Chained Hands (Chained Hearts Duet Book 1) Page 6

  I’m so shocked at his words I feel mortified.

  Who speaks like that?

  But two can play that game.

  “Only if you lick me first.” I expect him to shake his head and tell me no.

  The only problem is he moves fast in the roomy backseat. His seat belt is undone before I even know what’s happening, and his hands find my skirt before he touches my bare legs and starts to slide his hands up my thighs. I suck in air, unable to form words at what he’s doing.

  Dillan never liked to eat pussy. Well, he never liked to eat mine, that is. He probably ate the full sweet treat menu somewhere other than at our home with me.

  “Maybe I’ll start with dessert,” Keir says, then leans forward and his lips touch my inner thigh. I’m shocked—literally so shocked—like I have no idea what to do.

  Do I push him away?

  Tell him I was joking?

  Yet, somehow, my body responds in the complete opposite way to what I thought it would, and my legs open just a fraction for him. He takes that as a sign to continue and unbuckles me, moving me easily, taking control of my legs until I face him with one leg on either side of him.

  Keir licks his lips, and that’s all it takes before his head drops down and he lifts my skirt all the way up. I look up, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as his mouth touches the outside of my panties and his hot breath blows on my lace-covered flesh, causing an involuntary whimper to leave my lips. Luckily for us, there is a petition in the middle of the car so the driver can’t see us.

  I’m not sure I would care to stop even if he could.

  He licks and sucks me through my panties, making me wet. Or maybe I already was.

  Who is this girl?

  And where did she come from?

  Is this considered cheating?

  I’m about to push him off me when he slips a finger in, and I lose track of breathing. Like, how is that even possible, to lose track of breathing?

  Gosh, it’s been a long time since I’ve been loved down there. Touched down there.

  My head is filled with fluff, and I’m unable to see through the sweet sensations he’s giving me.

  Lord help me.

  I know I can’t stop him now.

  I’m not even sure I want to.

  My legs open even farther, and my head drops back as they do. I manage to look out the window as he moves my panties to the side and his hot tongue touches my clit. I jump, but he’s ready for that and holds me down with a hand on my hips.

  He tastes me.

  He eats me.

  He makes me scream like I have never screamed before in my life.

  And I’m not shy about it at all.

  His finger pumps in and out, and his tongue never stops, even when I grab his hair, pulling it through my fingers to try to slow the sensations that won’t stop building and building.

  I’m having oral sex with a man I don’t even know.

  A man who shot my husband.

  Oh. My. God.

  Literally, all at the same time, when I think I should pull away, he flicks something, and I lose it completely. My toes curl, my body falls back further into the seat, and I’m unable to move.

  Breathe.

  Think coherently.

  Then the car stops, and he is off me. Keir pulls my skirt down but doesn’t move me from half-lying across the seat. He opens his door, gets out, and looks back down at me. “You have two minutes to get your ass out of that car and into the restaurant.” Then he slams the door shut.

  I sit up and pull my skirt farther down and pull my panties back into position.

  I’ve just let a man from the mafia taste a part of me that hasn’t been touched in a long time.

  Better yet, I just had sex with a man who shot my husband.

  Or, should I say, ex-husband.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Double shit.

  Variety Gossip

  Variety Gossip

  * * *

  The King of the Underworld

  * * *

  You know it, him again. Spotted at his restaurant. But ladies, he was not alone. I’ve even heard rumors he has seen this one more than once.

  Will it finally be time for the king of the underworld to settle down?

  Will this little honey-brunette he has been seen with, be the one to do that for him?

  Or is she simply another notch on his bedpost?

  Time will tell …

  Chapter Eleven

  Keir

  I shouldn’t have.

  It was my mistake.

  And I don’t make many mistakes.

  But this was one of them.

  I should have fucked someone else before I got in the car with her.

  It would have solved all my fucking problems.

  Scrubbing my hand down my face, I lick my lips as she walks in. She took longer than two minutes, and for that she deserves a spanking.

  The problem with that? I have a feeling she’d like it, though.

  Fuck. I shake my head as she makes her way over to us. Everyone is quiet, all eyes on her, as she approaches the only available seat—right next to me—and sets her hand on the back of it.

  “Can I sit here?” Her question is directed at me, and I feel all eyes at the table locked on me, waiting for confirmation. “Hello?” She looks about, nodding her head at the men seated around the table, and then directs her sight back on me. “Can I sit here?” she reiterates with a bit more of a bite.

  “Sit,” I reply finally, and she does just that, pulling out the chair and sitting down, delicately placing a napkin on her lap.

  “I didn’t realize it was so dressy. I apologize for the way I’m dressed.” Her words are directed at all of us who are seated at the table. I choose not to answer her because, despite what I want to think, she looks fucking hot. And better than every single woman in this five-star restaurant.

  “No need to apologize here, you look divine,” Romarc says from across the table. He has his new fling with him, dressed as you would expect someone to be at this type of establishment. Her beady eyes fall to Sailor, and they pin her with a stare of pure unadulterated hatred.

