Disarray the hallowed cr.., p.6
Disarray: The Hallowed Crows MC 4, page 6
A better man would walk away, a better man would fucking protect her. But I’m not a better man, and I am never walking away again. She is mine, just as Killian is. I love them with everything I have got, but now that love is clouded in guilt and blood, and it’s taking everything inside of me to not let it swallow me whole. No, I have to hold it together, for her, for him, for them. I have to do better, be better.
I will not let Carter Fitzgerald win. Not again, never ever again.
Harsh hands grip me tight, throwing me against the hard metal of the table as my body folds over it. The air huffs out of me as I try to fight back, but then he is on me, pushing me, stroking me, demanding me in a way that only he can, as the bile crawls up my throat and threatens to escape. Escape. That’s what I need to do, escape, protect them, set them free, but those fucking hands keep me frozen in place. It doesn’t matter how hard I fight, how much of myself I give, it’s never enough. It will never be enough.
My screams, Aiden’s pleas, Angel’s desperate attempts to get to me, all of it means nothing here, not to him. All the nights I spent waiting for this to happen, but nothing could prepare me for the reality, as all of his threats rain down on me.
If you are going to act like a filthy little whore I am going to treat you like one.
I look at Aiden as he lies bleeding on the floor and before I can see his heart break anymore, I shut my eyes and block him out like a coward, as I feel Carter’s cock finally press against my hole, only this time there is no explosion. No, instead hands touch me, grab me, and try to keep me from escaping and I am screaming, thrashing, fighting. I will not go down like this.
I am screaming.
“Rebecca, it’s me!” Hands grip me and I push against them, panting and breathless. “Bex, come on, Love, it’s me, it’s Ezra.”
My movements falter as my eyes flick open, my vision blurry from the tears, as I look up and find familiar eyes looking down into mine. “Ezra,” I whisper, relief washing over me as my nightmare starts to slip away. “Ezra,” I sob. “Is that really you?”
I hear him sigh as he leans down and pulls me into him. “Yeah, Love, it’s really me.” When his arms wrap around mine I fall apart, too fresh from the memories of Carter and the absence of my Crows that I can’t help but break.
His arms hold me close, as we breathe each other in, the only lifeline either of us has right now. And even though everything is far from okay, I find peace in his arms. “E, everything is such a fucking mess.”
“I know, Love, I know.” I can hear defeat in his tone, as he rubs his arms up and down my back in an attempt to soothe me, but it doesn’t feel like him, his voice not sounding like his own.
When I pull back and look into his eyes I find them empty. They are the eyes that usually tear me apart, the ones usually filled with so much love and lust that I can barely even meet his stare. Instead they are darker, colder, and I know he feels responsible for everything that happened, but he has to understand that we would be in this situation with or without him. It isn’t his fault.
“Ezra I should have never pulled you and the Crows into this, Carter only ever wanted me. If I just gave him that then none of this would have ever happened.” It’s something I will always blame myself for, telling myself that life with the Mayor wouldn’t have been that bad. I would have married him and lived by his side following his rules. There would have been blood and pain, but surely not as much as I have dealt with since my rescue.
His eyes darken even more, if that’s even possible, as he grips my arm to a painful level. “Don’t you ever fucking say that shit again, Rebecca!” He seethes, anger wrapping around him like a vine, as his skin burns into mine. “You do not belong to him, and even without that fucking cunt, we would have still dealt with Hustler going psychotic on you.”
I watch his chest as it rises and falls rapidly, his stare avoiding mine completely, and I feel a lump in my throat as I make myself whisper, “Mitch was my brother.” Ezra’s eyes snap to mine, and a flare of his usual self flashes as I add, “Well, my half brother.”
“Explain,” is all he grits through his teeth, pain burning through me as his fingers press deeper into my arm.
“Connor was his father,” I explain. “My dad called Angel the morning he died, told him stuff about thinking he might not survive and how Hustler was his son.” He’s shaking his head, utter disbelief like I’m sure was on my face earlier now pouring across his.
