Chapter 25
Aro
Johnny and I have been circling each other for weeks. I don’t understand him. He said he needs me for something, but he won’t talk to me. One minute he acts like he cares, and the next he’s avoiding me. Whiplash doesn’t begin to cover it.
Meanwhile, things with Sean are… amazing. He sleeps in my bed every night. We make love almost every morning. If I’m being honest with myself, I fell for him the moment we met, but those feelings have grown over the past year. This has felt like a long time coming.
I absolutely hate feeling useless. I hate not having a plan.
Being tugged along by the whims of men has never settled well with me.
This situation is no different. But the more I learn about Johnny now, the more he frightens me.
He’s a full-blown psychopath. He murders people for a living, and he doesn’t feel bad about it. Not one bit.
I keep searching for the young man I used to know, but he’s not there.
I don’t think he’s ever coming back. Even when Johnny shows me kindness—he bought me an entire wardrobe last week when I bitched about my lack of clothes—it feels like there’s something in it for him.
He’s selfish. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been selfish, too, but I still feel like I’m redeemable. To some extent.
I snuck out of bed, and I’m in the kitchen wearing my fucking ridiculous lace trimmed, silk night gown when I hear someone enter the penthouse. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Johnny. I left Sean in bed when I needed a late-night snack.
“Can’t sleep?” Johnny’s voice is smooth, but almost… tired? That’s unlike him.
I stop, exhale slowly. “Not really.”
I turn to face him. He’s leaning against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets like he hasn’t got a care in the world, but his eyes give him away. They’re on me. Too sharp. Too calculating. Watching me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite solve.
“You shouldn’t wander at night,” he says.
“Why? You’re the only monster here. And I can handle you.”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “I know you can.”
We stand there in charged silence. I hate how easy it is to fall into old patterns with him. How familiar the air between us feels. I hate even more that part of me still aches with curiosity about him.
Before I can talk myself out of it, the question slips out. “Where are Axel and Nik?”
His smile disappears. Just like that, the tension shifts.
“Why?” His voice is clipped now.
I lift my chin. “Because they were my friends. Because they matter to me. Because I think about them every single day.”
His jaw flexes. He pushes off the wall, taking one slow step toward me. “You really want to talk about them with me? Right now?”
“Yes.” I hold his stare, refusing to back down.
His gaze hardens. No point pretending, he’s jealous, and he hates that I know it.
“I’ve given you protection. I’ve kept you alive when no one else could. And you’re still thinking about them?”
Anger flares hot in my chest. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to play savior and then act like I owe you something for it.”
He steps closer again. Too close. I can feel the heat coming off him.
“I don’t want you to owe me,” he says low. “I want you to see me.”
“I do see you.” My voice shakes with the weight of it. “I see exactly what you are now.”
His mouth is a hard line. His breathing rough. He looks like he’s about to say something brutal, but instead—
He kisses me. It’s not gentle. Not sweet. It’s teeth and tongues and years of fury we never dealt with. A fight we can’t win, bleeding out through the press of our mouths.
I shove at his chest, but he won’t let go. And the worst part? I don’t want him to. Not yet. Not when so many years of confusion and pain are tangled between us.
Finally, I wrench free, gasping. “Don’t,” I whisper, voice raw. “Don’t do this to me.”
His hands fall away. His chest heaves. “You still think about them. About him.”
“And you’re still trying to own me,” I snap.
We stare each other down, both of us shaking. I don’t know who moves first, but the next thing I know, we’re back on each other. Lips clashing, tongues tangling, hands grasping.
He growls in my mouth and lifts me by my thighs, forcing me to hang onto him. He walks with me, and I don’t even care where we’re going. He could take me anywhere and I would let him.
The next thing I know, I’m dumped unceremoniously on the bed. His bed. I pant, trying to catch my breath while he stands over me.
“Do you remember what I told you, Honey? At that stupid Halloween party?”
How could I forget? I momentarily get lost in the memory…
“Are you dripping for me right now?”
He teases his lips over mine, once more. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t close the distance. His firm grip on the back of my neck keeps me still, and I whimper in frustration when he pulls back again instead of giving me what I want.
