Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Charleigh

By the time my hand stops bleeding, every last towel in my room is dotted with blood, probably ruined, and I couldn’t give a shit. Not only are the towels stained with red, so is my bedspread, the floor, and the bathroom sink and tub where I attempted to clean up

Fuck this place and the beastly brothers who own it. I plan to ruin as much as I can in the time that I’m here.

They have no regard for me or my little sister, and certainly not my father, forcing me to repay his debts and threatening to add Evie to their ‘collection.’

I don’t care if I signed their freaking contract. I had no choice. That’s not what I call ‘voluntary.’

They can kiss my ass.

“Hello?” someone calls from my doorway.

I look over and see Niko peering in. Dammit, that door needs a lock.

But I sit up in bed anyway, turning off the Spotify station I was about to start streaming to forget my life for a moment. “Hi,” I say.

I find myself smoothing my hair and straightening out my T-shirt.

So much for my tough guy act.

He stands across the room, arms crossed. Almost like he isn’t sure whether or not he should come in.

Funny time to be all bashful, when you’ve just been talking about making money off me.

The day I walked out the door to get Evie at school, it was so easy to leave. Granted, I wasn’t even really trying to sneak out. I honestly intended to come back as soon as I got her principal settled down. But if it were so easy in broad daylight to just leave, why not give it a try in the dead of night, when the club is relatively quiet, the guys are asleep, and security is on the lax side?

I look back at Niko, crossing the room toward me, rubbing his hand along the side of his neck like he’s had a long day or something, and my resolve crumbles.

I hate that. I goddamn hate it.

“Looks like you slaughtered someone in here,” he says, looking around.

I momentarily worry he’s going to be pissed at the mess. But then I remember I don’t care.

Not much, anyway.

I shrug it off. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when a creep pinches your ass and you fall and cut yourself on broken glass.”

I hold my hand up, wrapped in the last clean towel I have. The blood on the outside of it is beginning to dry to a crackly brown, which tells me it’s no longer flowing from my wound. That’s a good sign. At least I won’t need stitches.

“Your hand feeling better?” he asks, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

Just make yourself at home, buddy.

I remind myself to be polite and throw him a shy half-smile.

He begins to tell me how the guy they kicked out is banned for life, etcetera, etcetera, as if I give a shit they are so valiantly defending my honor, and my thoughts wander back to escaping. But that would just leave Pops and Evie worse off than they already are.

The only other option is to stick around and see what the guys have planned for me. Although I’m pretty sure I have an idea.

Or… find some way to escalate the tension between the brothers and Dimitri so they all destroy each other. Could I actually do that? Pit them against each other so they fight to the death?

That would be some first class-level cunning shit.

As I’m weighing my options, Niko takes my hand, the one in the big, bloodied towel, and slowly unwraps it. “Hey. It’s looking good. Stopped bleeding. But look, you have to be careful not to open this up again.”

He pulls a roll of gauze out of his pocket. “C’mon. Let’s wash this off and then I’ll wrap it.”

“Guess you were a Boy Scout, huh?”

He laughs as he places my hand under a gentle stream of cold water. It stings like hell. “Not exactly a Boy Scout. But I do know some first aid. Comes in handy in my line of work—”

He cuts himself off, gently rubbing the dried blood from my hand with his thumb. Even after the blood is pretty much gone, he keeps rubbing like he’s mesmerized. When I clear my throat, he snaps to, dabbing my hand with a clean corner of a bloody towel. After, he wraps the gauze around it, sure to build up several protective layers where the cut is.

Still holding my now-clean and bandaged hand, he surprises me by lifting it to his lips and kissing one of my fingers. Then, moving along, he kisses each, one by one, until he reaches my thumb.

His touch is so damned nice, I’m unable to do the one thing I know I should—grab my hand out of his and suggest he fuck right off. I imagine telling him to get out of my room and leave me the hell alone, but the words never pass my lips.

