Unorthodox (Sick Love Book 1) Read online

  He runs his finger over my bottom lip. “Open your mouth, Addison, or I’ll break your fucking jaw and do it for you.”

  Hating him, hating myself, I do as he asked.

  “Hmm, what a good girl,” he says softly as he runs his finger over my tongue and I taste myself, earthy and sweet.

  “Close your mouth around me.”

  My eyes still closed tight, I do.

  “Now suck yourself off of me. And look at me while you do it.”

  Feeling my face warm, I force my eyes open, locking my gaze on his as I suck his finger.

  “Do you taste that?” he asks me.

  I don’t speak.

  “Answer me,” he warns me.

  I swallow, then say, “Yes,” around his finger. As I do, my teeth catch on his skin and just as I think about biting him, he seems to read my mind.

  “If you bite me,” he warns me, his voice still soft, “I promise you, you’ll be drinking your meals for the rest of your life. Now,” he glances down between us, eyes on my mouth, “keep sucking me.”

  Feeling my stomach churn, I do, my mouth closed tight over his finger, careful with my teeth.

  “You might miss Dante,” he says as I work his finger in my mouth, “and you might wish you could fuck him again.” His grip in my hair is painful, my scalp burning as tears well up in my eyes. “You might think I’m a monster. You might even hate me.” He leans close again, then shoves his finger as far down my throat as he can, his knuckles pressed against my teeth. “But your cunt still gets wet for me, all the same. Even when I treat you like this.” He brushes his mouth over mine, his finger between us as I gag. “Especially when I treat you like this.” He loosens his hold on my hair, stroking it back, away from my face. “Just like it did when I fucked you. That’s why you’ll be the perfect whore, Addison. And that’s why you don’t get to question me, and if I tell you not to fucking talk about something,” he pushes his finger further down my throat and my stomach convulses as he looms over me, his eyes locked on mine, “you don’t fucking talk about it.”

  When we pull up to the house, past a guarded gate, Max parks on the circular driveway behind a Lamborghini. There’s a fountain here too, white columns before the front doors of the mansion, people circulating on the stone steps of the porch. The SUV pulls up behind us, and my stomach twists into knots.

  We haven’t spoken since he pulled back onto the road.

  Now, though, he breaks his silence as I stare straight ahead, at the women in dresses and men in suits, many of them with drinks in hand.

  “We’re about to be in a room full of people that won’t hesitate to fuck you, whether you want it or not.” Max’s voice is low, and I feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him. “This is why you stay with me.”

  I don’t bother telling him that he didn’t hesitate to fuck me if I wanted it or not. It’s not as if he’s forgotten all the ways he’s fucking horrible and hypocritical.

  “If you don’t, and if someone rapes you, Addison, I’ll leave you here and let them keep you.”

  With those last cheerful, parting words, he gets out of the car and slams the door closed.

  Watching Addison walk among wolves with her head held high is intoxicating, even as Evora snakes her arm around my waist.

  I shrug out of her grip and bring the glass of whiskey to my lips as I wait for Addison to catch up. I watch her take everything in inside Luca’s entertainment room.

  There are women on leashes in here, some with tails, naked save for that alone. There are women being used as furniture—a few feet from me, a busty blonde is on her hands and knees while a man ashes out his cigar on her back and chats with a few men seated beside him on a black leather couch.

  There’s a man covered head-to-toe in spandex except for his flaccid cock, and he’s lying on his back like a rug while his master crosses his feet over him, shoes on the slave’s chest.

  I imagine Addison’s father must have had parties like this, because as she keeps her shoulders back, her posture proud, she doesn’t bat an eye.

  She comes to stand beside me, and I feel the tension between her and Evora as the two women stare at one another. I’m under no illusion that Addison wants me, but she knows Evora doesn’t like her. As compassionate as she might be, Addison isn’t a pushover. Even I can admit that.

  Which is why I’m not entirely surprised when she clears her throat, turns to face me, and asks, “Can I get a drink?”