I look down and watch, mesmerized, as he rubs one of his knuckles up the center of my panties, slow and sure. My whole body shudders at his touch, but it’s from pure pleasure.
“Oh, Honey,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “These are soaked.”
I’m still entranced as he brings that knuckle to his nose and inhales deep. His eyes flutter closed for a second, and then open. Blazing.
“Fuck!” he growls, voice low and wrecked.
“One of these days, I’m gonna lay you out and keep you open for me.
Tongue-drunk and shaking, until I’ve branded myself into every inch of you.
I won’t stop until I know every breath, every moan, every twitch of your body until it’s carved permanently into my flesh.
Soaked into my blood. Burned into my fucking soul. ”
I shiver at the memory.
He smirks.
“It’s time for me to collect.”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand and he freezes.
“You were the one who said you couldn’t handle this. You told me you couldn’t handle them.”
Something unreadable flashes across his face, before his hands are back on me.
“I was wrong.”
My brows shoot up my forehead.
“The only thing I can’t handle, is not being yours.”
I’m in shock as he slides his hands up my thighs, pushing my thin night gown with them. When he reaches the barely there lace thong, he grunts.
“I knew you would look delicious in these.”
Before I can say anything, he rips both sides off of me. Like a caveman. My mouth is still hanging open when he brings them to his nose and inhales. Deeply.
“Fuckkkk,” his whole body trembles, like an animal catching the scent of pray.
His eyes flash. He growls. “Spread yourself.”
I’m shaking. Half from fear, half from want. I’ve imagined this moment so many times, but nothing holds a candle to the real thing.
I do as he asks, and bare myself to him. I show my psycho my soul. He owns a part of it, and I still don’t understand why.
“Mmm,” he runs a finger along his bottom lip. “Honey… I’m going to fucking wreck you.”
“I know,” I whisper. I want him to.
He crawls, so slowly, onto the bed. As if he’s giving me the chance to escape. It’s futile. We both know he’ll never let me go.
He leans down between my knees, grazes his teeth up my thighs. And then he bites. Hard. Making me scream. He releases me and chuckles, licking my wound.
My legs shake, as he nips and licks higher up, until he’s right by my core. I will him to close the distance, to put me out of my misery, but instead, he purses his lips and blows. Cold air on my hot skin, making me jolt. He laughs.
“Johnny—”
Before I can reprimand him further, he dives in.
And he eats. He eats me like a man starved for days.
Like a man who relies solely on me for his survival.
Like he promised all those years ago, I’m drunk off his tongue.
Shaking at his mercy. But there is no mercy where this man is concerned.
There’s only being dragged straight to Hell with him.
My hands rake for purchase on the slick sheets, and when I find none, I grasp his hair and grind myself against his mouth instead.
“Mmm,” he moans against me. The vibrations driving me crazy. “Yes, Honey. Use me. You’re perfect.”
With those directives I pull his face into me further. Grind myself against him harder. Until I’m shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
“Again,” he growls, voice wrecked.
I barely have time to breathe before he’s dragging me toward the edge again. His mouth is relentless, tongue unforgiving, lips sealing over my clit like a brand. I sob his name, thighs shaking around his head.
“Johnny—please—”
He only chuckles against me. “No mercy, Honey. Not tonight.”
His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, anchoring me as he devours me without pause. Without softness. Tears prick my eyes. It’s too much. Too sharp. Too raw. But I can’t stop it. I’m not begging him to stop. I’m begging him for more.
My second orgasm hits harder than the first. It’s violent, all-consuming. I scream, back bowing off the bed.
And still, he doesn’t stop.
“Johnny,” I choke, dragging at his hair. “Stop—I can’t—”
Finally, he lifts his head. Lips swollen, chin glistening, eyes black as sin. He looks like a goddamn beast. Like he’s tasted heaven and refuses to come back down.
“You can,” he rasps. “And you will.”
I’m panting. Shaking. Barely coherent. He reaches down and unbuckles his belt in one slow pull. The sound alone makes me clench.
