Whatever restraint we have left snaps. My fingers catch the hem of his shirt and drag it up, baring warm, toned skin and the ink over his chest—a black void where his heart should be, fractures spiderwebbing out like something was ripped from. I make a mental note to ask later, then lower my mouth to his neck, kissing down the column of his throat and nipping at his collarbone. I pause over the tattoo, pressing a careful kiss to the center of the darkness as my hands trail down his chest to his belt. He watches me as I work on the buckle open and shove his jeans and boxers down his hips, freeing his length. I curl my fingers around him, a flicker of surprise sparking through me at just how hard he is. I lean in, tongue darting out toward the flushed-up tip, when his hand fists gently in my hair and tugs my head back. “Not tonight,” he says, eyes locked on mine. “Tonight is about reclaiming a piece of yourself.”
Sterling eases me back onto the mattress, his mouth trailing down my neck in slow, deliberate kisses before he settles between my thighs. He presses soft kisses to the sensitive skin on either side, teasing me, and then his tongue finally finds the spot aching for him. He traces a pattern over my clit that sends hot sparks racing through my veins. “Fuckkk,” I moan, any hope of control obliterated when it comes to this man. I feel the curve of his grin against me a second before he slides a finger inside, curling it just right to press against my sweet spot.
His tongue and fingers fall into a matched rhythm, relentless and devastating. He slips in a second finger, stretching me wider, and I can feel myself unraveling, heat coiling tighter and tighter until it’s almost painful. He hums something low I can’t quite catch, and the vibration tips me over the edge. My vision blurs as my orgasm slams into me full force, pleasure flooding every nerve while my release drenches his face.
Sterling sits back on his heels with a huge, satisfied smile stretching across his face, the moonlight painting his features in silver and shadow, making him look like some kind of God.A deadly god, but a god, nonetheless.He leans down to kiss me, slowly and deeply. “Taste how sweet you are, Thorn,” he whispers against my lips. “Sometimes even thorns are attached to sweet, beautiful things.” His hand slips between us, fingers sliding through my slick before he wraps them around his cock, stroking himself and smearing my release over his length. I barely get one look at him lined up against me before he slams into me, bottoming out in a single thrust. Pain flares a heartbeat and then melts into a wave of pleasure that washes it clean away. Sterling goes still, chest heaving as he lets me adjust, his eyes locked on mine. Only when my grip on his shoulder eases and my thighs relax around his hips does he start to move.
I groan, “More, Sterling. I need more.” I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but the look on his face says he does. He hooks my legs around his waistand rises onto his knees, dragging my lower back and hips off the bed. The new angle makes his cock slam into the most sensitive spot inside me, and I gasp as he starts to move. His pace is measured at first, controlled, like he’s testing exactly how much I can take. He leans forward, just far enough to wrap his hand around my throat, cutting off just enough oxygen to make my head go light. The room narrows to the feel of him—his grip, his length, his breath against my lips. My fingers brush metal.The knife…I grab it, bringing the blade up to his arm, and draw a small line across his skin—tiny, but enough to bleed.
Sterling's eyes go almost black as he watches his blood drip down onto my stomach and slide lower, streaking my chest. It pools underneath my breast, circling the curve before trailing down to the hollow of my throat. Something in him snaps. His restraint shatters as he slams back into me, his thrusts turning brutal, giving me exactly what I begged for. The sharp edge of pain and the heat of him and the sight of his blood on my skin twist together until I can feel myself clenching around him, my orgasm building higher than it ever has.
A few more thrusts and I’m gone, tumbling over the edge as my release crashes through me, dragging a guttural grunt from his chest as he spills inside me. I can feel myself squeezing around him. As the high ebbs, my muscles go limp. Sterling lowers my hips carefully back to the bed, like he’s afraid I’ll break. He slips away to the bathroom and returns with a warm, damp rag. I lie there in stunned silence while he wipes me clean—blood, sweat, everything—gentle in all the places he was just ruthless. When he’s done, he tosses the rag aside and settles beside me. “Can you tell me what you know about Cicada?”
Sterling takes a deep breath. “I don’t know much more than you,” he admits. “I know your dad was behind it—or at least organized it. I found one post that didn’t say much. Cam found another with your name on it, dated the year before your mom died.”
I nod as he pulls the blanket over me, tucking it around my shoulders. “Do you know what it was for?”
