My stomach tightens, and I reach that cliff within seconds. There’s no stopping the orgasm rolling over me and off that edge, sending me flying off with it.
I scream around his cock, losing control of my body as I mercilessly grind into his face. His arms hook around my thighs, and he moans against me, opening his mouth to accept the eruption he so savagely forced out of me.
A few seconds later, he’s filling my mouth, too. Hot ribbons of cum shoot down my throat, and the only thing I’m capable of is rolling my hips and swallowing him down until there’s nothing left of either of us to give.
I pull back just as he does, the two of us panting for breath.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes.
“What are you calling out to Him for? Clearly, He’s on your side,” I gripe without heat, rolling off him. “I was this—” I hold out my hand and pinch my forefinger and thumb a millimeter apart. “—close to getting to peg you.”
He chuckles. “We got the rest of our lives. Let me work up to that, yeah? For now, I get to fuck your pretty little ass.”
There’s already a smug grin on his face as I lie down next to him, propping my chin on his heaving chest .
“Shut up,” I say before he can start gloating. The smirk widens, and it’s entirely unfair how beautiful it is.
“If it makes you feel any better, I had to pull out the big guns and think of some pretty fucked-up shit. I was ready to explode the second you deep-throated me.”
I roll my eyes. “That means you cheated. I demand a redo.”
“Deal,” he agrees readily, the word rushing out of his mouth before I can barely finish.
I purse my lips, then smack his chest playfully. “You’re just going to keep cheating, so I keep asking for a redo. Dickhead.”
He laughs, causing my head to shake. Scoffing, I roll away from him, prompting him to roll after me and cocoon me in his arms, my back to his chest.
“You’re right,” he whispers sensually in my ear, eliciting a bone-deep shiver. “I’d do terrible, terrible things to get my mouth on that pussy as often as I can.”
“I have one more body to grab,” Cage says, only a little breathless after carrying in three dead men from Eli's trunk. Apparently, they were brothers and enjoyed sharing child porn with each other like they were goddamn cute puppy videos.
My brows pinch in confusion. “I thought Eli said he only dropped off three?”
“He did. I brought an extra.”
I can only manage a blink before he's halfway out the door.
“What the hell?” I mutter, bewildered. The only response I receive is an obnoxious snort from Dill.
“What the hell?” I repeat a couple minutes later when he reappears, my tone louder and sharper.
My mouth drops as Cage carries in a very familiar man, dropping the body on the metal table. Someone that I only tend to see in my nightmares.
“Kenny Mathers,” I whisper. The only man from Francesca’s house who managed to get away unscathed and the last living man who abused me in that house. “How did you find out who he was? I never told you his name.”
“Legion,” he answers simply.
Of course. I should've known.
“How did you find him?”
“In a prison. Well—Legion’s prison—not an official one. Keeping him locked up, away from society, until you made the initiative to kill him. I decided to do that part since you don’t like to get involved in that side of the business.”
“You killed him?” I repeat in a whisper.
“Sure did,” he chirps proudly. “Legion handed him over to me, and I took care of the rest.”
I stare at him, mouth agape as I try to process that not only did Legion keep my abuser locked away all this time, waiting for me to be ready, but that Cage killed him for me. And is now presenting him to me as… pig food.
“Wow,” I choke out, completely overwhelmed. “I think I love you even more now, but I'm also not sure ’cause I didn't think that was even possible.”
That's the first time I said those three words out loud, which is also a lot of emotions to deal with. Specifically as his eyes flare, and now he's watching me as if I'm the food.
“You got anyone else on that hit list of yours? I'll kill as many people as you want if you keep telling me you love me.”
My vision is blurring, and my chest feels too full.
“You're an idiot,” I croak, blinking away the tears. Cage grabs a hold of me and tugs me into his embrace, holding me tight.
“I’m going to fuck you for so long later tonight,” he whispers sinfully.
I choke out a laugh, and he grabs my chin, bringing my focus to him. He stares at me softly, though there’s a hint of that obsession still lingering in his eyes.
“I love you, too. Now, let's get to work chopping him up. Chili’s giving me an evil eye, and Garlic and Paprika seem like they're conspiring against us as we speak.”
The loud chirp of my phone ringing nearly causes my bones to climb right out of my flesh in fright.
I’ve had the sound up at full volume ever since I handed Margot my phone number; I've just been waiting for her to call.
It’s been a little over a month, and I’ve all but convinced myself their silence is my answer.
Either Layla doesn’t want to get to know me, or Margot and Colin won’t allow her to. Regardless, it’s not my place to interfere with either decision. Even if it feels like my heart is in tatters.
“You gonna get that?”
Cage and I are in the process of extracting teeth and buzzing hair off Kenny and the other three dead bodies.
I glance at the number, noting that it’s one I don’t recognize. Pulling my gloves off, I press the answer button and hold it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Molly?”
My heart pauses for a beat. “Yeah?”
The woman clears her throat. “This is Margot. Emma’s mom.”
I nearly stumble over air as I whip around and begin to pace.
“It’s so nice to hear from you,” I choke out.
“How long have you been going to Emma’s games?”
I frown, a little taken aback by the question.
God, what if she’s calling just to tell me Layla said she doesn’t want to know me? What if she tells me to never contact them again or show my face at any of her games?
I’ll always go to her games but respect their wishes enough to not let them see me. I’ll keep my distance for as long as Layla demands. If it’s forever, I would be okay with watching her grow old from afar—as long as she’s safe.
“I moved back to Montana over four years ago. As soon as I discovered that she was playing, I went to all her games. Every single one.”
Margot is silent for a moment, and then I hear a soft sigh.
“Emma is… she’s interested in talking to you,” she begins, her voice taut with discomfort. “She admitted that she had been feeling a little lost about her early childhood and would like to know about her biological parents. And you, of course. We agreed only because we feel it would help Emma heal from… from her abandonment issues.”
I close my eyes, feeling as if Margot is standing before me and tearing her claws into my flesh until my heart is exposed, then ripping it out of its useless cavity. No bones could ever protect it from Layla’s hurt.
“I understand,” I whisper. “I will tell her anything she wants to know.”
“And I know who you are. Who she is,” she rushes out, almost as if, if she didn’t get it out she’d combust.
“I see. Then I hope you know that I didn’t give Layla to you because I didn’t want her, but because I had to.”
There’s silence, and it’s only now that I notice Cage has shut off his own hair clippers. It’s quiet—too quiet.
“Emma,” she corrects. “Her name is Emma.”
I bite my lip, not realizing I slipped up.
“I know it is,” I concede softly. “I gave that name to her so no one would find out who she was.”
“Right,” Margot says, her tone curt but not lacking heat. I know this is hard for her as well.