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“What do you want, baby girl?”
“T—to come. Please, make me come!” I plead.
Just like that, fingers replace his tongue, thrusting inside of me as his mouth comes down on my clit, and the whole goddamn world explodes inside of me. My body shudders, and I’m biting on my forearm to keep from screaming so we’re not heard, but almost failing as wave after wave consumes me from head to toe. Letting a whimper escape, I’m not sure when his fingers left me and his tongue came back, licking every bit of wetness brought by the orgasm that still has me trembling.
The man is already on his feet, but I can barely hold myself up. I’m giggling as he pulls me after him, out through the back door of the building, and into the private parking lot at the back.
Only it’s not that private anymore.
A man we seem to have startled with our presence jumps back away from the door, a screwdriver in one hand and a gun in the other, aimed straight at us. The metal door slams behind me, jolting both me and Ronan.
“Ro—Ronan?”
He steps in front of me, shielding me from the gun. I would run back inside, but it’s a secure door, and I can’t access the lock.
“Put your fucking gun down.” Ronan’s tone is frighteningly calm.
“Just the man I was looking for. Well, one of them anyway.” The guy says, his tone a mixture of cockiness and anxiousness. We definitely took him by surprise.
“I recognize you. You were there when Bartiste blew up my boat and went after my woman. You ran with him, like a fucking coward.”
“I was also there when he shoved his fingers in her cunt.”
A distressing laugh charges the atmosphere and a chill runs all through my body. Bile rises, burning its way up to the back of my throat, and I heave instantly.
Ronan reaches behind, finds me, and presses me against his body in a comforting hold, at the same time he pulls a gun out from somewhere under his suit jacket.
“You had a chance to survive this. At least for the next day or two, while we tortured you for information. But you just pulled the rug from under your own feet with that little piece of information. Now… you have to make a decision. You either tell me where the fuck Bartiste is now, or I’ll make sure you live for a whole fucking week while Carter carves you like a goddamn Thanksgiving turkey.”
“What?” The man sounds confused.
“Where the fuck is Bartiste?!” It’s a menacing growl that vibrates through his whole body, malice dripping off his tongue.
A gun cocks, and I flinch.
“You—wait. You don’t have him?”
Ronan leans his head ever-so slightly, and I know what’s going through his mind. It’s going through mine as well.
“You came here because you thought we have him. So you have no clue where he is or if he’s alive, then,” he states as a matter of fact.
“Fuck…” That’s the last thing the man speaks before a shot splits the night, and I yelp as I grab onto Ronan’s jacket. A loud thump sounds next, and I peek to see the man crumbled onto the concrete.
Very much dead.
I step around Ronan and catch a glimpse of the man’s face. He looks familiar, but not memorable. If he was there, I don’t remember when or why. He’s definitely memorable now with that bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.
“Are you okay?” Ronan spins me around to look at him, gripping my face in his hands.
Nodding, I narrow my eyes on his expression. I can’t pinpoint it, but his breathing quickens, brows furrowing, and I’m not sure if he’s gonna settle on anger or worry.
He releases me quickly, urging me to climb into his car, while he pulls out his phone and makes a call. Moments later, all the guys rush out the back door. They talk for a few minutes before he leaves them and slides into the driver’s seat, slamming the door with unneeded force behind him.
“We’re leaving?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“What about the body?”