I can practically see the guilt taking over him as I press myself towards him. “I’m sorry, E, I’m so fucking sorry.”
He snaps back from his spiral as he looks down at me in confusion. “Why are you sorry? Out of everyone arrested I’m the one who deserved it. I killed someone, Rebecca.” He says the word so casually, like talking about murder is normal for us, like Killian is inside of him right now and not himself.
I choose my words carefully as I watch him. “No, you killed Mitch.”
“Exactly!” he screams, pushing me away and rising to his feet. “I killed Mitch, a Crow, a brother, your fucking brother.” The last three words he barely chokes out, like he can barely believe he is saying them, and my heart aches for him as I push myself closer to him, begging him with my stare to fight this.
“It’s more than that and you know it,” I whisper, praying he doesn’t let this come between us. We have jumped over enough fucking hurdles, we don’t need anymore.
“I know,” he snaps again, before softening. “I know, I just need,” he pauses, looking so beyond exhausted it hurts, before he glances towards the bathroom. “I just need a shower.” He doesn’t wait for a response, just storms away from me and into the en suite, slamming the door behind him.
I flop back onto the bed, taking a deep breath, intent on giving him space to process this, fuck, I need space to process it, and in an attempt to distract myself I start to look around the room. It’s furnished but there are no personal touches, and it isn’t until my eyes land on a bag by the door, that I notice anything out of place.
Slipping from the bed, I head towards the bag and pick it up, dropping it back on the bed and looking inside. I’m not shocked to find a few changes of clothes, for both me and Ezra, I guess Angel must have guessed we would need them. But I feel better when I note the bottom of the bag is lined with guns and knives, and not just the ones from the box Elle gave us. Angel assured me that I was safe here. I saw the guards myself, but that doesn’t stop me from stashing a few weapons by the bed, and hiding the bag in the cupboard in the bottom of the nightstand to ensure it’s kept close.
I’m not sure how long I wait, but when Ezra still hasn’t emerged for a while, I push off the bed to go and check on him. Opening the bathroom door, I am hit by a wall of steam, and as it starts to clear, I find Ezra with his hands on the tiles with the shower pounding down against his back as he just stands there.
I don’t even stop to think, I pull off my clothes as I walk towards him, and when I open the door to the shower, he doesn’t even flinch. I close the door behind me and close the distance between us, bringing our bodies skin to skin, ignoring the heat of his from the shower as I push my arms around his waist and bring them to rest on his stomach. His breaths are heavy and forced as if he is struggling to breathe, and I drop my arms and push him around to look at me.
When we look at each other, the look on his face almost rips my heart straight from my chest, as tears fall from his eyes in pure agony and regret.
“Ezra,” I say, my voice cracking, as I ignore the water now pouring down on me as well as him, and it’s as if his name on my lips pulls him from his trance as he finally notices me here with him.
“He wasn’t the mole,” he whispers, pain staining every word as he forces them out, and I shake my head as I repeat it back to him. “He wasn’t the mole.”
Ezra nods as if needing to hear the confirmation from me, before he drops his head back against the tiles and murmurs, “But I killed him anyway.”
I can’t bear it, the look on his face, the pain in his eyes, the hurt in his voice. I press my body against his, chest to chest, letting the water wash away our sins as I reach up and cup his face. “Ezra, you saved my life,” I tell him, forcing him to look at me. “Mitch was going to kill me.” He closes his eyes when I say his name, shutting me off from his stare but I don’t stop. “You know that and I know that, and you killing him is the only thing that could have stopped him. It was me or him and you chose me.”
His eyes open slowly and he looks at me as if it’s the very first time as he purrs, “I’ll always choose you, Bex.”
I ignore the tears spilling down my cheeks as I lean up and whisper against his lips, “I’ll always choose you too.”
Our mouths collide like we are both coming home and as my wet skin rubs against his I can’t help but moan as his tongue slips past my lips to caress my own. His hands roam my body, swiping across every inch of my damp skin before settling on my ass and squeezing tight. I moan again, rubbing my body against his as I desperately seek more friction from him, always wanting and needing more.
