Free Divided (Unguarded #2) by Ivy Stone

trouble… use it. That motherfucker wants to hit you again…” he points to my split lip, “…use it. You want out, call me. I’ll get you out of there. Just say the word. But I can’t do any more than that without raising suspicions unless you’re willing to go the distance against your so-called family.”
    My gaze falls to the ground. “There’s no point in leaving anymore.”
    “You don’t leave soon, babe…. you may never get out.”
    His fingers glide over my hand as he passes me the card. Lust shoots straight through me as he pulls me close. Our mouths are all but touching, our breathing uneven. My lips part to speak but he slips away, turning around and walking off into the night. Unease settles in the pit of my stomach as I remember what he said. A light breeze sends a shiver across my skin, and suddenly the idea of being alone on this bridge doesn’t feel so comforting.

My cock stiffens in my hand. I squeeze my shaft tighter, pull harder. I push my head back into the pillow. Sweat drips from my forehead because, fuck, if I haven’t been at this for longer than I planned. I’m mad. Confused. Horny. In just a few days, work, life, pretty much everything has flared into a colossal mess I’ve got no control over, including Alison Jenkins. Her, the need to bring justice to the Marino crime family, the fact I’ve avoided telling Mason the truth about when I first met Ali—it’s consuming, suffocating every other thought running through my head. All I wanted to do tonight was drink, fuck, and sleep. The first of which Mase and I had done at the bar earlier, the fucking part—not very successful so far. Why? Because every woman who flashed me a smile, fluttered her eyelashes at me, promised me a good night with a few dirty words—all reminded me of Ali in some way and I can’t go there. My mind’s blurred with blonde hair and blue eyes that I can’t have. Ones I sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking of with my hand wrapped around my dick, hard as fucking steel. I squeeze my eyes closed and Ali’s face becomes crystal clear, instead of waves crashing away the thought of her. I grunt. Pleasure builds in my balls and they tighten up at imagining it’s Ali’s tight pussy I’m sinking into. I curse under my breath. No. Fuck. Don’t think about her. But it’s no use. She’s become a permanent in my mind and my dick? He fucking loves her. My breath catches and my muscles tense, blowing my load one tug away. My phone chimes, cutting through my Ali induced state of pleasure and pain. Ignoring it, I let it ring out. Damn it, all I want is to come, let out my frustration, it’s the one thing I can control. But when my cell rings the second time, I drop my dick. Cursing, I reach across to my side table to pick it up.
    My brows furrow. Not recognizing the number I answer, my tone abrupt. “Tate.”
    “Roamyn?” a small voice muffles through the static on the line.
    The hair on the back of my neck rises and I freeze.
    Ali.
    I climb off the bed and grab my clothes from the floor, tucking my still hard dick against my stomach just so I can pull up my pants.
    “Where are you? What’s wrong?” I ask, tucking the phone into the crook of my neck so I can zip up.
    “I’m at home. Lucio—”
    My nostrils flare. I cut her off, knowing where this is headed, yet not wanting to hear it. “How badly are you hurt? Doesn’t matter. I’m coming to get you.”
    Worry filters through her voice. “No. You can’t come here to the house. If he sees you we’re both dead.”
    I take a deep breath and try not to crush the phone in my hand. “All right. Meet me a block up around the corner. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    “Okay. And Roamyn? Thank you.”
    I swallow past the pain cutting the back of my throat and hang up. Grabbing my keys, gun, and badge from the side table, I shove my phone in my pocket. When I shut the door to my apartment behind me, dread hits my back thinking about what I could be