Page 115 of Fragile Facade

“Ugh.” My chest heaves when I look into his grey eyes. “It grew on me, okay?”

He smiles so charmingly and continues groping me. “You my sweetheart?”

I thrust against his hand.

“Answer me.”

“Yes. Fuck.”

His lips brush mine when he asks, “And who am I?”

I taste him on my tongue, breathe him in through my nose, and feel his hand so thoroughly that my balls tighten and my abs tense. “My baby.” I moan through it, my boxers dampening with cum. My head falls forward, pressing against his. I look down, watching his hand slow, rubbing me through my orgasm gently, so fucking perfectly that I shiver from head to toe. “Mine, baby.”

Killian presses his lips to mine as his hand stops moving. He doesn’t sayjust in case, but I know he’s thinking it, so I feel it. He’s answering yes, and I’m answering yes right back. I slump, going limp against him and the wall.

“I got your salty snacks,” I mumble, unsure why. I’m not thanking him, but…

“I’ll give you another salty snack later,” he says, laughing. Ruining the moment. I hate that I’m laughing, too.

41

UNCONTROLLABLE NEW MASK

RIOT

Pullingon the energy from the parade, the Moros Cemetery is thrumming with adrenaline and unity. The Death for Life Cult mingles with The Misfits, and the business owners celebrate with low-level gangs. Everyone is out for a good time—a deadly good time. Because this is Moros’ version of court, and Yates is the one on trial. The locals play judge and jury, and Lock will play executioner. The Moros PD sit back, admire the show, and feel no guilt about not stepping in.

To blend in with the locals, we’re all here as ourselves. All except Ransom, who is clad in black and wearing his haunting red Vile House mask, standing next to Lock to show allyship. And since we’re being all ‘just in case’ and answering yes to tough questions, I’ve got my arms around Soren’s neck to stake my claim on him publicly. I revel in the whispers about us being together when our brothers are together because I’m sick-minded and can get on board with the family ties taboo aspect of it.

“Get off,” Soren snips at me, trying to remove my arms. “It’s like you’re pissing all over me when we both know I’m the alpha.”

“Do we both know that?” I ask, pulling his back to my chest. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the bitch in heat and I’m the top dog in this dynamic.”

He snaps his teeth together, half-ass attempting to shrug me off again. “You’re just jealous I can top from the bottom. If the roles were reversed, you’d be submissive as fuck.”

Maybe. Not sure we’ll ever find out. Submission is hard for me, but he’s never asked and I’m too selfish to offer. “You want that, sweetheart?”

Soren grabs my arm and switches our positions. Behind me, his lips press to the phrase he carved into my nape, and his voice vibrates against my skin. “Do you?” He reaches down, cupping my cock. I groan, rocking into it. “Because, top or bottom, I’m the one fucking you, baby.”

I smile, looking at the cemetery but feeling only Soren. “You know, Willow Olenna told me something else the night we hunted Yates.”

“What’s that?” His lips dip to the side of my neck, and his cock firms up behind my ass, grinding forward.

“That you and Menace tag-teamed Richelle Ulrich at a Misfits party a few years ago.”

He keeps humping me, rubbing my cock, and nipping at my neck. “So?”

“A party I was at.”

He stiffens, pulling his mouth away from my neck. “So? What of it?”

Oh, but he knows. His rapid heartbeat—that I can feel in my chest again—tells me he knows exactly what I’m going to call him out on. Because that party was around the same time our competitive games started, and I was on Soren’s mind one hundred percent of the time. “You fucked her while her and Menace spouted off fantasies, didn’t you?”

He shoves me, but I spin, grabbing him by the hair. His eyes flare bright blue, and his cheek muscles tense.

“Fantasies about me. While you watched me at the party and got off on it from the balcony above. You came because of me.”

He shakes his head, denying it. “She’s wrong.”