Chapter 18
Ciar
My cock is hard again. Fisting her tight, little pussy has given it a jump start after coming inside her only a little while ago.
Being inside her makes all the pain go away, so I take her from Axl, ignoring the fleeting pain in my chest and sit her on my lap, facing outwards.
I want her to reverse cowgirl me, exposing her battered pussy to her other guys as my cock wrecks her.
I slide into her slick heat from behind, my hands gripping her waist as I guide her down onto my cock.
She’s so fucking wet, dripping from both ends with cum from all three of us, and the slide is perfect, tight, and hot.
I groan as she takes me deep, her back arching against my chest. Cillian kneels in front of us, his fingers gliding over her swollen clit before he tugs and pinches it roughly, making her tremble on my lap.
“Ride me,” I growl in her ear, my hands moving to her thighs, spreading them wider so they get a full view of my cock disappearing into her pussy with every bounce. “Show them how good you take it from my monster cock.”
Sorcha whimpers as she moves, grinding down on me in slow, deliberate circles that make my vision blur.
The pain in my chest is a distant fucking memory, drowned out by the tight clench of her cunt around me.
I thrust up to meet her, setting a harder pace, and she cries out as Cillian rubs his thumb over her clit, making her scream.
“Fuck,” she gasps, her body shaking as I pound into her.
“That’s it,” I rasp, feeling her pussy clench around me like a vice. “Come all over my cock.”
Her body quivers violently as Cillian leans over to lap at her clit. I can feel every pulse, every flutter of her orgasm as it rips through her, and I fucking love it. I thrust harder, the pain in my chest nothing compared to the need burning through me.
I hold her hips steady, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I bury myself deep one last time, my release flooding her in hot pulses that make my vision white out.
The orgasm rips through me, stealing my breath, making every nerve ending sing.
For a moment, I forget everything except her cunt gripping me like she never wants to let go, the heat of her body against mine, the way she trembles through the aftershocks.
Every fucking second of pain is worth having her like this.
Cillian sits back, his eyes dark and satisfied. “You taste so fucking good full of our cum,” he murmurs.
I lift her up slightly, so my cock slides out of her, along with a gush of cum. Cillian reaches out to scoop it up and pushes it back inside her, fingering her slowly. “This belongs here,” he tells her. “This makes you ours.”
“Yes,” she pants. “Yours.”
My cock twitches, still sensitive, but fuck if I don’t want her again already. The ache in my chest is back, a dull throb that reminds me I’m not invincible, no matter how much I want to be.
Cillian withdraws his fingers and stands, disappearing down the hallway. I hear water running. He returns with a warm cloth and cleans her up with surprising gentleness, his movements efficient but tender. It’s so fucking Cillian—brutal one second, careful the next.
When he’s done, he helps her off my lap and guides her down the hallway, probably to the bedroom to get some rest. I want nothing more than to curl up next to her and sleep for a week, or until my chest heals, but I can’t.
There is work to do. I stash my dick and sigh.
“Reginald Kavanagh. What do we know about him?” I ask Axl.
“Not a lot, really, but my dad will find out.”
I nod and sit back, closing my eyes for a moment, just to focus on breathing through the pain.
He must know by now that we escaped the blast. So what is his next move?
How did he even set up the explosives? Unless the house was under surveillance before Sorcha was even involved with us.
That would make more sense. As soon as word got out that Sorcha Gannon was attending St. Bart’s, Kavanagh got into motion.
He probably thought he had more time. We moved lightning fast. He wasn’t expecting that, so he had to play catch-up.
He had to move all the pieces into place, Smythe being killed, getting Robert on board, coming after us.
It was all at once, which means he scrambled.
He made mistakes. We just need to find them.
“An explosion isn’t subtle,” I say out loud, the words a rough rasp in the quiet room. “It’s sloppy. It’s a fucking tantrum.”
“It’s also a declaration. He’s done playing hide-and-seek.”
Kavanagh has shown his hand. He thinks he’s wiped us off the board, and he’s not expecting us to hit back. He doesn’t know who the fuck he’s dealing with.
Axl’s phone buzzes on the floor beside him. He picks it up, his expression hardening as he reads the screen. “It’s Dad.” He answers, putting it on speaker.
Alex’s voice comes through, cold and clipped, with no preamble. “Reginald Kavanagh’s daughter. Her name is Camille. She’s a first-year student at St. Bart’s. Enrolled two months ago under her mother’s maiden name. Thornton.”
The name hangs in the air, a new piece on the board. A spy. A fucking snake in the nest.
“She’s eighteen,” I say with a grimace that Axl shares. Kavanagh is marrying off his eighteen-year-old daughter. “What a fucking pervert.”
“It’s gross,” Axl agrees.
“It’s business,” Alex says, reminding us how old school he is.
“What are we meant to do with this information?” Axl asks, almost incredulously. “She is still practically a child.”
I agree, but this makes sense why Kavanagh had to wait. He had to wait until she was eighteen to legally marry.
“That’s where you are wrong,” Alex says. “She is still a child. She doesn’t turn eighteen until next week.”
“Fucking hell,” I growl. “What now?”
“Now, we wait. Axl and Sorcha have been expelled and can’t set foot on St. Bart’s campus until after Sorcha is declared the legal owner. After that, you clean house.” The line goes dead.
“Wonderful. I could really have done without that news,” Axl says.
“Yeah, it’s not great, but it also doesn’t matter.
You and Sorcha did the deed before Reggie could marry off his barely legal daughter next week.
You beat him to the punch, and it was a knockout hit.
He tried to get up and hit back, but Ciarán Gannon is somehow in the loop on this. That concerns me.”
Axl gives me a steady stare. “I wouldn’t worry about any of the Gannons, except maybe Robert, and even then, I think the kid’s in over his head.
Reggie was the one who shot you and abducted me.
Not Robert. This is all making a sick kind of sense.
But the Gannons are a close-knit, very widespread tree of loyalty.
We have taken their allegiance to Sorcha completely for granted.
I see that now. It’s how the old families work.
Doesn’t matter who the fuck you are, one drop of their blood and you are theirs.
Unless you move against them… they will die protecting you.
She probably has more branches looking out for her than we can count. ”
“Okay, so now even Robert isn’t the bad guy,” I state. “He’s being played as much as Camille is.”
“And now we’ve just put Cian right in the middle of that clusterfuck,” Sorcha says, appearing at the entrance to the hallway. “You talk too loudly in this tiny house.”
Cillian snickers and sidles past her. “She’s right. On both accounts. Sorcha, you need to call Cian.”
“Already on it,” she says, holding up her phone and turning to walk back the way she came.
I watch her go, the oversized t-shirt failing to hide the sway of her hips. My cock twitches. Even now, after everything, all I want is her. But my mind is already shifting, grinding gears.