Instead, my eyes flutter closed. I don’t say I hate him and his brothers, their stupid club, their sleazy patrons, and that they got my dad hooked on gambling and let him pile up so much debt that I’m saddled with paying it off. That whatever they do with me will result in bad news for Evie, because I’m the only person in the world who gives a shit about her.

I don’t tell him the harm they are causing my family is so far out of proportion to what my father owes, it’s ridiculous, and that their desire to ‘save face’ and be the ‘big guys’ makes them nothing more than a bunch of assholes—not the alpha men they want the world to know they are.

Do I share any of this with him?

Hell no. Apparently, I’m just as much an asshole as the Alekseevs are, because while my eyes have been closed, while Niko kisses my fingertips, he takes a step closer, and kisses my lips.

And yes, I am kissing him right back.

* * *

Charleigh

There’s no stopping. I mean, I obviously know I should. But this is one of those times in life where logic serves no purpose. Responsibility? Right out the window. Good judgment?

Like it’s never existed, not for one day in my pathetic life.

Right now, an absolutely beautiful man is running a finger along my chin, brushing his lips over mine, and that’s all I care about. The rest of the world can disintegrate around me, and I won’t give a shit because I not only got this man’s attention but also got him to kiss me.

So fuck off, universe.

He pulls back for a moment, and I open my eyes. Without a word, he surprises me again with the presumptuous act of unbuckling his belt and opening his trousers. Reaching through a tangle of shirt tails, he pulls out his erection, hard and veiny, with a bulbous, purple tip.

Do I tell him to go to hell? That I’m not his whore?

‘Course not.

He places a hand on my shoulder and with gentle pressure, lets me know what he wants.

And I’m so here for it.

God forgive me.

I grab one of the dirty towels and pile it under my knees to protect them from the hard bathroom floor tiles. I look at Niko right there, right in front of my face, and recall the couple other times—I think I was still in high school—when I sucked a guy’s hard-on. It was okay, not horrible, but I have never been eager to do it again.

Not that I had the chance. The one pseudo-boyfriend I had for less than a month was scared off. Apparently, he didn’t want to tell his parents he was dating a girl whose dad owned a pawn shop. It wasn’t respectable enough for them. I didn’t bother with guys after that. Too much trouble.

But this is different. I don’t know why, but it is.

I want Niko in my mouth so I can pleasure him like I see on the porn sites I watch on my phone when I touch myself at night. I want to hear him moan, breathe hard, and call my name when he explodes.

Any shyness or hesitation that might have plagued me in real life—before the Alekseevs—is nonexistent.

“Go ahead. Take it, pretty girl,” he says quietly.

A shiver of anticipation darts down my spine as I look up at him and he smiles back, like I’m good and obedient. I love it.

I wrap my hand around his girth, so fat my fingers don’t meet, and lean forward to taste the drop of clear liquid on his tip.

“Mmmm,” I moan, surprising myself as much as him.

“Beautiful baby likes it, huh?”

Looking up at him, I nod. Goddamn, he’s so handsome with his tousled blond hair and facial scruff that I’m out of my mind with the headiness of my longing.

“I like it. I do,” I whisper as if I don’t want anyone to hear me say it.

He strokes a finger under my chin. “Such a pretty, pretty girl. Now open up that lovely mouth.”

As if mesmerized by his praise, I part my lips to allow his cockhead to settle between my lips. I accept him, the large, smooth head and ridge that is the beginning of his shaft. With a deep breath, I take more of him.

But apparently, not enough.

**********

Charleigh

“C’mon now,” he says in a gruff tone I don’t recognize, “I’m not teaching you to suck cock, baby. Either you do it well, or someone will have to teach you who’s not nearly as nice as I am.”

I freeze and look up, finding his eyes narrowed to dark slits. Is this really Niko? I squeeze my eyes shut as if I could block out his nasty words, until he growls at me again.

Is this what happens to men? You give them a little pleasure and they start demanding more? Like hungry beasts?

Fine. If that’s what he wants, that’s what he’ll get. And if he wants to choke me with his giant erection, maybe that’s just as well too.

Maybe he’ll choke me to death. Put me out of my misery.

