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As promised, he fucks me hard, his hand squeezing my ass as my back presses to the cool wall.

“I can’t wait to watch you choke down Dray’s cock,” he moans, his fingers pushing in and out of my mouth.

My eyes widen at his words, and I suck on his fingers, my saliva overflowing my lips as he fucks me.

“So beautiful,” he praises me. “I love what a good mother you are, and how you juggle all of your different responsibilities. But here? You’re my sweet whore, willing to take my cock and debase yourself with me, aren’t you?”

Yes. My praise kink is clearly activated as I strangle his cock, and his long lashes brush his cheeks as he closes them for a second. Ci pushes a third finger into my mouth and stifles my scream as I gag around it. He fucks it slower down my throat as his cock rearranges my guts, and erases the last of my hesitancy.

Kink and consent have never been in his vocabulary for me. Pretty words are just that until they’re put into practice. My hands are free, despite Ci’s access to a belt hanging loose from his pants. He and the guys have always shown me that anything can be turned into a restraint if you want it badly enough.

“Blink twice if you want this to end,” he grins, as if reading my mind. “Fuck. I love how tight you get when you gag. I wish I could watch your tits bounce while I fuck you. Next time… I promise to take my time, eat your cunt until you’re screaming for mercy and mean it⁠—”

I scream without words as I come, and he drops his head back to remove his fingers and straighten up. His arms bounce me on his cock as I milk him, while his jaw grits in an effort not to follow after me. His cock piercings drag my walls as I’m showered in sensations, my heels digging into his ass as I hold on for dear life. He makes it look so easy, but I can see and feel the way his muscles bunch and release with every movement.

Ciaran looks every inch of the hockey god he pretended to be seven years ago. Now, he stands tall and drowns in the way we give and take from each other, and my chest heaves as I try to keep up.

“Fuck. Yes. Again. Please, baby. Once more.”

I can’t hold back, feeling lightheaded. I hope Arran had the foresight to warn him that I sometimes pass out during sex, because I think that’s going to happen. I’ve been too keyed up today.

My anxiety kept me from eating much, because I knew this gallery had my paintings. It was just a matter of time before it caught up to me.

All thoughts outside of Ciaran, his dick, and the way his green eyes gleam in this lighting are tossed aside as I lean into his body to kiss him. He really does smell like warm vanilla and a little musk. Danger feels as if it’s just under the surface of his skin, chained by will and determination. It’s what the air feels like before lightning strikes, when you know the world is full of danger but you remain outside despite it. This is what he reminds me of.

Ci is right. We aren’t our trauma, and as his tongue drags along mine, I allow myself to break in the safety he holds for me. He may need to work at it every day, but the monster is beaten by medication and his will.

I moan as he pulls me down roughly on his cock over and over, keeping me connected to the present as my toes curl in my boots. I give him exactly what he wanted, squirting as he yells out his release. The warm wash of his cum fills me as I shiver, and darkness finds me.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

CIARAN

Noor sags in my arms, her eyes closed as if she’s asleep. My heart pounds as I gaze at her, and the monsters in my mind tell me I somehow killed her. Taking a deep breath, I press my fingers to her pulse, closing my eyes as the thump, thump, thump, of her heartbeat greets me.

“We’re okay,” I whisper.

Note to self, don’t fuck in public places.

“Noor,” I say softly, rubbing her back to bring her back to me. “Wake up, sweet girl. I’m sorry my dick tried to kill you.”

“Are you serious?” she mumbles, humor in her voice.

“Yes. Clearly, the hardware on my dick tried to short circuit your brain,” I tease her, even as my ears ring.

Fuck, now I’m dizzy. Stumbling, I grunt as my back hits the wall hard. My chest hurts. Ow.

“I’m okay. Breathe. In and out,” Noor murmurs, rubbing any skin she can touch. “I’ve passed out from sex before, remember?”

Has she? I try to flip through my memories, nodding as I remember the locker room. Ugh, we just left her in the shower.

“I’m sorry we didn’t take better care of you,” I wheeze, a tear sliding down my cheek. “We didn’t deserve you, but I swear we’ll do everything we can to show you that we do now.”

“Men who don’t deserve their women don’t have a panic attack because they passed out after multiple orgasms,” she teases me.

I can’t help but laugh as the tightness in my chest begins to loosen.