Chapter 15
I knew someone had invaded my space the moment I opened my front door. It was the floral scent in the air. The smudge of a woman’s heel on tiles I’d left pristine hours ago. The creeping sense of being watched. I flicked my knife open before my next breath.
Devin the Shiner and Big Charlie flanked me, pulling their guns. I cracked my neck, twirling my favorite knife around my finger, and took the first step in. After a day of droning meetings, the promise of a good fight itched through my bones.
The staccato thumping of our strides clapped through the silent, dark space. We weren’t subtle. We weren’t quiet. We slammed doors open, denting walls with doorknobs, and rushed through each room…but there was no one here. Not in the living area, not in my office, and not hidden in the bedrooms.
Devin found the first bug concealed in the crook between couch cushions.
It was a terrible place for it, as if it had either been dropped by accident or placed as a ruse, but that didn’t matter.
I upended the kitchen and living area. I tore out the upholstery in chairs, broke the cabinets and drawers, scattered about kitchen utensils, and tugged out appliances.
I would meticulously clean and fix it all up later, when every last bug was found.
Until then, this let me pound against the glass wall that contained me.
It tied up my mind in a task, instead of letting me collapse on the edge of my bed, staring at the ceiling, with some of the worst, most terrifying questions on my mind: “What was the point? What did it matter?”
The frenzy burned out as quickly as it came, and I clung to the dining table, head hung between my shoulders, my chest heaving as Devin and Charlie wordlessly sifted through the debris with a scanner.
A fine sheen of sweat coated my skin. Cuts decorated my hands from splinters and glass, and a creeping chill slowly engulfed my gratification.
“Got them, boss,” Devin called out. Items clacked against the table. “Three bugs and a camera in this area. You want us to scan the other rooms?”
I shook my head, my rage drained desert-dry, and twiddled with the tiny tech. The camera fit between three ridges of my thumb’s fingerprint.
Who would have the audacity to try this? The cops knew better. The cartel wasn’t this subtle, and my rivals wouldn’t have bothered.
“You sure, boss?”
“I’ll handle it. Find out who got access, and where, and to who these are transmitting.”
The front door clicked shut behind them, and I let out a weighted breath.
I listlessly scanned the damage left in the open-concept living area and waved it away. I didn’t have the headspace for it right now.
The scanner revealed zero bugs in the bedroom-turned-storage space and the second guest bedroom.
Nothing in my office either. My bedroom was another story.
The closet was riddled with them. One bug in every four pairs of pants, shorts, or suits.
A few in my shoes, and a camera taped to the wall under a note asking, “How long will it take for you to find all thirty in here?” with a winky face.
A sharp zap of intrigue jolted energy into my limbs. Challenge accepted.
In my bathroom, a camera was glued to the edge of the showerhead with a direct view down.
That led me to discover the new lineup of accessories across my double sinks: matching frosted-glass toothbrush tumblers, a soap pump, and a tissue box, alongside a hairbrush that definitely wasn’t mine, bath products, perfume I’d never seen before in my life, and a bug lackadaisically placed atop its cap.
A scoff escaped me, because right then I knew exactly who had decided to mess with me. The lopsided pull of my lips tweaked my cheek, and a bolt of pure ecstasy jolted through my veins.
“Oh, mo síbhean, your brashness never ceases to surprise.”
A stuffed animal sat on my bed, a bug in its fur. Another listening device was positioned beneath a pillow, and two more were in the nightstands. One was glued atop the headboard, with the words “Keep” and “Me” freshly etched into the wood around it. It was intriguing enough that I left it…for now.
Finally, I caught sight of the showpiece of her break-in against the far wall, in plain view of the bed.
It was a boudoir picture, her picture—creamy breasts cupped in a lacy purple bra, legs spread for a panty-strip view over perfectly shaved pussy lips, bits obscured by a white shawl dangling over her elbows.
I licked my lips and cupped my throbbing crotch.
She was just as spellbinding in the photo as in person. Deep, expressive, bright eyes with a cunning edge. Sharp jawline compared to the rest of her soft features. Light-brown hair, almost ash-like in color. And thick pouty lips I wanted to spread around my cock.
My phone chimed with a message from a new number.
Unknown
You found me. Took you long enough.
You should leave it right where it is so you always have sight of me.
I changed the contact name and typed out a reply, scanning the surroundings for another camera.
