Ruin My Life (Mangled Masterpieces #1)

17. Remy

17

Remy

Six Years Ago

Hurry. I need you.

T he screen blurs as more tears surge. I don’t want to feel this way— like I’ve been carved out with an ice cream scoop and refilled with damp earth.

All of this because of an accidental nap. I was just so tired and had time to kill so I turned on a movie. Ma and Dad were at work, Andrea went to the mall with her cheer buddies and Win had violin, leaving me to sit alone in an empty house.

I hate being alone.

The quiet creates a vacuum, sucking me into a desolate space where vicious whispers amplify to howling screams. The noise inside my head blares endlessly until my only option is to shut down.

I didn’t mean to close my eyes; I just wanted to escape the agony. But my demons follow me into dreamland every time, bestowing on me images more horrifying than a Guillermo del Toro film.

Cutting my skin to watch dark soil spill out. Opening my mouth to vomit sand. Bathtubs filled with bloody water. Driving down the highway only for everyone to transform into stuffed animals with human eyes in the cup holders. A park void of life, surrounded by headless torsos. Screaming but producing no sound.

Even when I wake, the vivid torture refuses to end.

I’m shaking so hard that my phone slips from my hand. Through choked sobs, I scramble for it. I can’t be alone for another minute. I can’t take it. I can’t—

A ringtone slices through my ragged cries.

It takes me three tries to answer.

“Remy? I’m almost there,” Win pants in my ear. I collapse in relief at the sound of his voice. “Hey, shh, it’s ok, talk to me.”

“I took a nap and— and had a–another nightmare.”

He hums and it vibrates through the speaker; a soft, comforting blanket to drown the screeching darkness. I hate that I'm doing this to him again. It’s the fourth time this break. I keep telling myself it’ll get better, but it’s only getting worse.

“Are you here yet?” I whimper.

“Coming up now.”

I race to the door as fast as my trembling legs can carry me and tear it open.

The sight of him jogging up the stairs has me shattering.

He’s on me instantly, hushing me with one hand grasping the back of my head, the other around my waist, reeling me against him.

He's here. He has me. Safe. Safe. Safe. I bury my face in his neck, my tears soaking his skin while a muffled string of nonsense pours out .

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want to feel good again. I don’t like this, Win, I don't like it at all.”

He’s walking me backward, closing the door and whispering, “I know, baby, I know. I’ve got you.”

Baby . Every time it slips from his lips my heart remembers to beat.

He shuffles us down the hall, murmuring reassurances all the way to my room. I cling to him tighter as we tumble into bed. Even draped over him, I’m not close enough— I want to burrow into his skin and curl up around his heart.

Lips graze my temple. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

It’s impossible but I try.

A gentle kiss on my forehead. God, I don't deserve him.

I pull back to find wet grey eyes. The dagger drives deeper. I’m bringing him down with me but I can’t let him go.

“What’s wrong with me?”

He cups my face, smearing the mess of tears leaking down my cheeks. “There’s nothing wrong with you , baby. You're just not feeling well.”

Hysteria threatens to crest again.

“Why though?”

He shakes his head. “The brain is like any other organ. It can get sick.”

My chest still aches, but I’m no longer hyperventilating. “So… you think I have an infection?”

“Not exactly,” he sighs, swirling patterns between my shoulder blades. “More like a condition.”

“But you think I can be cured, right?”

His palm slides down my cheek, thumb swiping across my bottom lip.

“I don’t know if it works like that, but you’re not alone. ”

I deflate, lip quivering against the pad of his thumb. He pulls my forehead to his. Each of his exhales, I inhale.

“You mean… your brain is sick too?” I whisper.

He nods against me.

The bruising throb in my throat intensifies. I don't want him to feel like this. I'm on the verge of breaking down again when he rasps, “I have an idea. Can we try something?”

“Try what?”

His gaze flits to my mouth. Back to my eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

With my life, my heart, my soul .

“Yeah.”

His leg hooks mine—

Flipping me under him. Hands land on either side of my head. Holding my gaze, his knee gently nudges my thighs apart.

