Page 4 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

For as long as I can remember, the Enigma gang has operated out of a tattoo parlor.

It’s one of those places that you wouldn’t look twice at from the outside, and it blends in with the businesses around it.

The liquor store, the shitty little pizza place on the corner, the gas station across the street.

A buzzing neon sign hangs in the window, flashing TATTOO in a cycle of red, green, and blue, and there’s art on the tinted window, showing off traditionally drawn tattoos and old flyers for concerts and festivals.

Inside, there’s the usual shit: chairs for customers, a desk for taking orders and phone calls, and a low partition that separates the reception area from the padded tables and adjustable chairs where tattoos actually get done.

At any given moment, there are plenty of Enigma gang members hanging around, tattooing each other or customers, or just shooting the shit. It’s our base of operations, and a front for our work, so no one gets curious about all the people who come and go at odd hours.

Beyond the main area, there’s a back room with a fading EMPLOYEES ONLY sign above it, and I push through into it. My mind is still churning and my body is buzzing from the fight with the Princes.

Everything about them sets my teeth on edge, and I’ve got a restless energy in me that refuses to settle down.

I move through the back room to the door that leads down to the basement where we handle the private business. It served as my dad’s office and command center, and I spent a lot of time down there before he died.

Now it’s where I give orders and make plans for the future of Enigma, even though it always feels weird to sit where he sat and try to wield his authority.

Emmett follows me down, and I don’t stop him, even though I grimace a little inside my head.

He’s a good person to have around, a valuable member of the gang who gets shit done and doesn’t ask too many questions. I definitely leaned on him when I was taking over for my dad, and without his help, I probably would have fucked up way more than I did.

But sometimes he looks at me, and his eyes linger. Or they travel up and down my body with a spark of desire that I don’t like. It seems like he has a bit of a thing for me, and I try to shut it down whenever I can, finding excuses to not be alone with him.

He’s handsome enough, with classic features and light brown eyes. His dark blond hair is always falling into his eyes, and I’ve seen more than one woman sigh dreamily whenever he pushes it out of his face so he can see properly.

There’s no denying he’s someone’s type, but I’m not really interested in doing anything like that with him.

“So what do you make of it?” he asks me, leaning against the closed door once we’re settled in the basement. His eyes track me as I move around the office.

“I think I wish we’d found something that would give us someone to pin this on,” I tell him bluntly. “I hate being in the dark. I hate sending people out there, not knowing what might be coming next.”

He nods, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Yeah, it sucks. But if we back off, whoever it is that’s doing this will probably see it as gaining ground.”

“I know.” The words come out sharper than I mean for them to, and I sigh. “Sorry.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got a lot on your shoulders right now. And we’re not really any closer to figuring out what this is all about. Unknown threats are never a good thing. It’s hard to fight an enemy you can’t see.”

“Yeah.” I chew my bottom lip, still pacing around the room.

I feel like I can’t sit still right now.

Like I’d crawl out of my skin if I tried.

“But why now? It would have made more sense if they’d done this shit back when we were weaker, when everyone was still scrambling to adjust to the new normal.

You were right about that earlier.” I scrub my hands over my face.

“But maybe it’s someone who was biding their time, you know?

They thought Enigma would crumble after my dad died, and they’re pissed now that we’re gaining all that ground back. ”

“Could be.” Emmett nods thoughtfully. “I know we had a lot of eyes on us when things went to shit.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a frustrated breath. It’s hard, having so much fucking speculation and nothing to go on. Nothing but a trail of my people getting hurt.

“Hey.” Emmett comes over and puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Take a breath, okay? You’re doing all the right shit, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

I nod, exhaling slower this time.

He’s standing very close to me now, close enough that I can see the flecks of almost gold in his light brown eyes. I can see the shape of his jaw and the soft, plush curve of his mouth.

Nico’s voice echoes in my head, calling me out for not really having anyone at my back.

There’s anger simmering in my gut whenever I think about it, and as much as I fucking hate to admit it, there’s still that simmering arousal as well.

