CROW (Boston Underworld Book 1) (18 page)

Lachlan groans, and his grip on my hair tightens. He grinds his hips up against my face and then yanks his briefs down. Jesus, he’s fricken huge. His cock is so swollen and plump it looks painful. I peek up at him from beneath my lashes.

“Suck on it, sweetheart.”

His voice is rough with emotion, betraying how much he really needs this. It does something to me. I want to give it to him just as badly
.
Unsure where to begin, my hand wraps around the base and strokes him up and down twice. The skin is like velvet, smooth and soft and hot beneath my palm. I bring the head to my lips and dart my tongue out to swirl it around the tip.

He jerks beneath my touch and it encourages me. I continue to stroke him with the hand that’s wrapped around his shaft as I softly pull him into my mouth. This isn’t so bad. He tastes… good, actually. When I look up at him, Lachlan’s struggling to keep his eyes open, and he’s groaning almost every time I suck on him.

I’m soaking wet from the sight of him like this. He’s fucking gorgeous, this man. Brutally and devastatingly handsome, and right now… he’s mine. He’s dark and mysterious and bad for me in every way, but it only seems to draw me in further. I want him. I want him so fucking much it scares me. But I can’t let myself go that far. Not yet.

So I settle for moving one of my hands down between my legs. Lach grunts out his approval but then pauses.

“Lose the shirt as well,” he orders.

I swallow around him and then pull back to whip the shirt over my head. Next come the sweatpants. At least I’ve got a nice lace bra on. I can already tell he likes it by the way his eyes are darkening.

“Ah Christ,” he says. “I love looking at those fucking tits of yours. So goddamn beautiful, ye are Mack. Now put your mouth back on me.”

I do. I suck him a little deeper this time, and he groans. My fingers are moving furiously inside the briefs I’m wearing, and his eyes are glued to them like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Harder,” he encourages. “Ye aren’t going to hurt me.”

I suck him harder, squeezing him with my fist. His hands are in my hair again, tangling through it as he loses his self-control. He’s completely guiding my movements now, pistoning his hips up into my mouth and taking what he wants from me. Something that would normally piss me off, but with Lachlan it’s hot. I’d never admit it to him, but I like letting him control me this way. I like this big, bad man bossing me around and telling me what to do and how to do it.

He’s getting close now. I can feel it in the way his body is tightening, his breath is stuttering, and the sexy noises he makes are getting louder. His grip is so tight on my hair it’s almost painful, but he doesn’t even realize it. He’s completely lost to the sensations. Lost to me.

“Show me those baby blues,” he grunts. “C’mon, Mack. Look up at me, sweetheart.”

I look up at him and he jerks into my mouth with a roar. The flood of come is unexpected, and yet I’m prepared for it. I swallow it all, and at the same time find my own release as I moan around him. When it’s all over, he pulls away and strokes my hair.

“Jaysus, Mack.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and I just smile up at him. The tension is gone from his body, and I know it’s because of me. My heart is doing that weird thing in my chest again. He’s looking at me like he can’t believe I’m real. And I don’t know why it affects me so much, but it does.

But, like me, Lachlan is hiding his own apprehension. The warmth of the moment doesn’t last long for either of us.

“You should be asleep,” he says when his breathing has calmed.

“That makes two of us,” I quip.

“Men like me don’t have that luxury. Ye should know that.”

I rest my chin on his thigh while I reach for his hand. An instinctive gesture, and once I have it, I’m not sure what to do with it. I start drawing little circles on his palm while I look up at him.

“So what do men like you do?”

“What kind of things did your father do?” he asks.

My grip on him tightens reflexively. “I don’t want to talk about him. It wasn’t the same.”

“Because he was good, and I’m not?” Lach supplies.

I shake my head. “That wasn’t what I meant.” I don’t know what I meant.

I know my father wasn’t perfect. But he’s gone now. And I only want to remember the good things.

“He brought ye into the middle of it,” Lachlan says softly. “Ye never stood a chance, sweetheart. He should have protected ye.”

Tears sting my eyes as I snatch my hand back. “You’re no different. No better. You guys get married and have kids too, right? Bring them into this life. How’s it any different?”

“Aye, we do,” he says unapologetically. “But we also protect them, with our lives if need be. No child of mine would ever be left to fend for themselves. Nor my wife, either, for that matter.”

I don’t know why he’s even bringing any of this up. His voice is tender, but his words are pissing me off.

“It’s not the same thing,” I repeat. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, Lachlan.”

“I’m trying to.” He pulls my hand back into his and links our fingers together. “I’m trying to understand ye, Mack.”

“Well, don’t,” I huff. “Unless you’re willing to divulge some things about yourself too.”

“What would ye like to know?”

There isn’t a bit of humor in his voice. He’s being open and honest with me, and I feel like it might be my only chance to ask him questions and get some real answers. I go for it with gusto.

“What kind of things does your outfit deal in exactly?”

He blinks at me and scrubs a hand over his face. “Ye know better than to ask something like that.”

“I do.” I shrug. “But I also know that I’ll be a dead woman anyway if I ever talk, so what’s the harm in telling me this one small thing? I want to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Ye want the truth?” he asks.

I nod.

“Ye’re fucked, sweetheart. Ye’re never walking away from this. You’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life if you try.”

I tighten my grip on his hand and search his eyes. His words aren’t threatening or filled with malice, just an honest truth. After what I saw last night, I knew there was no walking away. But I’m not certain that’s what he means.

“From you or them?” I clarify.

“We’re one and the same.”

“I don’t buy that,” I tell him.

