Page 123 of Relapse

He knew exactly what my body needed. His fingers moved precisely, pressing upwards against my g-spot, while his thumb rubbed quick circles around my clit. My body convulsed against his, my orgasm crashing through me violently as I continued to rock against his hand. I screamed into his shoulder, the cry muffled by his shirt, my whole world narrowing to a point where all there was, was him: touching me, filling me, and claiming me completely.

He kept stroking me through it, slower now, drawing out every spasm, until I was trembling and weak in his arms, my thighs shaking, my vision spotted. I was spent, my body utterly limp against his. Every inch of my body was slick with sweat.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice wrecked, his fingers still buried inside me, feeling me flutter weakly around him. “You came so hard. You needed that, didn’t you?”

I could only nod, unable to speak words if I wanted to.

He pulled his fingers from under my dress and I watched, transfixed, as he raised them to his lips, licking them with a moan before sucking them clean of my wetness.

“You taste so fucking good. I can’t wait for more.”

I managed a shaky laugh and began straightening my dress. But before I could fully compose myself, Noah lost his footing and nearly took us both down to the floor.

“Hey,” I asked. “Are you okay?” I was barely coherent after he ravaged me, but I was concerned. That little stumble had come out of nowhere.

Noah shrugged the question off with a stiff laugh, arms coming out on either side of himself to correct his balance, “Yeah. I’m good.”

I studied him for a moment, a small sense of unease settling over me. A new song started and the room gradually brightened. Under the softer light, Noah’s eyes caught my attention again. I thought I had noticed his pupils dilated before, but nothing like this. They were enormous.

My inner gut feeling was screaming at me that something was wrong. But how was I supposed to ask him?

He stared off into the distance as if he was worried about something, then his eyes darted back to mine. I watched as he dug into his pocket, taking out his vape. He took a puff.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t you have fun?” He asked with a smirk as we began our slow walk back to our table.

My face betrayed me. “Well…yes…clearly.”

He reached out and gently touched my chin. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

His fingers lingered on my skin, and I nodded. I was still unraveling from what he’d done to me on the dance floor—my thighs slick, my heart hammering, my body responsive to him. I would have dropped to my knees right there if he’d asked. I would have done anything.

But that voice in my gut wouldn’t shut up. It was taking me back to the first time I’d confronted Noah, at the movie theaters, when I was wishing he’d tell me about the gun. When my body and my mind had told me: This guy is dangerous.

I knew there was something he wasn’t telling me. By the look on his face, the way eyes drifted back and forth to the exit, the way his hands clutched at his pockets. What was I missing?

He guided me by the small of my back through the crowd until we made it back to our table. I collapsed into my seat, still throbbing from his touch, still somehow eager for more. He sat across from me and that smile appeared, the one that made all other thoughts vanish from my head.

“How about another drink?” he asked, already signalling to a waitress before I could answer him.

I should’ve said no. I should’ve taken the time to talk with him more about what I was feeling. Truth was, alcohol wasn’t going to be an issue.

I was already drunk on him.

Chapter thirty-one

Blood Price

SILAS

Dante had called me, letting me know that the car and the cousins were already waiting. He’d said it casually, like we were heading to pick up a round of beers at Shorty’s. But I saw it in the set of his jaw, the way his eyes tracked me when I arrived. We walked to the car in silence.

What had been running through my mind was the obvious: he knew about Noah. Of course he knew. He’d been there the first time, when I nearly had my way with him in the alley. He’d been the one who tried to help me “forget” the urges by using Delane. He was the elder of the cousins, and he lived and breathed the rules of our organization. He believed in an eye for an eye, that the younger members weren’t as intelligent as he was, and that somehow—without earning it—he was owed respect from everyone who so much as laid eyes on him.

Truth be told, in this business, everything came to light eventually. And just as surely as I knew the weight of a gun to my head, I knew I had been reckless with my preferences. I openly exposed myself to people because they were my “family” not truly understanding that their obligations far preceded their affections for my well being—if they had any, that is.

The black Cadillac was idling in its spot, exhaust curling out in the cool night air. Both Vance and Ray were already in the car. Ray, the youngest of us, was in the back passenger side, window cracked, cigarette poking out from between the opening, the bud glowing in the shadow of the parking garage. Vance sat behind the wheel, but I knew he wouldn’t be driving. He was simply holding my spot. As I approached, he barely looked up enough to acknowledge me.

“Get in, hero,” Ray called out, smoke drifting from his mouth.