Chapter 53
I enter my loft’s bathroom, and find Cignette standing in front of the wide mirror, staring at her reflection.
“I killed someone today,” she says shakily, in between fresh tears. “Dorran, I killed someone…”
I walk over to her and take my place behind her, and when she looks at me through the mirror, I cup her shoulders and bend to press a kiss on the back of her head.
“You did it to protect yourself. You did it because you had no other choice, Cigs.”
Her body succumbs to mine as she sighs. “But he did.” She sniffs. “He could have chosen not to do the things he did, or say the things he said to me. He didn’t, and so I…”
“You did what was right,” I say, then turn her around so that I can look at her proper.
“Men like Riley deserve death, and they deserve it from the hands of the people they have, or have tried to, assault. Our law is good and all, but it doesn’t come with the guaranteed satisfaction of ending a life that did us wrong.
And Cigs, what you did is justified; it was fucking self-defense. ”
She blinks at me as she cries, and fuck, I can’t see her like this.
Twice now I’ve been robbed the chance of personally killing the men who hurt the women in my life. But nonetheless, I’m proud of Varsha and Cignette for doing what needed to be done, even if it gnawed at their conscience.
“Will you let me clean you up?” I ask Cignette.
She nods faintly, then gives me a barely-there smile. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s something, at least.
I pull her hoodie over her head, and fix her hair when they stick up in odd places. “Go on; I’ll join you in a bit.”
She walks into the shower and turns on the faucet.
I straighten her hoodie, and am about to throw it into the washer, when I feel the weight of something in my hand.
I dig into her pockets, and find the lighter she’d gotten me, in one of them.
With a smile, I slide it into my jeans pocket and put the hoodie away.
I then strip down to my boxers, set my clothes aside, and join Cignette in the shower.
Her eyes are closed; her hands are rested by her sides. Warm water, tainted by the blood on her body, cascades down the swan tattooed on her back, over the peaks of her breasts, and then gathers at our feet.
She makes a beautiful sight – a fallen angel washing away her sins, and her pain. She’s the very definition of perfection – my unholy addiction.
She turns when she feels me behind her, then looks up at me with wet lashes and open eyes.
I join her under the spray of water and wrap my arms around her waist, and she, in turn, places a hand on my chest.
“Hey.”
She smiles – genuinely this time. “Hey.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She takes a moment to mull things over.
“I feel numb, I guess,” she says after a short while, then swallows. “I’m more shocked by what I did than I am guilty. Is that…normal?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “But the word normal has a different meaning for everyone, and the last thing I want you to do is compare your feelings to someone else’s. Because Cigs, only you can put a label on what’s going on with you right now, and whatever it is, it’s okay.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Dorran.”
“But I do.” I reach over and twist the knob that’s on the wall behind her, shutting off the faucet.
“Your courage, your determination towards life – these are layers of you; feathers that bleed out against the odds you’ve faced, and continue to face.
You’ve been hurt, broken down to the point where you gave up on being strong for yourself, but you’ve got that part of you back now, and I want you to keep it.
Because baby, fearlessness is a hot look on you, and fuck if I’m not weak in the knees for you. ”
She laughs, but she also cries at the same time. And then she just sobs.
“Cigs.” I pull her to me.
“I want you,” she whispers, then touches her wet fingers to my abs. There’s an enticing tint on her cheeks, one that’s putting my self-control to its limit.
I frown and shake my head. “Cignette, I can’t. I–”
“I need you,” she says, urgency clear in her voice. “Wash away his touch from my skin, his words from my mind. Because water won’t be enough for either of those things, Dorran; it has to be you.”
Fuck me, how am I supposed to say no to that?
I let go of a breath and press my forehead to hers. “Are you sure?”
“With you? Always.”
I clench my jaw as a wave of emotions crashes against me at her confession. “Damn you for making me lose my resolve.”
She pushes her fingers into my hair and touches her nose to mine. “Have me. Just…please, have me, Dorran.”
Her plea does it for me; it cuts through the very last shred of my restraint.
With my heart a rhythmic beat in my ears, I shift us so that her back is pressed against the steam-covered glass panel to my left, then move my hands away from her waist and bring them higher.
