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STAR

WHAT THE WATER GAVE ME - FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE

Conor stopped humming to the song I’d sent him earlier, Florence and the Machine’s “What the Water Gave Me,” to ask, “Where’s Katina tonight? With Lyra and Troy?”

“Nah. Troy said Lyra needed some space after Kat got too noisy yesterday. I can’t blame her. Kat was more hyper than usual. The damn kittens didn’t help, what with their yowling.” My nose crinkled at the memory—getting to know my cousin wasn’t easy when Kat and she didn’t get along. “Kiddo is the direct opposite of Lyra so she’s with Savannah who shares a noise and energy level with her.”

“Not that I want to argue about spending time together, but why?”

“This is date night number three,” I explained as I chowed down on a watermelon Airheads he’d given me as I jumped behind the wheel.

He arched a brow as he rested his boot on the dash and propped his elbow on his knee. “Date numero tres . You can’t get enough of me, can you? Admit it.”

My lips twitched. “If we crash, you’ll shatter your femur if you stay in that position.”

“That’s not a sexy way to start date night,” he grumbled, but he moved his foot back into the footwell.

I did like a man who listened .

Combined with how, on nights like tonight when he was extra playful, he was practically a vibrator with how goddamn giddy he made me.

“It’s definitely not sexy. But I don’t intend on spending the night in the ER.”

“If we’re not going there, where are we going?”

“Jennifer Valentini told me about Russu .”

“The Valentini front?”

“Yep.”

“You want to go to a nightclub?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Helpful.”

“I try.”

“You hate clubs. At least, I thought you did.”

“I didn’t always hate them.”

My words had him falling silent. Then, quietly, he asked, “Another scar?”

Scars were what we’d started to call these little blips in my past that I needed help overcoming.

“Uh-huh. But I asked Jennifer if she could arrange with the club to play the music I like. I even asked her to throw in some noxxious remixes later on in the evening. Though I’m not fucking you while my dad’s singing.”

“Fuck, no.” He shuddered. “That’s creepy.”

“I’m glad we both agree,” I retorted.

“Wait—” Conor twisted in his seat. “You want to fuck in the club?”

“I do.” I motioned at my skirt. “Why do you think I’m not wearing jeans?”

“I didn’t think about it. I saw your knees and suddenly knew there is a God.”

I snickered, but my cheeks bloomed with heat. “They’re just regular knees.”

“Star Sullivan, you take that back.”

“Take what back?”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, is regular about you.”

Grinning, I shoved him in the side. “You’re already going to get lucky tonight. You don’t need to amp up the charm.”

“That’s just how I roll, baby.”

Because it was, I didn’t scoff, just shoved him again, but there was a wide smile on my lips, one that ate into any anxiety I was feeling about being back in a nightclub.

My last memory of one involved a collar, a leash, and being strangled by both as Hans had to stop me from jumping?—

I started to veer away from the recollection, not wanting it to diminish the excitement that filled me whenever I was around Conor, but I owed him an explanation.

That was our deal, after all.

Clearing my throat, I admitted, “You might not like what I need to do tonight.”

His hand clamped down around my knee. “Whatever it takes to help you heal, Star.”

There was that heartburn again.

Tears pricked my eyes at how easy it was for him to say that.

It made it easier to admit, “He liked to push my limits. Liked to offer me freedom so that it was more fun for him to take it away from me. To prove that he owned me, that I was his. That my wants didn’t matter. That I didn’t matter.”

“Bastard.”

My lips quirked up. “Agreed.”

“He liked to humiliate you, didn’t he? Taking you to these public places?”

“It was a whole subculture. Rich motherfuckers who bought humans and who liked to hang out with others just like them. I spent way too much time being degraded in front of other people.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

I huffed. “There are better things I could have shared.”

“This is a piece of your past. It helps me unlock every part of you.”

“Most of those parts aren’t pretty.”

He hummed. “Maybe not, but it all makes up the magic that is you.”

Biting the inside of my cheek at his words, I let my mind tick away.

Magic .

Did he think that was me?

That I was magic, not toxic?

Amazing how that made me feel lighter. More in control. Less directed by an urge I had to heal this sliver of my past…

“I’m surprised Savannah agreed to babysit,” he drawled as we approached the club where traffic grew thicker.

His words broke into my heavy thoughts.

