Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)(77)

That was what they’d tried to do when they’d seen the Libra eraser from Cleo.

I could’ve yelled and demanded they give it back—but I’d learned to ignore them. I’d adopted that habit with Cleo. Whenever my family was too close—I pretended I didn’t care. I hid the fact that I loved her and hurt her instead. I did it to keep her safe. —Kill, age sixteen

It was getting worse.

The pain.

The f*cking excruciating pain.

The drugs the doctor had prescribed weren’t doing shit, and it took every inch of strength and energy to hide the extent of agony I was in. I fooled most people, but not Cleo. I’d never been able to fool her.

I took a huge gulp of air as we entered my home. The bike ride over here had been a blessing and a curse. The wind had helped blow away some of the hot pressure in my skull, but the concentration to lean into corners, brake for traffic lights, and keep an eye on the speedometer taxed me.

Tonight should be the f*cking happiest night of my life. Instead, I battled with sadness. And, if I was downright honest, self-pity. I was done feeling like this. Done feeling so f*cking weak.

Tomorrow, I would see the doctor again. I couldn’t go on this way—despite the upcoming war and meeting with Samson, I had to face facts that I needed help.

And I needed it now.

Cleo walked backward, heading toward the stairs. The foyer chandelier glittered, drenching the space in light and committing treachery to my brain.

Her fingers toyed with the zipper of her new jacket. The soft tan radiated against her flawless skin. Her green eyes popped from the mess of fiery red hair and her legs looked so damn tempting in her tight jeans.

I rubbed my thumb and forefinger together remembering how wet she’d been at the gathering. How her hips had rocked on my lap as I touched her.

My cock swelled, stealing some of the pressure from my skull.

“Where are you going?” I asked as she licked her bottom lip.

“To bed.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her lust-filled tone. “To sleep?”

She laughed softly. “What do you think?”

I think another orgasm would help a lot.

One thing that did seem to work on the pain was a release. If I could ride out the overwhelming agony to get to the point of explosive orgasm, the relief and endorphins afterward gave me much needed respite—almost as if the blood erupted from my body, allowing the swelling in my head to recede.

My eyes remained fixed on Cleo’s hands as she fiddled with the zipper. “Come to bed.”

Fuck, she looks amazing in that jacket.

I couldn’t stop staring. She was mine. All deliciously mine.

Her voice lashed through the air, licking straight around my cock. She was like a siren … like the mermaid inked on my thigh, grasping me around the balls and coaxing me wherever she wanted me to go.

Crossing the small distance, I cupped her face. My mouth watered to kiss her, but I couldn’t. Not yet. If I did, I’d end up f*cking her on the stairs and I didn’t think I’d survive a breathless rutting. I wanted her. I wanted to come in her. But I needed it to be … quiet.

“Give me ten minutes. I have to do something first.”

Her eyes narrowed. She stopped playing with her zipper and pulled her face free from my hands. “Do what?”

I tensed. How could I explain that all through the meeting, all through the gathering and socializing all I could think about—all I could focus on—was the fact I’d lost a trade today.

Not because of the money.

Not because of screwing up.

But because it symbolized something so f*cking scary.

I should never have f*cked up something so simple.

How could I hope to create world anarchy and put things into place when I couldn’t even handle a basic trade?

The answer was simple: I couldn’t.

And I had to.

This was what I was born to do.

I’d lost the affinity with numbers. I missed thinking in algorithms. I felt lazy and dumb and unhinged.

I needed to find a way back. And if it meant retraining, then so be it.

“I’ll be up in ten.” Catching her shoulders, I spun her to face the stairs and tapped her ass. “Go up to the bedroom and wait for me. I want you naked with just your cut on.” Gathering her masses of hair, I kissed the back of her neck. “Understand?”

She shivered. “I understand.”

“Good.” I pushed her gently, and she didn’t look back as she scurried up the stairs.

I watched as the last flick of red hair vanished around the corner.

The minute she’d disappeared, I sighed.

I’d do anything to protect her. I’d become anyone to ensure she had the life she deserved.

But the more I thought about what I had to do in order to formulate the future I wanted, the deeper the fog of ennui I lived in became.

My limbs were listless. My brain lethargic.

Pain made everything so f*cking hard.

Turning, I marched into my office. Closing the door—something I never bothered doing—I made my way to the four screens and powered them up.

The moment the glare from the screens glowed blue, I squinted and popped two painkillers from the bottle in my desk drawer.

From mastermind to defunct has-been.

I had to find a way to reboot myself before it was too late.