Keep Me (The Fox Family Crime Syndicate, #3)

by Summer O'Toole

“You’re not the Cortez I take orders from. Bark at me again, and I’ll be the one you need protecting from.”

hand feels in his. It’s not that. I’m jealous that he’s squandering this perfect opportunity. Not to fuck her, but to fuck with her.

“I’m not a dog, Cortez.” I stand my ground as he tries to leer over me. “Could have fooled me. Following me around like a lost puppy.” His nostrils flare, and my heart races. I don’t like to be made to feel small. Especially in my own home. “Now be a good boy and do your business outside. Vete.” I narrow my eyes so he knows I mean it exactly as it sounds.

I lock myself in my bedroom, roiling in anger and humiliation.1 I’m livid that he was right. I couldn’t fight him off. I couldn’t have stopped him from going further. I couldn’t even fucking call for help. He proved his point and then some.

“And the next time you threaten to rape me, it won’t be serrano in your food.” I punctuate my last words by stabbing the knife into the table between his fingers, intentionally missing them by millimeters. “It will be fucking cyanide.”

“Because when my hands are wrapped around your throat, I’m the one you’ll be praying to.”

“Get inside, Cortez.” I find myself unconsciously rolling my head to the side, opening up my neck for his words, his breath…his touch. My heart hangs between beats, expecting him to take the offer. Instead he growls, in both a threat and plea, “Don’t make a liar of me.”

Would he laugh when he slipped a curious finger into my panties to find me soaking? Twisted little slut…

My heart beats wildly in my chest at being caught, but then evens out to a devilish determined tempo as I listen to him straining to conceal the sounds of his grunts.

Breathless, I pant in sync with his moans which are growing harsher and more desperate with each stroke.

I listen to his receding footsteps next, sinking back into my bed, but there’s a lingering, nagging sense of restlessness. Like the game ended but I don’t know the final score.

Her moans were no longer clipped and bitten off. Instead she lets them pour out of her. Each one was a hit of the strongest drug. Her pleasure, her body, her fucking irritatingly fierce and stubborn attitude. I wanted to fuck it out of her as much as I wanted to fuck her because of it. I punched my hips, slamming my cock through the circle of my hand imagining it was her hot, dripping cunt.

I pictured my hand wrapping around her throat as I pounded into her, the rosary tattoo a sinful reminder of who’s really in control.

“We were inseparable. She was my sister, my partner, my…” She struggles to find a word that encapsulates what she was to her. “Your person,” I say, understanding.

He holds it out to me, his eyes dropping to my lips. Without thinking, I lean forward and wrap my mouth around the berry. His mouth opens in surprise, and his eyes get glossy, pupils blown wide. His fingertips brush against the corner of my mouth as I sink my teeth into the juicy fruit, the sweetness bursting like sunshine across my tongue.

I pull away, and his hand hesitates in front of me for a second before he brings it to his mouth and eats the remaining half. His tongue flicks out to wipe the juices from his lips.

He glances down at his hand, where ruby-colored juice is dripping down his index finger and thumb. He drags his tongue across his teeth and holds his fingers out to me again. I’m under a captivating spell that compels me to step closer to Roan and suck his strawberry-covered fingers between my lips slowly, like a hesitant first kiss.

“What if we pretend we hate each other?” My nose lowers to brush against hers, and her breath feathers against my face. “Bet you’d like to fuck me like you hate me, huh?”

“That’s my girl.” I’m sure he doesn’t mean it in any way other than he’s happy to get his choice of dinner, but I don’t like the way my stomach swoops at the idea of being his girl.

“Why are you sleeping there?” she asks, her voice curious and light. “You were on the couch,” I explain simply. “What about your bedroom?” “You were here, so I was here.”

“Pull down the sheets, raise that shirt, and show me you’re not dripping for me right now.”

“Doesn’t prove anything other than you got a fucking perfect pussy. You could still be soaked.”

I cock my head to the side and lazily begin to stroke my dick with her wet panties.

“Jesus…look at you fucking your fingers like a desperate little whore. Is it my cock you’re imagining? Stretching you. Filling you.”

“Get up. Get on the desk,” I hurriedly order, throwing her panties on the ground and pulling out the desk chair a few feet from the desk. It’s a simple, four-legged, wooden chair. Nothing could be further from a throne, but, when she follows my decree, I’ve never felt more like a king.

