Page 17 of Devils Cut

"Go on, it ain't gonna bite," Corvus said with a smirk, nudging me inside.

"Thanks for the reassurance," I muttered under my breath, stepping into the room. A simple wooden bed frame dominated the space, topped with a plain mattress and three limp pillows. It was nothing fancy.

"Here, let's get this done,” Corvus said holding fresh sheets in his hands. He began to make the bed, an unexpected display of consideration that left me feeling off-balance.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I can do it," I protested, taking one of the sheets from him.

"Many hands make light work," he replied gruffly, continuing to help. We worked in tense silence, a dance of avoidance that left me feeling oddly vulnerable.

"Almost done. I'll go grab you a comforter," Corvus said, standing up once we'd finished with the sheets.

"Wait, what's a comforter?" I asked, confused.

He returned moments later, holding up a thick, quilted blanket. "This."

"Ah, right," I laughed, shaking my head. "We call that a doona back home. But with this weather, I doubt I'll need it." I took the blanket from him, folding it neatly at the foot of the bed.

"Whatever you say, Aussie," Corvus replied, his eyes locked on mine. There was something there, lurking just beneath the surface.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. It was a small gesture, but it meant more than I could say.

"Get some rest," he ordered gruffly, turning to leave.

Chapter 8

Corvus King

She whispers softly, "Thank you."

"Get some rest," I reply gruffly, trying to keep some semblance of control over my emotions. I manage to turn and walk out of the room. My heart's pounding in my chest like it's trying to break free from its cage. Fucking hell. What's gotten into me? I'm the goddamn vice president of an MC, not some lovesick teenager.

I close the door behind me, my thoughts racing. It's just something about her, the way she looks at me like she sees right through me. Like she knows what I've done, what I am, and still, she thanks me. As if I deserve any gratitude.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath. This isn't right. She's eighteen, for fuck's sake. And I'm old enough to be her father. Besides, what would a girl like that want with someone like me? Someone who's only ever brought chaos and destruction wherever he goes?

But I can't shake the feeling that there's something more between us. Something I've never felt before – something that scares the shit out of me. And the thought of her down on her knees, looking up at me with those innocent eyes... God, it makes my cock as hard as steel.

My footsteps echo through the empty hallway as I make my way to my bedroom. The weight of desire and guilt makes each step feel like a mile. I can't help but wish I could just stay in the spare room with her, and watch over her as she sleeps. But that's not me. I'm not some fucking knight in shining armour.

"Get your shit together, Corvus," I mutter under my breath, clenching my fists. Tempest - she does something to me, makes me feel unstable like I'm losing control. And that's something I can't afford, not with all the shit going on around us.

I push open the door to my bedroom. Slamming it shut behind me, I don't even bother turning on the lights. The darkness matches my mood. Without hesitation, I stride straight to the ensuite bathroom, desperate for any sort of relief.

"Fuck," I curse, yanking off my clothes, the cold water hits my skin like a thousand icy needles as I step into the shower, hoping that it'll help calm the fire raging inside me. My dick has never been this hard, and it's all because of her – those goddamn haunted eyes, that wicked mouth. I can't keep going like this. It's been a week since I first laid eyes on her, and I've never jacked off as much as I have during these past few days.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, my heart pounding against my chest. I can feel myself slipping, losing control over my feelings for her. She's just 18, for fuck's sake – what the hell could she want with a man like me? A man whose hands are stained with blood?

I try to shake off the thoughts of her. But they're relentless, clawing at the corners of my mind. Just thinking about her sweet mouth, those plump lips, and how they would feel wrapped around me... The image is enough to send all the blood rushing south.

"God damn it," I curse, gripping my dick and giving it long, slow strokes as I imagine the things I want to do with her, to her. It's wrong, I know it is – but I can't stop myself. She's like a drug, and I'm already addicted.

My mind drifts back to the park car park. She'd looked me dead in the eye, fire burning in her gaze, and told me to fuck off. She had said it with a level of defiance I hadn't expected. It had been like a punch to the gut – or more accurately, straight to my dick. I'd felt it harden instantly, straining against the confines of my pants as if it might burst through at any moment.

Now, standing under the cold spray of the shower, I can't help but think about that moment, about what might have happened if I'd given in to my baser instincts then and there. The vision of her, defiant and unyielding, morphs into one of submission. I imagine her on her knees before me, those fiery eyes locked onto mine as she takes me into her mouth.

"Fuck," I groan as the image pushes me over the edge, my release exploding from me, splattering against the glass shower door. I watch with a mix of satisfaction and disgust as it slides down the glass, mingling with the water running off my body.

"Shit," I mutter, grabbing the shower head and directing the stream at the evidence of my weakness, watching as it washes away, disappearing down the drain. This isn't me. I'm not some desperate, lust-driven fool.

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