Page 78 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
The sunrise is creeping its way into the world, but it’s still too dark for me to get a good read on Crown’s expression as his hands travel down to my shoulders, my arms, hands palming my breasts before he steps back and undoes his jeans. Unlike Beast, he doesn’t forget a condom. He slides it over his cock and straddles the bike, turning me toward him so that my back is against the handlebars.
When he pulls me forward and slides into me, a sigh escapes me, my breath rushing out in relief. My legs go around him, and we end up tucked together on the seat of his bike. Crown leans forward, breathing against my ear, stirring my hair with his breath. He kisses my earlobe, trailing his mouth along my jaw until he finds my lips again.
His hands settle on my hips, encouraging me to move, and I realize that this time, I’ll need to do at least some of the work. My own hands curl together behind Crown’s neck, fingers teasing his dark curls. He helps me settle into a rhythm, working my body against him in the cool morning air. It’s still raining, but we’re protected beneath the awning, our own private little spot for sex.
Looking down, I can see our bodies joining, and it gives me this huge thrill, especially when Crown begins to explore my body with his hands, tracing his palms down my arms, cupping my breasts, teasing my nipples. He finds my ass next, squeezing and kneading the flesh, splaying his fingers against my back as he thrusts forward and fills me.
There’s this worshipful quality to him, like he can’t get enough of me, like he’s trying to memorize every curve of my body. It’s so different from the other guys, like he’s absorbing every moment of this to file away for later.
We kiss again, mouths burning one another with ardent heat, the slickness between my thighs growing by the minute. I’m so turned-on, I’m shaking, quivering with need. Crown feeds off of that, taking my breasts in his hands and sweeping his thumbs over my nipples before dropping his mouth to one and taking it between his teeth.
“I’m a fucking idiot,” he murmurs, but then he grabs my hips and pulls me closer, so that we’re joined, fully and completely. He grinds against me in time with his moans, kissing the edge of my lips as I strain for his mouth, wanting more, needing it.
When Crown comes, his entire body goes hard, my palms sliding down the inked muscles of his chest. I wish I could see him better, wish I could worship his ink the way he’s worshipping my body. Gee, Gidge, that really sounds like a quickie, huh? You’re getting too carried away. Even though I know I’m right about that, I keep going, moaning and letting myself get lost in Crown’s arms. I bet hundreds of girls, maybe thousands, have gotten lost this way.
And then been left to find their way home.
I don’t want to be like that.
But when the orgasm comes up on me, I don’t fight it, letting myself fall over that sharp edge with Crown, the mingled sounds of our pleasure loud in the quiet morning air.
We sit there joined for quite some time, not moving. But then Crown clears his throat and pulls back, looking down at me. My cheeks flush with heat, but no words will come to me. None seem appropriate. I got what I wanted tonight, right? A method to forget my sisters, my pain, an outlet for my anger.
It worked.
Maybe too well.
Crown stands up, taking me with him, and then slides out of me, setting me back on my feet and making sure I’m steady before he lets go. His face is almost sad as I pull away, but as I watch, it hardens up slightly.
“Gidge.” Just that one word, and then Crown is turning away and fixing his jeans. In the distance, I can hear the rumble of a familiar motorcycle. That sound used to lull me to sleep when I was little. As I grew older, the sound changed a few times with each new bike Cat bought, but somehow, they always seemed to be able to soothe me.
Until recently.
I don’t remember when exactly, but one day I just woke up and realized what a sham my life was. Cat is not a hero, riding to rescue his princess on a metal steed. His officers are not knights sitting around a table, deciding how to best protect me. They’re all monsters, and while they’ll protect their property, that’s all I am to them: property.
“Crown,” I start, but the way he looks at me then, I can see it in his eyes. That’s all I’ll ever be to him. That’s all I’ll ever be to any of them.
