It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen #1)(44)

I shifted down her body, my eyes looking down her stomach to her *. Her bare, wet *. “Fuck, b-babe. You’re goddam p-perfect.”

I stroked along the inner side of her thigh, still nipping at her tit. “I’m g-gonna get you ready with my f-fingers. Then I’m g-gonna eat this * u-until you cream in my m-mouth. Then, wh-when you c-can’t take no m-more, I’m g-gonna fill y-you up with m-my cock until y-you scream, so f*ckin’ loud.”

“Styx… please…”

My middle finger ran along her * lips, her legs widening to let me in. I then pushed it in and watched as her head threw back with a long moan, hands over her head, gripping onto the head of the bed.

I picked up speed, skirting across that f*ckin’ sweet spot that I knew would make her lose her mind. Her toes curled and she squealed, bright eyes flashing at me. “What… what was that?”

“Th-that, b-babe, is what real f-f-f*ckin’ should feel like.”

“Oh… Again… please…” she asked breathlessly.

Adding a second finger, her hips rocking faster now, I lifted the plunging digit to search for her release.

“Styx… I need… I need… Ahh…” I knew what she needed, what she was begging for, so taking my thumb, I pressed the pad against her clit, rubbing in hard circles, and f*ck, she went off like a damn firecracker. Her head turned and her scream muffled in the pillow she pressed against her mouth to mute the sound.

Bringing her down, I slowly removed my fingers, making sure she watched as I licked along each digit. Gripping her bent knees, I lowered my head. I needed to taste her more than I needed to breathe. But as I moved in and focused on my target, I stopped.

Scars. Lots of f*ckin’ scars.

Slowly, and trying to stay calm, I moved back, sitting on my haunches, just staring down. Mae shifted up on her elbows, alarmed.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

My fists clenched and I breathed in deep through my flared nostrils. I knew I probably looked like the devil incarnate, but I was seething—f*ckin’ scars! Beauty had said as much. Mae must have been tortured for years, raped for years, and I jump on her like a beast at the first chance.

Christ. I was no better than those rapists at her cult.

I felt sick, a hungover-as-f*ck sick feeling in the very pit of my stomach.

“Styx? Please… what did I do?”

I shook my head as I realized I’d been staring at Mae’s thighs and met her worried gaze. She was beautiful. Even confused, she was stunningly gorgeous. Her skin was flushed from coming so hard, her black hair messy from rolling around in pleasure, but those wolf eyes… those wolf eyes were filling with tears, glossing more and more as she followed the path of my attention.

With a cry, her thighs slapped shut and she scurried back against the headboard, her arms wrapping around her legs.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh…?” Argh! Breathe. Loosen up. “Wh-what are they, Mae?”

Her skittish eyes darted to everywhere but on me. “Nothing… they… they do not matter anymore.”

“Well, th-they m-matter to me!” I boomed out, watching as she flinched at my tone.

“Please… Styx…” she pleaded.

“F-F-FUCK!” I jumped off the bed, grabbing my shirt off the floor and pulled it on.

“Where are you going?” she asked frantically.

“O-out.”

“Are you angry at me?”

Swinging round to face her, I groaned. That nose was twitching again and her small hands were beginning to shake as she pulled the black sheet over her naked body.

“M-my cock’s hard as f*ck, so y-yeah, I’m p-pissed, but I’m f-f-f*cked off at myself by what we just d-did… Wh-wh-what I just d-did to you… F-f-f*ck!”

“Did what? Showed me pleasure?” She swallowed and curled in on herself, shielding her body from… What? Me? My rejection? Christ, if I knew.

“You regret it?” she probed, her long hair falling forward to curtain and shield her face.

One glimpse of her hurt expression nearly killed me. It wasn’t her, but I couldn’t get the words out to tell her. Never been one for letting people know my feelings. Not being physically able to speak for most of your damn life kinda makes you close in. The signs were there for my stammer about to break through, loud and f*ckin’ proud—the suffocating clogging, the strangling tightness of my throat as I tried to think of something to say. My blood was pumping, pulse thumping, head spinning, and I needed to get the hell out of the room and away from Mae’s f*ckin’ lost face. I wanted to tell her I shouldn’t have touched someone who’d been abused her whole life, that she deserved better, someone who had a whole bunch of jagged scars on her inner thighs where some f*cked-up device had clearly wrenched them apart. CHRIST! But the goddamn words wouldn’t come. So I answered a clipped, thoughtless reply and instantly knew I’d completely f*cked up in doing so.

“I-I-It shouldn’t have h-happened.”

With that perfect f*ckin explanation, I left the room, feeling like a creepy bastard, but no matter how much I condemned myself, I was unable to shake the vision of Mae as she came.

I was so f*ckin’ hard but so f*ckin’ mad.

Bursting into the bar, most of the guys were gone, hounding the cops for intel or f*ck knows what else. And, hell no, f*ckin’ Dyson was pouring drinks.