He doesn’t answer me right away, and the silence between us suddenly feels heavier than everything we just did. The look he gives me says he’d rather choke on the truth than spit it out. “It was looking for other families with sons around the age of twelve,” he finally answers.
“Okay.” That’s all I manage, because what else is there to say? Sterling gets up and starts getting dressed. “Stay…please.” He goes still for a long moment before he strips back down and slides in beside me. He tucks his arm under my head, his fingers stroking through my hair the way my mom used to, and the ache in my chest loosens. I’m hovering on the edge of sleep when I mumble, “Why do you call me Thorn?
“Because I was obsessed with you,” he says quietly. “You are a thorn in my side. And thorns can be deadly.” With his words curling around me, I drift off to sleep, feeling safer than I have in a very long time.
Chapter Fourteen
Kiera fell asleep quickly, the weight of her story dragging her down. Her own dad set her up with that piece of shit.What the fuck is wrong with him?I wait until her soft snores even out before I ease out of bed and pull my clothes back on. Leaning down, I press a soft kiss on her forehead.You may be broken, Thorn, but so am I. Broken things can still shine.I get it now—the pull, the way my obsession with her bloomed so fast. She’s my match in every way that matters. She just doesn’t realize it yet.
I head for the elevator, already mentally rearranging her floor.I really need to get cameras up here for her.By the time the doors close, I’ve got her security system pulled up on my phone, fingers flying as I bring it back online. The elevator opens into the parking garage, my truck sitting where I left it. I slide in, start the engine, and head home. My mind is so wrapped around Kiera—her dad, Asher, the fucking Cicada post—that I’m pulling into my driveway before I’ve really registered a single turn.Thank fuck for muscle memory.I’m out of the truck and moving before the engine’s even cooled, heading straight for Cam’s room. I don’t bother knocking.“Hey,” I announce myself, pushing the door open. “We got anything yet?”
Cam looks up from his computer. “There were four names that showed up both nights,” he states. “Wade, Kiera, Lila… and someone named Asher.”
I freeze at the last name, the air in my lungs turning to ice.How the hell was he there, and Kiera never saw him?“Find everything you can on Asher,” I say, my voice going flat. “He’s a problem that needs to be removed, regardless of whether he’s tied to the blackmail or not.” I brace my hands onthe edge of Cam’s desk and lean in. “Also, trace Kiera’s VPN and IP address—for home and her phone.”
“Sure. Give me a few minutes.” Cam swivels back to the monitors, fingers flying over the keys as he starts typing like a man on a mission.
“I’ll be right back.” I leave Cam to his keyboards and head for the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Something Kiera said keeps replaying in my head. She lied when she said she didn’t know who the blackmailer was—but was honest about the reason why they were doing it. Who else would want Wade to confess other than the one person who it destroyed just as much?Looks like my thorn may be more than just a pain in my side.I tip the bottle back and chug half of it, letting the burn steady me before I head back to Cam.
“You’re not going to believe this, but I finally got something.” Cam’s voice is sharp with adrenaline. “It’s her. Kiera is the one behind this.” He spins his chair to face me, eyes wide. “She’s fucking good—like really good—but I found a missing piece of her setup with the last video.”
“Erase any proof that it was her.” My decision is instant, absolute. No one but us ever needs to know this.
Cam’s brows jump up, confusion written all over his face. “I know you have this fascination with her, but Sterling, this is the job we were hired for.”
“I don’t care.” My voice comes out low and sharp. “That man deserves every bit of this from her. It’s not just killing her mother, Cam. He did a hell of a lot more than that.” I push off the desk, jaw tight. “I need you to make it look like Asher sent them. And before you start bitching, Asher is in no way innocent. It’s not my story to tell, but one way or another, Asher and Wade will cease to exist.” I meet his eyes, letting the promise sit there between us. “Find out everything you can on Asher and Cicada.” Cam swallows, then nods and turns back to his screens, getting to work.
I shoot Wade a quick text, telling him we think we've found our blackmailer. Pulling up the camera feed, I see Kiera starting to stir, so I switch over to our messages.
Me: I need you to come here.
I send her my address with the text and wait for her response. The weight of everything folds in on me as I step into a quick shower, hot water doing nothing to wash it away.I can’t let her get hurt by them anymore.I dry off and put on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before heading back to Cam’s room. “Found anything on Asher?” I ask. Cam pulls up a document on the screen, lines of information filling the monitor.
Asher Sinclair
Age:
26
Profession: