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Chapter Twenty-Nine
RORY
What the fuck just happened?
“I’m not going to ask again. Grab your bag. You shouldn’t be here.”
The threat in his tone has my pussy clenching, even though a tingle of fear snakes down my spine.
“Now!” Maddox roars, and I jump like a scared child, rushing to the chair where my purse sits before snatching it up.
“Can I have a min—” I start, wanting to clean his fucking cum off my face.
“No. Now get your ass out here before I paint it fucking red.” There’s a smolder in his voice that wasn’t there before. Sure, there was desire, but it wasn’t a deep-seated need. Now, I think he may be as drawn to me as I am to him.
What does that mean for us?
Scurrying toward him, I shove my hand into my purse, pull out a packet of tissue, and quickly wipe where I can feel the cum drying on my cheek and chin.
Cursing myself for not having a small compact mirror, I can only try to hide my face behind a curtain of my dark hair as I scoot in front of Maddox as he holds the door open.
His face is locked in a stern expression, his jaw gnashing. Why does he seem pissed at me when I’m the one who got a huge cock shoved down my throat? I’m the one who didn’t come, who’s now forced to do the walk of shame looking disheveled. I know my mascara has run down my cheeks, and even if I wipe them, I’ll still look like a raccoon, and my lipstick is smeared all over my face.
But in an odd sort of way, I’m almost proud to have been chosen to worship this man, even for a few moments. Although his fingers ensnared me and his body invaded mine, I held all the power.
And I think he fucking knows it.
That’s why he’s pissed, because little ole Rory O’Brien took down the big bad wolf with a simple blow job.
A swat across my ass encourages me to move faster, and I try to shake away thoughts of what his other threat could mean for me.
I’ll take your asshole while my brothers watch.
That felt more like a promise than a threat. I’ve seen the way they look at me, how they unravel every time we’re together. Each one of them has pushed the line, taken things too far. It’s like they have some kind of fucked up bet to see who can hold out the longest.
Today we know for sure Maddox fucking lost. Maybe that’s another reason he’s pissed.
“Faster, pet. My fingers are twitching to remove my belt and whip that sweet ass raw,” he growls out as he walks behind me.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, picking up the pace. The hallway is quiet, the sound of the machinery not as loud back here. We pass an open door where I see the blond-haired Alistair snorting a line of cocaine off a glass table before passing the rolled up dollar to one of the business men I saw earlier.
A whisper of pity flows through me at the sight, that a man like Alistair can be brought down by a drug like cocaine. I’m not one to judge, and I’m not judging now, but I’ve seen what drugs and alcohol do to people. Just look at Mitch, who’s now a shell of the man he used to be. He’s a piece of history, a forgotten member of society who’s been tucked away to ensure he lives. I guess it just goes to show that money isn’t everything.
We were poor as shit, yet my brother still turned to drugs, spending all we had for his own selfish reasons. He didn’t fucking care that it put us even further in debt. Being poor felt so shitty, he had to get high in order to numb the pain.
It makes me wonder why Alistair does drugs. He hides behind his money, behind his nonchalance and his brazen attitude, but my guess is there’s a darkness within him he tries to avoid, a pain he likes to dull. I’m probably thinking too hard about this. Fuck, he could simply enjoy the high. But something tells me there’s more to it than that… There’s something he’s running from, something in his mind.
Maddox scoots by me and glares down at me with such ferocity that I want to cower. “Follow me,” he grits out before storming down an adjacent hallway.
I can see his control waning, see the tightness in his shoulders, the way his fists are clenched, and how hard he’s trying. Normally, I’d consider prodding this big bear, but something tells me if I do, I won’t like what happens.
So, like his good little pet, I follow.
A dark hall gives way to a large, gray, metal door. Maddox pushes the silver bar on it, and the door swings open, revealing all of our cars. Above us, a lone streetlight shines down, illuminating us like a spotlight.
Maddox turns to me and inhales, and I wonder what he’s going to say when his eyes soften. He reaches for me, searching my face as he stares at me, but that moment is fleeting, and a second later, darkness shrouds his gaze and he tugs me to my car, ripping open the door and shoving me inside. The contents of my purse spill onto the passenger’s seat, which really pisses me off.
“Go home and clean your face,” he orders, and then he slams the door and storms off, leaving me stewing.