I take him deeper, deeper than I thought I could, and in contrast to his sharp words, he rocks his hips slightly, gently pulsing and sliding in and out of my mouth. In seconds, his scary tone is forgotten and I’m savoring him, wanting nothing more in the world at that moment than to make him feel good.

Because this is power.

I might not have much over my situation. Actually, I have no power over my situation. But I do have power over this moment. Men are ruled by their cocks, their need to come and spread their seed, and they’ll often stop at nothing for the opportunity.

I will make this work for me. I will make Niko love me, if only for the time he’s in my mouth. I will give him something unforgettable that he will come back to me again and again for.

He will become addicted to me, and while what I have to offer him is modest, he won’t be able to live without it.

With a vigor I didn’t know I possessed, I take him deeper, until he bangs the back of my throat and gags me. My eyes water, turning my mascara into soupy rivers, and saliva leaks out of the sides of my mouth and down my chin.

I wipe both away so as not to ruin the moment.

He lifts my chin so I can continue sucking him while our gazes are locked, a vulnerable position if ever there was one. We rock together and I feel his orgasm building like it’s my own. He’s getting close to exploding and it’s all because of me.

He growls so loudly it echoes against the bathroom tile, and when he erupts down my throat, I choke for a moment, swallowing what I can, just like in the porn movies.

Through it, Niko keeps his eyes open and locked with mine, but the rest of his face distorts, first, as if he’s angry, then as if he’s in pain, and finally his mouth moves from a grimace to a roar that hits me like a prize, especially when it turns into a smile, one so big it thumps my heart.

Just as he pulls out and I’m catching my breath, my bedroom door flies open. I’m in full view, on my knees in front of Niko’s still-hard cock, mopping up the small amount of semen that didn’t make it down my throat and instead ended up on my chin and chest.

“Holy fuck. Guess your hand isn’t bothering you too much,” Kir booms, smiling ear to ear.

For a moment I want to roll into a little ball of disgrace, having been caught doing something so naughty, so animalistic.

So fun.

This is for pure pleasure. The man’s pleasure.

And mine, no doubt about it.

I smile broadly, proud of myself and my prowess. I’m not ashamed. Not one bit. Why should I be?

“If it isn’t my older brother. One of them anyway,” Niko laughs, making no attempt to tuck himself back in his pants.

He takes my good hand and helps me back to my feet. I wobble for a moment as the circulation returns to my legs and reach for a clean towel for him. Then I remember there are none, thanks to my injured hand.

Oh well.

Kir approaches us and slaps Niko on the back and rubs a smudge of something off my face. “God, you two are cute together,” he says.

My heart thumps. He’s just kidding, of course, but what if we were ‘together?’ What if I were with any of these guys? They’re so good-looking, with power and confidence to spare oozing from every pore. They’re soulless men who make decisions that leave people devastated, but if I were with them, any of them, they’d protect me from the world’s evils. I’d never have to be afraid again.

They would help me. And I would help them back.

Wouldn’t someone like me—pleasant, thoughtful, morally upright—bring the perfect balance to their lives?

Good god. How I’ve gone off the deep end.

“Hi Kir,” I say, tilting my head flirtatiously. Might as well give it a shot. “We were just—”

He cuts me off. “Darlin’, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. But you have given me an idea.”

Oh god.

“What would you say, beautiful, to coming over here to the bed with me?”

He runs his fingers through what are now tangles in my hair, and while it pulls, it also feels good. Heavenly, even.

“C’mon, baby,” he says with a crook of his finger.

I follow him like my legs have a mind of their own. Any doubts I have fly out the window as I put one foot in front of the other like some sort of horny, mindless robot. I need to make him feel good just like I did Niko. I need to make him need me, too.

He loosens his tie and the tickle in my core intensifies. “Lie down, beautiful. And watch out for that hand. No more injuries for one day, okay?”

Hand? I forgot about my hand. I certainly forgot about my circumstances, that they aren’t looking too bright. And if I can float in that timeless, blissful state of no pain or worries for a little longer, then I’m in.