Page 138 of Pink Ink

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, increasing the pressure with his fingers.

I squeeze my eyes shut and hold back a sob. He can’t say things like that if he wants to keep me in one piece.

I pull his lips between my teeth to distract myself. I’m rewarded with a vicious thrust. His chest rumbles with pleasure when I moan his name again at the rising ecstasy. The pressure compounds in my core and makes me whine with need.

The rhythm turns more rapid, each thrust punctured to deliver every inch of him. A string of curses pulls from my lips, and my nails dig into the fabric of his shirt. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and everything after that comes out unintelligible. I’m a garbled mess of hiccuped moans and uncontained desire.

Pure, white-hot electricity zaps to every corner of my body, lighting me up until the pleasure becomes blinding. Maddox captures my cries and meets me with his own strangled groan. His cock twitches inside of me, spilling his come until it feels like I’m overflowing with him.

He rolls us over to have me lie on top of him. He carefully arranges the blankets without pulling out of me.

Maddox brushes his lips over the top of my head. “I’m never going to let you go.”

My eyes drift shut, and I nestle against his chest.

I hope that’s true.

REYNA

What an absolute shit show.

I splash cool water on my face and screw my eyes shut. It’s absurd how I’m expected to attend class like everything is normal after what I learned last night.

This morning, Maddox and I left the safe house together. I went home to change, then spent the entire walk from the subway to the lecture hall looking around, wondering whether the room with the honeycomb ceiling was beneath my feet.

All I could think about was that they’re watching. If I thought I was paranoid before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now.

Dropping my head into my hands, I groan.

It’s going to be a long evening.

I exit the bathroom, then snatch my coffee off the kitchen bench and chug the lukewarm drink down before checking how far the Uber is. “Shit,” I mutter, and grab my filming equipment and run downstairs, piling everything into the trunk before slumping onto the back seat.

I’m only running a couple of minutes late, but I’m getting a stress migraine just thinking about the work I have to do.

There’s a text waiting for me from Maddox that I can’t bring myself to read. Probably saying he couldn’t find any information about Dad. He promised to meet me back at my place tonight, but after being told about the video taken in Spencer’s bedroom, my apartment doesn’t feel safe. I’m too scared to ask to go back to his house, because I know it serves multiple purposes, and managing my insecurities isn’t one of them.

I’ve put myself into the Order’s path. Maddox didn’t confirm or deny it, but I heard his frantic calls when he thought I was asleep.

I was caught on video somewhere at some point, sneaking through their lair, and he was seen helping me. I don’t know what that means for either of us. If they’d kill him for insubordination, or if I’d be made to sell my soul to them and perish later rather than sooner.

Until then, life goes on. Capitalism requires its sacrifice. I can’t skip tonight’s booking. They’re paying me far more than I’m worth to film an ad for some big-shot finance guy. It’s not the type of job I want in the long run, but it covers the bills.

When the car comes to a stop, I say a quick thanks to the driver and grab my stuff, then set it on the ground against the wall of the building.

Frowning, I survey the street. Unease trickles down my spine. This place is deserted.

I move out from beneath the lamppost and fumble for my phone to send the client a text saying I’ve arrived. I glance up and down the street, the prickle of unseen eyes crawls down the back of my neck.

The lump in my throat thickens. I check that the mini switchblade is in my skirt pocket, then my emails to confirm I have the right place.

I mean, it’s the correct address.

I squint through the darkness at the sign above the door.

It’s the right building too.

I shake my head. The events of last night are making me overly paranoid. Shaking off my nerves, I take a deep breath, put my business mask on, then try the handle. The door opens with ease. Silence greets me, but maybe everyone else is late as well? Sometimes people drive over in groups to avoid worrying about parking. Though someone is probably already here if the studio is unlocked.