Chapter Eight #2
The question swims through the haze of pleasure. Honestly, the way his presence calmed me the second I saw him downstairs… I moan again and whisper, “Y-yeah… I think so.”
He hums, clearly content, and adds a second finger. My body arches up into him, brushing against the hard planes of his muscled chest and stomach.
Soren laughs softly, the sound low and satisfied against my throat. “Good boy.”
I don’t really think much of the words until they’re already out of my mouth. “You… saved money for me?”
Soren’s mouth freezes against my neck. His fingers stop moving inside me. Shit, now he knows I must have had my black card.
He lifts his head slowly, dark eyes locking onto mine. “Who gave it to you?”
I swallow hard, an awkward little laugh escaping before I can stop it. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Sorry…”
His pulls his fingers out and grabs my chin instead, lube-slick fingers pressing into my skin. His voice is low and dangerous. “Tell me.”
I whisper it quickly, like ripping off a plaster. “Armen gave the card to Selina… then she gave it to me.”
Soren’s entire body goes rigid. “Fuckers.”
The heat between us vanishes in an instant. He stands, anger rolling off him in waves, and yanks his black robe on with sharp, furious movements. Without another word he storms out of the bedroom, door slamming behind him so hard the walls shake.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He might actually put a bullet in Armen; no matter how loyal he’s been.
I scramble off the bed on shaky legs, heart slamming against my ribs.
I hurriedly tug my boxers back up my legs, then snatch the first thing my hand touches: Soren’s blood-stained black button-down lying crumpled on the floor.
The moment I pull it on, the fabric swamps me, the hem dropping well past my thighs like an oversized dress.
I feel ridiculous, like a child playing dress-up in his father’s clothes.
But there’s no time to care; I have to stop him.
Shouting suddenly echoes up from downstairs, sharp and angry. Panic explodes in my chest like a live wire.
I bolt out of the bedroom and fly down the hallway.
My bare feet slap against the cool floor as I reach the top of the grand staircase.
Without hesitation, I swing my legs over the polished wooden banister and slide down it just like I used to do as a kid at home, heart hammering, shirt flapping around my thighs.
The second my feet hit the ground floor with a soft thud, I turn the corner sharply and barge straight into one of the break rooms without thinking, the heavy door swinging open with a loud bang.
Soren has Armen pinned against the wall, gun pressed hard to his skull. Armen is still trying to smile, but it’s strained.
The second Armen sees me he actually laughs. “Sorry, kid.”
“Soren, stop!” I shout, voice cracking.
Selina appears at my side instantly. “Come on, Kitty, let’s leave…”
I gently shove her off. “No.”
“Leave him, Kit. Not when he’s like this,” she warns, but I ignore her and step closer.
Armen coughs. “Kit, leave…”
Soren snarls at him. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t put a fucking bullet in your brain. No one goes into my safe. I gave you the code for emergencies only!”
Armen holds his hands up. “I’m sorry, boss…”
My hands tremble as I slowly reach out, hesitating for half a second before my fingers carefully wrap around the arm holding the gun.
I slide both hands around Soren’s thick wrist, my grip light and uncertain, like I’m touching something that might explode at any moment.
His eyes, dark, cold, and terrifying, drift slowly downward until they lock onto me.
The entire room seems to freeze, every breath held in perfect, suffocating silence.
I can feel my pulse hammering in my throat as I stand here, small and exposed in nothing but his blood-stained shirt, praying he won’t pull the trigger.
“You know Armen is a good man,” I say, voice trembling but steady enough. “He’s your friend, Soren. He makes you laugh. He keeps everyone safe. You know you would hate yourself if you hurt him.”
I slide my smaller hand over his, gently guiding the gun away from Armen’s head. Soren lets me; everyone can see it… he’s allowing it. I step fully between them, placing myself in front of Armen.
“You can just change the code,” I whisper. “And… I would like to add, thank you. I enjoyed getting myself some treats.”
Selina tries to help. “By treats he means a new bed and some chocolate.”
Soren snaps his head toward her with a vicious glare. She immediately holds her hands up and ducks her head.
