Page 93 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
His breathing, my breathing, we’re connected. My body pulses in time with his, my heartbeat in my cunt, drumming along the length of his shaft.
I sense that he wants to talk, to shatter this moment with meaningless words. I cover his mouth with my hand, and he bites me. A surprised sound of pleasure escapes me as he kisses down my palm, my wrist, nibbles at my pulse.
Then he pins me down and starts to fuck, his hips pumping hard, pushing himself deep. He isn’t satisfied with anything less than balls-deep. Our combined pants fill the silence, mixed with an occasional moan, with the slick sound of bodies coming together.
With as worked up as he is, it doesn’t take Crown long before his body is stiffening up, and he’s shoving himself all the way in, over and over again, tensing up before his release comes. Warmth fills me as I arch my back and fight his hold on my wrists, wanting all of his seed, but desperate for a release of my own.
“Think of this as a test,” he whispers finally, his voice ragged. I almost hate him for daring to talk, but I’m curious about what he means by that. “Let’s see if you can really handle this much responsibility.”
“The fuck?” I gasp out as he pulls away from me, standing up and letting me keep the vest before he walks over to the pocket door, slides it open, and slips out. Righteous fury fills me, but I tamp it down.
Beast said to trust him, so here goes nothing.
I’m still sitting there, propped on my elbows, when someone else walks in.
Even from here, even in the dark, I can tell who it is.
I’d recognize that cocky swagger in the void of space.
“Cade.” The word hisses out of me, but I’m not entirely displeased. “Is this Beast’s gift to me? For y’all to run a train?”
“You want four grown-ass men to yourself?” Grainger asks with a harsh laugh, one that consumes the entire living room in its menace. “Then yeah, I guess this is a gift. Enjoy, sweetheart.”
I grit my teeth, but if he thinks I won’t enjoy it, that I won’t revel in fucking all of these men, then he’s never met me before. It would only take one word from me—one no—and I would be Beast’s, and that would be it.
That isn’t what I want.
I knew when I was sixteen what I wanted.
It’s like, if you dose yourself with small amounts of poison, you can build up a resistance. But, if you stop taking it, then it consumes you, destroys you, eats you from the inside out. Time for another injection.
“Maybe if you shut your fucking mouth, I’ll have a good time?” I quip back, just before he descends on me, smelling all good and shit. Ugh. It’s tempting to grab his junk and twist hard, just to hear him howl. Only problem there is that I wouldn’t get to use his dick which is, arguably, the very best part of him.
Grainge takes my mouth like he owns it, plundering me with his tongue and sliding an arm around my waist. His big body settles between my thighs without a hitch, like he was meant to be there all along. I wonder if he knows that I’ve got Crown’s cum dripping down my ass cheeks?
“You fucking taste like him,” he snarls after a minute, sucking on my lower lip and then biting me. I slap him, and he snatches my wrist in a rough hand.
“I hope you like using Crown’s cum as lube, too, because that’s how it’s going to be tonight.”
Grainger laughs at me, cupping my face in his hand. I wish I could see him, the way his mouth turns into a sharp edge, the glint in his eyes that promises that all of his I hate you statements are bullshit he’ll never admit to.
“Mm. I don’t think so, princess.” I can feel him between us, undoing his pants. Whatever he has in mind, I’m sure it’s going to piss me off. My blood burns hot when he touches me, stirring up my anger the same way Crown stirs up this long-buried need in me for approval. Both things annoy me, but I allow them to take over for tonight, to rule me in the dark.
“You don’t think so?” I snap back, wishing he’d shut up so that we could go back to that perfect darkness.
“Nah,” Grainger says, leaning down and smelling my hair like a crazy person. I slap his face, and he hisses at me, but not like he didn’t enjoy it. So I slap him again, and he growls. “You little brat.” He retreats slightly, grabbing me by the hips and flipping me over. He pushes me forward, so that I’m balanced on the arm of the couch, my hands just shy of the floor.
