Page 66 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“I hate you.” The words are true, and they hang in the air like smoke, bringing a hazy, almost dreamlike atmosphere to the moment. Grainger takes that in and grunts, putting his mouth against my ear as he grinds his knee into my throbbing heat.
“I’ve always hated you, Gidge. Cat has a soft spot for you that’s going to get the whole club in trouble one day. He needs to pack your ass up and send you to boarding school.” Grainger’s left hand slides up and under my shirt, finding the lacy bra underneath, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of my breast through the fabric. “I almost lost my shit when I realized it was you, rubbing that sweet, wet pussy of yours all over my hand. Having you around the clubhouse would drive me nuts.”
“I—” I start, but Grainger quickly covers my mouth with his right hand, freeing my wrists. I put my arms around his neck, and he pinches my nipple hard enough to make me bite back a scream.
“Did I not tell you to shut up?” he growls, adjusting himself so that his pelvis is cradled between my thighs. I can feel the hard, thick length of him through his denim. When he moves his hips against me, I feel another wave of heat crash into my soul, sweat dripping down the sides of my face. I’ve never wanted a hit on such a dangerous drug, wanted it with every beat of my heart. “When I see you, I feel sick to my stomach.” Grainger punctuates his words by licking his way down to my throat, his tongue as sharp as a blade. He kisses the pulse in my neck, and that’s when it really hits me how dangerous he is, how reckless this whole moment is.
Only makes me want it more. How sad is that?
“Every time I see you, I hope it’s the last.” His words piss me off, and I like it. I want more. I want to hear him tell me how much he hates me. Later—much, much, much later—I’ll realize that Grainger was saying something so much more than I hate you. He was telling me a secret he hadn’t dared to voice to a single other soul, not even his brothers in the club. The sergeant-at-arms of the Death by Daybreak Motorcycle Club was trying to tell me how fine the line that separates passion and violence is, pleasure and pain, hate and love.
“Ditto,” I murmur, but that’s the last coherent sound that escapes my lips for quite some time. Instead, I get lost in Grainger’s kisses, the malicious darkness with which his mouth closes over mine. He doesn’t let me talk, dominating the silence with his body, with hard, undulating motions of his hips.
I’m aching on the inside, breaking into pieces, burning up and cracking with lines of molten heat.
This is gonna be quick, hot, and dirty, I think as Grainger pulls back and reaches beneath my skirt, tearing my fishnets, and then pushing my panties aside. Shit, shit, shit. This is my last chance to pull away before he ruins me.
And yet … I want nothing more than to be ruined.
“You’re still soaking wet,” he tells me, almost scoldingly, fingers sliding along my inner thighs. My breath rushes out in a gasp as Grainger slides his thumb up my slick folds and over my clit, rubbing the hard nub in a slow, languorous circle. I imagine it’s the only slow, languorous thing he’ll be doing with me. “You think you can take me?” he asks, his mouth a wicked line of arrogant male surety. He undoes his jeans, letting his shaft spring free, the tip glistening with pre-ejac. Gripping the base of his dick, he smirks at me and waits for me to examine him.
I hate to admit it, but … he has a beautiful cock. It’s thick and long, and definitely puts the one dildo I have to shame.
“What kind of a stupid question is that?” I snort as he slides a condom from his pocket and slips it over his cock, stroking the pre-lubed latex with a tight grip.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Grainger asks, raising one eyebrow. There’s a mocking glimmer in his eyes, like this is all a fucking game to him. Good. That’s what I want, something shallow, something that burns hot and fizzles out quick. Romance isn’t in the cards for me right now, maybe not ever.
“Why the hell would you think that?” I snap as he crawls onto the bed, putting his huge, muscular form between my legs. Grainger ignores me, pinning my wrists above my head again before positioning himself at my opening. He looks me dead in the eyes for a long moment, torturing me with the feel of him so close and yet so unattainable.