“Ezra,” I moan, letting my own hands search him for what I know he can give me. “Fuck me, please.”
He groans into my mouth as he rocks his hips into mine, and I moan into his mouth once more. “Only because you asked so nicely, Love,” he purrs into my neck, his teeth sinking into my shoulder until I gasp. Then one of his hands pushes in between us and starts massaging my clit, and like a moth to his flame, my body begins to tremble. He knows exactly where to touch, to taste me, I am his, and he is mine, and not even murder can come between us.
“I need you inside of me, E,” I beg, and I feel his savage grin against my skin, as his free hand reaches down and he dips to pick me up with one arm, pushing me against the wall of the shower.
We fumble against one another as I wrap my legs around him, and I have barely got him to my entrance when he surges forward and slams his cock inside me without warning. His length stretching me open wide, and I gasp, riding the bite of pleasure and pain as my pussy clamps down around him.
All that anger and guilt is overtaken by lust and need as he fucks me hard into the wall, not waiting for me to be ready, and the cold tiles scratching against my skin are nothing compared to the feel of his cock stroking inside of me. He drives into me hard and fast, and so fucking brutal that I can’t help but cry out against him, and plead for more.
“So good, E, you feel so fucking good,” I choke out on a moan, and he growls, fucking me even harder.
“And you feel like fucking heaven, Love, so fucking wet and perfect,” he groans into my neck, his teeth and tongue lapping against my skin. “I can feel your tight little cunt sucking me deep and begging for more.” I groan beneath him, my back arching off the wall so I can roll my hips and meet his every thrust and he groans right back. His stare dropping down to take in where he is sinking his cock inside of me.
“I bet you wish the other two were here to fill you up, huh?” He asks, slowing his pace and dragging his cock in and out of me, almost torturing me as I dig my fingers into his neck. “Imagine Killer filling up that fucking ass, that I know is made to take cock,” he purrs, slipping one of his hands around my cheeks to press against the hole only he has ever fucked. “Fuck, you’d like his cock back there, Love, he knows exactly how to fuck an ass until it’s overflowing with his cum.” I start to tremble in his arms at the picture he is painting, as his other hand reaches between us and starts to rub against my clit in barely-there touches that leave me panting for more.
His lips drag up the column on my throat as he brings his mouth to my ear and flicks out his tongue. “Oh we would fuck you so hard between us, Bex, you’d come so many times that even when you cry we wouldn’t fucking stop.” His teeth sink into my ear lobe, and I writhe my body against him harder, bouncing myself on his cock and fingers as I ride myself towards an orgasm. “Then your President would appear, knowing that this pretty little throat needs filling.” His teeth bite down into the skin of my neck so hard that I know I am going to have his mark on me but I don’t care. “I remember how good you looked choking on his cock, you fucking loved it, even with an audience. I bet you were so fucking wet as he fucked your face, weren’t you, Love? But I wouldn’t let you waste his cum next time,” he purrs, his tongue lapping against where he just broke the skin on my neck. “Nah, I’d suck it right from your tongue and then share it with Kill, not spilling a drop. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” I scream out, exploding around his cock and fingers, as my orgasm barrels into me and pushes me over the edge. “Yes, god fucking yes!”
I am barely holding onto my sanity, still lost to my pleasure, when his grip moves back to my waist and he lifts my hips before drawing them back down and slamming his cock inside of me even harder than before. He fucks me like he might die, my pussy clamped around him like a vice, as he rails into me like I am his only hope at salvation.
He fucks me raw, and deep, and fucking insanely, and all I can do is claw at his back, breathless and broken, as my first orgasm spirals right into a second when he finds that spot inside of me. I scream and thrash as he punishes me with his dick, and praises me so perfectly. “That’s it, Bex, you come so fucking pretty for me, you’re so fucking perfect.”
My body almost slips down his as my second orgasm subsides, and he appears nowhere near done, as he turns and slams the button to turn off the shower. Then he is kicking open the glass door so hard I am surprised it doesn’t shatter, before he storms back into the room and throws us down on the bed. His cock never leaves my pussy, and as soon as I am on my back, he is pounding into me again, the loud, wet slap of his hips the only sound in the room aside from my moans and his grunts.
