Chapter 45 Hawk
FORTY-FIVE
HAWK
THE FOLLOWING EVENING
“I like your sister.”
It was an innocent enough statement, but I knew my little bird too well to fall for that.
Studying her warily, I asked, “Who’d she hurt?”
Amara’s eyes twinkled as she pranced over to me. When she did a complete pirouette, I cocked an ear and listened out for a fucking ambulance.
My woman was a melancholic. Understandable considering her past, but happiness came in different guises. When she was with me, for example, Quin, both of us, eating, watching The Mentalist, or when someone she didn’t like was being hurt.
If that made her sound sadistic, well, she was.
Being kidnapped and sold into the sex trade did that to a person.
I thought we were fucking blessed that she was as high functioning as she was.
Finally plunking herself beside me on the sofa, she pressed her hand to my chest then shifted her leg so that she was straddling me.
Her slight behind, getting curvier now that we’d discovered she adored Mexican food—she was costing us a fortune in avocados—settled on my thighs as she peeped a smile up at me.
“Kendra told Giulia that Nyx was fucking her.” She snorted. “Giulia was not very smart to believe her—”
“Not like Giulia to be anxious about these things,” I pointed out with a frown as I placed my hands on her hips, sliding my thumbs into the loops of her denim skirt. “Kendra’s a cunt—”
“Tak, that she is. She says Giulia is too fat. That Nyx likes them thin.” Amara sniffed. “Kendra does not have eyes.”
“She does.” I smirked. “Two of them to be precise.”
She clicked her fingers. “You know what I mean. She does not use them. If she did, she would see Nyx is…” A hum sounded from her lips. “What is the word?”
“Whipped?” I drawled with a grin.
She tutted. “Nii, Hawk. She is all he sees. Much like with me you,” she mangled.
“‘Much like I am with you,’” I corrected.
People didn’t get our relationship, and I was okay with that. They thought that I was shoved in a corner of Quin and Amara’s, served sloppy seconds… Even with mangled English, Amara disproved that.
“Much like I am with you,” she confirmed. “I see you—”
“And I see you.”
“Tak.” She clicked her fingers again. “Soul friends.”
I grinned. “You’ve been watching TV in Ukrainian again when we’re out.”
Her nose crinkled. “Is much easier than English.”
“And how will you learn if you keep on watching in Ukrainian?”
“Maybe you should learn Ukrainian,” she grumbled.
“I will if you teach me.”
She squinted at me. “This bullshit?”
“No. God’s honest truth.”
“What does God have to do with it?”
I snickered. “Nothing. Or a lot. Depending on your religion.”
She pondered my expression. “You mean this?”
“I do.” And because I wasn’t above throwing Quin under a bus too, I told her, “I bet Quin will want to learn as well.”
Amara tapped her finger against her chin. “I would make good incentives for you learning.”
“You would?” I arched a brow. “What kind of incentives?”
“I don’t know yet. But they would be good.”
Snorting, I told her, “I’m sure.”
She patted my chest. “Is wise you know this.”
“I’m a wise man,” I drawled. “Anyway, what did Giulia do?”
“She held a knife to Kendra’s throat and told her she’d cut off a tit if she went near her man.” She gave a stout nod. “Your sister is wise too.”
My lips twitched. “Can you cut off a breast?”
“Why not?” She hitched a shoulder. “I think I will do this to Liliana when Lodestar tells me where she hides—”
I rolled my eyes. “Note to self, we need a Dexter chop-shop room.”
“Dexter—I like him too.”
“I know.”
“I watch him in Ukrainian. Much darker.” She smacked her lips. “Better.”
“Little whack job,” I told her fondly, reaching up to give those lips of hers a kiss.
Before I could, she shimmied back and said, “I did not tell you best part yet.”
“Better than an artisanal mastectomy?” I didn’t think there was a technical term for what my sister had threatened. But who the fuck knew?
“Artisanile what?”
I cleared my throat. “Artisanal means ‘homemade.’ A mastectomy is breast tissue removal.”
“Oh! Tak.” She beamed. “She—how you say—vomeeteed.”
“Vomited,” I corrected automatically, blinking at her as I translated. “She vomited on her?”
“Tak.” Amara beamed at me again. “She has style.”
I didn’t bother correcting her butchery of the word ‘style,’ just peered at her. “Is she okay?”
Amara waved a hand. “She is pregnant. Lots of liquids in pregnancy.”
“Liquids?”
“In all holes.”
I shook my head in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She huffed. “You know. They pee a lot, vomeet a lot—”
Grimacing, I reached for my phone as Amara told me about how Kendra had started sobbing while the rest of the clubwhores clucked around her. She spoke with a lot of satisfied relish about the other woman’s misery—Amara had a distinct loathing for the club bunnies—as I texted my baby sister.
