Chapter Fifteen #2
After cleaning up, I got out the garment bag Tyrell had sent over. Inside were black jeans, a shirt that said Eat More Pussy on the front and Suck More Dick on the back. There was also a nice warm hat with a winter pattern, an incredible long fur-trimmed coat, a silver chain, and some boots.
“Shite.” Saoirse stood there, in a tank top and ski pants. “Sorry.”
“It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked.” I winked. I pulled on some boxer briefs with bananas on them. My company made them.
She went into her suitcase, rummaging for something.
“Um, Bailey wants to post a video from the sound check. I’m fine with it not being posted. However, other people, not on my team, have posted it. None of them really show your face, though.” I’d checked.
“Oh. I…”
“Yeah, I’ll tell her no. I didn’t want to answer without checking with you, because it’s not just my decision to make,” I replied.
“Thank you.” She had clothes in her hand. “I might consider recording. That… that was fun, Dusty.”
After her never, ever using my name, I loved it when she used it.
“I’d like that, Mi Cielo. It was fun making music with you. I’ll see you there.” I leaned in and kissed her.
“We can’t.” Her voice broke as she pushed me away. “Seriously. After this we can’t see each other again.”
“Why?” But I knew. “It’s the government, right? How long do you have on your contract? It’s the Irish government you’re an assassin for?”
“You think I work for the government?” She gave me a look, one dark eyebrow arching.
“Well, yeah. Who else would you be an assassin for? Well, the military? But I feel like that’s kinda the same thing,” I replied. “You feel more super-secret superspy than military sharpshooter, not that I know anyone who’s either. Except for you.”
She laughed. “Me. Work for the government? I’m an assassin. I work for money. While I’m sure some are arseholes, some might have simply angered the wrong person, saw something they shouldn’t, or owe too much money. Shite, can I tell you how many cheating alphas I’ve offed?”
“That seems like a good thing. So, you don’t work for the government?” Oh. Her being a contract killer had never dawned on me.
“No.” She tried to get past me, and I blocked her with my body.
“You’re mafia, then? Irish mafia?” Not that I knew much about them.
Though there was a mafia presence in New York.
I was pretty sure they owned an Italian deli that made these amazing meatball sandwiches and black and white cookies that were better than my mamma’s. Though I’d never, ever tell her that.
Not to mention some telenovelas were cartel-funded. Especially when cartel wives wanted to be stars.
“They wish. We’re much scarier than the mafia.
I work for whoever pays me the most.” Her eyes met mine.
“Not for the greater good. Not for national security. For my wallet.” She fired every word at my chest like her mouth was a machine gun.
Her brandy scent grew spicy with anger but burnt sugar fear hid underneath.
Saoirse was frightened and trying to scare me off? Why?
“We can’t be something, because there is no place for me in your world. Also, I kill people for a living,” she snapped.
Oh. Could it be that my fearless, sassy, assassin was afraid of love?
“I don’t care. I’d never stop you from a job that brings you joy. And if it doesn’t, I’ll support you if you want to leave. Every time I look at you, I feel something. All I’m asking is that if you feel anything for me, you give me a chance.” I took a step closer to her.
Straightening, she didn’t yield. Given how small the room was, there wasn’t much space to move, and she’d be at the wall in a couple of steps.
“Feel anything? I’m a contract killer. Also, you don’t love me. You enjoy hunting me. The mighty alpha musician, used to having people throw their underwear onstage, is enjoying someone not being easy for once,” she fired back.
“Is coming to my concerts, sneaking into my dressing room, and fucking me against the wall not easy?” I smirked, letting her get her feelings off her chest.
Obviously, she needed to sort out her emotions, and some people did that best by talking them out.
I’d happily listen. And tease her a little.
“Since when do people throw underwear on stage? I mean, sometimes I throw underwear, but it’s packaged and from my company.” I frowned a little.
“Dusty.” She shoved me hard.
I didn’t move. While her body language said she was angry, her scent said she was confused and afraid of what she was feeling.
“How could someone who makes beautiful music and exists to make people laugh, love someone like me? How could any good and decent person love a killer? Don’t bring up Fiona, because she’s different.” Her face contorted in self-loathing.
There it was.
My hands fisted. How dare someone ever make her think such things? My sky needed a kiss to reassure her.
Closing the distance between us, I pulled her to me, kissing her long and deep. Her being a tall delta, and me being a short alpha, she was only a little smaller than me. Which made her the perfect height for kissing.