Are you certain you want to mess with me?
Síbhean
What else do I need to do to prove it?
Do you know what I do with the people who cross me?
Oh, chéri, I never deal with people I haven’t researched down to the very last dot.
My eye caught a darkened speck in a top corner of the room. Another camera. From that corner, the she-devil had a clear view of the entire room, especially my bed. I dragged a nightstand over to climb atop it but was interrupted as my phone rang.
“I dare you to leave this one.” Her breathy, melodic accent caressed me from navel to dick.
“Why?”
“I think you know why.”
“Say it.”
“I want your attention.”
“You have it. Not many people would say that’s a good thing.”
“Not many people would go through the lengths I have to get it.”
I smirked at that blasted camera. This woman was something else, something as twisted as the darkness inside me, and she wasn’t wrong. The interesting part was how exhilarated I felt now that I knew it was her.
“You bugged my place.”
“You wouldn’t be half as engrossed in our conversation otherwise.” She wasn’t wrong. I never cared for anything that was simple and easy.
I lowered myself to the edge of the bed, staring up at the camera.
“It doesn’t frustrate you that I found them?”
Her chuckle zipped down my spine. “That was the point.”
“I should hunt you down for what you’ve done.”
“But you won’t.”
“No?”
“No. Because I’m like all those outfits and accessories in that special room of yours. I’m new. I’m different. I’m exciting. Even if you won’t admit it, you’re curious.”
“About what?”
“About what you’re missing out on…me.”
“A little full of yourself.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.” Her voice husked into my ear. “Tell me I don’t get your blood pumping, at least a little. Tell me this doesn’t excite you.”
I shifted my jaw, my eyes drifting shut as I imagined dragging her body against mine, my hand wrapped around her throat. Fuck, she was doing my head in.
“I’m not a pastime, woman.”
“Oh, but mixing business with pleasure can be so much fun.”
I gritted my teeth. “I told you I don’t do easy.”
“It’s interesting how you always turn things back to sex.”
I scoffed. “That would be the camera, sweetheart. You set it up for prime viewing.”
“That would be your thought process, mari chéri,” she said with added insistence. “How do you know I want to watch?”
“So you’re saying, if I do this”—I tugged my pants zipper down—“you won’t be watching?”
“What exactly is there to see?”
“Oh, síbhean, quite a bit.”
I pulled out my cock, fisting it from root to tip, my gaze riveted on that camera. I stroked myself slowly, my shaft hardening with each pass. Each of her heavy breaths echoed in my ears. She wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended, and that gave me a stronger rush than I’d felt all week.
“Do you like it?” I spread a drop of precum over the bulbous head of my cock and grasped control back from her, one throaty inhale at a time.
I pumped myself to the sound of her voice, to the memory of her smell, to all the frustrating things she said.
“Imagine what I could do to you with it. I bet that cunt of yours would take my cock so well with one thrust. I bet I’d have you writhing in seconds. This is what you want, after all.”
“Is it?”
It was my turn to chuckle, hoarse and deep. I hadn’t been this hard, this quickly, in a long time, and hell if I wasn’t going to drive her as crazy as she was driving me.
“I’d punish you with it, make you bend to my will, and show you exactly what it means to be at my mercy. All the while, you’d beg for more.” I lowered the register of my voice. “But I wouldn’t give it to you.”
Her snicker skipped.
“You’re assuming I’d give in. That would be too easy.”
She was trying to act tough, but she wasn’t in charge here.
Her voice hitched. Her breath caught, short and quick, and her clothing rustled across the phone line.
I’d bet good money her hand was in her panties, fingers vigorously pumping in and out of her tight pussy the way I imagined my dick was.
This twisted game of hers was mine now. She might have had the visual, but I had the power.
“How do your little fingers feel compared to all of this?” I gripped my shaft, all the thick, long inches fully displayed for her viewing pleasure.
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are.”
She whimpered, and I contained my smirk.
“You’re imagining straddling my thighs. My cock pressed against your lips. My mouth on your right breast, sucking on your nipple until I bite it and tug.”
She muffled a moan.
“Are you pinching your nipples?” She didn’t answer. “Are you?”
“Yes.” She panted.
“That’s a good woman. Imagine my mouth on your nipple, my teeth nipping at it, as my hand slips down your belly.”