  I stare at her a minute, drinking in her cold gaze, her green eyes fixed to mine. I see a few people glance her way as they walk behind her, drinks in hand.

  I want to wrap my arm around her. Want to get her the fuck out of here.

  But I don’t.

  Instead, I scope out the manned bar over my shoulder, see it’s nearly empty—waiters are walking around with trays full of drinks—and nod once. “Wait there.”

  She starts to walk past me, but I grab her arm, jerking her close to me.

  “I mean it, Addison. Don’t wander, and don’t make a fucking scene.” Then I let her go.

  A drunk Addison will be easier to lead away when I’m done here. And the thought of her drunk...of her wanting me instead of hating me, it has a strange allure. Especially considering we’ve already gotten past the problem of her pesky virginity.

  That thought sends rage coursing through me, strangled with a sense of anxiety.

  If the wrong person finds out, I might have put Ollie at risk.

  She put Ollie at risk.

  “What’s wrong?” Evora asks from beside me, her voice a breathy whisper. I almost wish I hadn’t brought her. It’s never good to mix business and pleasure.

  I could tell Evora to leave but being around all of these kinks is making my dick hard, and I’m going to need her later.

  I turn to her, taking my eyes off of Addison for one moment. I don’t answer Evora, but she must correctly read the look in my eye, because she steps back from me, giving me space.

  I glance at Addison again, think of my finger down her throat in my car. The dampness between her thighs. The way I made her see her body as a traitor. She didn’t want to fuck me. Bodies are strange, the way they react with lust to things our minds comprehend as terror. I’m not a boy. I know that.

  I remember how my dick would get hard when my father’s men toyed with me.

  I remember how I’d come too, even when I could taste my own blood in my mouth. Even when my face was swollen to twice its usual size because of how hard they had hit me.

  I’d still come underneath their hands.

  In their mouth, if they really wanted me to hate myself.

  Addison doesn’t want me. But getting her to think she did, making her believe she can’t trust even herself…it’s another way to manipulate her.

  Now, I watch a man in a dark grey suit offer her a drink at the manned bar in the corner of the room. The entertainment room is decked out with a few couches, a television—currently off—that takes up an entire wall, a floor-to-ceiling sound system, a pool table, and a circular booth with a dance floor off to one side of the room.

  Luca spends money like there’s not enough in the world to quench his thirst. We’re not the same in that regard. I’m not addicted to luxury.

  Instead, I like safety.

  Usefulness. A TV the size of a wall isn’t fucking useful.

  Evora puts her hand on my chest, trying again with me. Her black nails glisten in the dim lights overhead as my eyes stay glued to Addison’s.

  I know she knows there’s no escape here. Some of the men in this room make me look like fucking Father Christmas. Even still, she takes the drink from a man she doesn’t know, and I want to kill her, my fingers tightening around the glass in my hand.

  I don’t recognize the man, but he’s at Luca’s. He can’t be up to any fucking good.

  There are a dozen women here who are obviously slaves, many of them whose owners would gladly share them, and yet Charcoal Suit Guy has to go for my fu
cking girl.

  I shrug out of Evora’s hand, head straight for Addison and the dumb fuck.

  For all I know, he’s her buyer’s guy, and he could try to snatch her out from under me.

  He could fucking cost me my brother.

  Yeah. That’s not going to happen.

  But as I get closer, someone blocks my way, sidestepping me and nearly making me spill my goddamn drink. I instinctively reach for my gun but registering Luca’s dark eyes stops me.

  “What the fuck?” I growl. He’s got a hand on my chest, but he drops it quickly, taking a step back.

  He glances over his shoulder at Addison, who’s standing closer to the guy, and I can see her drink is nearly empty.

  Idiot. She’s a fucking idiot. I’m going to kill her.

  “Calm down,” Luca says under his breath, turning back to me. He glances around his party, and I feel my eyes nearly bug out of my head at his words. I don’t care that it’s his house. That’s my fucking property.