Holding her tight, so she’d feel safe, I poured everything I felt into my kisses. Sure, there was a little bit of a thrill chasing her. It was nice to have to work for her love and attention, because, yes, people did throw themselves at me.
I had so many reasons to like her, though. Such as the fact that we had commonalities–we both did the same type of martial arts, liked extreme fighting, and listened to true-crime podcasts.
Sure, she was both a delta and an assassin, but she awoke all of my protective and caretaking instincts.
Her kisses grew hungry and fierce, like she was trying to swallow me whole. My cock grew hard and rubbed against her, pushing her backwards against the wall.
She killed for money. I sang shirtless. We could make things work.
“You are fucking incredible, Saoirse.” I used her full name on purpose. I hear you. I see you.
“Shut up.” In a swift motion, she flipped our positions, so I was the one up against the wall. She tried to rip my briefs off, but they didn’t tear.
All Box Munch garments were tested to be alpha tear proof, because alphas ripping your favorite shit got old, fast.
Making an annoyed noise, she simply reached in and pulled out my dick.
If Mi Cielo needed to fuck me against the wall to work out her feelings, I’d make the sacrifice. The wall did seem to be her favorite place to fuck, though often she was the one with her back to the wall.
I pulled down her black ski pants, then her stretchy pants, then her panties, as her mouth smothered mine.
She impaled herself on my hard cock, my knot inflated. Now, Deltas couldn’t really take knots comfortably without a ton of work, but that was okay with me. I wasn’t one of those alphas who needed to knot someone to feel sexually fulfilled.
Wrapping my arms around her, I continued to kiss her deeply to let her know I didn’t give a fuck what her day job was.
My hand reached around to rub her clit and she smacked it away. Well, then.
Over and over, she impaled herself on my cock like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. She was free to seek understanding on my dick anytime she liked.
“Can I cum inside you? We’re not using a condom,” I said softly, trying to hold off my release. We didn’t always. She was on birth control. So was I.
“It’s fine.” Smothering my words with her kisses, she continued to grind against me, working toward her own release.
I continued to attempt to hold off cumming. Deltas didn’t have locks like lady alphas, but they did get fucking tight when they came. The moment her pussy muscles strangled me, I came. My arms tightened around her even more.
Sweaty, I tipped my forehead to hers. “You are amazing. If anyone has ever made you feel like you’re not deserving of love because of who you are, what you do, they are liars.
Not only will I set them right, I will eviscerate them in song.
I’ll use my music to set the world on fire for you.
You are worthy of love–and fully capable of loving in return, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. ”
“You’re prettier when you don’t talk.” She shoved me and pulled up her sensible boy-cut panties.
“You think I’m pretty?” I batted my eyes at her, my glasses a little steamy. I’d never seen her in sensible panties. She always wore sexy lingerie when she was on jobs. Something about it making her better at her work.
It was a nice look.
“Ugh. You are impossible.” Saoirse shoved me again, anger flaring. “Also, delusional. We can’t be together. It doesn’t matter what either of us feel.”
I sucked in a breath. “You feel something?"
I knew it!
“We can’t,” she snapped, leaving her stretchy pants and ski pants on the floor.
“Why?” I took a step towards her. “I really want to know why, if it’s not because you don’t have feelings. Maybe we can figure it out.”
Wait, why was she so angry? What had I done?
“There’s nothing to figure out. I don’t have feelings for some ridiculous musician,” she snapped.
“Sure, you’re a good fuck. But that’s all you are–an alpha dick to fuck, so stop thinking we have a chance.
” Giving me another shove, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, in a cloud of spicy brandy anger.
Oh. I crumpled inside.
She didn’t have feelings for me? Had I pushed her to the edge not realizing it, thinking I was being cute and charming?
Given that sudden shift from want to hate, I’d definitely crossed a line. Shit. The last thing I ever wanted to do was be some overbearing alpha or feel like anyone owed me.
My moms would be so ashamed of me. Never, ever use your alphaness to get your way.
My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. Putting my head on my knees, I took off my glasses, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.
Yeah, I’d fucked up.
All I could do was let her cool down, apologize, and own my mistake.
The door opened and I looked up. Was it her? I’d prefer to apologize before my set.
“Dusty, you’re naked.” Carlos came in and sat down next to me. “Hey, que paso?”