Page 28 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
Eagerly, I push my oversized pants down, kicking them into the corner and then tugging my top over my head. Just as it obscures my face, I hear my bedroom door close with a firm click.
"Natalia." Hawke's sharp voice makes me jump, and I spin to face him in nothing but my ill-fitting bra and panties. "You've been drinking."
I nod, then open my mouth to give an excuse, but he beats me to it.
"And smoking pot. With Colt, I presume."
Again, I nod. "Yes, but—"
"Do not speak until I ask you a question." Hawke's words snap through the room like a whip, and I flinch. In a good way. I can already feel my nipples tightening and my breath growing short. I wonder if he’ll fuck me again? Maybe if I ask nicely … “If you’re going to be a part of this team, you will follow my orders.”
‘Who said I want to be a part of your team?” I slur, because this is all happening so fast and hell, an experienced party chick like me knows you shouldn’t smoke and then drink. It’s supposed to be the other way around. When you smoke first, the alcohol amps up the THC to levels that make you … well, couch-locked as fuck.
I slump onto the edge of the bed. I’m in a good mood right now, the best I’ve been in in years. Like, I'm too relaxed to care about anything, including myself. I sit there, and it feels like hours before Hawke moves over to the edge of the bed. That's how it works when you're high though, time slows down to immeasurable levels.
"Clearly, you're intoxicated. We'll have this discussion in the morning." Hawke pushes me down onto the bed, and my heart begins to race. I want him on top of me, moving inside of me with his thick cock. Maybe it would be worth joining this team, just for all the easy lays? I giggle as I roll toward him and hook my fingers around the waistband of his jeans.
"Like you have any room to talk,” I purr, trying to get Hawke to come to me. Instead, he takes a step back, and I frown. Moonlight leaks into the room and stains his face with silver, highlighting the rugged shape of his jaw and the darkness of the stubble tracing his skin. "You've got vices, Colt says so. You and Mace."
Hawke laughs at me, but it's not a particularly pleasant sound. There's a darkness to it that I feel like he'd hide if he could. And I'm intrigued by that. Why am I so damn intrigued? Clearly, there's something broken and twisted inside of me.
"Me and Mace? Please. Weston and Colt are the addicts here. Hard to say if Arsen is or not, he's so damn crazy." Hawke leans down, putting a big palm on my pillow. I can feel the warmth of his body, and I stretch toward it, like a flower toward the sun. A flower that wants to get fucked in this bed right here, right now. "Rest up, Natalia Petrova."
"Stay with me," I beg, but Hawke presses a rough kiss to my forehead and steps back. There's something ominous about that kiss, nothing sweet. It's like he's promising dark deeds for later.
"In the morning, we'll really get started with your training," he says, retreating from the room and slamming the door behind him. I wonder if he's as aware of how fucked-up his own sexuality is, the way I am. Clearly, Hawke likes to be dominant. He craves it. Even more so than he craves being in control of his team.
You're so full of shit, Talia, I think, rolling onto my back and grinning stupidly at my new nickname. It takes so much effort to roll over that all I can do is think about touching my clit, working off some of the wild frenzy in my blood. But I'm moving in a cloud of THC and it's just easier to lie there and count silver stars where one of the ceiling beams connects to the wall. The moon highlights a bunch of those glow in the dark star stickers that some long ago kid must've put up there.
That's how I fall asleep, counting them and letting waves of desire wash over me, unsatisfied and unfettered.
And my dreams? They're full of handsome priests who are not priests, five handsome men in my bed making me submit at the same time they grant me ultimate power over them by handing over their love. It's a serious fairy-tale and unlike anything I've ever dreamed before.
I'm out before I get a chance to think too hard about it.
I'll be dead before anything like that ever happens.Several hours later, I wake up, still high but measurably more functional.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I snap as I sit up and my head spins like I'm on the tilt-a-whirl at the county fair. It was so fun, that one time I went. But then I saw Daddy shoot a man, his wife, and their teenage son for failing to pay a debt. I puked up all of my cotton candy and never set foot in a fairground again.
