Blood to Dust(35)

He’s in.

“Make it fast.” He pulls both my wrists into his huge palm, placing my hands on his warm cheeks before muttering, “Silver Spoon, you little perv.”

The first thing I notice are his cheekbones. They’re so high, they’re level with his ears. Cut, prominent and glorious. He has a Tragus piercing poking out of his left ear, which I almost yank out, because instead of an earring, he has a safety pin.

“That’s rad.” I grin blindly, and by the stretch of his skin, I know there’s a smirk playing on that perfect face too.

“Of course you’d think so, CC.”

“CC?”

“Country Club.”

My hands move down to his square chin, brushing over his lips. Dear God, his lips. So pouty and soft, they feel like two pillows. My hands hurry to his nose. Just as I suspect, it’s straight and narrow. My index finger runs over the smooth bone, and much to my embarrassment, I suck in a ragged breath.

“You’re spectacular, aren’t you, you little bastard?” My voice shakes.

He grins and softly bites one of my fingers. Straight teeth. “You ain’t too bad yourself.”

Heart stuttering in my chest, I knot my legs together, feeling warmth tickling between them. That’s the first time he’s said something nice about my appearance. I bite down a moan as my hands continue roaming his face, drinking in every piece of flesh, thirsty for much more than what he’s offering.

“Kiss me,” I hear myself plead. I’m not sure how much of it is me recruiting Nate to my team, and how much is me lusting after this boy-man.

I feel his throat bobbing with a gulp. “Fuck, Pea. You’re going to get me into so much trouble, and I’m already in deep.”

“Then we’ll climb out of trouble together. Let’s kick trouble in the ass, Beat. Crawl out of the gutter, point the gun at Godfrey, Sebastian and Camden and kill all of our problems at once. Let’s claim our lives back.”

His pulse drums beneath my fingers, wild and hungry and tempted, and I lean closer to his face.

“Kiss me, Beat.”

“You’re insane,” he croaks. He’s not wrong.

My body is sore, aching with want for a man I haven’t seen. Never in my life have I felt like this. Sex with Camden before we broke up was. . .nice. Everything else—painfully numbing. But this. . .it doesn’t even have a name.

“We’ll make a pact to kill those bastards for what they did to us. Instead of shaking on it, we’ll kiss on it. It’ll be our little blood oath, Beat.”

“Pea.”

“Beat. . .”

Beat. . .

Beat. . .





Boom.


He slings me against the wall and his lips crash on mine in a hard, closemouthed, drugging kiss as he pulls me flush against his steel body. I gasp for air, parting my lips, but before I manage to draw in oxygen, he bites my lower lip and drags it into his mouth until the flesh cracks, the healing injury Seb had caused breaking open as he sucks on my blood. Horror twirls with a heady thrill inside me, and I drag my fingers through the hair of my faceless captor, pulling at his perfect locks. He takes my chin in his hand, my lip still in his mouth, sucking hard, drinking away my pain.

Excitement helixes through me, the adrenaline pumping in my veins making my whole body buzz with unfamiliar electricity I’d never felt under a person’s touch. Maybe I’m going insane.

Maybe it’s a place worth going.

“Blood oath,” he growls into my mouth with a charged breath, dragging me up from the floor like the caveman that he is so that we’re both standing up. He pins me to the wall. This gorgeous, raw, broken, sensitive monster of a boy-man hates it when men slap me, but make no mistakes—he loves to hurt me. “Make me bleed, Prescott.”

And I do. I make him bleed. I bite the tip of his tongue, pulling slowly, taking his rough tongue in my mouth and sucking it with a long, husky moan that tickles my chest, tingles my stomach and ends up blowing up between my legs. The intensity of his touch is so intoxicating, it’s almost like he licked me up and down. We’ve already sprinted over so many barriers, and I have one more to tip him over the edge.

Sex.

He needs to take from me, like the rest of them. It’d be the ultimate betrayal against Godfrey.

“Blood oath,” I repeat with abandon, our lips ghosting one another, never leaving, never saying goodbye. Greedy. Ravenous. Desperate. “We’re in this together, Beat, baby. Fuck me.”

Yes. Fuck me. Against orders. Against logic. Against the f*cking wall.

His tongue circles around mine frantically, his mouth drops to my neck, dragging downwards. He licks the sensitive spot behind my ear and moves down to bite my breast through the fabric of my dress, leaving goosebumps so powerful I’m quivering like a brittle leaf. He leaves a trail of that sticky blood he drew from my lips with every brush of his tongue. I feel my wetness dripping down my right inner thigh, crawling to my knee, my body begging for some action.

“Aren’t you f*cked up after what they did to you?” he growls. “Aren’t you scared of sex?”

I grab one of his wrists and guide his hand to my inner thigh, moving it up and down my soaked flesh. “Can I fake this, Beat? Can you fake lust?”

“Why you?” A groan that sounds a lot like a beg makes his chest tremble while he pins me to the wall, lifting me so my legs are wrapped around his waist, his swollen, angry erection trapping me between his huge arms. Now he’s the one grinding against me, and his willpower to resist me is running on fumes. Every little thrust of his hips hammers another pin on his self-control casket.