Page 293 of Chaos Kills

He’s not okay.

I’m not okay.

Cairo came here tonight, crawled into my bed—still like a freak—all because I asked for him. He stopped whatever the hell he was doing to come to South Shore and to be here when I woke up.

“Are you done?” he asks me, and he’s lost the cocky attitude that only fuels my inner petty. “I’m not here for games. If you want me to let you go, I will. But I don’t want to.”

“Why?” I taunt just one last time. I need the color of this black-and-white scenario. Just one color to show me I should allow this Forsaken Boy in my room, in my bed, and not scream my lungs out. “Are you afraid that, when I have The Landings seat and after I’ve had Emilio and Ramsey taken out, I’ll have you assassinated next?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s it,” he replies with zero fear or concern. “However, how about we put less energy into that and you start listening?”

“That hasn’t worked out for anyone else.”

“And like I said, I’m not anyone else.” I feel the hard tip of his cock right at my entrance, and a mixture of lust and pride clogs up in my throat and ego. “Three seconds—that’s all you get.”

To deny him.

His velvety tip pushes forward a bit more, coaxing the word he’s looking for—a yes, a no, alet me think about it—but it doesn’t happen.

It doesn’t happen because, deep down, I don’t want him to stop. No matter how much my heart and head are currently battling it out with each other.

Adding Cairo into a deeper part of my life only spells out trouble, but I need him because he’s them.

Yet, I’ve been here before. I just murdered both connections with Reeve and Torin. I’m never going to get them back.

And adding on the man who’s on top of me sounds like a death sentence.

Another crack in my sanity.

“Time’s up, Little T.”

Then he thrusts inside me. Filling me in one swift and full motion, and seizing my next breath. It causes an inability to concentrate on anything else but the King of Wharf Bay and falling first in this war of butting heads.

“Fuck,” he leers, his fingers compressing more around my wrists that there are gonna be bruises there tomorrow. “This is what I was afraid of.”

“What?” I pant as he goes in again, but this time painfully slow. “That your dick was too small?”

Cairo releases my wrists, giving me some sort of relief, but he uses his palms to grind himself to the bed.

Then he gives me more.

Cairo leans in, chest pressed against mine, then suddenly halts the moment his dick is so embedded inside me I’m not sure he can go any farther. “How does that feel for small, baby? Nice and fucking deep that it looks like you’re having a hard time catching your breath.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re on top of me.”

He bites down on my bottom lip, drawing it down as he begins to rock into me again. “You and your fucking mouth, Little T. You’ve been needing someone to shut you the fuck up.”

“Torin used to with his big dick.”

Cairo slams unforgivingly into me, but he doesn’t comment on the fact. Nor does he mention another thing with both his hands propped on either side of my face as I try my damndest to not make a fucking peep. To not give him the satisfaction of how burly and God-blessingly amazing he feels.

His dick works just fine.

Each propulsion of his hips heightens my body. Rippling every nerve ending, and I can’t help but yield into it, arching my body for more.

It’s exactly what Cairo wanted—control.

His lips slam into mine, delving his tongue into my mouth and tasting me again for the first time in days.

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