Chapter 9 #2
The only person I’d ever felt possessive over was Jace, but in a much different way.
When he was younger, I’d obsessed over everything: what he ate, who his friends were, what school activities he participated in, how the crew treated him.
Anyone who looked at him wrong was taught a lesson with Rhys as my backup, so I’d never felt truly alone in the way I cared for him.
My possessiveness over Jace was controlled. Rational.
With Devlin, my possessiveness felt manic, like I was constantly on the verge of spiraling out of control. Not that it was going to stop me.
Too late, the beast raged.
With one hand still wrapped around his throat, I reached down and squeezed his ass. He made a strangled sound and swayed into me, his fingers digging into my chest.
“You begged me fuck you in the dirt. And you’re telling me that would have been your first time?”
A shudder racked his body, and his hard cock pressed against my thigh insistently. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing under my palm. “Yes.”
“I could have hurt you.”
“Maybe I wanted you to.”
I slid my hand into his crease again and pressed two fingers against his hole through the fabric. “You don’t get to decide when you hurt.” I pushed harder, and his breathing hitched. “Only I decide that.”
His entire body shuddered again, and any doubts I had about Devlin’s attraction to me vanished. He was nearly panting now, and his entire torso had a pretty red flush that spread to the tips of his ears.
“Cian,” he whimpered, and the sound went straight to my dick.
From the moment I’d laid eyes on Devlin, I’d known there was something different about him. I should have paid more attention to the fact that I’d cleared the shed because I’d wanted him alone. Maybe I could have stopped this. Maybe I could have walked away. Instead, I’d gone back. Alone.
His desire to be owned called to the possessive beast inside me, and every moment spent with him only made me more interested. More obsessed. And I wasn’t going to fight it anymore—I didn’t want to. I deserved to take what I wanted from Devlin, and I intended to enjoy every second of it.
He brushed his scraggly beard against my shoulder and thrust his hips against mine.
He obviously wanted to come, but Devlin needed to be reminded that he didn’t get to call the shots.
So with one last rough squeeze of his ass, I shoved him back.
He stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself with a hand on the fridge.
He blinked at me in confusion, then got his bearings and shot me a glare. “What the fuck?”
He scratched at his chin, something he’d done a few times that morning. His beard was coming in patchy, redder than the hair on his head. He needed a shave. A shower too. He smelled like smoke and cum.
I nodded my head toward the bathroom. “Go shower.”
Devlin jerked in surprise. “What?”
I stared at him but said nothing. Apparently, he needed another reminder: I didn’t repeat myself.
Devlin shifted his jaw like he wanted to argue, but instead he turned on his heel and marched into the bathroom. I could hear his clothes drop to the floor, hear the shower turn on, hear him lathering up with soap under the spray.
I thought about the way he’d looked in the creek, water running over his pale, freckled skin, glossy hair pushed back. I thought about the way my cock had felt between his thighs.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, dragging my hands down my face. I had to focus. As much as I wanted to spend all my time fucking and fucking with Devlin, I had a crew to lead. I had a business to run. I had a fire to investigate.
Keeping Devlin in my apartment was going to be difficult to explain to my officers.
But I did have legitimate reasons that didn’t involve him being bent over a table.
Even if we had another shed, it wouldn’t be soundproofed, secured, or fitted out like the one that had burned down.
I couldn’t leave him in another room unsupervised.
I didn’t trust Rank or some of the others not to fuck with him. And no one fucked with Devlin but me.
I grabbed a towel and a razor, then stepped into the bathroom. Devlin stood in the tiled shower, head tilted back as the water pelted his body. He turned when I entered, dark eyelashes clumped together, his cock hanging half-hard between his legs.
“Get out,” I barked. This was how it was going to be—Devlin would listen to me, and only me, and he’d have to get used to it.
Surprisingly, he obeyed without protest. He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower as I handed him a towel.
He rubbed it over his head, then swiped it across his body before wrapping it around his waist and tucking it at his hip.
Then he pointed at the razor in my hand. “What’s that for?”
“It’s a razor. What do you think it’s for?”
“A knife would be quicker, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sit on the counter.”
His eyebrows kicked up. “You’re going to shave me?”