  “Thank you, so does your wife.” Sailor’s eyes turn to the new fling, whose name I forgot the minute it was introduced. “Is your dress Chanel? It looks divine.”

  I almost smirk at her response. She’s clever.

  The fling’s eyes change to shy, and a smile touches her lips as she lays her hand on Romarc’s shoulder, clearly happy about her being called his wife.

  Romarc is a man-whore and will forever remain one.

  He has a wife, and she’s at home with the kids.

  And believe me, she knows where her husband is, and what he does, and even who he does. But she doesn’t care as long as she gets whatever she wants, plus a new G Wagon for Mother’s Day.

  Romarc’s an unlikely acquaintance. He’s known for hustling and bustling drugs around New York—the kingpin of drug running. He also owes me a lot of money because, no matter how much he makes, he is fucking terrible at keeping it.

  So, from now on, I get a percentage of whatever he sells.

  And he knows the consequences if he fucks me over.

  I’ll put a bullet in his brain, no matter how powerful he is. But first, I might take a few fingers for touching what’s mine.

  Next to Romarc are two of his men, and with me is Roberto. Usually, it's Joey and Roberto, but tonight, I sent Joey on a job, so it’s just Roberto.

  “Are you two together?” Romarc’s fling asks.

  “No,” Sailor answers for us. She looks to her hand, which I notice is bare, her wedding ring no longer perched perfectly on her finger.

  “So why are you here?” she pushes.

  Sailor looks to me, elbows propped on the table. “Yeah, not really sure how to answer that without getting shot.” She winks at Romarc’s fling, who laughs at her. Sailor then looks to me and says, “Care to answer?”

  Her
bravery is making me speechless. Almost. “No.”

  She nods like she expected that reply, and I turn back to Romarc.

  “Do you, or do you not, need my men to assist with pick up?” He picks up his glass of wine and takes a sip.

  “No, it’s handled. And I think we’ve had enough business for tonight. How about since you own this place, you get your waiters to bring us another round of drinks and some more food,” Romarc says with a smile and then he winks at Sailor.

  When my eyes meet Sailor’s, hers are asking me questions.

  “This is your restaurant?” she questions, surprise lingering in her voice.

  “Yes, I own it. Amongst other things.”

  The waiter comes over and offers more water.

  Sailor is the only one with manners and thanks him as he walks off.

  “Look …” she leans in so her breath hits the back of my ear, “… what happened in the car, can’t happen again.”

  Ignoring her as the waiter brings food, I place my hand under the table and then rest it high up on her leg. She lets out a little yelp and covers her mouth, then picks up her napkin and pats her mouth, side-eyeing me and shaking her head. “Keir.”

  Why when my name comes from her mouth is it like she’s pulling each syllable with the draw of her tongue and wanting to wrap it around her lips? Like she should with my cock.

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Can you please move your hand?” She says it quietly enough so only I can hear, but I choose to ignore it as if I didn’t hear her words. My hand slides up her thigh even higher, and she closes her legs tight. She has strong thighs, I’ll give her that, but they’re no match for me. Especially as I lightly rub the inside of her thigh up and down, and as I do, she slowly relaxes, opening her legs for me in response.

  Food is placed in front of her, and I can see she’s barely holding it together. I skim her panties with my fingers, hearing her breathing pick up before I pull them away. “Eat,” I demand.

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead right where I sit. I watch as she crosses her legs and then proceeds to eat. I have to admit, I like that she has a backbone but also listens when she should.

  Pity I plan on killing her by the end of the week.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sailor

  The food was amazing, the company not so much. But I’ve never eaten in a five-star restaurant before, and now that I have, I know what I’m missing and it’s some of the most delicious food I have ever tasted.

  As we stand from the table—the same one Keir tried slipping his fingers into me under—I smile at the woman opposite me. She places her hand on Romarc’s shoulder. Her name is Ginger, I have since found out after having a small conversation with her during dinner.

  She clearly is with him for one reason. And it’s not because of his looks. Romarc isn’t hideous, but he’s no Keir, that’s for sure. I saw her eyes wander over to Keir a few times, and I wondered if she’s tried to get with him in the past. Maybe she’s been one of the girls he brings to his room to suck his cock.

  Oh, my god.

  Am I about to be that girl?

  Nope, not sucking his cock.

  Not gonna happen, no matter how pretty it is.

  “Sailor, it was a pleasure.” Romarc kisses my hand, then looks to Keir. “Bring her more often. You talk less business. It’s refreshing.” He winks at me before they leave.

  Roberto steps in and whispers something to Keir, so I start walking outside to the car, leaving them to it. Keir’s car is still parked directly in front of the restaurant, and it’s the only one there.

  “Sailor.” I turn to find Romarc standing there, a cigar in his hand and his lady friend Ginger gone. He walks over to me, and I feel his eyes roam my legs before they settle on my breasts, which are clearly hidden underneath my shirt. “Can you escape tonight? I would love to show you around.”

  His words make my skin crawl.

  That’s a hard no.