I figured I was being punished for some transgression in a past life that both my sister and woman were as bloodthirsty as they were.
Hawk: Amara just told me you were sick? You okay, sis?
Giulia: I’m fine.
Hawk: Sounds like it. Threatening to cut off a woman’s tit?
Giulia: A new high in the club.
Hawk: You sure you’re okay?
Giulia: I’m fine.
Hawk: Why were you sick?
Giulia: I’m pregnant.
Hawk: Did you learn how to puke on command?
Giulia: Maybe.
If anyone was capable of it, Giulia was.
Hawk: You know Kendra was talking bullshit, don’t you?
Giulia: Do I?
Hawk: Nyx ain’t got eyes for anyone but you, Giulia.
Giulia: I know that.
Hawk: Then why did you get so mad?
Giulia: Why are men the only ones allowed to stake a claim?
Hawk: So, this is you being a feminist?
Giulia: Exactly.
Hawk: Where’s Nyx?
Giulia: He had to go out.
Hawk: Need me to come around?
Giulia: What am I? Ten?
Hawk: Fine. Call me if you need me.
Giulia: I won’t need to. But thanks, Hawk. Xo
Knowing she really was okay, I rolled my eyes and shoved my phone away.
“She’s as insane as ever,” I grumbled, squeezing Amara’s butt who immediately rocked into me.
Because I was as whipped for her as Nyx was for my sister, my dick hardened almost instantly.
“I like her,” Amara chided as she pressed her lips to mine.
“Can we not talk about my sister?”
She laughed, and that fucking laugh gave my brain a boner.
It was wicked and pure and filled with delight and love and all kinds of shit that I never thought I’d have.
Amara might be… special.
But she was fucking mine.
All of her.
I nipped her bottom lip and shoved us both into a standing position so that I could walk us into the bedroom.
When she crossed her legs around my hips and tightened her ankles about my ass, I squeezed that perky butt and murmured, “You doing okay, little bird?”
“I am with you, no?”
I smirked. “You are.”
She pushed her forehead against mine. “I am lucky woman.”
“I’m lucky man,” I half-teased. Not because I didn’t mean the words, but because her broken English was infectious.
“You are, tak, but when Giulia threatened Kendra, I saw that I would be like her—” Jesus fuck. “I would spit fire at her and like Nyx, you would not stop me.”
My dick got uncomfortably hard.
Her smile told me she felt it too.
“I know you like it when I’m crazy even if you say you don’t.”
“It’s not that I like it—”
She rocked her hips.
I hissed under my breath.
“A part of you does.”
“Yes, well, that part has no brain.”
A cackle escaped her. “It does, it does. Smart part of body. I like your penis.”
I liked how she said peenus.
So did my cock.
Her watching Ukrainian shows and enjoying US shows with Ukrainian audio meant her accent was getting thicker.
Much like her butt.
Delicious.
Grumbling, I told her, “I prefer you not to get jealous because it isn’t necessary.”
“Is necessary—”
“Isn’t.” I grunted. “It isn’t. I’m not interested in another woman.”
I had enough to handle with her, and Quin shared the fucking load.
Amara, for one so slight, was a hell of a lot of woman.
It took both of us to keep her balanced.
Some men might consider that a chore; some men, however, were morons.
Quin and I knew we were the lucky ones.
She might be a fry short of a Happy Meal, but her heart was big. After what she’d endured, we were fortunate that it wasn’t a shriveled husk. Instead, we had a woman who’d kill for us, and who would love us until the day we died.
Quin also had a woman who’d put up with all the goddamn animals.
Saying that, he had douchebag over here who’d deal with them too. I was a fucking idiot for both of them.
When she nuzzled her face in my throat, nipping me there slightly, I tried not to groan but she knew all my hot spots now.
“Is good that you’re not interested in other women,” she growled, pressing a kiss to the place she’d nipped.
I tilted my face to the side and slid my tongue along the line of her jaw. When she shivered, I said, “It works both ways—”
“Of course,” was her stout reply, which she ruined by moaning breathily when I sucked on the join between neck and shoulder.
I twisted us around once I made it to the bedroom and carefully fell back onto the bed. She shrieked out a laugh but shoved some space between us as she loomed over me, her eyes gleaming with good humor.
“I love you, little bird,” I whispered, reaching up to trace the sinews in her throat. “You’re it for me.”
“I love you, my Hawk.” She bopped a kiss on the end of my nose. “I am lucky to have your love—”
“I consider myself the lucky one,” I rumbled as I let my hands move to her waist. “Now, you gonna kiss me or just torment me? That sweet pussy of yours is too far away from my cock.”