“Kat’s got that project to finish,” I told him. “I just said she had to supervise and make sure she didn’t play on her Switch or go to bed past two AM.”

He chuckled. “I think she can cope with that. If not, Aidan can.”

"Agreed,” I said with a grin.

“How’s it going with Lyra? Is she opening up?”

“Not really. It’s only been a short while since we met, though, so I’m not rushing anything.”

“That’s for the best. She’ll just get used to you hanging around.”

“Like a bad smell?”

“You said it. Not me.”

“Oh, by the way, I’m dealing with Temper.”

His head swiveled to the side. “You don’t have a temper. Actually, you’re pretty zen for?—”

I snorted. “I appreciate the upvote but nah, I meant Temper Black.”

He grunted. “I don’t like her.”

“We’re in agreement there. I’m making sure she knows how I feel about her being a double agent.”

A chuckle escaped him. “What have you done?”

“Set Eagle Eyes on her.”

His chuckle morphed into a belly laugh. “You set a sniper on her?”

“Yup. Anyway, I told him to make it obvious that he’s hunting her too. Let’s skewer the bitch’s nerves.”

“You’re gaslighting her? Or is the endgame to shoot her?”

“I would if she weren’t Dead To Me’s cousin. But she is, so I have to dial it down a touch.”

“‘Dial it down,’” he repeated softly. “Not sure if I’m bewildered or impressed that that’s your idea of dialing it down.”

My lips twitched. “I’ll settle for a mixture of both. Especially as the bitch is the shoo-in for the deputy director’s job. You watch her soar to the top of the food chain over the next few years.”

“It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” he said gruffly.

I sniffed. “I fucking hate how true that is.”

When we finally breached the traffic and made it outside of Russu and a valet popped up to park Conor’s SUV/tank, he murmured in my ear, “What did you offer as payment for controlling the playlist?”

“Nothing. She was being nice.”

“Why?”

“We were trying to be kind to each other for Savannah’s sake.”

“You’re more than Savannah’s best friend.”

“I know. We don’t have that kind of relationship. We’re more like sisters, I guess, but Jennifer wanted to make a good impression and so did I.”

“Curious.”

“What is?” I queried as we made it down the long red carpet toward the club’s entrance.

“That two ornery women decided to get along because of a third ornery woman.”

Chuckling, I retorted, “A match made in hell.”

“Seems like it. Aoife’s the odd man out in the bunch.”

“Why?”

“She’s best friends with Jennifer.”

“She is?” My brows rose. “Why didn’t Savannah invite her the other week?”

“Aoife doesn’t particularly like Savannah. They get along okay, but they’re not each other’s favorite people.”

Offended on her behalf, I asked, “Why?”

“Because of how Savannah became friends with Jen. You know, that whole pretending to be a client of her accounting firm so she could grab some of her DNA to check if she was an O’Donnelly love child?”

My nose crinkled. “Yeah, there are better meet-cutes.”

“Right?”

“Savannah always makes life difficult for herself.”

“Like you don’t.”

“I’m not saying I don’t,” I argued. “Just saying she does things the hard way. When I arrived, she was panicking because she’d invited Paddy along so he and Jennifer could get to know one another.”

“Why would she do that?” he shouted over the music as a hostess appeared from behind a bouncer as we made it into Russu’s atrium and were guided up to the VIP section.

“She was trying to be kind but it never works out for her,” I called back.

The hostess swept open a door and led us onto a private balcony that was ours for the night.

Not unsurprisingly, the balconies around us were in the dark, while the nightclub itself was awash with red lights. It wasn’t particularly to my taste, seeing as it looked like Bram Stoker’s idea of great interior design, but the music was heavy techno and it reminded me of when I’d spent six months undercover in Berlin—great times—so I was already hopped-up.

As Conor tipped the hostess, I rushed to the balcony and peered over it.

Jennifer had gotten us onto the highest floor—I owed her one as I’d have wanted to kill people if I’d been stuffed into that crowd.

From below, I could see a massive fountain that pulsed to the beat of the music while somehow simultaneously resembling a pool of blood.

Creepy but cool.

Maybe I just had the personality for it?

When arms slid around my waist, I didn’t jump or startle because the scent of oranges hit me first.

I sighed into his embrace, stopping the faint bounce on my toes as he held me tighter. His chin settled on my shoulder as we looked over to the chaos of the dance floor.

