35. Maddison
Maddison
The faint scent of him lingers in the air, smoke and leather. It wraps around me like a hug as I cuddle deeper into the cloud of blankets in his bed. Finally, I understand Ash’s impulsive need to run his nose along my jaw and inhale, doing the same thing to his pillows.
It soothes me. Chases away the panic caused by waking up alone in a dark room. I tried to follow Ash earlier when he left to go down to the club to wrap up some business, but he made me stay put and rest. He sealed it with a heated kiss that just served to make me more restless.
My body may ache, but not as much as the need for him that swirls inside of me.
The doctor saw me as soon as we got back, stitching my thigh and wrapping it securely. All other cuts were stitched, and cream applied to my bruises. He said I was lucky the knife missed my arteries, as the outcome wouldn’t have been so good.
When he’d said that, Ash’s fists balled, and I had to reach out and grab one before he hit something. Or someone.
He gave me enough pain medication that my injuries feel blissfully distant, just a dull throb serving as a reminder of the last few days.
Weirdly, when my mind drifts to those moments where I was tied to that chair in the concrete cell, I’m not as scared as I feel I should be.
It changed me in a way I needed. I took control, and now... now I feel powerful.
And I feel loved. Even by my friend. Roxy all but barged the door to the club down, demanding to know where I was.
Luckily, it was only Ash and Matt in the club at the time while I slept.
She didn’t take no for an answer until Ash brought her upstairs to see me.
The thought makes my heart swell, and I can’t wait to see her when I’m better.
Yes, the thought that I killed my own father sits in the back of my mind, threatening to unravel me from the inside out.
But then, I think of all the women he put through hell.
All the people he and his associates damned for the sake of some money.
And I think of what he put me through. The things I normalised, when they were far, far from okay.
As much as I know that killing someone, let alone your own family member, is inherently wrong, I feel like I did the world a favour.
And my mother... I’m sure she knows what’s happened in a roundabout way. But we all know the police in this city won’t listen to a word she says. Especially when Ash releases the information on his drive that will damn a lot of men in this city, including my father.
Weirdly enough, Zeke isn’t on it. Maybe he was telling the truth... And he is still out there, which is a problem for another day, Ash said.
It turns out my father did send him an absurd amount of cash, for the sake of saving his own reputation. But he’s down too many men to try to fight right now, which provides enough comfort for me to be blissfully ignorant.
Right now... All I want is to be with him. To be with the Devils.
Ash wanted me tucked up here, safe and resting. But I don’t want safe.
I push the covers back. The room tilts slightly when I sit up, but it steadies quickly. My bare feet hit the cold floor, and I inhale through my nose, grounding myself. My reflection in the mirror across the room looks... different.
Not broken.
My hair is brushed out now, falling loose around my shoulders. A tight singlet clings to my body, and silky sleep shorts hang off my hips. The bruises remain, a dark constellation across my pale skin, but they don’t upset me.
They look like proof. Like strength.
I move carefully to the door, ignoring the faint pull in my thigh. I should rest; I know that. But I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and feel like I’ve imagined it all. I want to be where he is. Where they are.
With my people.
The sound of boisterous chatter grows louder as I descend the stairs, each step slow and deliberate. Laughter, cheering, and fighting vibrates under my bare feet. It sounds alive.
The back door creaks as I push it open, red light from the club hitting me. My eyes zero in on the man leaning against the bar, chatting with a group of his men. But his words stop, and eyes find me immediately.
I’m expecting him to come to me, to take me back to bed. To tell me I need to rest. To wrap me up in bubble wrap. I should know better by now.
Crossing his arms, the corner of his mouth twitches, his stormy eyes slowly slide down my body before coming back up.
He looks like sin wrapped in sex, black hair mussed and fallen over his forehead, tattoos creeping up his neck, up his face.
He’s in clean black pants, and the vest he wears hugs his muscular figure.
Looking at him like this, bathed in the red light, it does something to my insides.
Voices quieten around us, and I feel eyes on me as I slowly step inside.
“My angel’s better, is she?” Ash drawls over the low hum of the room.
His voice is music to my ears, just a low rumble that hits me in my core. Paired with the dimple that I can see from here... ugh. I take a few more steps, nodding as I try my best not to limp.