His eyes lock to mine, dark and dangerous.
“I’ve waited eight fucking years to have you like this,” he says roughly. “To make you come apart in my hands. Under my mouth. Under my cock.”
I swallow hard. My mouth is dry. Every part of me is trembling with want and fear and something far worse. Something that feels a lot like love.
He drags the belt free, tosses it aside, and shoves his pants down just far enough. His dick is already hard, thick, flushed, leaking.
I bite my lip. Fuck me… I want him. I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone. Not even back then. But this isn’t sweet boy Johnny anymore. This is Crow. The man who ends lives. The man who has secrets. This is a man who wants to own me so thoroughly there’ll be nothing left but his mark on my soul.
He grips himself, strokes once. Twice. His jaw clenches.
“Turn over, Honey,” he says, voice like steel. “Hands on the headboard.”
I hesitate.
He arches a brow. “Don’t make me ask again.”
My body obeys before my brain can argue. I roll over, chest pressed to the bed, arms reaching for the headboard. My heart hammers in my throat. I’m shaking. But not from fear. From knowing I’m about to let this man destroy me. And that part of me wants him to.
His palm slides up my back slow and possessive.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “So fucking beautiful.”
He grips my hips, yanks me back until I’m arched for him. I gasp. Half from the force of it, half from how right it feels.
The blunt head of his cock presses against me, hot and unyielding. He leans down, breath hot against my ear.
“You still think about them?” he whispers.
My breath catches. “Yes.”
His fingers dig into my hips. “You still dream about them?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He growls low. Dark and furious.
“Good,” he says savagely. “Now you’ll dream about me, too.”
And then he slams inside me in one brutal thrust. I scream. Shocked, stretched, full.
“Johnny!”
“Fuck,” he snarls. “You’re mine. You were always mine.”
He pulls back and drives in again—harder. Deeper. Each thrust rocks the bed, forces a helpless cry from my throat. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I can feel is him.
Hands gripping the headboard for dear life, I take every punishing stroke. Every filthy promise he whispers in my ear.
“Say you’re mine,” he grits.
I can’t. I won’t…
“Say it, Honey.”
One more thrust, brutal and perfect, has me breaking.
“I’m yours,” I sob.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours!”
He groans and slams deeper, claiming me in every way that matters. And God help me, when I fall over the edge again, it’s his name that rips from my throat.
Not Axel’s. Not Nik’s. Not Sean’s.
Johnny’s.
And when he follows, coming with a broken curse, spilling inside me like he’s branding me from the inside out… I know one horrible, undeniable truth: He owns me. He always has.
I’m still shaking when he finally pulls out, slow and rough, like he’s reluctant to leave me. My body aches, feeling used, ruined, blissed out, and yet somehow, I already want more.
He leans over me, bracing on his arms, eyes devouring me.
“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he rasps. “But your body knows.”
I open my mouth, to fight back or say something sharp, but the words die when I catch the figure standing by the door.
Sean.
He leans against the frame, one brow raised, eyes full of something… not anger. Not surprise. Something else. Amusement?
“Well,” he says slowly, smirking. “You two finally got that out of your system?”
I sit up, sheet clutched to my chest, pulse racing. “Sean—”
But he lifts a hand to stop me.
“No need to explain. I’m not mad.” His gaze flicks to Johnny, sharp and challenging. “In fact…”
He pushes off the doorframe, crossing the room with easy confidence.
“…I’m in.”
Johnny straightens, eyes narrowing in curiosity more than threat. “In what, exactly?”
Sean’s eyes gleam. “You know damn well.”
Johnny lets out a low, dangerous chuckle. “Careful, Sean. You might be out of your depth.”
Sean just smirks. “You’ve had your turn tonight, Harrington. Tomorrow, it’s mine.”
My breath catches. The sheet slips lower.
Jesus.
I should stop this, but I won’t. When I look at both of them… two lethal, gorgeous men practically vibrating with hunger and challenge… my body betrays me. I want it. I want them.
And for the first time since this mess began, I finally feel like the one in control.