He takes the nipple back in between his teeth and continues to abuse it, making me hiss again. My hips rock toward them, seeking friction of their own accord even though I feel completely drained.
He pops off again to continue talking, and I want to be done with the talking portion now, so he’ll keep sucking. “But mostly I just like to see you blush and squirm around until you come. And I’ll say whatever you want me to say to keep that happening.”
I hate that the words hit me like a spark of electricity. I hate that I can already feel a blush climbing up my cheeks, even though he can’t see it. And I hate that my traitorous, unpredictable cock, which took so long to get into that action earlier, is getting hard again already.
Micah climbs up my body, both of our hands fumbling around in the dark to grab at whatever parts of each other we can reach. I roll my hips against his, feeling how hard he is in return, and he captures my mouth in a filthy kiss.
Just as I think it’s worth sayingfuck sleepto escalate this for round two of the night, Micah breaks off the kiss. He hoversin front of me, his mouth still only inches away, and our breath mingles together. It’s silent for a long time while I see his gaze flicking around, like he’s taking in the sight of me.
“What?” I ask, finally sick of the suspense.
“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about before you distracted me with the reminder about all your perfect, juicy little body parts I get so much pleasure out of.”
His tone is light, as usual, but I can tell from his face that this is serious.
“You can tell me anything, Bambi.”
It scares the shit out of me, but I mean it.
He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. Then another. Then another. The more he seems to be working himself up to something, the more apprehensive I feel.
“Please don’t kill Eamon.”
Oh.
I’m not sure what to say, so I stay quiet and let him follow up with some hushed babbling.
“I know he deserves it. And you probably want to. Fuck me sideways, I want to. We all do. And there’s probably an element of what he’s done to embarrass the Banna or your father or blah blah fucking blah. But in the holy name of Sasha Colby, please don’t do it, Tadhg. Helping Tobias get freedom or revenge or anything else can be someone else’s priority right now. My priority is helpingyou.And you’re never going to be free if you keep doing this shit. Do you understand?”
There’s a familiar feeling of my internal organs desiccating under this kind of scrutiny so they can blow away in the wind, and it’s happening right now.
I have to kill Eamon. I would anyway, just because the prick fucking deserves it, but Father will not let me live if I don’t. I know that.
As much as it makes a twinge of happiness hit me that Micah cares enough about me to want me to keep my hands clean, it really just serves as a reminder that he has no idea how truly, irreversibly dirty I am. I can’t escape this. Even if I can physically escape the Banna and keep Micah safe, I still can’t free myself from the weight of all the violence I committed on their behalf.
One more body in the ground isn’t going to make a difference, and if Micah thinks it will, it just shows how naive he is about the situation.
Numbness spreads through my chest as the reality of the situation takes hold.
“Okay, Bambi. If that’s what you want,” I lie.
His brow furrows, like he’s not sure if he believes me, but I try to sell it with a weak smile.
When Micah leans in to kiss me, I don’t let him deepen it this time. That energy from before is gone.
I just need to sleep. I need to sleep for long enough that tomorrow never comes, and then I won’t have to deal with any of the problems that seem to be stacking up on my doorstep.
Micah and sleep. It’s all I want.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Micah
Iblame the margaritas for why I’m so fucking tactless. Tadhg may be slow when he makes them, because he’s still new to having a real job, but they were fucking drunk.
Wait—that’s not right.Strong.They were strong. I’m fucking drunk.
Or maybe I should blame the three mind-blowing orgasms I’ve had between the margaritas and now. Once when Tadhg blew me in the backroom of the Feral Possum after we closed down, and then two more since he carried my drunken self home. There was a pit stop in there somewhere to check on Tobias, but he was asleep on Gunnar like a spoiled kitten—Gunnar is so far gone for him, and it’s barely been a week; it’s both hilarious and adorable—so we decided to leave them in peace.
