Page 20 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

He comes from around me and crosses the room to the chair where his jeans are draped. “I was trained to believe that comfort is a weakness.” Lifting the jeans from the chair, he fishes through the pockets for something. “Comfort is a distraction. Makes you vulnerable.”

I frown back at him. “So I’m weak for being cozy as shit in this blanket? Because it feels really good. Like sleeping in clouds. You should try it some time.”

A smile breaks across his face as he pulls something I can’t see in his closed palm from the pocket. “Good. I want you to be comfortable.”

“You want me to be weak,” I counter, crawling onto his mattress where I lie back and stretch my legs beneath the oversized comforter.

“Easier to take advantage of you, yes. I have something for you.” On his return to the bed, the chain dangles from his palm and when he sits beside me and opens it, my heart leaps inside my chest.

“My pocket watch.” Jolting upright, I lift it from his hand and pop it open to see it still keeps the time. “How did you—”

“Enzo. Clean up crew found it at the factory the night I found you.”

“Clean up crew. Right. So if you’d killed me, they’d have cleaned me up, too.”

“Yes. If you’d gotten away, they’d have tracked you down. The rule is, no witnesses. Enzo took it upon himself to go after you instead.”

“Thank you. For giving it back.” I flip the pocket watch over in my palm to Marceaux etched into the gold. A tickle in my chest warns of something that my head pushes away, leaving only a blip of a scene inside my head. Nothing more than the rope swaying back and forth, looped around the joist where my father’s punching bag hung in the basement. “It was given to my dad by his grandfather.”

“Marceaux is your last name.”

“Yes.”

“How’d he die?”

I hadn’t really given much thought to how my dad died. Life happened fast, my mom and I bouncing around the city, trying to survive, and I don’t even recall mourning him much after that. “Suicide. At least, that’s what I was told.”

“You don’t believe it.”

“I don’t believe a lot of things that I’m told.” I set the pocket watch down on the stack of books beside me. “They told me my mom got her hands on a bad batch of drugs. She was a drug addict, so it made sense, I guess. But I’ve had nightmares, woken up to her screaming my name. And I know they’re real, because I can feel it.” I clear my throat, and the sting at the rims of my eyes threatens tears. “People … they lie when they want you to accept. To keep you from asking too many questions. What’d they tell you about your mother?”

“They didn’t have a story for my mother.” He scratches the stubble of his chin, eyes staring off toward the wall. “No one would’ve suspected my old man. He was charming. Helpful. Bastard attended church every fucking Sunday and walked the old ladies to their pews. Hell, I’d have doubted it myself if I didn’t know what he was behind that mask he wore. I’ve known a lot of criminals, but he’s the only one I ever felt I was doing the world a favor by killing. Greatest mindfuck he ever pulled was turning me into him.”

“You’re not like him.”

“I am. More than I care to believe.”

“And I could say I’m just like my mother, fucking you for money. But I’m nothing like her. I’m stronger than she was. And you’re stronger than your father. You have to be, right? That’s how we survive.”

The corner of his lips lifts with a devious smile. “But you enjoy getting fucked for money.” He slides beneath the covers with me and an appreciative growl rumbles in his throat when his hands skim my naked body. “Isn’t that right, Bandit?”

“No guarantee you’ll pay me, so this could be nothing but a charity case.”

A sting hits the top of my head where he grips a handful of my hair, while his teeth graze my throat. “I’m no goddamn charity case.”

“Am I? Is that why you agreed to this?”

“Do I look like the kind of bastard who does anything out of the goodness of his heart?”

“No, but I’m starting to believe you actually have one,” I say, and chuckle at his disapproving sound in my ear.

Rough palms skate down along my thigh and over my hip, gripping my ass cheek. He devours the back of my neck, and I close my eyes, reveling in his lips on my skin. “Only one place I haven’t yet been, Dylan.”

His finger glides down my ass and to the front of me, gathering wetness he’s already stoked in me, and he slides it up the back of me, lubricating my tight entrance. I jerk forward on reflex and a tremble moves through my body.

I’ve never willingly done anal. Only vague flashbacks of Rook holding me down in the woods against the cold snow would explain my sudden trepidation, but I don’t remember any pain through my high. And I’m not there. I’m with Rip in a warm bed, and I know damn well he’d stop if I told him to, but I curl forward anyway, clutching the pillow while his fingertip inches inside.

“I’m gonna loosen you up first, baby. I promise it’ll feel good.” Slowly, he slides his finger deeper into that forbidden place.