Page 99 of Chicago Sin

Oh my God, my mouth won’t stop.

He pulls tighter on my hair. “I’ll give it to you,” he growls. And he does. Even harder. Hard enough I’m getting sore. Wonderfully brutal. Like a beast released from his cage.

And then I scream. I come hard as he gets rougher and rougher with me.

He comes, and when he’s done, reaches around to rub my clit and gets a second orgasm out of me.

And now that it’s over, I wish we were in bed where I could collapse my face into a pillow and pretend I fell asleep.

Chapter Seven

Armando

She loves me. It’s another of those moments where I’m sure I should feel more than I do. But I’m blank.

I mean, I’m not stupid enough to believe all the babble that comes out of a girl’s mouth when she’s about to orgasm, but I also know Hannah’s an open book. She felt love for me in that moment and couldn’t keep the secret.

And despite my lack of reaction to the words, I am changed by them.

Only problem is, I can tell she’s embarrassed and wishing she hadn’t said it.

She’s also trembly as hell. I feel her legs wobbling where our thighs meet. I clean us both up and help her get back into her panties.

She avoids eye contact. “Hey, I hope you don’t listen to all the crazy stuff I say during sex,” she says in a rush.

“Nah, I’m taking it,” I tell her, leading her out of the break room and shutting off the lights. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that shit.”

I shouldn’t call it shit—that was a poor choice of words. But I’m trying to minimize the importance of it while still appreciating.

She shoots me a slightly tortured look that takes me aback. “Are you upset over her? Your fiancée?”

Oh.

She’s jealous. That I experience viscerally. Like pleasure straight through my chest.

Hannah’s claiming me.

Except I shouldn’t like it. Because I can’t be her boyfriend. Even if I didn’t have an entire gang trying to kill me, I’m not boyfriend material. I’m the walking dead. I have nothing to offer a girl like Hannah—except for great sex. She’s bright, vibrant. Has the whole world in front of her. She deserves everything.

I don’t want to have this conversation. Like I’d rather pry off a toenail with pliers than talk about Grace, but Hannah’s hanging out in the wind, vulnerability making her lick her lips and dart her gaze around.

So I stop in the darkened hallway and face her. “Grace is a cunt. No loyalty whatsoever. When I went to jail, she replaced me in weeks—fucking weeks—with another wiseguy. Didn’t have the nerve to tell me for months, though.”

Hannah cocks her head. “Does wiseguy mean another… guy in the organization?”

“Yeah. Emilio. He’s like a cousin. Not a real fucking cousin but like one, you know?”

She stops breathing. I sound a little angry, which pisses me off. I want to go back to feeling nothing about it.

“When I got out last week, everyone thought there would be trouble. Me and him, you know? I used to be…” I don’t even want to say it. What I used to be. Cocky. Self-assured. Proud. I don’t even know that guy any more. “I don’t know. Really fucking alpha dog. And I could be brutal. But you’ve seen that.” I wince a little, thinking of what she saw here at her shop. I’m still amazed she showed no signs of trauma from it.

“The don warned me first thing not to touch it.”

Hannah’s worry has only increased. I swear to fuck, I’m catching her empath thing because even though I have no emotions of my own, I register hers clearly.

“But the thing they don’t know is… I’m not that guy anymore. None of them fucking know me anymore. And I don’t give a rat’s ass about either of them. I mean, I’m disgusted by that shit—their lack of honor and loyalty—but it means nothing to me. Honestly, you know what would’ve been worse?”

“What?” Hannah whispers, eyes round.