I shot him a look. With a sigh, he hoisted himself onto the countertop between the two sinks. I pulled out some shaving cream and lathered his face with overly-aggressive slaps. I couldn’t let him think this was some kind of fucking spa day.
His head jerked with each movement. “You don’t have to do this.”
“You look stupid with all that patchy shit,” I said. “I’m tired of looking at it.”
His lips twitched, then stretched into a grin.
Which pissed me off. So I gave him one more sharp slap on the cheek and filled the sink with water.
Stepping between his spread knees, I shaved him in short, efficient strokes, guiding his head where I needed it with a firm grip on his chin.
His skin was smooth, with only a few acne scars, and I wondered what he’d been like as a teenager.
I’d spent so much time desperately trying to see Devlin as anything other than human, but unfortunately for him, the beast had decided he was mine.
I wasn’t content with just his body. I wanted all of him. Whether he liked it or not.
Devlin was blissfully quiet for a long time as he sat with his fingers curled around the edge of the counter, his emerald gaze on my face. Then he ruined it. “They make electric ones now, you know.”
“I either never have the right batteries, or I forget to charge it.” I leaned forward, and my bare chest brushed his.
Devlin wanted the first word. Always. He did it to put his opponents on the back foot. And I was sure it’d worked on plenty of people, too. But in the small space of the bathroom, with a razor inches from his throat, his voice lacked its usual challenge. If anything, he radiated calm.
“Who’s the big guy with dark hair and dark eyes? Helped with the fire last night?”
I paused. I hadn’t expected him to want to know anything about me beyond how much of my dick he could stuff in his mouth. “Rhys.”
“Who is he to you?”
I smirked at that. “Why? Jealous?”
Devlin leaned closer while I swished the razor in the sink. “Maybe.”
“He’s my best friend. The only person I fully trust to have my back besides Jace.”
“Who’s Jace? Was he the naked one?”
I grunted. “He wasn’t naked.”
“Close enough. Is he another best friend?”
“Brother,” I said.
Devlin frowned at that. “He looks nothing like you.”
“Half-brother. We have different moms.”
He sucked in a sharp breath and dipped his head, and I yanked the razor away before I could slice his eyelid.
I opened my mouth to tear into him, but then I remembered something my father had told me once.
Apparently, Devlin had lost his half-brother a few years ago.
He’d always been a loose cannon, but the rumor in Detroit was that after his brother’s murder, he’d only gotten worse.
I didn’t want to think about how I could relate to Devlin. But the thought of Jace dying, of someone murdering him… I wasn’t sure what I’d become if that happened.
Devlin didn’t look up as he stuttered, “A-are you close?” His voice sounded funny.
“Yes,” I answered honestly.
His head slowly lifted, lips curled into a sneer, and I knew right then the devil had come back. Devlin wanted to hurt someone the way he hurt. He lashed out at me with that same challenging tone he’d used the first night we’d met—when he told me my father had died begging for his life.
“You spoiled that little shit, didn’t you? Is that why he’s such a punk? Probably had a perfect little life, all protected by perfect big brother Cian—”
I shoved him back into the mirror so hard it rattled. “Shut the fuck up.”
Devlin’s jaw snapped closed, but he still glared at me. I gripped the back of his neck and pulled him forward so I could finish shaving his neck.
“I first met Jace when he was eight, but he was about the size of a six-year-old because his neglectful fucking mother had half-starved him. And then Patrick all but ignored his existence, while Jace broke himself trying to get his attention. He is a punk. Just like you’re a punk.
” Devlin’s breathing stuttered, but he kept his mouth shut as I finished the last few swipes of the razor.
I stepped back. “Done.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, sullen as he swiped at his face with the corner of his towel.
I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. “I know you had a half-brother—”
He launched himself off the counter and came at me with a haymaker.
But I was ready for it. I spun him around and bent him over the bathroom counter, catching his wrists and pinning them behind his back.
He writhed and snarled, spitting venom at me while I held him in place, my hips pressed against his towel-clad ass.
“You motherfucker!” he snarled. “Get off me—”
“And let you punch me? No thanks.”
“Then don’t ask me about shit you know nothing about—”