist.
Claire's dress hits the floor. She steps out of it, naked except for black heels and a matching lace thong.
Simone shimmies out of her dress, and I take in the black lace bra and panties that leave nothing to the imagination.
I can see her nipples through the sheer fabric, see the shadow between her legs.
I kick off my jeans and boxer briefs. My cock juts out, hard and ready. Both women's eyes drop to it, and something hungry crosses their faces.
The California king dominates the space, black silk sheets already turned down.
Claire pushes me onto the mattress. I fall back, bouncing slightly, and she follows me down.
Her hair creates a curtain around us, blocking out everything else.
Her lips find mine, and I taste mint and something sweeter.
Behind her, Simone climbs onto the bed. The mattress dips under her weight.
Her hands slide up my thighs, wrapping around my cock again, stroking slowly.
I grip Claire's hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
She positions herself above me, and I watch as she sinks down, taking me inside her.
She gasps, head falling back. Her spine arches, breasts pressing forward.
Her pussy is tight and wet around me. I reach up and cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples.
They're hard, peaked, begging for attention.
I sit up enough to take one into my mouth, sucking hard.
She cries out, her hands fisting in my hair.
I bite down gently, and she rocks against me harder. My hand finds her other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between my fingers. She's making these little desperate sounds that go straight to my cock.
Simone's mouth finds my neck. Her teeth scrape against my pulse point, and I groan around Claire's nipple. Claire rocks against me, setting a rhythm that I match. My hips snap up to meet hers, driving deeper, the sound of our bodies connecting filling the room.
I release Claire's breast with a wet pop and lean back, watching her ride me. Her head is thrown back, blonde hair cascading down her spine. Her breasts bounce with each movement. I slide my hand down her stomach, between her legs, finding her clit. She's slick and swollen under my fingers.
I rub circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she shudders. "Yes," she gasps. "Just like that."
I keep the pressure steady, working her clit while she fucks herself on my cock. Her pussy clenches around me, tighter and tighter. Simone's hand joins mine, her fingers sliding lower, teasing where Claire and I are joined.
"Fuck," Claire moans, her movements becoming erratic.
I flip us suddenly, driving Claire into the mattress. The silk sheets slide beneath us. She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging into my lower back. Her nails rake down my spine, and the sting of it grounds me. I pound into her, each thrust hard and deep.
"Harder," she breathes against my ear.
I comply, fucking her with everything I have. She meets me move for move, her moans vibrating through her chest into mine. Sweat slicks our skin, making us slide against each other. I feel her tighten around me, her body going rigid.
"I'm going to—" She doesn't finish. Her orgasm crashes through her, her pussy clamping down on my cock like a vice. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold back.
When she goes limp beneath me, I pull out. Simone is already spreading her legs, fingers between her thighs, touching herself. I watch her hand move, see how wet she is, and something primal takes over.
I grab her wrist, pulling her hand away. "That's mine," I growl.
She smiles, slow and seductive. I settle between her thighs, and she's already ready for me. I push in slowly this time, watching her face as she takes me. Her eyes flutter closed, lips parting. She's tighter than Claire, and I grit my teeth against the pleasure.
I pull almost all the way out, then slam back in. She arches off the bed, a sharp cry escaping her lips. I do it again, harder this time. Her hands grip the sheets, knuckles white.
Claire moves behind me, her breasts pressing against my back. Her hands wrap around my torso, nails scraping lightly across my abs. Her mouth finds my shoulder, kissing, biting, marking. One hand slides lower, cupping my balls as I thrust into Simone.