“But you’re not going fast enough. You’re not where I want you, so I drag your hand exactly where I want it.
Between my thighs, over my clit, and inside me.
” She sucked in wanton breaths. This mischievous little fairy was acting it all out.
“Your fingers replace mine, where I’m wet, smooth, and warm. Just waiting for your cock to fill me.”
“But I don’t fill you,” I taunted. “I stroke your slit, spread your wetness, tease your clit, pinch it until you’re on the verge of stars, yet I never let you reach that peak.”
“No.”
“Yes. You’re wanting, shaking, begging me to fill you.” I spread more precum down my shaft and pumped myself harder to her breathy gasps and purrs. The base of my spine tingled. “You need me. Say it.”
“No.”
“I pull away.”
“No, no, you absolutely do not,” she rasped, her accent stronger.
“Feel that sting? That slap to your clit was your only warning. Don’t make me give you another.”
“And if I want one?”
I chuckled. “Saucy thing. Two of my fingers shove into you for that. But you like that, don’t you?”
“More…”
“You’re nothing but a wanton little slut.
” Bloody hell, saying that out loud cursed me.
The edge was right there. I had to grip myself hard to curb the building ball of tension with pain.
Because, fuck that, she didn’t get to see me come when I wasn’t seeing her first. “I remove my fingers. My erection presses against you, hard and warm. I rub myself through your lips and press up against your pussy. All you have to do is drop your weight, and all of my throbbing, hard cock will fill you.”
“Yes,” she whimpered again, her breathing erratic.
“You’re close.”
“I am.”
“All you need is me inside you. Slowly, I fill you. You can feel me everywhere. I’m all you can think about.”
“Oh, putain. Tu parles trop,” she nearly growled between moans. I had no idea what the exact words meant, but I got the meaning from her annoyance.
“Come for me, mo síbhean. Come on my cock like the bad little slut you are.”
A filthy, strangled cry left her. It was the sweetest thing I’d heard in years. I tightened my hold on my dick. I wasn’t about to spill where she would see. Not where she would win.
Her quick breathing smoothed.
“That was…” She tittered. “Did you…You didn’t.”
“Weren’t you watching?” I spread my legs wider. My cock stood out, proud yet angry, and not spent. “Too busy being selfish?”
“We should meet for the real deal. I’ll take very good care of you.”
My mouth ticked up in one corner. Now she was exactly where I wanted her. Needy and on the verge of begging.
“Like I said, I don’t do easy.”
I hung up and zipped myself up as best I could. My shaft rubbed against my pants. My balls ached, heavy with need, and I dug my fingers into my thighs. I refused to give her power over me. I counted the seconds. At ten, I stood and walked out of my bedroom with measured steps.
The moment that door was shut and she couldn’t see or hear me anymore, I rested the back of my head against a wall and took myself back in hand. No soft strokes. No intermittent squeezes. I needed the release fucking now.
The memory of the sounds she made spurred my squeezing pumps up and down faster.
I visualized her splayed out for my viewing pleasure.
Her fingers dipping in and out of her tight heat.
The way she’d beg for me. The way she’d cry out when I finally gave in.
The warm squeeze of her as I sank my cock in.
Heat zinged down my spine. My length hardened further.
My balls tightened with the perfect ache as my heart pounded, and nothing else mattered but that peak, the one I hadn’t sought in far too long.
I raced through it into blinding euphoria. Cum spurted into my hand and onto the tile. My legs shook. My head spun, and I shrank down to the floor. I thunked my head against the wall as my body cooled and my heart rate slowed.
What the hell had that been? That was the type of high I got during sex, not while giving myself a hand shandy.
After months, even years, without a single spur of arousal, she’d managed to get me harder than a metal cannon in seconds.
Just knowing she’d gone to these lengths, that she was watching, and that I’d stolen her power and made it my own had ratcheted my heartbeat to an extreme few other things had managed.
I knocked my skull harder against the wall and pounded the floor with my fist.
This was all it could ever be because I knew if I got a real taste of her, I wouldn’t stop at just once.
I’d risk her life to fuck her twice, then thrice.
Before long, she’d become another one of the Love Knot Killer’s victims. Another bloody statistic.
Another dead-ended future, and one more wake-up call to the reality that I, Cillian Donal O’Leary, had no legacy to look forward to. Only money, danger, and more money.