I had no desire to wade into the fray, was more than happy up here even if it was a little too close for comfort to another time, another place, and another man.

When he pressed his mouth to my shoulder, I smiled as I slipped my hands over his.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t mind that a guy was taller than me. Not when he smelled of oranges and had floppy brown hair that tickled my cheek.

Tilting my face to the side, I waited for him to work his way up my throat. Sensations shot down my spine from that simple touch, reminding me of what it felt like to be alive . Something that was happening with such frequency that, soon it would become the norm, but I knew I’d never forget what a gift he was.

As his mouth brushed along my jawline, I sighed as, finally, we came together.

Soft at first, maybe because he sensed my mood, then the beat of the music worked against him.

Techno wasn’t his vibe, but that didn’t mean it didn’t get into his blood. It had to.

Parting my lips, I sighed again as he slipped me some tongue. Stroking it with mine, I leaned into that kiss, nourished it, and fed it until his dick was grinding into my ass and his hand was on my stomach, pinning me tighter into him.

I groaned into his lips as I twisted around, wrapping my arms around his neck as his hands shifted down to my ass. This time, the thick length against my belly felt like a brand.

It scorched me.

Made my core burn in a matching heat.

I could feel that tingle—the one that was becoming less and less elusive as time with him passed—and I reached for it. I didn’t clutch at it desperately like I did when we first got together. I rocked toward it as each of his fingers dug into my glutes and he tugged me into him, making me feel his searing, burning need for me.

“I love you, Conor.”

Warm words, but he didn’t respond with warmth. He responded with fire .

His growl lit me up from the inside out and I ate up his snarl as if it were a pint of Ben & Jerry’s finest. He tongue-fucked me. No kinder way to describe it, and I fought the flames of his need with my own.

When he ducked down and dragged me against him, I was very glad about my skirt, more so when he tore at the slit to make it higher. A move that enabled me to cup him with my legs.

As my heels dug into his ass, he maneuvered me to the side of the balcony and that was the first time I pulled back.

“No. Put my ass on the balcony railing.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Put my ass on the balcony railing,” I rasped.

I watched the cogs working behind his eyes and saw the sweetest glimmer of pain flicker to life as he came to terms with what I was asking and why.

Grateful that he didn’t say anything, just moved back so that my butt was against the cool metal, I sighed with relief when his mouth returned to mine.

We were back to soft and gentle—apologetic. I didn’t want that. I wanted him .

That fire was what I craved because it was only through that fire that I could be burned and reborn from the ashes.

I tugged on the deep V of my blouse, revealing the small brand that Indy had inked onto me.

The phoenix, formed in her iconic Mandala strokes with Conor’s name tangled amid those flowing lines, sat pride of place on the curve of my breast.

When he saw it, he dipped down and pressed his lips to it. As he tongued the outer edges, shaping its form, my head tipped back.

My hair was loose so I felt it flowing against my spine. It was an illusion but I felt like Rapunzel with a mile of hair dangling over the balcony, long enough to hit the floor.

I could feel gravity’s pull much as I had years ago, but this was different.

Death wasn’t calling me now. The urge to fall was gone.

Life was what beckoned me.

A future.

And I knew, point blank, that Conor would never, ever, ever let go of me.

I groaned when he nuzzled the neckline of my shirt away, nipping and sucking a path along tender skin until he reached my nipple.

When he nipped, hard enough to sting, my fingers knotted in his hair, my nails scoring his scalp.

For a couple moments, I reveled in his touch.

How he savored me sent liquid pleasure coursing through my veins, but then his hips rocked forward against my core and that was all I could think about.

His hands were a solid presence at my waist, and I knew they’d stay there so I helped by reaching between us.

To get a hold of him, I had to wriggle away, but he snatched me to him, jerking upright, his arms sliding around my back as he dragged me into his chest as if he thought I was going to jump.

“Jesus, Star!” he snapped, and because we were plastered to one another, I felt the heavy pounding of his heart.

Was it stupid to think it beat in time with mine?

“I was just reaching for your cock,” I said apologetically. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He blew out a breath as he held me close, so close, and amid the tight clutch of his arms, I angled my head so that I was kissing his throat this time, sipping and nipping and tasting and teasing.

