Page 72 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
Our eyes lock, and even in the darkness, I can feel him staring into my soul, like he’s seeking permission.
Finally, finally, Beast turns, climbing onto the couch on his knees and reaching out to put his palms on my legs, sliding them down the soft flesh of my inner thighs. He pushes my legs even farther apart, and I gasp, throwing my head back as he drops his own down low, breathing against my tender flesh. What is it about tonight? I wonder, and I can’t decide if it’s the storm or the threat of the mafia or months of sadness and anger and pain all coalescing into one, single evening.
My breath rushes out as I throw an arm over my eyes, letting the pleasure answer whatever questions I might have about what Beast’s doing. He presses his lips to the inside of my knee, making me shiver and shake all over. It’s a sweet, filthy torture, what he’s doing to me, kissing his way along the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, his stubble a rough counterpoint to the heat and warmth of his lips.
When he gets to the pulsing spot between my legs, I move my arm and look down at him, my eyes wide as he puts his mouth to my folds, his tongue a much harsher master than his mouth. It almost feels too good, like I’m not sure I can sit here and just take this.
“Fuck me,” I tell him, but he says nothing, just adjusts himself on the long expanse of the sectional so that his head is between my legs, and his big arms wrap around my thighs to hold me in place. His grip is rock-solid; I’m not going anywhere.
Beast works dark magic on me, his mouth teasing places I hadn’t even realized were quite so sensitive. It’s a completely different experience from Grainger’s hard, angry thrusts, or Sin’s almost melancholic fucking.
That bergamot nectar and musk smell of his teases my senses as my fingers play in his sandy hair. I can hardly believe I’m touching the man, let alone that I have his face between my legs. We’ve barely spoken a dozen sentences to each other, and he’s going down on me? He’s the first one to go down on me? How did that happen?
I don’t question the direction of the moment. What’s the point? If I’m doing this then I’m not thinking about other things. I’m not contemplating the future and seeing how bleak and empty it looks without my sisters. Instead, I’m in the moment and I’m not immediately suicidal. Yay for small miracles, right?
My fingers dig harder into Beast’s hair, nails scraping his scalp. He doesn’t seem to mind, turning my body into a sloppy mess of pleasure. I’ve never paid so much attention to my clit, not even when I was touching myself. Instead, it feels like Beast knows more about my body than I do. And that irritates me. I try to push him back, but he ignores me. After the third or fourth time, his head finally lifts up.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, completely stoic. It’s too dark to see his eyes; they’re just black pits right now.
“No. I want you to fuck me.” He grunts, and then puts his face down again, making my eyes tear up with pleasure. It feels too good, physically. Emotionally, it hurts too good. Beast stays right where he is, bringing me to climax with just his mouth, no fingers needed, no cock.
My heart is pounding so hard, and so fast that it feels like it might burst right out from behind my ribs, soak the room in blood. That’d be poetic, for me to die here, too, bleeding out.
Instead, Beast lifts me up and into his arms, letting me hook my own around his neck, his hands gripping my ass. He carries me outside and sets me next to the pool in a chair before bringing me another beer. He has one, too, and we end up sitting in silence and drinking, watching the endless darkness of the water. Without the lights on, it looks like it goes down forever, a depthless fathom of secrets.
We finish our beers and Beast sits beside me, close but not close enough to touch.
He does, however, reach out and put a hand on my knee.
“I meant it,” I tell him, but he’s not looking at me. Instead, he’s staring at the spot where Posey died. I’ll always remember that exact spot, the way her blood ran into the inset drain. A few times since that night, I’ve come out here and laid on my back, positioned my limbs the way hers were, just to see if I could feel what she might’ve felt in those last horrible moments.
They raped her first, but I try to tell myself it was over quick.