I remember what he said upstairs, how he asked if I would’ve done better if he’d been there. Maybe… maybe he wants that.
I look up at him, trying to smile even though my heart is hammering. “From now on… you can take me out.”
Soren tilts his head, eyes searching my face like he wasn’t expecting those words at all.
“I’ll uh…” I scramble for anything else that might calm him. “I’ll stay in your bed tonight. All night.”
Soren’s grip on the gun loosens as he stares at me. “Really?”
Okay… that actually worked. Though I don’t understand why the idea of me staying in his space matters so much to him.
“Just please don’t hurt anyone unless they’ve truly wronged you,” I add softly. “Not these people… they’re your family.”
Soren’s grip on Armen finally loosens. With a low, reluctant grunt, he lets his arm drop, stepping back just enough to free Armen from the wall. The gun lowers to his side, though his fingers still flex around the grip like he’s fighting the urge to raise it again.
Armen exhales shakily behind me. “Thanks, kid.”
I smile at him weakly as he shuffles to a safer distance.
Before I can register what’s happening, Soren’s hands are on me again. He picks me up like I weigh nothing and drops me roughly onto the pool table. I gasp, eyes wide. Oh my god, what is he doing… there are still people in the room.
Selina blurts out, “Boss, don’t hurt him…”
I laugh awkwardly, cheeks burning. “Um, Selina… that’s not what’s happening…”
Soren growls low in his throat. “All of you get the fuck out unless you want a free show.”
His gaze never leaves me. A few of the team laugh nervously and start filing out.
Selina makes a small gasping sound. “Oh my god, okay, alright!”
Armen laughs and winks at me as he passes. “Thanks again, bud.”
The door clicks shut with a soft, final sound. The room falls suddenly, deafeningly quiet… nothing but the frantic thud of my own heartbeat filling the silence.
Soren steps slowly between my spread legs, his tall frame casting me entirely in shadow. He looks down at me with those dark, intense eyes, voice low and rough when he speaks. “You’re a dangerous thing,” he murmurs.
He yanks me to the very edge of the pool table, the felt rough and uncomfortable against my skin.
Then he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my boxers and pulls them off, leaving me completely naked under his oversized, blood-stained shirt.
To make it worse, he grabs my ankles and places the balls of my feet into two corner pockets at the narrow end of the table, spreading me wide open for him.
He pushes the hem of the shirt up to my chest and growls, “This is yours now. I want you to wear this more.”
I blush furiously. “Oh… you do?”
Soren nods, eyes hungry, then he exhales. “Thank you.”
I frown, confused. “Uh… what for?”
He sighs, the sound almost soft. “Stopping me from killing Armen.”
I nod, feeling strangely proud of him for admitting that out loud. For a moment he almost looks… human.
Then his hands are on my thighs again, spreading me wider, and the dangerous heat returns to his eyes.
I’m still stretched from Soren’s fingers, the lube cool and messy between my thighs.
He reaches for the tie of his black silk robe. With a deliberate tug, he loosens it and lets the robe slide off his broad shoulders. It pools silently at his feet, leaving him completely naked. His thick cock is already heavy and flushed, curving up slightly.
His dark eyes burn with raw hunger as he stares down at me, lips parted. A low, guttural groan rumbles from deep in his chest while he grips my hips with both large hands. For a brief second, as he lines us up, he bites down hard on his lower lip, jaw flexing, like he’s barely holding himself back.
Then, with one powerful thrust, he pushes inside me.
The burning stretch is immediate and overwhelming.
No matter how many times we do this, the first few inches always feel too much…
too thick, long, and impossible for my body to take.
I bite down hard on my lip, a choked whimper slipping out as my hands fist the edge of the pool table.
It hurts, a sharp, deep ache that makes my eyes water, but I don’t pull away.
Soren growls low in his throat, one big hand gripping my hip to hold me still while he sinks deeper, inch by relentless inch, until his hips are flush against me and I’m completely full of him. Then he shifts his angle just slightly and drives forward again. The pain fractures apart in an instant.