Something flickered in her eyes—Quin and I had agreed to limit our use of American profanity because it could trigger her all while trying to expose her to the words in a safe space—but she rocked her hips.
“I love your cock,” she said softly, slowly. Like she was tasting the word and wasn’t hating it.
“It loves your pussy,” I retorted with a laugh, adoring the random shit she came out with.
I let my hands slide up the length of her thighs, skimming the hem of her skirt higher up as I went. She rounded her spine and settled her elbows on either side of my ears, looming over me in a way that surrounded me in her scent.
Allspice.
Cinnamon.
God, she smelled like snickerdoodles, and I wanted to fucking glut on her.
I reached up and nipped her chin, testing the pad with my teeth before I let go.
In her eyes, a tempest brewed, and I inwardly groaned at the sight as she rasped, “Mine.”
I smirked. “Prove it.”
As she kissed me, she growled—her tongue immediately thrusting against mine as she took my declaration of war and deployed troops into the battle.
Letting one hand rub her thigh, the other went up to her hair and I tipped her head so that she could get even nearer to me.
She fought a good game, but I was the one who won when she fucked my mouth, when her body started to ripple against mine, dragging her core against my cock, making me wish I was deep inside her.
That fucking tongue of hers was a menace—it sought mine out and demanded I surrender. Only, my mom hadn’t raised no pussy. With my hold on her hair, I surged upward so that I had better access to her.
Dropping one hand to her waist, I dragged her shirt up then slipped my fingers beneath the fabric so I could cup one of her tits.
The silken flesh felt goddamn awesome against my callused palms. She groaned when I found one of her nipples, and I groaned back when I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Both of us retreated, the war at a stalemate for the moment, as we pushed our foreheads into the other, our breaths gusting onto each other’s mouths.
Panting, she delved between us and unzipped my fly to free my cock. One hand slipped between the tines, coming to hold the thick length that was already wet with pre-cum.
As she jacked me off, she whispered words in Ukrainian that I didn’t have a hope in hell of translating, but I could sense her pleasure.
Her need.
That she could feel those things, after what she’d gone through, always honored me.
It wasn’t just that she wanted me, us; it meant more than that. It meant that she felt safe, loved. It meant that she was confident enough in herself and in us to know her boundaries and to know that she was okay with slipping past them.
Every day she granted me was a fucking gift.
With a groan, my head fell back as she thumbed the slit of my dick, rubbing the pre-cum into the glans. I felt like I could explode already and I knew that was because she’d gone all psycho on my ass.
I wasn’t sure who was the fucking weirdo in this relationship—her for being crazy, or me for loving it when she was at her most possessive.
For a man who’d never wanted anything like that with a woman before, it sure as hell took me by surprise.
Head still angled back, I nearly shuddered when she made her next move.
All of a sudden, I could feel the branding heat of her cunt, and I groaned. Deep and long and low. The crotch of her panties dug into me from the side where she’d shoved it, but I didn’t give a damn. This was fucking heaven.
Slick, slick, slick flesh. So fucking wet and juicy that my mouth watered. I wanted her on my fucking tongue, wanted to drown in her, but she was in charge today.
Tonight, I’d get my way.
There was, I realized, give and take in a relationship.
I hissed when she rubbed her clit with my glans, and it morphed into a groan as she slipped the tip into her.
As we both began to moan, she pressed her lips to mine, and this time, I was so far gone that I let her take control of the kiss.
Those tight, tight, tight walls clamped down around me, making me and gravity fight hard for every claimed inch, but it was more than worth the struggle.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my hands finding her ass, kneading the cheeks as I encouraged her to ride me.
“This dick is mine,” she said thickly.
“It goddamn is,” I agreed with a sigh as I decided to enjoy the show and fell back against the sheets.
Watching her, I enjoyed it even more when her hands went to the hem of her shirt and she dragged it over her head.
Once her tits were bared to my gaze, I reached up and cupped one of them, tweaking her nipple as my other hand slipped between us so I could rub her clit.
As I did, her cunt fluttered around my cock, and we shared a look as, again, we released a dual moan.
“God,” I grunted.
“Korva,” she keened.
When she reached for my hands, bridging our fingers together and pinning them on either side of my head again, I let her. I wasn’t about to mess with her when she got that look—hunger.
For me.
Fuck.
“I love you,” she whispered, her lips not even moving.
The words filtered through me, resonating along every nerve ending in my being.
“And I love you,” I rasped back, content to watch that hungry look morph into the wildfire that was this woman.
My woman.
Mine.