Chapter Twenty-two #2
His lips crash into mine, and I taste dirt, whisky, him. A broken moan spills from my throat, swallowed by his mouth. One brutal yank and my leggings are gone, panties shredded with them. I kick, but his thighs clamp over mine like iron, pinning me to the damp earth.
His palm cups my pussy, hard, possessive. “Fuck, you’re soaked.” The smirk is pure predator, eyes glinting animalistic, pupils blown wide. Veins rope over the forearms that cage me, ink shifting with every flex of muscle.
He keeps my wrists crushed in one fist while the other frees his cock; it’s thick, flushed, pulsing.
He lines up, with no warning, and thrusts.
The stretch is fire; his head falls back, throat corded, a guttural “Fuuck” ripping free.
I arch, spine bowing off the forest floor, pleasure knifing through the burn.
His hips snap forward, ruthless, each slam driving the air from my lungs. The black shirt clings to his chest, damp with sweat, buttons long gone. I see the hard cut of abs flexing. He’s a weapon forged in shadow and muscle.
“That’s it, take my cock.” His free hand brands my hip, dragging me onto him harder, deeper.
“Flynn!” My scream fractures the quiet, pleasure-pain sparking every raw nerve.
“Fuck, you feel perfect.” His fingers slide to my clit, circling with cruel precision.
He releases my wrists only to shove my ruined sweater and bra up.
His hot mouth closes over my nipple hard enough to draw blood.
I rake my nails down his shoulders, fabric tearing, then under the shirt, scoring skin. He winces, growls, and drives harder.
“Mark me,” he snarls. I dig deeper, crescent moons blooming red on his back.
“Harder,” I beg, voice shredded, unrecognisable.
He straightens, towering, every thrust a claim. Skin slaps skin, obscene and loud, echoing through the trees. I feel him everywhere, stretching, owning, ruining.
His thumb returns to my clit. “Look at me. Now.” Our eyes lock, and the sight detonates me. I come hard, body convulsing, back scraping twigs and dirt. He doesn’t stop, pounding through the aftershocks until I’m sobbing his name.
A dark, dangerous smile curves his mouth. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. You’ll carry me inside you till tonight.” Two brutal thrusts, and he stills, cock pulsing, flooding me with heat.
He leans over me, his forearms braced on either side, holding his weight without crushing me, his breath still rough. “Fuck, you really know how to push me, trouble.”
I glance down at his collarbone where the marks of my bites are already blooming, his shoulder scraped raw where my nails dug into him. There’s blood. Real blood. My stomach flips. Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?
He catches the look on my face and smiles, wicked and soft all at once. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his voice roughened with amusement, “I like to be marked by you.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight with embarrassment. “I—” My voice barely makes it out. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
His laugh is low, dark, the sound vibrating through my chest as his thumb tips my chin up to meet his eyes. “Letting out your feral, more animal side isn’t wrong when we’re both into it. I want you to explore everything with me,” he says, gaze locked on mine like it’s a promise.
I nod, my face burning.
“You enjoy the pain?” I whisper, my cheeks going hotter. I try to shift beneath him, but he presses his hips down again, keeping me pinned with his cock still inside me.
“Depends.” He rolls his hips once, a slow, teasing grind that pulls a sharp sound from my throat. He’s still half-hard, thick and insistent.
“If it’s from you?” he continues, voice low and possessive, “Yes. From someone else? I’ll cut their heads off and feed them to the dogs.”
“Flynn…” I gasp as he rocks into me again.
“If I didn’t have somewhere to be,” he mutters with a scoff, “I’d fuck you again right here.”
He moves back onto his knees, pulling out of me, and I feel the slow drip of warmth between my thighs until he catches it, his fingers pressing in, dragging it back inside with dark satisfaction.
“Don’t want you losing a drop,” he murmurs with a crooked smirk.
He stands, and my eyes can’t help but follow the way his muscles shift under the dappled light, the sun casting golden flecks through the trees that dance across his skin.
His hair glows like old whisky, and his green eyes gleam with mischief, like he’s already planning something he shouldn’t be.
Like a boy who swore he didn’t peek at the Christmas gifts.
“What?” I ask, tugging my leggings back into place, cheeks flushed. He offers his hand, and I take it, pulling myself up on trembling legs.
“Just admiring what’s mine,” he says with a casual shrug as he starts walking.
“Don’t start,” I grumble. “I’m not yours. You’re not even my—”
I clamp my mouth shut before the cringe can land. Oh no.
“Boyfriend?” he finishes for me, clearly amused. He nods, utterly unbothered. “I consider myself more of an owner.”
My head snaps up to glare at him, catching the smug, shit-eating grin on his face. “Arsehole.” I slap his arm as we head back toward the mansion.
“What the fuck happened to you two?” Kaden’s voice comes from near the door, his brows raised, his stare flicking between our dirt-streaked clothes and wild hair. Then he lifts his hands in surrender before Flynn can answer. “No. Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“Go have a shower and put on what’s left on your bed. Kaden will come get you around four,” Flynn says, and I stop walking.
“Are we going out?” I frown. Twice in one week? Although, the fight the other night wasn’t exactly a night out.
“Something like that.” He doesn’t look back as he heads inside with Kaden.
