AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“She knows how todeepthroatbecause ofme, knows what it means to beclaimed-owned. It’s because ofmethat she knows her place in The Society. What a pity, if I knew that she was going to end up in your arms, I would have kept her for myself. The perfect little obedient Society doll.”
I didn’t have to see Marissa’s face to know that she was embarrassed. Whatever the history was between the two of them, I didn’t give a fuck, my mind focused singularly on the task of gettingridof him.
Another tequila was laid before me, the waiter pulling away before the glass had even hit the surface. My hand shot out, and I tugged the serving staff forward, halting his retreat. “Tell Johnny to come see me. We have a situation.” I spoke the words softly and quickly, hoping that he caught on to what I was doing. Blaise probably just thought that I was thanking him for my drink or ordering another because while I was requesting Johnny’s presence, he still hadn’t stopped fucking speaking.
Our entire table had quieted, every member sitting here listening to Blaise’s tirade. “You know what else she likes?” He asked the question, but everyone here knew that it was rhetorical in nature, “a good facial.”
“You need to stop talking right the fuck now.” My words were growled, distorted with rage.
The fucker still didn’t understand that his life was forfeit, thatIwas about two seconds from ripping his head off of his shoulders, spectators and consequences be damned. He laughed, the action shaking his entire body, and still Marissa sat there, silent and horrified. “I’m not scared of you, O’Riley,” he shook his head, wheezing the words out through his laughter, “you’re a long way from your daddy’s reach.”
But before I had the pleasure of replying, a voice behind me spoke. “I’m not a fucking bell boy that you can justcallfor fuckface. Just because we’ve called a truce for tonight doesn’t mean I’m a bitch.”
I almost huffed a sigh of relief because Johnny Juarez stood behind me, and if that wasn’t the most ridiculous thought from this evening, then I didn’t know what was. If Blaise kept talking, I didn’t trust myself tonotkill him, and the fallout within The Society would be too great. Johnny was the perfect solution, I simply needed to negotiate the cost.
“What will it take for yourOrganizationto getridof mister Blaise Albrecht over here.”
I felt him pause behind me, no doubt assessing this situation, but I wasn’t worried, there wasn’t a person in this room that didn’t know who the Juarez family was and what they were capable of.
“What? You’re askinghimto do your dirty work for you? Typical!” Blaise sneered, and I wondered how the fuck he had survived for as long as he had. He truly was incapable of reading the room - of acknowledging the danger that lay before him.
“IfItake care of you, The Society will have my ass, but I refuse to sit here for one more minute while you talk shit about Marissa.” I spoke the words aloud, hoping that they were enough to sway Johnny - thatshewas enough. I had seen the way he looked at her earlier, and now I was throwing my instincts behind nothing more than a gamble.
“I need approval on the courthouse demolition in the city center. Pull those strings, and I’ll take your trash out tonight.”
There were a handful of bidders that wanted the same thing, but I knew without giving it much thought that I would arrange it for him.
“You have yourself a deal.”
He paused as I spoke the words, the heaviness of the moment not lost on either of us because the O’Rileys and the Juarez Cartel had just entered a business agreement.
Chapter Twenty-Five : Complicated Honesty
Marissa
Iwokeupthenext morning, aching and sore in that way that spoke of a night being fully consumed. Because after we returned from Johnny’s event, Mack went overboard in reminding me of what I committed to -whoI belonged to for the duration of the summer. Even as I sat in bed, wrapped in the duvet that was steeped in our intertwined scent, I shivered as the flashbacks began to play through my mind.
“What are you doing?” His voice was low and husky, the tone something I was accustomed to - because when he spoke to me like that, it sent a building ache between my legs causing me to clench involuntarily.
