Ruin My Life (Mangled Masterpieces #1)

29. Win

29

Win

T his isn’t real. It can’t be. Did he hear anything I just fucking said?

Obviously not because the dumbass is fusing our mouths together while a chant of, “ Holy shit. Remy is kissing me ,” circles my brain.

I should stop him, but I won’t— not when he tastes like salvation. His lips fit against mine like missing puzzle pieces. Soft yet firm as his fingers sink into my hair, tugging my head back. His exhale fills my mouth.

It’s stronger than any hit.

“What are you doing?” I gasp as the tip of his tongue grazes my upper lip.

“Making you feel good,” he whispers and I swear if he wasn’t holding me, I’d collapse. With a whimpered moan, I slide my palms from his hands to his wrists, trailing through the fine blonde hair on his forearms, rounding back up to the swells of his biceps.

“Careful, Sunshine,” I murmur, “You’re tempting an addict. One taste is all it takes for me to be consumed.”

Hazel eyes flit between mine.

“Just this once… relapse with me.”

How.

The fuck.

Do I deny that?

Easy. I don’t.

Wrapping a hand around his throat, I yank him to me, slamming our mouths together again. He’s the sweetest poison— an elixir no tab of ecstasy can compete with— infusing me with dizzying, intoxicating euphoria.

I walk him backward, reacquainting myself with his mouth. Reveling in the experienced flick of his tongue. Melting under the pressure of his lips. I don’t know where I’m leading us but I don’t care. I’ll lay him out on the floor, the bed, the fucking counter— anywhere as long as I can get more of this.

Teeth scrape over my tongue as he changes direction.

“Bathroom.”

He might as well be speaking a foreign language. “Hmm?” I hum, chasing his lips.

“You’re freezing and fucking soaked,” he laughs as we stumble through his bedroom, connected at the mouth. Little does he know, I’m not cold anymore. Quite the opposite, actually; I’m on fire .

Grinning into his kiss, I ask, “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Deviance sparkles in the gold strands of his irises as he switches on the light and reels me into the center of the spacious ensuite.

“First, I’m getting you out of these wet clothes.”

Goosebumps explode across my skin .

“Well fuck, if I knew all it took for you to undress me was to hang out in the rain, I would’ve done it ages ago.”

Hot palms carve a trail from my shoulders to my chest, over my stomach, pausing on the hem of my drenched shirt.

“Win?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up and let me take care of you.”

Dear lord, if this is a dream, don’t wake me up.

I bite my lip.

A low groan rumbles in the back of his throat and he mutters something like, “ You’ll be the death of me ,” before peeling my shirt off. It hits the tile with a slap. Cool air draws my nipples into tight buds, the barbells through them attracting his hungry stare. His pupils swallow all traces of hazel as he hooks a thumb through one of my belt loops, scalding gaze roaming over my ink.

Fingertips tickle my side.

“You added to it,” he murmurs, tracing the rose now covered in thorns and dripping blood. His nail skims the veins of the crimson petals. “I like it.”

My breath catches. His delicate, exploratory touch moves to the tattooed barbed wire weaving through my collarbone. The ache in my groin nears unbearable, but I don’t dare rush him. I want to live in this intimacy with him eternally.

He peruses the artwork decorating my skin, a fascinated, pensive look on his face. When he reaches the Latin script etched through my iliac crest, he pauses.

“What does it mean?”

Talking is suddenly impossible. I clear my throat, running through all the lies I could spill. But it’s pointless; he'll find out eventually.

“You’re not what's been done to you.”

Suddenly, green-gold eyes lock on mine.

Please, please don’t ask .

“We’re gonna come back to this,” he says, tapping it twice before returning to my jeans. Relief ripples over me like a waterfall. His pointer and thumb pinch the button on my fly, brows lifted in question.

“Can I?”

My eyes sting.

No one has asked me but him. I’d forgotten the feeling of being treated with reverence. My hands tremble as I nod.

He gifts me a shy smile, revealing that goddamned dimple.

I can’t help it. My thumb sinks into it. “I missed this.”

A blush rises in his cheeks. “Sweet talker,” he mumbles with a little shake of his head and resumes unzipping my pants. He tries tugging them down but the wet denim is glued to me.

“Having trouble, baby?”

“Don’t start,” he huffs, grasping both sides and shoving—

They slip down my thighs, taking my boxers too. He stumbles back as I kick them aside, grinning at his stunned expression.

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens.

I can’t tell if he’s horrified or intrigued.

“Y-you’re pierced.”

I smirk. “Great observation.”