I outline the swell of her breasts with my fingers, then go lower, until I’ve reached her thighs.
I continue my ministrations and slide a hand over her pussy, making her gasp.
I lean in and kiss her, swallowing the soft noises she’s making in time with my fingers working her slit.
She whimpers against me, and when I break the kiss, she drops her head forward, resulting in her long hair to curtain the sides of her face.
She’s panting, and her breaths fan against my cheek.
My cock strains against my wet boxers as I continue to drag my fingers up and down the length of her pussy, and when she groans, arching her back against the glass, I push two fingers inside her and press my thumb to her clit.
“Dorran…” she rasps. “It’s not enough. Fuck, I need more.”
I curl my fingers inside her, and she starts trembling. Her lips are parted and her eyes are hooded, which means she’s close. She’s so wet that I can hear the sound of my fingers moving in and out of her, and the way she’s clenching around my digits is making my cock ache for release.
Cignette tugs at the waistband of my boxers. “Take this off and fuck me, Dorran,” she urges.
I pull my fingers out of her and get rid of my soaked boxers, then grab her thighs and lift her up. She instantly wraps her legs around my waist, and once I’ve positioned my cock at her opening, I enter her slowly.
She encircles her arms around my neck and tips her head back, whispering my name when I pull out, and then push into her again.
I keep my movements slow yet consistent, and with each thrust inside her, I feel her clenching around me.
“God…” she moans, then fists my hair and pulls me to her. “You’re perfect, Dorran. So good.”
I grunt when my balls tighten at her praise, then widen my legs and rotate my hips in a way that allows me to fuck her deeper. She stretches so well for me, feels so good around me.
We’re so close that we share the same breath.
Her nipples brush against my pecs, and her eyes – hypnotic as always – hold mine as I continue to fuck her.
Every time I thrust inside her wetness, she rocks against me, heightening our pleasures.
I increase my pace, but just a little, only because I’m eager to feel her orgasm against my cock.
I love how we join; how every other feeling fails in comparison to her body on mine.
I groan and thrust forward, and her pussy squeezes around me – hard. Cignette presses her brows to mine and lets go of a sharp moan, seconds before her entire body shakes as she orgasms.
My release follows soon after. My spine stiffens, and my balls draw up as I spill inside her, with our lips merely an inch apart.
I stay with her like this for a while, basking in the overwhelming buzz I feel throughout me, then gently pull out of her before setting her on her feet. I clean the remaining blood off her hair and body, and once I’m sure there’s none of it left on her, I lead us out of the shower.
We don’t say anything, because really, no words could justify the calm between us. All I know is that it’s there, and I know Cignette feels the same, because she’s not as lost as she looked a few minutes ago.
I hand her a towel, and have just grabbed another one for myself, when my phone rings from the floor. Cignette leaves the bathroom and heads into my bedroom, and I pull my phone out from the pocket of my discarded jeans before receiving the call.
“Maverick.”
“Body’s been dealt with, and the guards have been spoken to,” he informs.
“And Miranda?”
“She apparently has a very important last-minute meeting with a realtor in Paris.”
What the fuck?
“Paris?”
Maverick sighs. “She’s planning to open shop over there, it seems, and is in need of a property.”
I arch a brow. “Tonight, of all nights?”
“Too convenient.” He clears his throat. “How’s Nettie doing?”
“She’s fine. You heading to the airport right now? It’ll take me at least 30 to get there.”
“I’ve almost reached, actually,” he says.
I grin. “Good; keep an eye on Miranda. I’m on my way.”
“Gotcha.” He ends the call.
I get dressed in the same clothes as before, and when I look up, I see that Cignette – still wearing the towel – is curled up on one side and is fast asleep on my bed.
I wish I could hold her, stay by her, but I’ve got work to do; a bitch to catch. And I won’t rest easy until she’s in my grasp.
I sigh and leave the bathroom. Staying as quiet as possible, I put a blanket over Cignette, making sure she’s otherwise comfortable, then head downstairs.
Ready or not, here I come, Miranda fucking Adler.