I make my way to my room and freeze when I see the big box on the bed, with a smaller one beside it. I shut the door behind me and rush forward. As I lift the lid, my mouth drops open.
A dress. A beautiful and silky, white, delicate dress.
I pull it out with careful fingers and run my hand down the fabric.
There’s a dramatic slit up one leg, a plunging v-neck, and thin straps that cross and wrap around the neck.
It’s gorgeous in a way that makes my stomach flutter.
I open the smaller box, finding a pair of pristine white high heels that look expensive as hell.
“Where the fuck are we going?” I murmur to myself, heart pounding. Excitement sparks in my chest, but my hands are icy and damp with sweat. And then I feel it. The ache. The pulse. The way he lingers in me, dripping between my thighs.
Shit.
I run to the bathroom, nearly scaring myself to death when I catch a glimpse in the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess of knots, leaves, and twigs. My sweater’s torn, and there are red marks blooming over my chest and collarbone. I look like I just came out of a fight in the woods, and I did.
Shaking my head, I pull the debris out of my hair and turn on the warm water.
The steam fogs the glass as I step in and release a breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
I decide to take my time and actually take care of myself.
I use every product I bought with Flynn’s card.
I scrub my skin, slather my hair in a deep-conditioning mask, and shave until I feel human again.
When I dry off, I slip on a thong; there’s no way this dress allows for anything else. I step into it and pull it up slowly, my breath catching. It hugs every curve I own. The fit is flawless.
How the hell does he know my size this well?
The white throws me off at first; it’s not the kind of colour I’d associate with someone like Flynn. But now? Now I’m starting to wonder if I ever really understood what he’s capable of.
Once my makeup is done and my hair is curled, there’s a knock at the door. I open it and find Kaden waiting. His eyes sweep over me slowly before settling back on my face with a knowing smirk.
“Let’s go,” he says, and I follow.
“I need a coat,” I mutter, arms crossing.
“No need,” he replies dryly.
We step into the SUV, and this time Kaden slides into the seat next to me instead of behind the wheel. Another man is driving. That alone makes something twist in my gut.
“Where’s Flynn?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady as unease begins to bloom in my chest.
“We’re going to meet him,” Kaden answers, but there’s something in his tone—too calm, too smooth. He’s hiding something.
The road winds through thick trees I don’t recognise. I’m not even sure I’ve been in this part of the estate before. The deeper we go, the quieter it gets, and all I can think is that this would be a perfect place to hide a body.
My body.
I glance at Kaden. He’s typing something into his phone, but I can’t see anything.
I don’t think Flynn would hurt me. Right?
“Are we still far?” I ask, and my voice shakes more than I want it to.
He looks up and gives me a soft, almost sympathetic smile. “Ten minutes.”
My heart starts racing.
Why did he look at me like that?
I glance toward the window, half-thinking I should try to open the door and run, but there’s nothing out there, just trees, bushes, endless green. I’m trapped.
There’s nothing I can do now but wait.
The road curves, and something massive comes into view—a building, a house maybe; no… It’s too ornate. It’s gothic, built entirely in stone, with vines carved into the marble walls like they’ve grown from the earth itself. It’s stunning. Haunting.
The driver parks the car, and I immediately spot the other SUVs. Declan’s. Flynn’s. Kian’s.
Why are they all here?
Kaden gets out and circles around to open my door. He offers his hand. I take it, letting him help me out, though my legs already feel unsteady. As I take a better look, my stomach knots.
It’s not just a house.
It’s a chapel. An old one. A stone chapel in the middle of nowhere.
Why is there a chapel here? Why the hell are we here?
And then it hits me like a slap to the face, cold and sharp.
A chapel.
Flynn’s words echo in my skull. “Just admiring what’s mine.”
I look down at myself.
The dress.
White. Elegant. Timeless. Almost… bridal.
I turn fast, eyes locking on Kaden. My voice comes out sharp, panicked. “What the fuck is going on?”
My breath turns ragged, my hands trembling, ice cold.
“Ease up, Autumn. Nothing bad is going to happen.” He lifts a hand slowly, like I’m a spooked animal.
“No.” I step back, already shaking my head.
“Autumn,” he warns, tone low and steady.
“No!” I scream it this time, spin, and run.
The heel digs into the dirt, nearly tripping me right away, but before I can fall, Kaden is behind me, catching me by the waist, steadying me like it’s nothing.
“Come on. We can’t get the dress dirty,” he whispers near my ear.
His tone is so casual, so firm that it makes my whole body freeze.
“Let me go!” I scream, raw and feral, my throat already burning as I kick at him, twist, try to scratch, to bite, anything. I reach for his hair, desperate to rip and claw, but he just laughs like I’m amusing, like I’m a child throwing a tantrum.
He throws me over his shoulder, holding me so tight my ribs burn. He walks inside the chapel, and I keep screaming; I’ll scream until my voice gives up.
“Fuck.” I hear a grunt and turn my head to see Declan Callaghan and his brothers at the end of an aisle. No one else is on the chairs or the pews. There are two other men I don’t recognise.
“Trouble.” I hear Flynn.
“Fuck you!” I yell at him, still trying to fight Kaden.
“You sure you want to do this?” I hear Declan ask.
“Yeah.” Flynn says with a thick accent and a damn smirk on his face.
I can’t marry him. I barely know him.
He’s in the goddamn mafia…