He’s too busy gaping at my erect cock— more specifically, the silver barbell sitting under the crown— to notice my scars. I initially got it for the pain, as I've done with all of my piercings. (They're as addictive as tats, but claiming it's part of an edgy aesthetic is more acceptable than admitting to punishing yourself.) Either way, I take the distraction and stalk toward him.

Wide hazel eyes can’t find a place to land on my naked skin.

“Oh god, this is so bad,” he whines, back hitting the shower door. Pinned at my mercy.

Tracing a line of his abdomen above the waistband of his sweats, I whisper, “Why’s that?”

His head falls back against the glass, eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted. He’s wrecked and I haven’t even gotten started. It’s fucking everything .

“You’re gonna get the wrong—” he gasps as I lick up his throat. “Idea.”

A light suck on his pulse point. His throat bobs. I hum, “I’m pretty sure I know exactly where this is going,” and slip into his pants. Teasingly, I run my knuckles against his lower stomach, the pads of my fingers brushing his twitching cock.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

My other hand sneaks around to his lower back, dipping past the elastic of his boxers.

“This was supposed to be about you,” Remy protests.

My middle finger rubs the top of his crease. His cock jumps.

I nip his earlobe. “Trust me, it is.”

“That’s the whole fucking point, asshole, I don’t trust you,” he snaps, but there’s no bite. My sunshine is flushed, panting and needy as fuck. And I’m high— higher than any chemically induced sensation. It’s right with him. It's life spent in shades of grey to suddenly seeing the world in vivid color. It’s the damaged, brittle muscle in my chest waking from a coma. It’s coming home after a brutal journey.

“Like you said, I’ve got a lot of groveling to do,” I whisper, kissing him before he can fight me further. The second our lips meet, he's pliable, arching off the glass as I start stripping him.

Impulse urges me to pick up the pace, but I’m determined to savor this. Golden skin— warm and taut— glides under my greedy hands. He’s all defined angles and smooth planes of muscle like a Michelangelo sculpture; I’m compelled to worship every inch of his heavenly perfection.

“This doesn’t,” he pants, “mean,” gasps, “we’re back,” heaves, “together.”

I roll his bottom lip through my teeth, eliciting a helpless whine from him. Jesus fuck, that sound .

“Yet.”

He groans. “What am I doing?”

“Relapsing with me.”

Our eyes connect, then drop between us.

“Fucking hell, Remy,” I whisper. “You’re too damn perfect.”

His cock is a work of art: thick as mine, but a little longer with pulsing veins and precum weeping from his slit. Saliva fills my mouth as I contemplate what I want to do with him first. Who knows when I’ll have him this way again?

I need to feel as much of him as possible to replay later.

Lifting my hand to my mouth, I let the spit spill into my palm, watching him through my lashes as I bring it to his lips. His brows furrow like he’s in agony. And maybe he is. I certainly am, especially when he obeys the silent request and adds to the makeshift lube.

Taking a step closer, I line us up and grasp our cocks in my slickened hand—

Both of our jaws fall open.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, throbbing against my palm and shaft in time with his rapid breaths. Hot, velvet-soft skin burns into my sensitive length. One stroke and our foreheads collide.

“Tell me I’m the only one who’s had you like this, even if it’s a lie,” I beg, smearing my thumb over his slit on the upstroke. His hand wraps around the one I’m fucking us with, tightening the grip.

“No.”

My free hand returns to his crease. “But your lies are so pretty.”

His hips stutter. “ I hate you.”

“Who’s that lie for, baby? Me or you?”

“Both."

I grin, licking the sheen of sweat off his upper lip. “Thought so.”

“God, you’re a fucking menace,” he pants. Zips of pleasure rocket through me both from his words and involuntary thrust. I roll my hips, encouraging him to move. But as soon as he gets into a rhythm, I pull back.

“What the fuck?” he gasps.

I shrug. “You won’t tell me what I want to hear so you don’t get to come.”

His glare could smite Satan himself.

I’ll bait this beast all fucking day.

With a growl, he lunges, but I dodge him, slipping into the shower and cranking the water to scalding.

As predicted, he’s on me in half a second.

Hands latch onto my hips, hard cock poking the top of my ass. “Hell no, you’re not playing games with me, baby .”

I don’t care if it’s mocking.

Remy. Called me. Baby.

I peek at him over my shoulder. “I’ve graduated from asshole, I see.”

“You’ve graduated from pain in my ass to pain in my dick,” he snarls. My snicker is cut off with a gasp as he reaches around to grip my cock. Sharp teeth clamp on my ear, his tongue weaving through the line of piercings.

“Aww, but I’d love to bury myself in your sweet ass until you're sore,” I groan, leaning back against his chest, letting him play with me while steam fills the space. I snake a hand behind him to grasp a firm cheek, digging my nails in until he hisses. “Tell me, has anyone had your tight hole?”