Thanking him with loving kisses and explorative strokes.

My tongue found his pulse and I palpated the flesh there, feeling it slow down from the adrenaline-based fear and shift into arousal.

His groan rumbled in my ear, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine, especially as his teeth found my earlobe and he nibbled it before sucking hard, reminding me of the pressure of those lips around my clit.

“I need you alive and kicking,” he whispered then, the words only audible because of how close we were.

I squeezed him, trying to imbue the embrace with my apology. “I just need you ,” I whispered back.

He groaned as I squeezed my hands between us and finally shaped his cock with one. The other was aimed at finding his fly. As I dragged the zipper down, I sighed when I found him in my palm. Hot, thick, heavy.

My pussy clutched at nothing, already eager for what was becoming its BFF.

Digging my feet into his butt, I repeated, “I need you, Conor, now. Please, now .”

He groaned, the sound tortured as his head rocked back like it was too heavy for his neck to support. I took advantage and worked on leaving him a hickey as I started to jerk his cock, using his pre-cum as lube until the emptiness inside me was just too goddamn much.

When his hands clutched at my waist, rough enough to hurt, I nipped my way up to his ear and murmured, “I’m so fucking wet for you, Conor. I wish you could feel it.” His fingers tore at my blouse. “I am. It’s all for you. No one else. No one makes me feel this way. Only you. Only you.”

As he snarled, I let his dick experience the gift I’d had waiting for him—no panties.

“Jesus Christ, Star. Were you walking around like this?” He hissed as he dragged his cock back and forth. Then surprise whispered through his words. “You are wet.” He groaned as my juices coated his shaft. “God, you’re perfect, Star. So fucking perfect. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

I urged our mouths to collide so he could taste my smile, my thanks, my love .

He hissed again as his tip found my slit, and slowly, so fucking slowly it was painful, he rocked into me.

Then, when I crossed my heels so I had more support, I used that to urge him deeper into me, not stopping until I was full of him. So goddamn full that I choked out a breath that he swallowed in his kiss.

The shocked breath morphed into a moan at how perfect he was.

The only dick I’d ever wanted this much.

The only man I’d ever needed.

I had no idea why the thought made me cry. Maybe it was because the last time I’d been in this position, I’d been a toy. No choice, no free will, no say.

Now, I had it all.

And I had him.

I was blessed.

I cried and didn’t care if he felt the liquid emotion raining down my cheeks as I sank into his kiss, absorbing that like I took him in.

When he felt my tears, he slowed down and tried to draw away from me, but I didn’t let him. I chased his mouth and started to rub my clit with the one hand that had still been trapped between us.

As my pussy clutched and fluttered around his dick, I knew that pleasure was close. Surprisingly so. It loomed on the horizon like the dawn of a new day, and that thought was so appropriate that I let it flood me.

Maybe he knew I was letting go because his hold on me tightened in reaction and he sped up.

Behind me, the crowd roared and surged to the music.

Beneath me, I could feel gravity’s call just as I had years ago.

But, before me was him.

“Mine,” I groaned into his mouth.

“Yours,” he ceded easily, but his tone was rough. Gruff.

As we climbed toward release, the tingles started in my core, spreading out, surging down my legs, through my stomach, and pricking my fingers as they waved along my arms.

When I shouted out my climax, nobody knew.

It was just one of many cries amid the noisy crowd, but to Conor, it was a signal.

He stopped holding back, moving faster, faster, faster until he roared in my ear, hips pumping as he chased every ounce of his release and I milked him dry, knowing from experience that it only enhanced the delirium he alone could make me feel.

The fire stopped licking at my heels and instead surged through my veins, sending flames roaring through my system until I was encompassed in the inferno.

Hearts racing toward one another, I slumped into him, but as he started to relax, he stiffened, jerking me away from the railing as if he only just remembered where I was propped.

When he drew me over to a leather couch, I didn’t argue when he fell back into it with me in his lap.

Nuzzling my face into his throat, I murmured, “Thank you.”

I had no idea how he heard me, but he knew what I was thanking him for. Conor pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose, whispering, “In the future, when you tell me I won’t like something, I want specifics.”

I’d felt his fear as if it were my own so I replied, “Okay.”

“Never again, Star.”

Knowing what he meant, I nodded, content.

That scar had been healed.

I’d never need to do this again.