Brutal Obsession (31)

I tear her panties off. The material rips easily, and I lift the fabric to my nose. I let her see my expression when I inhale her scent, and my cock twitches.

“Mine,” I repeat, dropping the material to the floor and hoisting her up.

She locks her legs around me, and I slide into her with one thrust.

God, she feels like heaven. She’s wet and ready, and her head falls back against the wall when I pull almost all the way out. I force myself back inside her. Her cunt clenches at me, tight and hot. Perfect. Fucking perfect.

I fuck her like a madman. Her spine hits the wall with every movement. Her breasts bob. I lean down and bite her skin, leaving a trail of wet marks as I home in on her nipple. When I have it between my teeth, she shrieks.

If that isn’t the best sound I’ve heard. I could live for those screams, tinged with pain and pleasure. A combination.

I release her thighs to slip my hand between us. I pinch her clit, twisting it and tugging. I play with her harder than I’ve ever fucked a girl before, and I still feel deranged. Like this is only the tip of the iceberg.

Her nails rake down my back, and I shudder when she grips my hair and forces my head up. We lock eyes. I see everything she wants me to see and more. How every stroke deep inside her is hitting a special place that makes her eyelids flutter. How the pressure is something new, something twisted.

I ease up on her clit and rub fast, shallow circles. My balls tighten, and I pound into her faster. Harder. She lets her head fall back when I pinch her clit again, and her cunt clenches around me as she comes.

Her mouth opens and closes, but she doesn’t give me that scream. She doesn’t say my fucking name, but she shakes and trembles and grips my biceps so tight, I think I’ll have half-moon cuts in my skin when we’re done.

Sweat rolls down my back. Between her breasts. We’re both panting.

I bury myself inside her and go still, ecstasy sweeping down my cock and exploding inside her. I grip her to me as I come, knowing full well that there’s no barrier between us. I didn’t give her a choice—and she’s not going to get one.

There’s no going back.





14





VIOLET





Greyson kneels in front of me. I feel strange, like I don’t fit inside my skin anymore. I’ve been stretched and snapped back into place, and everything is just… off. He runs his hands down my leg and lifts my left one. I don’t realize until it’s too late.

He touches the scar running down my calf and stares at it.

Then, without warning, he digs his thumbs into my skin. I hiss, the shock worse than the pain, and jerk my leg out of his grasp. He lets me inch around him and go to the door. He knows before I do that I’m not going outside. Not when I’m naked, with cum dripping down the inside of my thighs. The party downstairs is still raging.

I turn back around and find my shirt. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches me with dark eyes. He’s dangerous. I need to repeat that. Danger, danger. A warning siren flashes red in my mind, twisting behind my vision.

There’s no way I’m calling it quits tonight. He offered me a way to relax—and I’m not sure that sex was on the agenda. Not at first.

I go to my leggings next, ignoring that I don’t have panties. They’re torn and forgotten on his floor, so fuck it. I’ll go without. I shimmy in front of him, barely keeping my balance to yank them on. I’m better than that—my balance is usually solid.

He’s shaken me more than I thought.

I picture the woman in the photo album. It must be special to him—it was front and center, practically displayed. The only thing on that bookcase that seemed to hold any value. And the photos themselves. Worn around the edges, like they’ve been touched countless times.

Maybe he hurts like I do. Maybe he dreams about the parent he doesn’t have, but he won’t admit it. He shouldn’t have a soft side. He shouldn’t be appealing.

He follows me into the hallway. I twist the knob to go into the bathroom, and he blocks me.

I raise my eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“If you’re going downstairs, you’re fine as you are.”

I glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” He leans against the bathroom door. “If you’re going downstairs, I want everyone to know that you were just thoroughly fucked. I want them to smell it on your skin and see it in the flush in your cheeks. I want them to know my cum is seeping out of your cunt.”

He can’t be serious.

“It’s healthier to pee after sex. It prevents UTIs.”

He shrugs. “Fine, then you’re not going downstairs.”

His indifference is infuriating. Seems like he doesn’t care one way or another, so I shake my head and go for the stairs. I’ve never been afraid of people looking at me. I survived the aftermath of Greyson sharing the video of my drunk blow job, I can survive a few people knowing I had sex.

When we get downstairs, he becomes my shadow. He follows me into the living room, where the party has evolved into couples paired off on the couches and chairs. Willow and Knox sit in a loveseat opposite the large, L-shaped couch. Steele found himself a girl, and so did Erik. Miles sits beside Amanda, close but not quite touching. Jacob and another dance team girl, Madison, are making out in the corner—but they’re the only ones not paying attention to the conversation.