Children of Vice (Children of Vice 1)

“We’re changing.” He let me know, reading a tag.

“Why?”

He paused and looked at me like he was confused as to why I was asking. “Because we look showy.”

“I’m pretty sure your cousin Nari lectured me on the importance of dressing showy.” Hence the reason for the painful pretty heels always on my feet.

“Chicago rules don’t apply here,” he said, pulling out a black wool men’s coat, and moved to another rack, but I grabbed his arm. He paused, allowing me to step in front of him.

Looking directly at his green eyes, I asked him the question that was starting to eat me up inside.

“What is going through your mind, Mr. Callahan?” I asked softly, reaching up to touch his hairline, and he didn’t back away or flinch, allowing me to do it. “When you change moods like this I’m not sure what to say or do.”

Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead and my heart started to race. “Find clothes, Mrs. Callahan.”

Just like that he walked around me.

Swallowing the lump in my throat and running my hands through my hair, I did what he asked. Grabbing some dark skinny jeans in my size along with a blood red blouse, black sneakers, and jacket, by the time I’d finished he was already standing beside me waiting.

“Take my hand,” he said this time when he outstretched his hand.

“That wasn’t asking,” I told him, taking it anyway.

“Noted,” he repeated, leading me back into the dressing rooms. I tried to go to the women’s side, but he pulled me to the bigger one with him, locking the door behind us. He tossed the clothes onto the small bench, reached into his jacket, and put the gun down there as well. Kicking up his foot, he undid the laces of his shoes then reached around his ankle, pulling out the slim knives. From the left ankle he took out a smaller gun.

Jeez. How did I not notice? All his clothes were always fitted and…my mind trailed off when he started to unbutton his shirt. Watching him work down the buttons quickly made my ears hot.

“Damn it, Ivy.” He sighed.

“W—”

Pushing me up against the mirror, his hands at the sides of my face as his lips covered mine, his tongue was already in my mouth, rolling over my own, tasting every corner of my mouth. His body pressed up between my legs and I wanted more, eagerly pulling at his belt, but he grabbed my hands, pinning them over my head. Only then did we pull back from each other and just barely, huffing, trying to catch our breaths.

“I’ve never had such a hard time thinking before you, do you realize that?” He snapped at me, squeezing my wrists a little tighter. “I could feel the lust rolling off you from the moment we drove off.”

“It is your fault! I’m burning and you’re the one who set the fire. So either you let me burn or you do something about it!”

He inhaled through his nose, and reaching under my dress, he yanked my underwear to the side and with no warning or remorse he rammed himself into my pussy.

“Uhh!” I cried out, gripping onto his shoulders, my eyes struggling to open as he pulled out and did so again. In the back of my mind I was well aware that the girl outside the stall could hear me moaning like a porn star and see the stall shaking, my bare ass pressed up against it as he fucked me so hard the heels fell off my feet and my toes curled, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“E…than.” I gripped his hair, my mouth wide-open as I came along with him. Frozen with both our chests pressed against each other, I could feel his heart racing…or maybe it was mine. He unlocked my legs from his waist, setting them on the ground, and stepped away. He put his arms up at either side of my head and hung his own.

“Ethan…”

“I’m going to need you to support me,” he muttered and finally looked up at me, and I swear it was like his eyes were glossed over with something. “Trust that when I choose what I’m going to do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“You ask for a lot of trust from someone you barely know.”

“Do I?” He kissed my lips and pushed away, completely taking off his trousers and pulling up the jean

s meanwhile I was the one with cum between my legs. Luckily, I still had facial wipes in my purse. It took a lot to embarrass me…it rarely happened. But there wasn’t anything attractive or sexy about the after-sex cleanup part. Another thing guys got away with—

“What are you doing?” I asked, startled as he took the wipe from my hands and pressed it on my inner thigh, sliding it up between my legs.

“I’m surprised you of all people are embarrassed in front of me.” He smirked.

“Me too!” I really was…until I realized I didn’t want him to see me as anything but sexy.