Page 101 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
Sin snorts, flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it out with his boot.
“For as worldly as you pretend to be, for as smart as I know you are, you can be a dumb naïve motherfucker sometimes.” Sin turns to look at me, this frown pulling at the edges of his mouth. His expression reminds me of that day in the cemetery when we damn near fucked against the base of a tree. That's where we need to get right now. I need to catch him with his pants down, so to speak.
That, and you're curious for another taste, one last fuck for the road. I ignore the cynical thoughts cycling through my mind and stab my own smoke against the wooden wall of the cabin, dropping the butt to the dirt.
“Crown doesn't want me,” I say, and it scares the crap out of me how young that phrase sounds coming out of my mouth, kind of like how I felt stupid when I thought of Beast having a crush on me. “He probably bends over and takes it from Cat.”
Sin chuckles, but the sound is dry and bitter. He tucks his inked fingers in his pockets, stiffening slightly when I push off with my shoulder and come to stand in front of him. There are a million ways I could approach this, and any one of them has equal chances of success and failure. The only way I'll know is if I try.
“Crown doesn't want me,” I repeat, exhaling sharply, my rust-red eyes focused on Sin's silver ones. “But maybe you do?” He rears back like I've slapped him, reaching up to grab my wrists when I try to put my arms around his neck.
“Gidge, what the fuck are you doing?” he growls, using that familiar anger of his to combat something I know we both want. Maybe he doesn't like me, I don't know, but he'll fuck me. That much I know for sure.
“You don't want me?” I ask, moving my hips so that my pelvis undulates against the front of Sin's jeans. He's hard; I can feel it. And his eyes, they're rife with lust, but broken, too, like he's fighting a losing battle against himself. “I always thought that maybe you had a soft spot for me.”
“You're the president's daughter,” he says, but his grip on my wrists relaxes. As soon as I get a hand free, I pop the button on his jeans and his breath hisses out in a rush. “Gidge.” But Sin's words cut off abruptly when I get my hand inside his pants, finding the thick length of his cock straining against his boxers. Stroking him with slow, careful fingers, I lean up on my tiptoes and put my lips to that warm spot between his neck and ear. My tongue flicks out and tastes Sin's pulse, that cinnamon and leather smell of his consuming my senses. “Jesus motherfucking Christ,” he curses, but he doesn't go anywhere.
No, instead Sin angles us toward the cabin and shoves me hard against it, putting his much bigger body up against mine, grinding my pelvis into the wood with a movement of his hips.
His breath feathers against my ear before he leans down and captures my mouth, his kiss just as sharp-edged and dangerous as it was in the kitchen a few weeks ago. I can feel the blade of his passion cutting sharp lines into me, making me bleed. On the outside, I'm groaning and rubbing against him, gasping when his left hand finds its way under my shirt and pushes my breast out of the firm cup of my t-shirt bra. On the inside though, I feel nothing. Nothing at all.
I've shut down.
Because if I don't, I'm not sure that I'll have such an easy time risking my life, risking Grey's … running away from these men. They consume me like greedy flames, their orange and red fingers licking up my pure and aching flesh until I'm nothing but ash in their hands. Ever since that night, I've felt it, that little spark of addiction.
I like being ruined, destroyed, worshipped, fucked by these leather-clad monsters with their steel and chrome beasts, their skin of ink, their hearts of shadows.
I like it, and that scares me.
I like it, and that's why I have to run.
Sin takes my tender nipple and rolls it between his fingers, sliding his tongue against mine in time with rolls of his hips. He moves his cock in my sweaty palm, seeking my warmth, desperately searching for the hot core between my thighs.
This isn't a lovemaking session, Gidge, I tell myself, get those panties off and get it done.
And yet, I can't seem to hurry this moment anymore than I already have. Instead, I focus on kissing Sin so hard and furious that I'm a match for his punishing passion, a force as capable of knocking him back as he is for me.
