Chapter 16 Robbie
ROBBIE
The kitchen is busy, but thankfully not hectic; we are short staffed today since a gastro bug has been making its way through the team, so I’ve placed myself in the kitchen to help out.
I grab some vegetables and start dicing them, focusing on creating uniform pieces.
The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board at a steady rhythm, blends with the sizzling of pans and the occasional chatter among the chefs.
I’m quick with a blade. Working here throughout the years has taught me a thing or two. For vegetables and meat, I’m fucking lethal, however, I never had the stomach to carve human flesh, unlike my brother. That side of the business is strictly Aiden’s.
Speaking of, he’s been uncharacteristically quiet this week.
I’ve heard from him twice; once was a short text to confirm that he’s still alive.
The second was a quick phone call to let me know he wouldn’t be coming into work for a while.
I can’t help but wonder what could be going on with him.
Aiden hasn’t missed a day of work since éabha’s trial almost ten years ago I hope everything is okay with him.
“Robbie!”
I turn around to see Simon, the security guard for the bar, coming up behind me with a concerned look on his face. “We have a problem.”
Placing the knife down, I wipe my hands on my apron and turn to face Simon fully. “Spike?”
“No, worse. I can’t get hold of AJ.”
We walk towards the doors of the bar and I peek out, spotting them just as Simon adds, “Walsh’s men are here. They’re looking for AJ.” He glances over his shoulder, dropping his voice to a whisper, “they’re armed.”
“Shit,” sure enough, I catch the fat one’s gaze. He grins, pulling back his coat enough to reveal the glint of a gun tucked into his waistband. “Megashit.” Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial Aiden’s private number and pray to every deity I can think of that he answers.
* * *
AIDEN
I’ve never wanted to touch someone so much in my life.
I’ve never been so tempted to taste them.
I’ve never had my cock throb so much that it fucking hurts.
But right now, with my bug showing me exactly how she likes to be touched, all I want to do is bury my head between her legs and make her scream my name.
“That’s it, baby.” I crawl down the bed, wanting the full show of her pleasure. “Show me how you like it.” My lips press against her inner thigh, my tongue teasingly tracing circles as I eagerly await her response.
She moans.
She likes it.
I’m going to fucking burst.
I didn’t touch her yesterday or the day before that, and I wasn’t allowed to even watch her the day before that. Not like this. She hid her body under the blanket, and I could only see the movements of her hips and the way she arched her back.
This was my idea. I’m not deluded enough to think that I can change the trauma her body has suffered from years of sexual abuse, but I want to create a safe and pleasurable space for her to explore her desires and reclaim her sexuality.
I’m building trust. I slowly add my own touch to our intimate encounters, ensuring that she feels in control and respected every step of the way.
Even if my balls are as blue as a smurf and I’m craving the taste of her sweetness, I ache to feel her walls tighten around me, and I will, eventually. Right now, my sole focus is on Katie and she’s driving me wild.
Her glistening fingers have my full attention, and I want nothing more than to suck them into my mouth, savouring the taste of her desire.
Her whimpers and moans would bring me to my knees if I wasn’t already on them.
I need to touch her. I need her juices coating my tongue and her body trembling beneath my touch.
Every nerve in my body is on fire, yearning for the moment when our bodies finally collide and I can coat her walls with every drop of my seed, branding her as mine.
“Fuck, Katie,” I growl, precum spilling from the tip of my throbbing cock, sticking to my boxers as I watch two fingers slide in a V between her glistening folds, then dip inside her.
She’s close; I can see the desperation in her eyes as she bites down on her lip, trying to hold back her release.
I nudge her legs apart as they attempt to close, my hands gripping her thighs. I’ve got a front-row seat to this, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss it. “Chase it, baby. Claim it.” My hands slide up her thighs, tracing the path of her trembling body. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Her head rocks back as a low moan escapes her lips. “Aiden…”
That’s the first time she’s called my name in the heat of the moment. Is that permission? Can I touch her?
One word, and I swear to Christ, I will devour her like a starving man.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
“Touch me,” she breathes, her cheeks heating. She’ll learn that she never has to be embarrassed about telling me what she wants. I’m all too eager to deliver. “Please…”
“Where do you want me to touch you?” I don’t trust myself not to fuck this up. I need to know exactly what she desires. “Show me.”
