Page 10 of Heartfelt Pain (Ruling Love #3)

Ren

I solde’s gun holds steady. I don’t know where it came from or when she managed to pull it out. But thank fuck my friend knows how to handle a weapon.

I do too, but that means fuck all when I’m staring at a masked man with a gun.

I’m thinking about how I’m going to explain the shoot-out to my neighbors when hot unbridled anger fills the hallway.

A second figure looms. Tall, and dark. I swear shadows swirl from him. The head of the masked man turns, caught off guard.

“What the fuck?” Isolde shouts at the same time the two bodies crash on the floor.

There’s a tangle. Isolde shoves me back into the wall, angling her body over me.

“This is my house.” I slap her hand away. It’s my job to protect my guests.

The two men—I assume they’re both men—struggle on the floor. The masked figure kicks out, getting enough room to shove his boot against the other man’s chest. With a thud, the man lands and the masked villain takes the opportunity to flee.

“Wait!” Isolde rushes after him.

“I’m coming with you!” I surge after Isolde, who’s running after the man. He dodges into the stairwell.

“No, you’re not.”

Roma’s voice causes both of us to stop in our tracks. I can see it on Isolde’s face—the desire to catch the masked man and the surprise at finding Roman Zimin right outside my apartment.

She makes a judgment call, remaining by me, and I don’t blame her. I’ve done nothing but bitch about the Zimins. Why wouldn’t she stick around to make sure he’s not here to off me?

“You know I had a fucking gun on him?” I don’t have to see Isolde’s face to know it’s flushed red.

Roma uses the back of his hand to wipe his lips.

“Are you bleeding?” I ask, standing there with my keys still in my hand.

“You went shopping?” He eyes the bags in my hands.

“Um. . .”

I haven’t checked my phone in a few hours. And I did it on purpose.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Isolde grabs the keys from my hand. “Did you do this?”

“I tackled the guy to the ground,” Roma reminds.

“Why?” she asks.

Roma faces me. “Why is there a masked guy trying to kill you?”

“How do we know the masked guy wasn’t after you?” I dumbly reply.

The burnt-out light in the hallway does nothing to hide his frustration .

“Why are you here?” Isolde asks again, training her gun on him.

“Isolde.” I force her to lower it. But before she can become too suspicious, I add, “Not in front of the neighbors.”

She opens the door for me. With a hard look at Roma, she leaves me in the hall, before conducting a perimeter sweep.

She hands me back the keys when she comes to the front door. “I don’t get it. It was locked, but it looks like he did some damage.”

Roma peers around me to look into my apartment. Shoes, and packages that I emptied but never took to the trash chute, fill the floor. And now that I think about it, I haven’t taken the trash out in a while and it’s not exactly like the place is aired out.

“No,” I say and their gazes swing toward me. “This is. . . pretty much how it always is.”

Thank God, Abe isn’t here or I’d get an earful. Isolde and Roma politely don’t comment on my cleaning skills.

“Right, I’m calling Bennie.” Isolde’s already got her phone out.

“Wait, no!” The last thing I need is more people panicking. “It’s fine, seriously. We don’t know. It’s maybe. . .”

“A random masked intruder?” Roma offers. He’s leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

“I mean this is a nice building.” It could totally be a run-of-the-mill burglary.

“With a gun?” he asks.

“We startled him.”

“Can’t help but notice you were in the hallway with him,” Isolde points out.

“I wasn’t with him,” Roma argues.

“Harry didn’t mention visitors when we came up.”

“Harry is shit at his job because when I passed through the lobby no one was there.” And he’s not happy about it. The set of his shoulders is tight.

He’s wearing his favorite leather jacket and because he leans, a sliver of his stomach shows. He’s got on black jeans. Everything is casual, but there’s barely contained annoyance.

When his brown eyes meet mine I realize I’m the said cause of his annoyance.

I drop the shopping bags on the floor and push them out of my way. No one asked him to come over.

