Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

Genevieve indicated for the staff member to lower her mask and rested her head back, her lips open over fast breathing and the skirt of her dress rucked up high around her spread legs to the point of revealing her pink thong.

Not that I was fucking looking.

I’d burn out the eyes of any arsehole who tried.

Arran circled the freestanding cross then stood right in front of her. Red streaked her chest where the sex club had got her flustered.

I’d expected the place to freak her out, yet she’d explored. Had fun tormenting Arran. I liked this lass. She was running circles around my friend. Still, there was no way he was going to let strangers participate.

A man neared, his interest obvious.

I huffed a sarcastic breath. “Don’t even consider it, pal. If he doesn’t break your fucking neck, I will.”

The punter about-turned and slipped away. Arran held his gaze on me, something strange in his expression.

He lifted his chin. “She’s on this for a reason.”

I watched him, my certainty slipping.

“My woman wants someone else’s hands on her as well as mine,” he said a little louder.

I gave an incredulous laugh. “Ye want me to round up some of these fuckers to come paw at her?”

An unbearable thought. Arran shook his head. He’d die before he’d let them near her. I would, too. They’d chosen each other which made her precious to the crew. Arran practically shook with need, and I was seconds away from yelling for every other arsehole to evacuate the club so they could have the space to themselves.

Yet he lifted a finger to pause me, then beckoned the woman who’d helped her up on the frame to come closer. Whispered something in her ear.

She dipped her head and traced a finger down Genevieve’s arm, making the lass jump.

What the hell?

Then he tilted his head at me, a challenge there.

Oh, fuck my life. He wanted me to be part of some twisted game.

I shrugged and moved closer to stand behind her, my friend dead in my eyeline and his spreadeagled woman on the frame between us. This wouldn’t last long.

“Holding up okay?” Arran asked in a Genevieve taunt. “You’ve got men here ready to touch you any way they please. Fingers ripping your clothes, feeling up your cunt.”

Genevieve’s muffled voice returned. “Why not? You can’t satisfy me.”

I could’ve laughed at her comeback, but I valued my throat.

“Won’t is different to can’t, baby,” the boss retorted.

She went quiet.

“Last chance to call this off,” he said.

After a beat, Arran indicated for the staff member, Felicia, to proceed. She trailed her finger across the top of Genevieve’s strapless dress then yanked it down, her full tits freed.

God-fucking-dammit.

I averted my gaze. Glared at a man staring on, his hand sneaking down to his crotch, even though I had the same rush of blood downwards.

Whatever they were trying to prove to each other, I was still a fucking man. If I even stood near the boss’s woman and popped a chub, I risked losing it to his rage. From our city-cleansing activities, Arran was deadly good at slicing off dicks.

Yet, he’d given me an order.

And his woman was bare-chested on a goddamned sex frame.

“Touch her,” Arran turned his taunts on me. “Don’t hold back for her sake. She wants it.”

Kill me now.

Felicia obeyed instead, taking one of Genevieve’s nipples in her fingers. The spreadeagled woman gave a gasp of surprise then a hot-as-hell groan. Arran, with his jaw slack and gaze fixed on that action, still didn’t touch her.

Across the room, a woman appeared then almost immediately slipped out of sight behind a golden cage.

Dark glossy hair, big tits, a curvy-as-fuck arse…

My heart stalled. I stared, angling my neck, but saw nothing more.

In a rush, I was back to dark bedrooms and midnight waking. To being teenaged and wanting the unthinkable. I worked an immoral career, enjoyed a life of sin, but none of it was a patch on what I’d desired as a teenager.

The girl in the bedroom beside mine.

Her appearing in my room at night and our silent communication. Her stripping her clothes and climbing into my bed. Everly was the most beautiful, fucking crazy-making soul to have ever existed. She drove me to the edge of insanity.

She was the reason I knew anything about the right amount of dope to use to knock someone out, and why I’d started keeping a list of men to fuck with, eviscerate, or disappear.

Fury filled me.

If she was here, again, I’d fucking riot.

There was no reason for her to be near me, and if I found her, I’d throw her over my shoulder and march her straight out, yet… A better idea came to mind.

There was every reason for her to watch me play with another woman and once and for all get the message to stay the fuck away.