She removes her fingers from between her legs and guides my hand to the exact spot. As soon as I curl my fingers inside her, she gasps and arches her back, giving me the confirmation I need.
“You’re so tight,” I groan, feeling her walls clench around my fingers. She’s going to feel incredible when I’m inside her. Withdrawing my hand, I bring it up to my mouth, tasting her essence on my fingertips. “And absolutely delicious.”
I guide her fingers to her clit at the same time I push my fingers back inside her. She moans as our fingers work in sync.
I’m well aware that my phone has been buzzing nonstop on the bedside locker, but I couldn’t care less.
Katie fists the sheets. “Please, don’t stop,” she begs, her body trying to resist the foreign touch. Her hips pull away, but I hold her firmly.
“It’s ok, baby. It’s ok.” It’s like some part of her feels guilty for enjoying this new sensation.
It is as though she believes she is unworthy of enjoying sex because it has previously brought her pain.
Her feet dig into the mattress as she tries to anchor herself, but her body betrays her as it arches towards me.
I don’t change tempo or pressure, instead keeping a steady rhythm that drives her closer to the edge.
I can see the conflict in her eyes—the battle between pleasure and past trauma.
Those deep chocolate eyes glisten with arousal and tears, a bittersweet mix of emotions.
“Aiden, it’s not going to happen,” She groans after a few moments of teetering on the edge. “I’m sorry.”
I can see the disappointment on her face as she utters those words and gently brush away a stray tear: “Don’t apologise for something that isn’t your fault.”
If I ever find out the names of the bastards who abused my girl, I swear on everything that is holy that I will cut off their fucking hands before I dissect their cocks and feed it to them piece by piece.
She moves for me, her anxiety taking over. She’s regressing. Fearing she has disappointed me. I stop her hands at the waistband of my boxers. Her intentions are obvious.
“No, bug,” I say softly, pulling her hands away.
Her lower lip wobbles, and it’s only then that I remember her rejection dysphoria. Shit!
I’m quick to reassure her, “It’s not about you, bug. I could never be disappointed in you.” Framing her face in my hands, I kiss her. It takes her a beat to respond, but then she melts into the kiss, her anxiety slowly dissipating.
“You won’t let me touch you,” her voice quivers, a hint of sadness in her tone.
I force her to look at me. “Not when you feel like you have to. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
My phone buzzes again, and I reluctantly pull away from her to check it. Twelve missed calls, seven voice notes, and fifteen texts all from Robbie.
Katie must see the urgency in my face because she asks, “Is everything okay?”
I sigh and shake my head. “It’s just Robbie; he’s been blowing up my phone.”
“Do you need to go?”
Before I can answer, my brother’s name flashes on the screen again. I hit answer and put the phone to my ear. Robbie’s voice comes through, panicked and desperate. “Do you not believe in answering your phone anymore? I’m having a fucking shit attack here!”
I quickly glance at Katie, who raises an eyebrow in concern. “Not in the kitchen, Robbie; they’ll shut us down.”
Katie stifles a laugh, and I pull her onto my lap.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Aiden!” Robbie exclaims. “You need to get down here now. Walsh’s goons showed up demanding to speak to you, and they have guns!”
“Guns!” Katie exclaims, her eyes widening in alarm.
“Who was that?” Robbie demands—trust him to show more interest in who I’m spending my time with than the two armed buffoons in my fucking restaurant.
I pull Katie back to me and whisper in her ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.” Then turn my attention back to my hysterical brother. “How many?”
“Two. So, you’re not going to tell me who you’re with? Is it Tracy?”
Katie’s head snaps in my direction. “Tracy?”
“Ooh,” I can practically see him grimace through the phone. “Sorry about that.”
“Just,” I sigh, “keep the idiots distracted. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“Like ten minutes fast?” Robbie presses.
“More like 90,” I say as I get up from the bed and start searching for clothes.
“90! Where the fuck are y—”
I hang up the phone before Robbie can finish his sentence.
“Who’s Tracy?” Katie growls, looking like she could punch the head off my shoulders.
I grab my slacks and shirt from her wardrobe and quickly slip them on. “Tracy is someone I used to fuck.”
Katie’s eyes narrow to slits, her claws on show; she got stiletto tips this time—she’s going to rip my eyes out, isn’t she? And why is that thought sending my blood south?
She whips the duvet from the mattress to cover her body.
She’s jealous.
I love it.