Free Soul Ties (Club Ties #4) by Em Petrova Page A

that stole her last defenses against Connall West, if she’d ever had any.
    He stared into her eyes while he fucked her. He leaned in for long, bone-melting kisses. Then he bit her lip and sent her spinning before starting all over again. The intimacy he forced on her shot her higher yet. A burn spread through her lower belly, and her pussy contracted around his cock. The build-up was bigger than anything she’d known before.
    He captured her gaze once again. Looking at the pleasure contorting his rugged features opened a chasm inside her. Suddenly, she was helpless against him, but it didn’t leave her feeling vulnerable.
    She hooked her leg around him. Understanding, he let her roll on top. With her long hair floating around them, she pressed her palms against his chiseled chest and began to move.
    As he cupped her ass, his fingertip grazed her seam. She sucked in a breath, which only made him do it again.
    “You like that, Sweetheart? I’ll fuck you there next.” He pulled her into another scorching, tongue-dueling kiss while resting a finger against her pucker.
    The added sensation sent her flying. White-hot flames engulfed her as she came with a cry. She sought his gaze, and he stiffened. Heat flooded her insides as he released into the condom, and her orgasm hit full force.
    She threw her head back and screamed. His roar echoed hers. For several minutes she couldn’t think or even move. When she came back to herself, she found she was tangled with Connall and her head pillowed on his broad chest.
    She listened to his heart throb and her own racing heart beginning to calm. Connall ran his fingers over her spine, where her full back piece lived—a brilliant orange and red phoenix. She’d gotten it on her eighteenth birthday as a statement that she was just beginning her real journey, rising from her ashes.
    But she had to admit, she hadn’t really lived in the past few years. Her father was in prison and her sister gone. The high points of Sarah’s life were spent with Ever or some of the other old ladies. She hadn’t learned anything new, even about herself.
    Now she could say she had. She’d learned that sex could comfort and even take away guilt.
    At least for a little while.

Chapter Four
    Connall wound the medical plaster tape around his hands, binding his knuckles and the fine bones on the backs. When he had the tape just right, he pivoted to the utility sink.
    “Turn on the water,” he ordered Ace.
    As water flowed into the sink, he held his hands beneath the cold spray. The plaster saturated—and began to tighten.
    “Pass me those leather gloves.” They were his own gloves, and they’d seen him through countless times like this.
    “You’re sure you want to fight? Harris is a big SOB. He might kill you,” Ace said.
    Connall gave his brother a wry smile. “You don’t have much confidence in me.”
    “Because Harris fights dirty.”
    He flexed his hands protected in a hard shell. “The club needs the money, right? I do my part.”
    “But if you ruin your hands, you’ve lost your livelihood.”
    The club hosted the fights every couple weeks, and cash and bets were tossed back and forth. The Hell’s Sons took a cut of all the winnings, which equaled revenue. Their regular gamblers always came with big money. It was how Sarah had come to be in a warehouse retrieving a duffle of cash.
    His heart flexed. Sarah. Waking with her in his arms had felt too damn good for his peace of mind. He couldn’t let her get caught up with him. He wasn’t what he seemed on the outside.
    “Nah. The plaster will protect my hands.” He tried to flex his fingers, but they were basically immobile. Using the plaster wasn’t exactly unfair in a fight—not when most men wore weighted gloves, the equivalent of a roll of quarters. “I’m doing this, Ace. Now get the door.”
    Ace grabbed him by the nape and bumped his forehead against his lightly. “Best of luck, brother. Kick some ass.”
    “But you’ve got