I have never been fucked this hard, this fucking good, and I cling to him like he is the answer to everything, so desperate for the other two men in my life that I love to be here that I cry. Tears spill down my face as I dance in the flames of lust and love, widening my legs to pull his cock even deeper inside of me.
“Fuck, Bex, this fucking pussy was made to be fucked, to take my cum, to take my brother’s cum,” he grunts, pistoning his hips in and out of me, as he leans down and laps his tongue against my tits. Licking, biting and sucking at each nipple until they are raw and aching, and silently begging for more.
Feeling another orgasm starting to rise, I push myself against him, rubbing my clit against his groin at every snap of his hips. Moaning loudly at every contact, and he sees the need, the high I am pushing myself towards again and he smiles, leaning down and parting my pussy with his fingers to rub his cock against me even harder. His grin goes from savage to smug as my body shakes beneath him and he feels another orgasm being pulled from my body.
“Oh you’re such a good fucking girl, Bex, you come so fucking good for me, don’t you?” He groans, rolling his hips into me harder, throwing his head back as he tries to prolong his own release in aid of mine. “That’s it, Love, come all over my cock like you are fucking desperate to,” he grunts, and once again I am done, falling apart loudly around him and his fucking cock.
He doesn’t give me a chance to rest though, instead his hand pushes under my back and pulls me up until my body is off the bed and he is slamming me onto his dick like it’s an Olympic sport. Fast, hard, and fucking ruthless, as I scream at how deep his cock is going inside of me until he roars out his release. “Fuck! Fuck, I’m coming!”
I feel his cum as it floods inside of me searing hot, filling me completely as I tighten around him one last time. He drops me back to the bed and leans his hands on either side of my head as he remains above me, mouth still open as he struggles to catch his breath. That doesn’t stop his lips from curling into a satisfied grin as he spies me spent beneath him.
He drops his head down and captures my lips with his once more, molding them together in a perfect synchrony until we are completely out of breath. When he pulls back, he rests his head on mine, his cock still half hard inside of me as his cum leaks from my pussy and down to my ass, yet still I have never felt more comfortable.
“I love you, Rebecca, and so do they. We will all be back together soon,” he promises, and even though I know he can’t guarantee that, I still smile and nod anyway,
“I love you too, Ezra, always have, always will.” His smile at my own words takes my broken heart and starts to put it back together, and when he drops down beside me and pulls me in close, I know that even though things are bad now, they won’t be forever.
I will get my Crows back, and Carter Fitzgerald will die. I just have to make a plan, and that starts with a Crow and a promise. The rest will follow, I’ll make sure of it.
My head is pounding from all the questions they keep throwing at me, and the pictures spread out across the table in front of me do nothing but piss me off. The officer explained they were sent in anonymously, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize who they’re from. I mean, it’s not like this is the first time I am seeing photographs like this. No, these are from the Mayor’s personal collection for sure, and if I wasn’t already planning on killing the fucker the next time I laid eyes on him, I would be now.
There are five photographs from different dates in total, three are of me and Candice in a number of compromising positions. Then there is picture of Rebecca and Candice standing in some sort of confrontation, and a final picture of Rebecca and I outside the clubhouse entangled together from the other night. I want to laugh at them, to toss them back in the officers’ faces and ask how they could be so fucking dense? Ask them why they are wasting their time with us, when the real fucking criminal mastermind is out there waiting for his next time to strike. For his next time to possess his perfect fucking little rose.
Rebecca, it always comes back to Rebecca. It has since the day she climbed over the fence of the clubhouse and first locked her stare with mine. If I had just left her to it, just ignored her and carried on with my day, then maybe, just maybe, we could have escaped all of this hell. Would the Mayor have ever found her? Would he have even wanted her if not in spite of Connor and who he was? Or would she have stayed away from the club, away from us, away from me, and found peace and happiness like she deserves?