  “Get out of my way.” I set the drink on a high table next to us, where a few other discarded glasses are. Fisting my hands, I go to step around Luca again. We’re nearly the same height, and he’s a little thicker than me, but I will deck him if he doesn’t fucking move.

  “I said, calm down.” His voice turns darker, his eyes on mine. “People are watching you.”

  I don’t move my eyes from his, not wanting to see who he’s talking about. “What’s your point?” I glance over his shoulder again, and Charcoal Suit has his hand on Addison’s low back. She’s leaning over the bar, sipping her drink from a straw, and then she flashes him a drunken smile. The bartender made that drink, but I wonder if he put something in it. No way she’s that drunk that fast, and Addison isn’t the kind of girl to be smiling about a party like this.

  Or maybe she is.

  So long as she’s not with me.

  “Don’t make her a target.” Luca’s words make me pause, and I force myself to look at him instead of her. “You act overeager to protect her?” He glances around the room. “These people will want to find out why. They know she’s leverage. Don’t bring any more attention to her than necessary.”

  “Who is she with?” I demand, knowing Luca’s speaking the truth. These may be people he invited into his home, but they’re all sharks. Every single one of us are. And I don’t know how to separate the ones that want Addison’s blood from the ones that just want her screams.

  “Zeke,” Luca says easily. “He’s harmless.”

  I run my tongue over my teeth as I stare at Luca, waiting for him to explain. We both know no one here is harmless.

  “He’s a runner. He doesn’t deal with women. He’s twenty, probably why he’s talking to her.”

  That doesn’t make me feel any better.

  “My bartender won’t let her get drugged,” Luca assures me, clapping me on the shoulder.

  I narrow my eyes, and again, he drops his hand. He glances around the room, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Happy birthday to me,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Before I can say anything, he keeps talking. “I already saw Christopher’s guy. He’s been making glances at her since you two walked in. I think you’ve made your point.” His eyes shift back to me. “As for your buyer’s man? I don’t know who he is, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

  I don’t bother looking for her father’s man. I don’t give a fuck about him. He’s not ever getting her back.

  Instead, I turn where Luca is looking, and I know he’s right.

  That’s her buyer’s man.

  He’s the only one in here with face tattoos, a few under each eye. He’s in a suit, his dark hair cut close, hands in his pockets as he stands against a wall.

  He’s staring past me, right at Addison.

  I feel myself tense, wondering if he knows my brother. If he’s spoken to him, touched him. Hurt him.

  “Hey,” Luca says softly, “Evora is here.”

  I turn my gaze reluctantly back to him.

  He looks over my shoulder, and I know Evora must still be behind me. “Why don’t you get another drink, play with her? They’re not going to take Addison from right under your nose.” He grins at me. “I’ll have my men look after her,” he adds, sincerity in his tone.

  I weigh his words. I need a release, because I’ve already snapped one too many times recently. She is certainly not willing to let me fuck her again, and even though her purity is fucked, I don’t have to make it worse. Besides that, if I make Addison seem more important than she is, she could use that against me, file it away as another weakness. As it is, Luca is right. No one is going to take her from Luca’s house, not while I’m here. Luca has guards himself, and he won’t let her be stolen from me. Not because he particularly cares for me, but because that’s bad business.

  Taking a breath, I nod, tearing my eyes away from Addison. “You keep an eye on her too.”

  He claps me on the shoulder, then quickly drops his hand. “Of course.”

  Evora, as if she listened to the entire conversation, picks up where Luca leaves off as he walks away to greet more of his guests. She comes to stand in front of me, not touching me, but close enough that her breasts brush against my chest with every inhale she takes.

  “Tell me what you need,” she whispers, her dark eyes searching mine, a small smile playing on her red lips. “You seem tense.”

  I’m always tense. I glance over her, see Addison still talking to the runner, but she hasn’t moved from the bar, like a good girl.