“I need to shower - I need to clean tonight from my skin.” It was the only explanation I could offer because what else could I say - that seeing Blaise again made me feel dirty? That hearing him ridicule me had left me ashamed? In all the time I’d been working on my plan to execute justice for Chantal, I had never once felt shame - I had done a lot of shitty things, and yet I was able to justify them as stepping stones towards my end goal, but I had never had someone whose opinion I cared about - valued, and listening to Blaise rant at me with Mack sitting right there made me want to fucking die. It seemed shame wasn’t necessarily linked to what you thought of yourself, it was often linked to your knowledge of how others may perceive you upon discovering the truth. And so, even standing here I couldn’t look at him, I needed to escape. I needed to stand under the steady beat of the shower’s warmth as it washed away his words - as I put myself back together and somehow found a way in which to live with the feeling - a way in which to simply not care about what Mack thought.
The thought alone seemed ludicrous - an impossibility so great that it seemed futile to even try because how was I supposed to program myself to not care about what Mack thought?
I had saved him just as much as he had saved me, but even that knowledge did little to erase the way I felt.
Before I could step into the adjoining bathroom, Mack was there, crowding me, blocking the path as he dipped his head towards me, leveling his gaze with mine. “Let’s replace the shit that happened tonight with us.”
I stared up at him, unable to move as the lump expanded in my throat, making it difficult to swallow - difficult to breathe, and equally difficult to hold back my tears. Did he know what he was offering? Did he understand what I had done? How none of what Blaise had said was untrue?
He pressed his forehead against mine, speaking softly as if he understood the fragility of the moment, treating me as if I was something precious - something to be protected because he cared for me far more than he should have.
“You want to scrub the night from your body, Hellcat?” A small noise burst from my throat, pushing past the lump there, and it sounded far more like a sob than a protest. “Same,” he nodded slightly in understanding, never pulling his face away from mine for even a moment. “But I don’t just want to wash the night and all its bullshit away, I want to replace everything with you. Because, tonight, I was in awe of you - of everything you’re capable of.” I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I don’t know why you’re here, under their roof, playing their games, but I’m so goddamn grateful I was paired with you. I’m not even sure they’re aware of what they did because I came in here looking for a reason to burn everything to the ground, and I think I may have just found my partner in crime - my ride or die.”
This time I scoffed at his words - the ridiculous notion that we were somehow meant for each other - but when he threaded his fingers with mine and tugged me back to bed, I didn’t fight - didn’t hesitate, I simply followed where he led.
I considered myself a master of Mack’s moods. When he was angry, or frustrated, he’d push me down against the kitchen counter, slamming into me until we were both groaning and panting. Those moments were pure, unadulterated. There were no soft words - no idealistic promises, instead, it was simply about relieving the pulsing tension that seemed to drive us both. Another frequent mood was when he was playful, wrestling me into the bed, tickling me and kissing every inch of my body until playful fun and burning desire seemed to blur, with him easing the ache by sliding in home. Sometimes Mack was angry - frustrated by my lack of answers - my inability to bend and compromise. I would never admit it, but those were possibly my favorite moments because he seemed to inevitably splay me across whatever available surface was nearby, licking and sucking my pussy until I was gasping with need, agreeing to whatever ridiculous commands he deemed important, until the next time I rebelled and he brought me straight back to point, reminding me through the use of his fingers and tongue alone.
What he was doing now didn’t fit in with any of the moods - the actions I was accustomed to. He stared at me almost reverently, and as I prepared myself to be laid out across the bed, he did something completely different, peeling my dress from my skin, peppering my skin with open-mouthed kisses as each part of my body was unveiled. Mack must have seen me naked a million times at this point, and yet he looked like a boy unwrapping their gift for the first time on Christmas morning. With each movement - each kiss - each whisper of reverence, my chest cracked open a little more, until he had a seat all his own in there. There was no coming back from this - no escaping him, for when I eventually left at the end of my servitude, I would be ruined, because no one else would ever compare to him. I would never get this again. I knew it, which made it all the more heartbreaking. When I was finally free of the fabric masquerading as a dress, my hidden letter fluttered to the floor, stark white against the dark material of my dress. Mack ignored it, dropping to his knees as he pressed his lips against my core. I shivered against him, pressing my fingers against his scalp.
