“Your feet are going to get shredded.”
“Shut up and let’s go.”
The familiar roaring of motorbikes growls through the night. Headlights beam from further up the road. “Are they coming this way?” Lily freezes. Rumbling seems to vibrate the air we’re breathing. Steel and leather come into view, and I grab Lily and race toward a treeline, ducking her behind a huge trunk, the branches obscuring us as the parade of bikes pass. Their patches read clear under the streetlights. “It’s my brother,” she whispers, squeezing my hand. “Do you think they’re going to Flesh?”
It would be an odd coincidence if they weren’t. “Doesn’t matter. We’re not there.” Creeping along a row of closed shops, we keep to the shadows. A closed sign flickers in one of the windows lighting Lily’s face. “Why are you smiling?” I tease.
“It’s been a crazy night.” She breathes. I attempt to cross the road, but her hand tugs on mine, pulling us down an alleyway.
“It’s a dead end.” I shake my head. A frown tugging on my brow.
“I don’t care.” Pushing me against the wall, she jumps on me, and I catch her on instinct.
“What are you doing?” Her thighs fill my palms, her dress riding up to her waist. My breathing accelerates, and my dick perks up.
“Fuck me, Zane.”
“Here?” I don’t know why I’m stalling. Every part of my body wants to touch hers, but she has a past. Am I taking advantage?
“Don’t think, feel. Who knows what’s going to happen to us after tonight. I’m asking you to fuck me.” Her tongue sweeps across my lips as she rotates her hips.
Adrenaline courses through my veins, sending all reason out the window.
Turning, I pin her back against the wall, kissing her hard and rough. She tears at my hair, shirt, skin, feeding on me like a starved animal. Small hands slip into my jeans, tugging the fly open and diving inside to stroke my hard cock. There’s no foreplay or niceties. She’s in control.
“Tear my panties off,” she breathes, stroking up my shaft. Fisting the material, I yank until it snaps, and she lines up her pussy, thrusting down on me without hesitation. Her wet pussy swallows my cock, squeezing. Shit, I almost come from that alone.
“Fuck me with your fat cock, Zane,” she pants, wiggling her hips, her lips, teeth, and tongue exploring the skin of my neck. I piston my hips, fucking her, taking everything she offers. Fisting her hair, I suck her neck, bite her jaw, and kiss her lips until we’re moaning. Skin slaps skin. The sound of passing cars don’t faze her. She’s lost to the madness, and it’s stunning. “Harder,” she cries. I drive my hips deeper, harder, until she calls out, and my cum spills inside her.
“Mmm…” she groans, peppering my face with kisses. “I needed that.” Lowering her to her feet, I readjust my clothes still wet from the sprinklers and chuckle, heat flooding my body. The breeze feels good against the sweat coating my skin.
“What now?” she asks, brushing down her dress.
“We need to get Leo.”
“We’re not far from the church.” She grins, her chest rising and falling.
“Tonight?”
“We might not get another chance. Ronaldo is dead. The Aires will want retribution.
“I’ll kill them all before I allow them to touch a hair on your head.” Anger like a bomb inside me erupts at the thought of anyone hurting her. She’s a Royal Bastard. Her brother will go to war for her. No one is coming for her. Me, on the other hand—they’ll want blood. This may be our last opportunity, and I want to make that cunt suffer.
“Fuck it. Let’s do it.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Lily.
Standing in the cemetery, my heart ricochets against my chest. Soft grass brushes between my toes as we creep through the dark like ghosts risen from the graves. "There's an open grave," Zane murmurs, moving toward a row of chairs, almost tripping over a wreath laid out next to the hole.
"They must have a funeral tomorrow." That pig has no right to perform anyone’s last rites or funerals. How many others has he assaulted? How many more will become his victims if we don't stop him?
It's almost poetic, losing his life in the place he feels safest.
We came in from the back so no one can see us from the street.
A warm orange glow lights up an upstairs room. Sickness churns my stomach. Memories assault me. Phantom pain throbs beneath my skin. The bruises I wore for days…weeks…after his visits…