Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(101)

He winces, grabbing his head. “Jesus, bro... I am.”

“Good. I’m not ready for you to make me an uncle.”

“Aw, Uncle Lorenzo,” Leo says with a laugh. “You know, you’re always talking about how you raised me, which would kind of make you Grandpa, wouldn’t it?”

I glare at him, shoving him over to sit down on the couch. “Get the fuck out of my face, Pretty Boy, before I lock you in a tower until you turn thirty-five.”

Rolling his eyes, he stands up, grabbing Melody’s hand to lead her out. “Come on, Mel... lets go defile this mattress of ours some more.”

I groan as he flicks the light switch, turning the lights off on me on his way out. “I swear to fuck... wrap it up or I’ll rip it off.”

“Noted,” Leo hollers back. “Goodnight, bro.”

Goodnight.

Sighing, I lay down on the couch, not bothering to even take my boots off. There’s no ceiling fan in here, a fact I’m just now noticing. I’m not even sure how to force myself to fall asleep anymore without incessantly watching the fan blades go round and round and round until I pass out.

Fuck.

I lay here for what feels like forever, analyzing the plain white ceiling in the darkness. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. I’m going out of my fucking mind.

Digging in my pocket, I grab my tin, pulling out a freshly-rolled joint and lighting it. Dropping the tin and the matches onto the coffee table, I lay there on my back, covering my eyes with my left forearm and smoking in silence.

I hear the floor creak after a while and move my arm, peeking over, my gaze instantly meeting Scarlet’s in the shadows. Before I can even greet her, she climbs onto the couch, sitting right on top of me and straddling my waist. Wordlessly, I hold out the joint, and she grabs it, no hesitation, taking a deep drag, drawing the smoke into her lungs before passing it right back. I watch her in the sliver of moonlight filtering through the nearby window, watch as she tilts her head back and closes her eyes, slowly exhaling. She’s wearing only a pair of black underwear and a too-big black t-shirt. My shirt, I realize, straight out of my closet.

“Stealing from me again?” I ask, my free hand slipping beneath the shirt and coming to rest on her slim waist.

She smiles, looking down at me. “Just borrowing it.”

“Did you ask?”

“Can I wear it?”

“Fuck no.”

She laughs as I tuck what’s left of the joint between my lips to grab the shirt. Her hands go up, letting me pull it off and toss it onto the coffee table.

No bra.

Reaching up, I palm her tits, squeezing them, tweaking her nipples, watching as they perk up, growing hard under my touch. She snatches the joint right from my lips, smoking the little bit that’s left.

After caressing her chest, my hands trail down her stomach, my fingertips tracing the scar beneath her belly button.

“He didn’t want to take me to the hospital,” she says quietly, discarding the remnants of the joint.

I meet her gaze, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“He said women gave birth at home all the time, that I’d be fine, that I didn’t need a doctor—I just needed to be a woman. So I gave birth on a mattress in the basement of Limerence… there, not at home, because he didn’t want to have to listen to my screams.”

Soundproof.

“You did it alone?”

“Some of the girls were allowed to check on me, but for the most part…” She trails off, a soft smile on her lips. “I was by myself when I had her. He came down after it was over. Took her, cleaned her up.”

She averts her eyes. I can tell there’s more to the story. Hell, I know there is. My fingers graze along the scar again. “So where did this come from?”

“He took me to a hospital afterward,” she says. “Markel convinced him to. I was sick, hemorrhaging blood. I ended up needing a hysterectomy. That’s when they, you know—”

“I know,” I say before she has to explain.

She can’t have kids anymore.

Makes sense why she told me she couldn’t get pregnant. I took her at her word, pretty sure only a fool would risk making a baby with me, but I figured she just put herself on some potent birth control, given the life she was living. Never crossed my mind to think she might’ve had that choice ripped away from her when she was still just a teenager.

He stole more from her than I realized.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, those words from my lips before I even think about what the hell I’m saying.

Her eyes instantly meet mine. “Did you just—?”

“Apologize,” I say, letting out a laugh. “Sure as fuck sounded like it, huh?”

She smiles as she leans over me, pausing with her lips just shy of mine. “Thank you.”

She kisses me, slow at first, soft, before her lips grow frenzied. My hand drifts lower, sliding between us. I stroke her pussy through the thin fabric separating us before my hand slips beneath it. She lets out a soft moan as I rub her clit, closing her eyes and shifting her hips.

Fuck, she’s so wet... so warm... so soft. I grow rock hard as she grinds against me for more friction, taking what she wants. Breaking the kiss, she pulls away, tilting her head back. Her palms press against my chest as she practically fucks my fingertips, my free hand caressing her side before grasping her ass, squeezing it.