His answering bite on my throat has me grinning at the ceiling.

“Is that a no? ”

He gives a bruising suck.

I twist out of his hold, walking backward until hot water cascades over me. He stalks after me like a furious god while I sneak a few pumps of conditioner into my palm. When he’s within range, I drop to my knees.

Water collects on my lashes, drenching my hair and beating into my shoulders. Fleeting fear tries to surface at the memory of unyielding tile beneath me, but I focus on the ray of light in the form of a man above me. I’m willing. Sober. With the one and only person I’ve ever wanted.

I’m safe here.

Smoothing my conditioner-coated palms up his thighs, I hold his curious eyes. They widen as one hand moves back to his ass to tease between his cheeks, the other cupping his balls.

“Don’t go easy on me,” I murmur. “I want you to punish me for leaving you. Choke me with this perfect cock and don’t stop until I’ve swallowed every drop.”

His mouth hangs open.

“Wha—"

His question dies as I devour him. His cockhead hits the back of my throat, triggering my gag reflex, but I push past it, fueled by the guttural groan he releases. His taste floods my mouth, my tongue swirling and massaging and flicking with every bob of my head.

“Oh fuck, Win— I don’t— It’s been too long since— I’m not gonna last if you—”

I pop off, panting while rolling his balls and taking in his debauched expression.

“I said fuck my face, baby. You’re not moving.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re fucking crazy.”

I suck his sack, earning a slew of curses. My cheeks ache from fighting a smile while I tongue his heavy balls. The finger that’s been rubbing above his rim circles it in time to the stroke of my hand on his shaft.

Finally, his hips begin to rock and I eagerly swallow his cock again. He cradles the back of my head, threading his fingers through my soaked hair. With every gentle thrust into me, I take him deeper down my throat.

But he’s still going way too easy on me.

“Fuck my throat, baby.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he protests.

My sunshine boy still won’t give me what I deserve even after everything I put him through. It swells my damaged heart.

“You won’t.”

He hesitates.

Time to give him a little push.

Literally.

My fingertip presses against his hole, nudging inside. His ass clenches at the invasion as the hand in my hair curls into a fist. It stings deliciously. Grinning up at him, I lave at his tip.

“Have you ever?”

He shakes his head.

“Not even to yourself?”

Again, he denies it. I nod, sucking on his cock for another minute to relax him. Once he falls back into it, I push past the first ring of muscle.

“Oh— fuck .”

“Is that a good or bad fuck ?”

He glares at me and thrusts hard into my mouth.

Atta boy.

I chuckle around his dick. He twitches on the flat of my tongue. While I work his ass open gradually with shallow pumps, he fucks my mouth faster. He’s losing control and my own cock is screaming for friction. I’m humping the air and I don’t care how desperate I look because Remy’s hooded eyes are watching me like I hung the stars in the sky.

“More,” he begs.

My eyes close on a moan. He wants more? He’ll get more.

I withdraw my finger.

“I said more, not less,” he growls. Two fingers plunge into his ass to the second knuckle. “Oh my god .” I curl them, pumping into him again before starting to scissor them. A little deeper—

The reaction is instant. A gush of precum and a cry of, “ Holy fuck,” let me know I’ve found his spot.

Breaking for a breath, I rasp, “Yeah?”

He palms my head and slams his dick to the back of my throat. I’m choking and shaking with laughter as I peg his prostate over and over to the music of his cursing. My balls draw up; the need to come overwhelms me the closer he gets.

Pounding into my mouth and bracing a hand against the shower wall, he grunts, “Touch yourself.”

My wet eyes flick up.

Did I hear that right?

He’s staring at my swollen, straining cock.

“God dammit, Win, fuck your fist and come with me.”

That is, by far, the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

Releasing his hip, I wrap a hand around my length. Just the touch makes me moan— a stroke and I’m whimpering, drool dripping down my chin, mixing with the water pelting my shoulders and head.

Before he can warn me, his ass strangles my fingers. Pulses. My name falls from his lips mixed with gasps of, “ Fuck— yes— I can’t— I’m—”

The orgasm tears through him at the same time jets of cum shoot down my throat. I swallow and milk his prostate until he’s borderline crying for me to release him. My fingers slide free, his cock popping out of my mouth.

My fist moves over my shaft faster.

I’m on the edge—

Remy falls to his knees, knocking my hand away and taking over.

“This is mine ,” he growls.

My cock? My orgasm? Me? Doesn’t matter. I chose to believe it’s all of the above.

Then it hits.

An eruption of bliss spirals out from deep within my groin in cataclysmic waves. I’m out of my body, simultaneously high and falling. Falling impossibly further. Praying that I’m not the only one.