His eyes narrow on me, anyway. I bite my lip. For once, I know what I want, and I’m taking it. He watches my expression like a hawk.
“Is there something we can help you with, Angel?” His voice is laced with a promise, and it already has my heart speeding up with excitement.
I nod again, slowly, as my lips curve into a smile. My nipples tighten under the tight singlet, as my core twists with need.
When the muscle feathers in his jaw, victory blooms within me. His eyes darken, his tongue flicking over his canine tooth.
“Then why the fuck are you not on your knees yet?” The words come out gravelly, and I have to bite my lip harder to stop from moaning.
Despite the throb in my thigh, I fall to my knees, my chest heaving with need. My gaze sticks to his as the hardwood bites into my knees.
“Devils!” Ash snaps. “My angel wants to play... So, play.”
It doesn’t take long before men advance on me.
Griff stops in front of me, his enormous erection straining his pants so badly I can see the outline of the fat tip of his cock.
Matt, Leon, and many more stand in a tight circle around me, the sound of buttons and zippers and belts coming undone winding me up tighter and tighter.
Ash remains leaning against the bar, sipping his drink slowly. Despite what’s happening around me, I can’t stop myself from finding him.
With shaking fingers, I reach for what I need, my palm wrapping around Griff’s cock. He groans a deep, gravelly thing, and before I know it, his pants are undone, and his proud length stretches towards me.
Pre-cum beads at his tip and my tongue darts out to catch it, my lips following in an instant, wrapping around his warm skin. Veins wrap around the generous length, and I have to wrap a hand around it to steady myself. My other hand finds his tree-trunk thigh.
When my eyes find his, his golden eyes bore into mine. Big hands wrap around my hair and fist the strands, as his hips flick forward, shoving himself over my tongue and into my throat.
Tears stream down my face as I gag, but he doesn’t stop. I don’t want him to. Digging my nails into his thigh, I spur him on. I want everything he has to give me. I need it.
A strong hand pulls mine away from Griff, and it’s immediately wrapped around another hard cock, warm saliva follows the sound of someone spitting onto my palm. I work them with my hand, squeezing tightly around whoever’s cock it is.
Someone on my right follows their lead, prying my grip off Griff’s cock and wrapping it around theirs.
Through my tears, I see more erections, men with their own cocks in their hands working themselves while watching me.
I feel myself soaking my sleep shorts, my pussy clenching on nothing as need overtakes me.
I swallow Griff with everything I have until he rips me off, a string of saliva still connecting us.
Warm hands circle my face, pulling me slightly to the right and dragging my face over another cock.
This one belongs to a man I don’t quite recognise, and that thought has my stomach twisting with excitement.
I don’t know him, yet his cock is in my mouth.
But the patch on his vest tells me enough. I am one of them.
He throws his head back, his thick neck inked in a swirl of colours, as he fucks my face, and I swallow him with everything I have. When he draws back, I suck, hollowing my cheeks out as his salty flavour touches my tongue.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, shoving himself back in until I gag, saliva dripping out of the corners of my lips, trailing down my neck. “Good little thing you are.”
The sounds of hands on wet flesh surround me, a symphony of dirty, depraved things.
My hands are moved between cocks, and my wrists ache in the best way as they grip hard lengths and slide over skin.
Griff jerks himself to my side, the muscles and veins in his arms popping as curls of his hair fall into his face.
Fingers comb through my hair and grip strands of it as my head gets twisted and turned, popping off one cock only for another to shove into my mouth. My tongue coats with the salty pre-cum of the different men who plunge into my mouth. I swallow it down, relishing the taste.
Goosebumps rise on my skin as the strap of my singlet is pushed down one shoulder, quickly followed by the other.
The tight singlet is pulled down to my waist before two hands grab my tits from behind.
I moan loudly around the cock in my mouth.
My nipples instantly harden as they play with them, pinching them, twisting them, gripping at them.
The pain has me shivering against their touch, instinctively arching away, grateful that they follow.
Different hands touch me all over, going lower and lower until one finally delves under my sleep shorts. They are rough and calloused, reminding me of what these men do with their hands. Proof of violence and hard work.