Being pinned like that, so effortlessly, Atlas’s thigh rubbing between my legs, hitting the right spot…

I swallow hard.

I can’t get rid of the feeling, or any of the messy feelings churning wildly inside me, so I decide to lean into them instead. Before I can stop to second-guess myself, I lean a little closer to Emmett.

He stares at me for a second, and I can see the moment when it clicks in his mind what I’m doing. His eyes widen, and he hurries to close the distance, meeting me halfway in a kiss.

A low groan vibrates in his chest, and he steps closer, his hands coming up to slide down my arms and then bracket my hips. His mouth is hot and hungry, and he licks at my bottom lip, urging me to open for him.

I do, letting him in, letting him slide his tongue into my mouth and twine it with mine. His fingers find the hem of my shirt and then slip under it, and I shiver when his thumbs brush over my hip bones in a soft caress.

“Fuck, Quinn,” he breathes out, his voice already sounding ragged. “I want?—”

He doesn’t finish that sentence. Instead, he grips my hips and uses the leverage to lift me up onto the desk. He steps between my legs, his eyes roaming over my face for a moment, taking me in like he can’t quite believe he’s here.

I slide a hand behind his neck to tug him back down, preferring kissing to that kind of scrutiny. I don’t want emotions between us. I just want—just need —a release.

Luckily, he doesn’t complain about it, kissing me hard and fast as our lips meet again.

His hand finds its way between our bodies, and when he presses the palm of it right where I’m the most needy, I groan a little.

It’s not as good as the hard press of Atlas’s knee against my clit, but I try to shove all the thoughts of the Princes and their bullshit out of my head so I can focus on this.

Emmett trails his lips from my mouth to my neck, working his way down as his breath gusts against my skin.

“I’m going to make you feel good,” he murmurs. “Let me take some of this stress away from you.”

“Mm,” I hum, not even sure how to respond to that. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to do anything but feel.

He steps back and starts tugging my pants down. I shift my hips a little to help him get them off, and he lets them pool around my ankles with my panties.

His hands slide up my bare thighs, and there’s a look on his face like he can’t believe he gets to do this. Like he can’t believe he gets to touch me.

It makes something twist in my stomach, and I can’t tell if it’s arousal or guilt.

Either way, I’m glad when he drops to his knees in front of me, giving me an excuse to look away from his face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. He kisses his way from my knee to my inner thigh, his lips caressing the skin there gently. I brace a little, willing him to bite me or something, but he doesn’t. He just nuzzles the skin and then moves closer to my pussy.

He kisses me there too, and besides a dull spark when his lips graze my clit, there’s not much reaction in my body. Even when he starts going down on me, lapping at my pussy with slow, long licks, I don’t really feel anything. Nothing that’s going to get me closer to how I want to feel, at least.

“You can go harder,” I mutter, trying to drop a hint. “I’m not made of glass.”

“I know,” he murmurs back. “But I want to take my time.”

I barely bite back the noise of frustration that wants to spill out of me. Emmett must take the noise I do make as a moan because he keeps it up, licking and lapping at me in this gentle, measured way.

Tilting my head back, I stare up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds he makes as he eats me out. I can tell he’s enjoying himself, and I should be too… but I don’t feel anything even close to turned on by it.

The flames of need that are already in me are from someone else, and this is doing nothing to fan them higher.

I should’ve known this would happen. I usually can’t get off this way at all, but I thought maybe with that agitated, unsettled feeling buzzing through me, it would be different this time. That something would push me over the edge. But it’s not working.

I squirm a little, closing my eyes and biting my lower lip so hard that it aches, until I finally give up and thread my fingers into Emmett’s hair, tugging on it to urge him to his feet.

He glances at me as he rises, looking confused for a second, but I draw him in for a kiss before he can ask what’s up, wrapping my legs around his waist to press him against my body.

I can taste myself on his lips, the salty sweet tang of my arousal, and I chase the flavor deeper into his mouth, letting my tongue dance with his.

He groans into it, grinding forward. His cock is rock hard in his pants, and I can feel it pressing against my bare pussy as he works his hips in a slow roll.