Page 86 of Equilibrium
“Cut the crap, Storm.” She moved closer to me. “When an MC goes on a ‘run,’ it’s never for small shit. So tell me, what the fuck is going on?”
Instead of answering her, I pulled her closer, fisting her hair in one hand and angling her head just enough for me to kiss her. Just for a little while, for a few minutes. Just to taste her and remember how it feels.
She moaned beneath my lips, opening wider, pushing back. Her tongue darted out, meshing with mine. She draped her hands around my neck, and before I knew what was happening, she was in my lap, her legs straddling me.
Her ass in my hand, her hair in the other one, she held me, and I held her as we fought for dominance. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay with her and just be like this. Just the two people under the cloak of the night, coming together.
The kiss became frantic, that familiar need inside my chest rising higher and higher until I couldn’t fight it anymore. It was filled with desperation, with anger, with all the things we left unsaid.
I pushed her down to the bed, my body hovering over hers. She started pulling her t-shirt up, exposing her breasts–two biteable globes, begging for my touch. I moved to one breast, my tongue playing with the puckered nub. Her back arched, her pelvis connecting with mine—pushing and pulling.
I was pretty sure I lost a few strands of my hair with the way she gripped my head as I started descending lower, going toward her pussy. I could hear the rumbling of the bikes on the outside, all of them waiting for me, but my focus was on her and the way she writhed beneath me.
I pulled my knife out and her eyes sparkled with renewed interest. I chuckled at the needy expression on her face and bent down to capture her lips once again, gripping her hip in my left hand. I went lower, over her neck, over her collarbone and that fucking scorch mark on her skin, dragging my finger over the destroyed skin.
I sliced through the fabric of her panties on both sides, throwing the ruined piece to the other side of the room. Her eyes widened with arousal as I started dragging the blade of the knife over her chest to her opening. She shivered underneath my touch, and when I saw an X on her thigh right above the tattoo of a skull with the crown of thorns, I remembered who gave it to her. I knew it was that fucker I wanted to remove from her head.
I looked at her—hooded eyes and sleepy smile—and I took it all in.
“I am going to erase him from your memory.” A kiss. “I am going to remove every trace of him from your head, from your body, until the only thing you can see, the only person you can feel, is me. Only me, baby girl.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and I knew that whatever was haunting her was still on her mind.
“Would you like me to do that?” I wanted to help her if she would allow me to. “Do you want to forget everything?”
“Yes.” Her voice echoed through the room. “I want it all. Make it go away. Please, Storm.”
I placed a kiss on her hip bone before moving to the top of her pubic bone. She pushed herself onto my face.
Greedy.
Desperate.
And I would be a liar if I said I didn’t love it. The way she needed me, the way she wanted to know more even though I didn’t know how to give it to her. I didn’t know how to be the man she needed.
“Touch yourself,” I ordered. “I want you to show me what you like.”
Without a moment of hesitation, she moved her hands down her body, from her collarbone over her chest, from her stomach all the way to her pussy. I spread her legs, and as she pushed inside of herself, her moan reverberated around us.
“Storm.”
She started moving her hand, her fingers going in and out. She was squirming in front of my eyes, while I watched, transfixed. I wanted her to have my mark on her, to have a reminder of everything I was to her and to just remember us this way. If I never came back after today, I didn’t want her last memory of me to be that fucking fight.
“This is going to hurt, baby. But it will feel so good.”
She belonged to me.
Not Kieran, not the Syndicate, but to me. I was a sick fuck, but she was as well. If she wanted to, I would tattoo her name over my chest because she was already tattooed on my soul. Her imprint was already too deep, seeping deeper into my bones with each passing day.
I wanted her to feel what I was feeling. This crazy fucking urge to have her with me. I wanted to take her with me, hide us away and forget about the world.
She was fucking with my head and I was here for the ride.
I just hoped she was ready for everything I was going to give her.
“Please.” Her head was thrown back. “Please. I want to feel alive. Please, please, please.”
We wanted the same things. She wanted to feel alive, yet the only time I truly felt alive was when I was with her. Even when she looked at me with hatred. Even when she didn’t want to be in the same room with me. Even when she was so angry with me, she couldn’t stand to look at me. Even when she yelled, and complained, I always wanted her.