  But I smile at him. “I’m married and not interested. But thank you for the offer.”

  “I’m married too. That never hurt anybody.” Little does he know how much it does hurt most women and probably some men too. When I used to find evidence of other women on Dillan’s clothes, it broke a small part of me each and every time. His wife must feel the same.

  “It’s time you left.” Keir stands directly behind me, his front touching my back, and I’m frozen in place as I didn’t hear him step in behind me.

  “Don’t seem so married now.” Romarc winks, then walks away.

  “Flirting with the enemy, I see.” I go to step away from Keir, but he’s too fast. His hand circles my hip and keeps me in place, so I’m plastered to him.

  And I feel his cock.

  His large hard cock.

  Which is pressing into my ass.

  “I meant what I said. I’m married. What happened in the car can’t happen again.”

  “If you say so.” Keir shifts my hair from my shoulder, and I feel his breath before his lips land on my neck, leaving soft kisses in their wake.

  Pulling away from him, I move so he can’t catch me again and spin around to face him. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  He laughs, and I step farther away. This time he listens, though, and does just that, keeps his hands to himself and gets in the car. I follow, and he doesn’t speak or touch me the entire ride home.

  I have curled myself up on his couch again. Keir didn’t come inside with me, and I don’t think he even came home during the night, because this time when I wake I’m still in the same spot on his couch where I fell asleep.

  “Sleeping beauty.” I roll over to see Roberto leaning against the wall with a sports magazine in his hand. He closes it, pushes off the wall, and looks at me. “Rise and shine.” He winks and walks off, yelling over his shoulder that breakfast is ready. I look down at my clothes and decide, fuck it! I’m wearing what I have on. All Keir can do is tell me to go back and change and what does that matter. When I walk into the dining room, I find it’s just Keir at the table, food in front of him as he sits back against his chair waiting for me to enter.

  “Hello.” It’s all I can think of to say. I can’t ask him where he was last night because, frankly, it’s none of my business. And if I am being perfectly honest, my care factor right now is at zero. He says nothing in return, so I pull out a seat and sit across from him.

  He licks his lips, and I remember what it was like to have him between my legs. How good it felt. Stop it! Stop thinking like that.

  “A lawyer called.” My phone, which is in front of him, is slid across the table to me. I didn’t even realize he had it.

  “Really?” Picking it up, I check my emails.

  “You’re divorcing him?”

  “Yep.”

  He nods, then picks up his cup of coffee, bringing it to his lips to drink. “Eat.”

  Keir’s a man of few words, and internally I smirk at his brashness, but I do as he says. Not because he told me to, but because I’m starving. Dark eyes watch me, and I randomly wonder how long it takes him to dress in his designer suit every morning and to walk out looking this good every day. The only time I’ve seen him without a suit was when he was naked.

  Not that I am complaining.

  “Have you ever been married?” I ask. No one else is here, and it’s too quiet to listen to myself chew.

  “No.”

  “No one special ever held your interest?” I ask, giving a timid smile.

  “No.”

  “Okay then,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Marriage is for those who want to trap and contain. Exactly as your husband did to you. He confined you, kept you ensnared in a life you didn’t want.”

  “It’s not always like that.”

  “Hmmm,” is all the response I get.

  “It’s not. We didn’t start out that way. We were happy. We tried for children.”

  “No, you weren’t. It was all a lie.” I bite my lip at his wo
rds. “Dillan set you up with an illusion. And you bought that illusion hook, line, and sinker.”

  My response is a quick and resounding, “No, he did not.”

  “Yes, he did,” he replies matter-of-factly.

  “I’m not that gullible.” My arms cross over my chest as I lean back in my chair, annoyed that he thinks he knows me so well.

  “Okay then, tell me … when I fucked you with my mouth, did you like it?” His crude words make me pause, and it’s not long before I feel my cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Words, Sailor,” he demands.

  “Yes. Yes, I did.” There is no use lying, he will call me out on it.

  “In that moment, you thought I was a good enough man to be between your legs, correct?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “But you know I shoot first and ask questions later. You saw it when I shot your husband. And, Sailor …” he leans over the table, his expressionless eyes staring straight into mine, “… I would do the same to you, no matter how sweet your pussy tastes.”

  “You’d shoot me?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Right between the damn eyes,” he says without missing a beat. “I would like to fuck you. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t killed you yet. You interest me, but I will also not force myself on you. I don’t need to. All I have to do is touch you between your legs, and you’ll be putty in my hands.”

  “My husband did love me once, just so you know,” I say, changing the subject. Last thing I want to be thinking of right now is this man between my legs.

  Because I liked it.

  A lot.

  “Soon to be ex-husband.”

  “Yes,” I say in a small voice because it’s not something I am proud of. When I said, “I do,” for me it was forever, and that fact is not lost on me right now.

  “I bet you’re the type of girl who pictured the happily ever after.” He smiles darkly. “Having children, married, happy life. But then …” he holds up his finger, “… fucked up uterus, terrible choice in partners, and a life span of who knows how long.”