Oh.

My heart slams against my ribs.

“Win?”

He lowers to the crook of my neck. “Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

Lips whisper across the pounding pulse in my throat. “Making you feel good.”

Then his hips press forward and all thoughts evacuate the building. Nothing matters except Win and the witchcraft he’s performing.

My eyes roll, my spine arches, my lips part. A foreign sound sneaks out.

Holy. Shit . The weight of his body on mine this way feels amazing.

His exploratory kisses migrate to my jaw; adrenaline and something intoxicating floods my bloodstream, rushing to my groin.

On reflex, my hips lift.

The kisses reach the corner of my mouth. He rocks against me again and I feel it— the rigid length of him thickening in his sweats.

I’m boiling and shivering.

“Is this ok?”

A little nod and a moan are all I can manage.

With a shy smile, he lightly pecks my lips. “Want me to keep going?”

This tease.

My whispered, “ Yeah ,” comes out breathier than intended but I can’t find a fuck to give because the swipe of his tongue across the seam of my lips is nirvana. I open for him and indulge in his taste— sweet oblivion . Breaking for a breath, I sink my teeth into his bottom lip, eliciting a low groan from the back of his throat.

He likes it.

I do it again, following with a languid suck.

“Fuck,” he pants and rears back. “Keep that up and this will be over in five seconds.”

Those grey eyes are lost to lust and I’m lost to him.

“Don’t care. Get back here,” I growl, grasping the inky hair at the base of his skull and tugging him to me.

Our lips reconnect in a sloppier kiss. We’re dissolving into desperation. I thrust in silent demand. He chuckles under his breath and answers by grinding me into the mattress. I’m drifting through the clouds and I never want to come down. The heavenly pressure spikes when he lines us up perfectly.

My jaw drops.

“That’s it,” he whispers as he licks his way toward my ear. I’m not sure when my hands found his hips, but my grip is bruising, urging him to move faster.

More.

I need more.

Moremoremore .

Curious fingers wander beneath my shirt, gliding up to my waist, then back down to the trail of blonde hair leading into my pants, all the while ramping up the torturous friction. He’s leaving a blaze in his wake and I’m begging to fucking burn . I’m unraveling, writhing against him, gasping into his mouth.

His hand sneaks between us to cup my dick over my sweats. Firecrackers of pleasure pop in my brain as I shamelessly buck into his tightening grip.

He nips my lip.

It’s too much.

“Win—”

“Let go, baby.”

The pressure climbs toward a peak.

“Not yet,” I whine, but it’s futile because the bastard silences me with his mouth, tongue fucking me in time with the stroke of his hand and the roll of his hips and I’m—

Gone .

The purest form of pleasure erupts through me in tingling waves. I’m encapsulated in euphoria, floating through starlit skies. Bliss coats Win’s features followed by a gasped moan before he collapses onto me in a dazed heap.

We lay like that for an eternity, staring at each other in awe and disbelief. This kind of quiet, filled with breathy pants and white noise, doesn’t scare me.

It feels safe.

Peaceful.

Win watches me closely. “You feeling better?”

I peek at him through my lashes, cheeks burning.

“What do you think? ”

He peels off me to look at the mess we’ve made of our pants before flashing me a smirk.

“Hmm, not sure.”

My brow arches. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

He’s fucking preening now. I roll my eyes and haul him back on top of me.

“Seeing as I’m not sobbing anymore, I’d say your experiment worked.”

The brightest smile I’ve ever seen on his face blooms. “So what you’re saying is, I made you come hard enough to rewire your brain?”

He shifts and I momentarily lose focus when his damp crotch rubs my thigh.

“For the moment, but we’re running against the clock.”

“Are we now?”

I nod solemnly. “Permanent results require many, many, many orgasms.”

A laugh rips out of him. “Greedy for more already, baby?”

I slap his ass, earning a surprised gasp.

“Stop gloating and kiss me, you idiot.”

He only laughs harder, but I’m laughing too, riding the high for however long it lasts.