Page 40 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
He sweats all over me, his groans filling my ears. Even if he doesn’t like me, I feel good. Even if I hate him, I can’t stop this craving, can’t make myself hate the feeling of having him between my thighs. His inked fingers cup my breast, but he isn’t gentle when he kneads the soft flesh and rolls my nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
The showerhead continues to spray water all over the bathroom floor, flooding it, but neither of us gives a shit. Cat has so much money now, he can just hire someone to fix it. The only thing that matters right now is feeling that release, that freedom from the pain.
Fortunately, letting my body take over primal grunts and thrusts and pleasures means that I don’t have to think or feel. Instead, my rebellious body clamps down around Grainger’s as a climax hits me. It seems almost scandalous to feel so good after everything bad that’s happened, but the euphoria that scatters itself through my twisted veins is too much to resist.
I come all over him, drenching his condom-wrapped shaft and his balls with my wetness. He curses like a madman, grabs hold of me again, and pistons his hips with an angry fervor, coming so hard he spasms against me. I’m going to be sore in the morning, but I don’t care. No, for the briefest of moments there, I’m just bathed in sinful rapture.
I push Grainger off of me. Well, he’s so goddamn strong that when I push at him and he goes, it’s because he wants to.
He’s still cursing, snapping the condom off and then dropping it in the toilet.
“You’re not supposed to flush those,” I manage, because I’m naked and throbbing and still, I smell like blood. Grainger ignores me, flushing the condom and grabbing his discarded multi-tool off the wet floor. He pauses to turn the water off in the shower, but doesn’t bother to replace the head or mop up the mess. No, he’s too busy finishing what he started on my bathroom door.
I just stare at his back, his t-shirt sticking to his sweaty skin, and I try not to hate him so much that I can’t breathe.
Instead, I hop down, grab all the towels from the bathroom’s linen closet, and lay them out over the white marble floors of the fancy-ass bathroom I never wanted. What good is a fancy house and nice things if they’re literally bought and paid for in blood?
Liquid seeps down my inner thighs, but I know Grainger was wearing a condom, so it can only be mine. The proof of my own desire. It pisses me off how much I wanted him, how much I still want him. Even if he’s hardly the sort of man to hold a girl in the dark and let her cry.
With a curse of my own, I climb back in the shower, turn on the water, and manage to close the curtain just in time for Nellie to show up. She doesn’t act like she knows a damn thing about what just went on in here, but if she does, she might tell Cat.
My heart thunders as she offers up a cup of coffee to Grainger.
“It’s gonna be a long night, huh?” she asks, and he grunts, taking the coffee and downing half of it in one go. Looking between the two of them, I realize that Grainger, Beast, Sin, and Crown are some of the only men in my father’s immediate circle who I haven’t seen my mother fuck.
Gross.
Turning away, I start to scrub my scalp with punishing fingers. But no amount of soap can ever clean the filth that’s stuck to my soul.
“I brought you sandwiches, and some lemonade. And hot chocolate for after.” Nelly stands on the sopping wet towels on the bathroom floor, looking perplexed. I stare at her over my shoulder, and I just cannot find it in me to respond or even smile. “Is there a leak in here?” she asks, not at all bothered by the big, burly biker dude in the leather vest hauling my bathroom door off to the hallway.
“There was; I fixed it,” Grainger grumbles, and I turn away.
I hate him. I hate him. I fucking hate him.
After Nellie leaves, and I finish my shower, I grab the sexiest silk pajamas I have, put them on right in front of Grainger, and challenge him to watch me. He does, too. He stares at me with unbridled need, but he does not move from his post in front of my doorway.
I curl up on my bed and fall asleep to the sound of him cursing under his breath.“Morning, sugar.”
The mattress creaks under someone’s weight, and I smell the gentle, floral fragrance of Reba’s perfume. I don’t even want to look at her, that’s how ashamed I am of what happened at camp. I brought monsters into her sanctuary. How could she ever forgive me for that?