He sighs, and his hand comes back to my face, his fingers brushing over my skin while he seems to come to some sort of conclusion in his own mind.

“I can’t let ye go, Mack,” he says. “The reasons don’t matter, so it’s better ye just accept it now.”

“So what will you do with me?”

He considers me for a moment, and I could almost swear I get a glimpse of guilt hidden in the gray of his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “We’ll sort that out later.”

He’s being very vague. Despite the intimate moment we just shared, it’s clear he still doesn’t trust me. I don’t blame him, but I’m going to need him to relax a little if I want to carry on with my mission. I have to wonder if he treats all women this way. Like at any moment they could turn around and stab him in the back. It must be exhausting.

“So are you keeping me around because you want to, or because you have to?” I ask.

“Make no bones about it.” He leans forward and captures my face in his hands. “I want to.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t say.” He shrugs. “Ye’re trouble. A wild card, Mack. But maybe I like having ye here.”

“Until you tire of me,” I add. “And then you’ll take someone on the side. Right? That’s how it works.”

I don’t know why I’m asking these things. They aren’t even important. They don’t matter. Still, I want to know.

“I can keep my cock in me pants,” he says. “And I often do until a pretty little ride like you comes along and takes it out for me.”

I scowl up at him, and he reaches down and grabs me. A moment later, I’m deposited on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around my waist.

“Mack.” He grabs the base of my neck with his fingers and rubs the skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’d have no need or want for anything else if you were lying in my bed every night.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I grumble.

“I like that ye’re possessive of me,” he says. “That turns me on, sweetheart. Because I already feel possessive as hell of you.”

Silence falls between us, and then I hear him whisper, “but I shouldn’t.”

I lean back against him and close my eyes. I know the feeling well.

“I still need to know more about you,” I tell him.

“Well, carry on then. I never told ye to stop.”

“How did you come to be in this life?”

“My father was born into it, and by birth I had rights to it as well. But my grand-da was the one to induct me.”

“When do I get to meet him?” I ask.

His hands tighten around me and his entire body goes rigid.

“Ouch,” I hiss.

“He’s dead,” he clips out. “Don’t bring it up again.”

“Sheesh, alright.”

He relaxes, and I think the time for talking has abruptly come to an end. But Lachlan surprises me when he explains a few minutes later.

“He died very recently,” he says. “And my father, when I was ten. Didn’t know much about him. He just knocked me mum up when he was back home for a visit. Sent money to keep her afloat, but this was where his life was at. My grand-da took care of me when I came here. And now Niall and the lads are my family. That’s all ye need to know about that.”

“What about your mom?”

“Dead too,” he says. “She went when I was sixteen.”

I nuzzle into the crook of his neck, and for the first time in a long time I feel something familiar between someone else other than Talia and Scarlett. This is the thing that links us. He’s an orphan too. And, like me, he did what he had to in order to survive.

I catch sight of the medal hanging against his chest, and my fingers move up to touch it.

“Saint Anthony,” I murmur.

He doesn’t reply. This medal holds some sort of significance to him. Just like the heart-shaped pendant hanging around my neck. I’m not a Catholic, but my father was, and I know enough to know exactly what this particular saint means.

“Are you worried about your soul?” I ask him.

“It depends on the day,” he answers vaguely. “Sometimes the minute. But how much time can a man in my line of work spend worrying about these things?”

He’s teasing me, using humor to deflect my question. But beneath that veneer, I can see the truth. He does worry about these things. Worries about staying human. Good and evil. His darkness.

Telling myself it’s under the pretense of softening him to my purpose, I continue to question him.

“So what does a man like Lachlan Crow want?”

He looks down at me and smiles. “Why don’t you tell me, sweetheart.”

I continue to rub circles on his palm, deciding to be honest in my observation.

“You want to please Niall. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that you want to continue his legacy. Move up in the organization. Eventually, maybe even be King of all?”

His fingers wrap around mine and squeeze. I’ve hit too close to home. His eyes are hard, glittering with suspicion again.

“Ye’re too observant for your own good,” he says. “It would be better for you if ye didn’t let onto these things, butterfly.”

“Probably,” I agree.

I refuse to let the conversation die though. I want to get answers from him while he’s willing to give them. I suspect it doesn’t happen often.

“So what kind of things do you do besides running the club?”

“I can’t tell ye that, Mack,” he says. “Even if you were my wife, ye wouldn’t know these things. It’s for your own protection.”

Wife?
I clear my throat and stare at his chest, tracing my fingers over the lines of his tattoos.

“Just tell me one thing then.”

“What?”

“Do you or have you ever, dealt in trafficking women?”

“No,” he answers firmly. “Never. And we never will.”

When I look up into his eyes, I believe him. And I don’t know why. I can’t believe him. I have to be objective here. To see things logically. No matter how many conflicting feelings I have about this man, the truth is simple. Talia worked for him, and now she’s gone. There’s an explanation behind that, regardless of what he says to me. Maybe he doesn’t know it, maybe he does. Either way, I can’t trust him. Lachlan Crow is only loyal to one thing, and that is his syndicate.

“Hop up.” He pats me on the ass. “Let’s try to get some sleep. I have another long day tomorrow.”

“Still dealing with the Armenians?”

He nods and leads me to the bed. I hesitate for only a moment before climbing in beside him with a sigh. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore.

Chapter Eighteen

Mackenzie

“
W
hen do I get to go back to work?” I ask.

Lachlan glances up from his breakfast. “Ye don’t.”

“What do you mean I don’t?”

Him and Ronan exchange glances. “Told ye, sweetheart. Things are going to change. The only lad you’ll be dancing for from now on is me.”