Page 61 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
“Grainger’s inside,” Sin says, his voice husky and dark with lust. He reaches down and captures my wrist, pushing my hand away. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help.”
“Seriously?” I choke, thinking about that hot and wild moment against the tree. He damn near fucked me then, but I’m no good now? My lips purse into a tight frown, and I reach out, popping Sin’s button open before he has a chance to stop me. He turns to look at me, raising his brows, the lines of silver hoops he wears along the edge of his right ear catching the moonlight. “Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”
“Isn’t that what I just implied?” he growls out, reaching down to capture my wrist. “Screw off, Gidge.”
“You’re just being salty,” I snap, refusing to budge from my position. “If I told you I’d drop to my knees right now and suck your dick, you’d say yes, please.”
Sin’s brows go up, and a smirk crawls across his face.
“Really?” he asks, his voice darkening. Sin steps toward me, putting the toes of his boots right up against mine. “Because I’m calling your bluff.” His mouth curves to the side in challenge, gray eyes sparkling. “You want to fuck me, Gidge? Then get on your knees and suck me off, right here.”
Pretty sure Sin doesn’t actually think I’ll do it.
Asshole.
I don’t back down from a challenge, especially not one that I started.
Slowly, I begin to kneel down, but I keep my eyes locked on his, watching the silver moonlight play across his short, dark hair. When my fingers reach for his fly, he doesn’t stop me. Sin stares at me as I free his cock from his jeans, taking him into my hands like I actually know what I’m doing. I don’t, but it can’t be that hard, right?
Posey always used to say that men were the easiest puzzles in the world to solve: they only have one piece and that’s their dick.
My fingers curl around the base of his shaft while my too-red lips smear color across the head, teasing him with the barest flick of my tongue in his slit. His breath rushes out, and he mumbles a string of curses that even I have to admit are creative. I continue my slow, languorous kissing and licking down his length, using my left hand to tease his balls.
There’s a salty taste on the tip of my tongue when I put my mouth around the tip and suck, keeping my gaze locked on his. Sin watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, his breathing speeding up as I take as much of him as I can into my mouth, surrounded by other Daybreakers and their—for lack of a better word—dates. And by dates, what I really mean is groupies, club-whores, and old ladies. The club isn’t exactly the best place for a young feminist to find her footing.
Only … I don’t care about that anymore. I don’t care about anything except running from the sadness and obliterating the anger. Everyone keeps saying that I need to deal with my feelings, that things’ll get easier, but they don’t. They fucking don’t, no matter how much I try, no matter how long I lie in bed wishing for a life worth living. My sisters’ absence in my life isn’t getting filled. Instead, it’s gaping, the sides caving in, until there’s nothing but a widemouthed hole to hell in the middle of my heart.
Closing my eyes, I take Sin all the way in, until he bumps the back of my throat. The sounds he makes are criminal, delicious, as rich and thick as molasses. His fingers curl in my hair, not rough, but needy. There’s a different sort of pleasure in working him, one that distracts me from my dark thoughts, but not enough. Not quite enough. So I drop my hand between my thighs, reaching up beneath my skirt and finding the molten heat that Grainger left me with. Using my own excitement as lube, I tease and play with my clit until it’s swollen and hard, an aching nub beneath the rough whorls of my fingertips.
Moans escape my throat and get lost around the length of Sin’s shaft, and I end up working him as hard and fast as I’m working myself. I get so lost in the pleasure that I almost miss that critical moment when his hand tightens on my head, his hips bucking, his hot seed spilling across my tongue.
As soon as Sin comes, he pulls back, almost like he’s in shock
He looks down at me like he’s never seen me before, watching as I lick the last of his taste from my lips, shaking with need and still desperate for more. More, more, more. I don’t care what it is: drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex. I’m not done for the night.