“It’s rather rude to drop by unannounced.” I tug my shoes off, adding them to the pile by the door. “Also it’s my day off, so kindly fuck off.”

His jaw clenches.

“I’m going to talk to Harry and I’m going to look at the cameras,” Isolde says. She stops in the doorway. “Come on.”

It takes Roma a minute to realize she’s talking to him.

“I don’t think that’s a two person job.” It’s a complete dismissal and I don’t like how it reminds me of Lev. Assured and cocky.

“I’m not leaving you here,” Isolde bluntly replies.

I fight back a sigh. “It’s fine. I don’t think he’s here to kill me. But you don’t have to look at the camera’s. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m calling Ben,” she says again, marching out. I probably have thirty minutes until he and Abe show up.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

Without my heels on, he towers over me. I cross my arms over my casual clothes. I had to put a bra on before I went out and I wonder if he’s thinking about the photo I sent him earlier.

“What did you buy?” he asks.

“What?”

He motions to the bags I dropped on the floor. “ What. Did. You. Buy?”

The clipped tones give me pause. He’s more than a little mad about being left on read.

“Something wrong?” I grin.

His chest lifts and falls with a deep breath. He lowers his voice. It’s not quite shame, but there’s something like desperation as he says, “I’m in fucking pain.”

I pout, jutting my lower lip out. “That sounds so awful. I’m sorry.”

He huffs. “This is not fucking funny.”

I agree. “Did you think showing up here would make me more inclined to help you?”

My eyes drift to his crotch. The outline of his hard erection is visible even in the dim light. I step forward without a thought, my hand running lightly over the denim.

He sucks in a breath. “Ren.”

“Do you want me to suck you off?” I ask, my movements rougher. His muscles are pulled tight, his body straining. “Is that why you came here? You thought I’d take pity on you and put your cock in my warm, wet mouth, Roma? Huh?”

His eyes glaze over. There’s no telling when the door will open again. Isolde could pop back in any moment.

I increase the touch of my hand, not bothering to unzip his jeans.

“Or did you actually think I would fuck you?” I ask Roma.

His breath catches and I know the truth. I choose to examine it later, to wonder where this is suddenly coming from. What convinced him to turn up last night? Why he started this game back up again.

Why I’m choosing to go along with it.

Those are all concerns for another moment. Right now, I’m too preoccupied with playing.

“You haven’t been a good boy, Roma.” He bites his lower lip, a flush spreading along his high cheekbones. His hips jerk toward my hand and I slap his cock.

He falls into the wall and he’s not the only one stunned.

I don’t know where that came from.

But instead of worrying about his pain, I step forward, pushing him back into the wall.

A whimper catches in his throat and it spurs me on.

I rub my palm harder against his thick erection, the organ still trapped by his pants.

He jerks again, not turned off by my dose of pain. If anything it’s fueled him.

“Are you a little pain slut?” Breathless laughter floats off my lips. “Awe, Roma.”

“Ren.” His hips roll, his tone straining.

“You only come when I say,” I remind, my palm rubbing. “Be a good boy and come now.”

He follows the command, his muscles stiffening. His jeans are dark, but I watch a wet patch spread across his crotch.

Ragged breaths tear from him as he sags against the wall. I stare up at him, unmoving. Part of me wants to unbutton his jeans and rub his cum into him, marking him.

Something dark is taking over me. Something painful and nasty. Something furious and hard.

“You need to go now.”

He bends down slightly like he needs to assess the situation in his pants.

If I were nice, I’d let him clean up.

“Go out the front,” I order. Isolde knows he’s here. There’s no point in skulking around.

“Ren.” Roma tries to catch my arm.

I step back. “We’re done.”

He catches his breath, adjusting himself. “Hellcat?—”

The expression that crosses my face stops him in his tracks. Something unreadable glimmers in his eyes, but he straightens and nods. “Thank you for letting me come.”

The words unlock another part of me and that’s when I know I’m fucking screwed.