Page 62 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
He watches me, his eyes those of a starving man as he takes in my bouncing tits, my parted lips, my flushed face. With his right hand, he cups my left breast in a punishing grip, squeezing my nipple between the rough whorls of his fingertips. My back arches, pushing my body against his, melding us, blurring all of those hard lines that have been in place for years, those barriers, those mountains we’ve had to climb.
“Fuck, Gidge,” he grinds out, and then his body is tensing and he’s pumping into me, filling me with his cum as I groan and writhe, wanting more, knowing that there will never be a time when I say that’s enough. Always, always I will want to be ruined by this man.
He stays where he is after he finishes, breathing hard, eyes closed, hand still clenched around the headboard.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him, reaching up to touch the side of his stubbled face. “I’m on birth control.”
He opens his eyes then to stare at me, that edge of certainty, of brutal reality, etched into his gaze.
“I wasn’t,” he says, adjusting himself so that he’s lying next to me rather than on top of me. “Worried, I mean.” Crown yanks me against him, and tucks me close.
That’s how I fall asleep, in the arms of an outlaw, my mind wondering exactly what it was that he meant by that.
I’m not expecting to see Crown when I crack my eyes open first thing in the morning. But there he is, naked except for a bit of sheet tossed over his cock. He’s got one arm tucked behind his head, and he’s staring at the wall straight ahead, lost in thought.
“This is a first for me,” I whisper, and he turns his head slightly to look at me. “Waking up next to a guy.”
That gives him pause, and he shakes his head like he’s disappointed. In himself? In me? In the other men? I’m not entirely sure. Maybe all of the above.
“That’s really sad, Gidge,” he offers up, his voice apologetic. “You deserved better.”
“Better than passing out drugs to my classmates?” I return, but he doesn’t react right away. I scoot closer to him, putting my face against his chest. This is … I mean this is weird for me. This has never been a part of my unspoken deal with these guys. Crown, though, I can see that he’s enjoying it. His arm goes around me, wrapping me up in ink and muscle.
“I don’t make it a habit to betray my president,” he offers up, and I get the idea that this lying for me thing is somewhat of a one-off. He isn’t planning to make a habit of it. That, and he’s never done it before. The only exception to his blind loyalty is me.
“Are you going to tell me why I had to do that?” I ask, wondering if the cops have been sniffing around the house and the high school looking for me. Cat has plenty of them in his pocket, but not all of them. Every man can be bought, but not every man can be bought by the same person. Some of the precinct likely works for the mafia. Some of them might work for local politicians. Some might be slave to the rich families on the north side of town, tucked behind their gates and security guards and floodlights.
Crown hesitates for a while. To him, there really is a black and white in the world. I’m not sure that he thinks either of those things stands for good or evil. If he did, then his morality would be pretty twisted. He just wants to belong somewhere, longs to have a set of rules he can follow without having to make hard choices. There are things he can do, and things that he cannot. Period.
“I still can’t believe you nailed that priest in the forehead like that,” I murmur eventually, thinking of that monumental moment. “You were aiming for Grey, weren’t you?”
There’s another long pause there, but it’s not without consequence. Crown strokes his warm hand along my spine in an absent sort of way. There is, however, nothing at all absentminded about the movement itself. He’s tense, hoping that I’ll allow it, wishing that it’ll become habit someday, somehow.
“What did you say to him?” he asks me, answering the question without saying anything at all in response to it. “When you leaned in and whispered?” I consider my words, but if I’m going to do this, live this life, use this armor, then I can’t question it. I’m all in.
“I told him to run,” I admit. “Grey Wolfe and I might not have been lovers the way you’re worried about, but we’re friends.”
He doesn’t like me saying that. I can feel it in every muscle, in the tensing of his fingertips against my back.