“Fuck, you’re too big,” she whimpers, and a dark part of me ignites. “But you’re gonna take it, aren’t you? You’re going take it and thank me for every fucking inch.”

recognize a matching yet contrasting darkness in her. Where mine screams to dominate and dirty, hers begs to be used and sullied. I’ve never wanted to see such a pretty thing break before.

I hear her laugh softly, then say, “I was, by the way.” “You were what?” “Thinking of you.” “Fuck,” I groan, sliding back out of bed. “I need a fucking smoke.”

“I shot him in the dick because he called you a whore—”

“I killed him because I’m the only one who gets to call you that.”

“Oh, and Cortez?” He looks over his shoulder at the top of the stairs. “If you ever make me that hard again while torturing someone, I’m fucking you next to their corpse.”

“Psycho bitch,” she hisses and drops the drink, spilling it all over the floor. “Leave my man alone.” Reggie laughs. “Your man is fucking ravenous, and it’s not for what you’re serving. Your man would be on his knees for me in seconds, but when he’s with you, I bet you’re the only one on your knees.”

fucking Reggie is a boss

“You know the rules,” she says breathlessly, lifting her chin. “No touching unless I’m in danger.” I growl in warning. “You sure as fuck aren’t safe around me right now.”

“I want my cock to be the only one filling you. I want my hands to be the only ones that know the feel of you. I want my teeth to be the only ones marking you…” The jacket slides off her shoulder, and I move to the other side, stopping to hover above her beating heart. “So, no, Cortez, I don’t want to touch you—I want to fuck you, own you, ruin you.”

Jesus 🔥🔥

“You’re a fucking vision.”

“I want you to fuck me until I’m coming on your cock,” she says confidently and surely. “Then I want you to turn me around, tell me to grab the desk, and fuck me from behind while you turn my ass red.” My jaw tightens at her filthy words, and my grip on her thighs turns bruising again. “I want it all, Roan.”

“You wanna be used like a whore? Fucked until you can’t walk straight?” “Yes.” Her eyes light up. “You have permission to touch me, but fuck me like you don’t.”

“What do you think? Does an orgasm constitute a prayer?” She shakes her head side to side, as much as she can with my hand pinning her throat. “Don’t worry, mentirosa, I was paying attention.”

“Ride me like the filthy whore you are, my little menace.”

“Fhíorálainn.”

“I’ve thought about filling your smart mouth so many times. Imagined how you’d look on your knees just as many. But fuck, the fantasy can't even compete with the reality…I feel like I should be the one on my knees right now.”

“How it would feel to have you coming on my fingers while I ground my cock against your ass. And I remember thinking that even with all the layers of clothing between us, that was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever imagined.”

“Kids made fun of me the first day I wore it to school. I cried to my brother on our walk home. He told me to man up.” I laugh at the memory, and Roan’s mouth tugs in the corner like he’s recalling similar memories. “But the next day, he and all his friends showed up to school with eye patches covered in princesses and pink butterflies.

but touching me so casually intimate elicits fear for the future.

thigh. “I wasn’t going to stand by and let someone do that to you.” My knuckles whiten around the gun as I dip it under the hem of her dress. “The only person who can make you scream is me. The only person who can hurt you is me.”

“Don’t think for a second that you aren’t the one in complete control. That you don’t have total power over me.”

Telling her this breaks something inside of me. Breaking is often equated with ruin. But this doesn’t feel like ruin. It feels like the tired, weary pieces that were trying so hard to stay together are now relieved of that burden.

“Next time you think about putting yourself in danger, fucking anyone else for any reason, remember this moment.” A cry is torn from my lungs as my muscles contract, painfully yet blissfully, in rapture. “Remember how nobody can make you shatter like I can. On my tongue, my fingers, my cock. Even on my fucking gun.”

“Do you think they’re broken?” I ask, lightly dusting over his ribs. “Maybe.” He rolls one shoulder in a half shrug. “Probably.” I look from his mottled skin to his hard erection. “Can you still…” “Fuck you?” He lifts a brow. “Turn around and find out.”

“When do you feel safest?” “Never. But being able to keep you safe makes it all worth it. The paranoia, constantly being on edge, never letting my guard down. I might never feel safe because of all the ways I’m fucked in the head, but I can sleep at night knowing you are.”