  Dropping my gaze back to Evora, I grab her wrist, yank her closer. “I need us to find a room.” I like to play, but not in a room full of people. “And I need you to get on your hands and knees, Evora.”

  Her smile widens.

  I lean down close, my mouth over her ear. “Then I need you to let me hurt you.”

  As Evora presses closer to me, her body nearly flush with mine, I look up again.

  And find Addison staring right at me.

  I flash her a smile, thread my fingers through Evora’s long, dark hair, and lead her out of Luca’s entertainment room.

  Zeke is only three years older than me, and as I watch Max drag Evora out of the room, past the double doors at the far end of it, I turn my gaze back to him, my stomach churning.

  I debate running, walking out of this house and never looking back, but the guards stationed along the wall, all armed, make me think that wouldn’t be so easy. Not to mention there are several sets of eyes on me, and I think, as unnerving as this party is, being alone with any of those people would be worse.

  “Where are you from?” Zeke asks me, pushing another rum and coke my way.

  I’ve never drank much, and the two drinks I’ve already had are making my head spin. But the alternative is sitting here, sober, in a red dress that’s too tight wearing makeup to cover a bruise from a man that’s far too cold.

  A man that walked out, when he told me not to leave his side.

  He wasn’t good to his word.

  I won’t be to mine, either.

  I curl my fingers around the cold glass, bring it to my lips and swallow, the rum now sweet instead of harsh as it goes down my throat.

  When I’ve finished half the drink, I set it down a little harder than I mean to on the polished bar top, fingers still circled around the glass. “North Carolina,” I tell Zeke.

  He works with someone who works with the host of this party, Max’s friend, whose name Zeke briefly mentioned and now with the rum in my system, I’ve forgotten it.

  “What about you?” I meet Zeke’s chestnut eyes, watch him smile and rake a hand over his short brown hair. He’s cute, and he seems…nice.

  “Arizona, but I mainly do business in North Carolina.”

  Business. I almost laugh at the word, but I hold it in. I wonder if he works with my father. I wonder if he knows who I am. We exchanged first names, and I didn’t see a spark of recognition in his eyes, but then again, I was distracted by just how close Evora was to
Max.

  I shove that thought aside. Max is evil. If Evora wants to sleep with Satan, I shouldn’t give a fuck. At least that will stop him from coming into my room again.

  Zeke leans close to me, places his hand on my thigh, just below the hem of my dress. At his touch, I suck in a breath, but before I can say a word or shift on the bar stool, he whispers quickly, “I know your father.”

  My blood runs cold, and I hold my breath, waiting for his next words, my fingers still holding my glass, the ice now rattling in the cup as my hand trembles.

  “Go to the restroom. Out the main doors, first door on the right. I’ll be there soon.” He pulls back, moves his hand.

  I stare at him, the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I know I need to go, I need to get off of this bar stool, and I need to take this chance.

  But I don’t trust Zeke.

  And I don’t… I don’t know if I want to go home. If it had been Danik, I tell myself, it would be an easier choice. But what kind of welcome will my father give me? Will he blame me for this? Will he only pick up where Max left off, and sell me to the highest bidder? Will he…touch me again?

  My stomach twists into knots, and the room seems to spin around me as I look around, searching for Max.

  Searching for Max.

  I think of him in the car, his finger in my mouth. Of his threats, what he did to Ben. Dante. To me.

  “We don’t have much time,” Zeke says quietly, the bartender preoccupied with another man at the opposite end of the counter.

  I take a deep breath, trying to find the men whose eyes were on me when I walked in here, but for now, I see nothing.

  “Okay,” I tell Zeke quietly. “Where is my—”

  “I’ll tell you everything there,” he says quickly, his dark gaze holding mine. “I’ll get you home, Addison.”

  There’s something tender in his words, but even still, I don’t trust him. And Max told me to stay here. He might have left me, but this room is full of people. A bathroom isn’t.

  I fix Zeke with what I hope is an intimidating stare as I say, “I’m not going to a bathroom alone with you.”