“What’s that, Luca? You’re cutting out.”
I fuck her slow and mercilessly, narrating every second for the asshole on the other end of the line.
“Spread those pretty lips for me, baby, show him how soaked you are.”
She does, trembling fingers parting herself so I can sink deeper. I angle my hips, grind against her clit with every thrust.
“You—you think you can humiliate me?” Chaos rattles behind him—frantic pacing, something glass breaking. “I’ll put a bullet in your skull. I’ll carve your name into your goddamntombstone. I’ll—Minnie, if you don’t speak right now—I swear—I swear to God—I’ll burn the whole fucking city down to get to him—"
The moment Minerva lets out a moan, his voice breaks.
“Fuck, listen to her, Luca. Hear how she’s choking on my name? That’s because I’m hitting spots you couldn’t find with a map.”
I pick up the pace, pounding into her now, counter rattling, her tits bouncing with every stroke.
“Tell him, Min,” I rasp against her ear. “Tell him who this pussy belongs to.”
“Tristan—” she sobs, coming again, clenching so hard I see stars.
“That’s right,” I snarl into the phone. “She comes for me. Over and over. Never once for you. You’re listening to the sound of her choosing me. Every. Single. Time.”
Luca’s still screaming when I flip the phone face down, mute him, and focus everything on her.
“Look at me, baby.”
Min’s beautiful, tear-streaked face turns to mine. I slow my thrusts, deep and possessive, thumb circling her clit.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, fierce and reverent. “Only mine. He can’t touch you. He can’t have you. This body, this heart, these screams, mine.”
She nods, crying harder, clinging to my shoulders as another orgasm builds.
“Come for me one more time, sweetheart. Let him hear who you belong to, and then we’re hanging up on that piece of shit forever.”
She shatters, loud, gorgeous, screaming my name until it hits the vaulted ceiling. I follow her over, burying myself deep, coming with a roar that rattles the cabinets.
I end the call without a word, toss the phone across the kitchen, and gather her trembling body against me.
“I’ve got you,” I say into her hair, kissing her tears away. “He’s gone. You’re safe. You’re loved. You’re home.”
I hold her tighter than I should. I almost tell her she’s my whole goddamn world—but saying it might break me open in a way I’m not ready for. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to. She collapses against me, shaking, laughing, crying, and I hold her like I’ll never let go.
Because I won’t.
Never again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Minerva
Six months ago, if anyone had asked me if I would ever willingly spend an evening at a sports bar, surrounded by a crowd of tipsy women, screaming at a TV to cheer on a hockey game, my answer would have been a resounding,Hell, no.
Yet here I am at the Puck Drop, with a limoncello in one hand, pounding the opposite fist on the table while chanting, “Abb-ott! Abb-ott!” in time not only with the rest of my party, but with the entirety of the restaurant.
I’ve watched enough hockey in recent months to pick up on the general rules, though I’m used to being in the stands for a game. This is the first time I’ve watched a televised game with friends. Thanks to the choppy editing and the camerawork, I’m not entirely sure what’s happening anymore. I’m rooting for Viktor because everyone else started chanting his name.
Viktor passes the puck to Tristan on a power play, and Tristan sends it sailing into the opposing team’s net. Everyone in the bar screams and stomps their feet. I’m going to crash so hard after this, but at the moment, I’m not upset by the barrage of noise. Everyone here is celebrating because Tristan is amazing, which is true. I’m not the only one who knows just how amazing he is, but at least we’re all on the same page. For once, it doesn’t feel like I’m intruding on someone else’s life. It feels like I’m allowed to be here—like I fit.
The game cuts to a commercial, prompting Knova to turn to me. Her cheeks are flushed with a mix of alcohol and excitement. “Your boy’s really on his game tonight.”
