Page 63 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“You said if I sucked you off then you’d fuck me,” I tell him, popping the top on my own beer and leveling a dark look on Sin. He returns it, like he thinks he’s so much more badass than me.
“Lesson learned,” he tells me without flinching. “When a guy tells you he’ll do something for you if you suck him off, don’t believe him. One hundred percent of the time, it’s bullshit.”
My nostrils flare, and I feel a hot, white rage come over me. Sin just glances away and mumbles something rude under his breath.
“You think you’ve got me cornered?” I ask, slamming my beer down on the side table next to my bed. The sound draws Sin’s eyes over to me. “How about I call Daddy and tell him what happened tonight? Do you think he’d like that, to hear that you lied to get me to suck your dick?”
“You’d bring his wrath down on you, too,” Sin says, narrowing his eyes at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I? He told me tonight I may as well be a whore in training if that’s what I want. But do you really think he’ll forgive you so easily for giving in? Because I don’t.” Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I kick off my boots. Somewhere inside of me, there’s a teenage girl with tears on her lashes wondering why I’m doing this, blackmailing some guy who doesn’t even want me into taking my virginity. It’s not fair; it’s not right.
And yet … I’m going to do it anyway.
I lift my eyes up to Sin.
“You will fuck me,” I say, thinking that at sixteen years old, I’ve got this twenty-something a-hole wrapped around my little finger.
Sin smirks at me, like he feels sorry for me. That anger inside of me amps up to unbearable levels, burning my insides and turning what little there is that’s left of Gidget Kesselring into ash and embers.
“How about I don’t, and we both see what happens when you tell Cat?” Sin asks, pushing off of the wall and unlocking my door. He pauses as he runs into Grainger, stepping aside to let the King of Assholes into my room.
I’m fuming, my eyes on the floor, my fingers curled into fists on my bedspread. Pretty sure my cheeks are bright as fuck red.
Grainger closes the door and locks it after Sin leaves, standard procedure. I ignore him as he checks the windows, leaving the one behind my bed for last. When he puts his knee on the mattress, I’m thrown off balance and end up tumbling into him.
“I heard what you said,” he tells me, and my heart freezes in my chest, eyes flicking up to his brown ones in a panic. Sin was right to call my bluff. I’m too wary of Cat’s wrath to tell him anything about what happened between me and Sin. “What are you doing? Are you stupid?”
“What does me trying to get laid have anything to do with my intelligence?” I fire back as Grainger grunts in satisfaction that the window’s locked, and stands back up. All the places I touched him when I rolled into him are burning, like my body’s remembering the delicious press of his fingers into my core.
“If you keep trying to throw your virginity away like that, eventually someone will take you up on the offer.” Grainger changes his mind about the window, cracks it open, and then proceeds to light up a cigarette. I used to smoke in here all the time with Posey, but after she died, Nellie started getting on my ass about it. Guess it makes her feel like a mom to bitch about shit like that. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s never really been a mother to me, not in the ways that count.
“Thanks for the advice,” I schmooze, touching my chest in mocking deference. “I mean, you are the consummate expert on offering sex to anyone that asks. But hey, at least I don’t have to worry about you volunteering. I saw your face when you realized who I was. What was it you said to me: do you know how much trouble you could’ve gotten me in? Alas, I’m still sixteen years old.”
Grainger cringes like I’ve struck him, scowling as if his face is permanently painted in unpleasantness. He runs his fingers through his hair. I don’t know what that haircut’s called, that short-on-the-sides, long-on-the-top thing but it suits him. It’s handsome, but still edgy. Aaaand, I hate that I’m paying so much attention to the bastard’s hair.
“Would you stop saying that?” he snaps, ashing his cigarette out the window. I popped the screen out a long time ago for that exact purpose. “You might be sixteen, but you look twenty-five, and you talk like a fifty year old woman.”
