Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“HEY JUDE” BY JOE ANDERSON
LARK
Groaning, I snuggle into the soft cloud that embraces my throbbing body. The fresh scent of clean cotton mixed with an intoxicating mix of amber, sandalwood, and vanilla surrounds me and makes me want to never leave this haven. I rub my face in it, practically purring as it fills my senses.
“You like the way my brother smells, pretty broken bird?” a voice asks from next to me. I pause in my movements, slowly turning my head to see a black-haired god in bed next to me. He looks familiar, but my brain feels a little fuzzy and I just can't place him.
My eyes take him in like the tall fucking drink of water that he is.
Well, I assume he's tall, given that I have to look up to catch his deep blue gaze.
What I see in his orbs gives me pause though.
There's nothing in their depths at all. His face might smile with amusement, but his eyes are dead, empty pits that look upon the world dispassionately.
A shiver cascades over my body, my skin tingling with warning mixed in with strong desire that again surprises me in its intensity.
“Your brother?” I question, my voice cracking as my throat is dry as a motherfucking desert.
He reaches behind him, giving me a view of his naked back—is he in the buff?
! I stifle a gasp as I take in the furrows and valleys that make up the skin there.
Without thinking, my hand darts out, my fingers caressing one of the deeper scars that slices his back in two.
He shudders, a small yet deep sound coming from him that makes my core ache. Greedy bitch.
“We match, you and I, broken bird,” he says, turning back to me so that I can see his defined torso, the sheet having fallen down to his lap.
His body is a mix of ink and scars. Curiouser and curiouser, and yep, looks like he's naked as the day that he was born.
Not that I'm objecting to the view, though I wonder why he's in my bed and what may have happened whilst I was out.
I'm not objectionable to a bit of consensual somnophilia, but a girl likes to experience if she's been fucked seven ways’ til Sunday by a god, at least the first time. I don’t think I was that lucky, the place between my thighs only slightly tender from fucking Knox but no more so than that.
“And yes, my brother. I believe you met him yesterday when Knox was balls deep inside your pretty cunt,” he continues, and my eyebrows rise as the memories flood back.
I wiggle my backside as the ache in my sex makes a little more sense, a dull pain flaring across my back at the movement.
“Ah, yes, tall, dark-haired dude with a pocket handkerchief?” I question, smirking when I remember what I did to that piece of cloth.
“Bingo, birdie,” he replies, holding out one of those reusable, metal bottles with a straw cap.
Lifting my head slightly, I take the straw in my mouth and suck, holding his gaze. It hurts like a bitch, but I'm too damn thirsty to care. A flicker of heat warms his blue eyes as he watches me drink, taking the bottle away when I stop.
“You can be Baby Devil then. You know, seeing as you're clearly younger than him,” I inform him, looking at his boyish face and deciding that he's more my age than that of the two guys I met in the basement, Knox and his brother, who seemed older. Speaking of… “Where the fuck am I?”
“The Devil's lair, my Nightingale,” he tells me with no emotion in his tone.
“Or my brother's room. He insisted we brought you here to recover before we break you again.” His own hand reaches out and traces my fresh wounds, a hiss leaving my lips at the contact as I flinch from his touch.
Of course, my pussy clenches, reminding me of the pain from Knox fucking me while my back was rubbed raw against the wall of the cell.
“Why bother?” I ask, brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and pain as he keeps stroking my ravaged back, my hands digging into the soft as a fucking cloud mattress beneath me. “Why let me heal first?”
“All the better to hurt you later, Nightingale,” he answers in that timeless voice. There's a gleam in his blue eyes, a quickness to his breath as he studies my wounds, lapping up my pained movements and gasps. The fucking psycho even gets a hard-on, the sheet tenting in his lap.
“You just like giving pain, Baby Devil? Or you enjoy receiving too?” I question, nodding to the admittedly large chubbie that's trying to make a bid for freedom.
“Both,” he replies, his other hand tracing some scars just above his hip bone.
The sheet slips further, his erect dick springing free, and my eyes bug as both my mouth and pussy water.
Metal glints on the end and along the underside, creating the holy grail of dick piercings; a Jacob's motherfucking ladder ending in a magic cross.
“Don't hold back on my account,” I inform him, my voice breathy as my heart pounds in time to the pulse in my lower lips.
“Tarl will be mad if I break you open again,” he pouts, grabbing his shaft anyway and fisting it, pumping up and down until pre-cum glistens on the tip. My tongue darts out, desperate for a taste even though I'm lying prone with my back all kinds of fucked up. Escapism at its finest.
“I won't tell if you don't,” I whisper huskily, wiggling a hand underneath me, my fingers hitting the jackpot as my slicked-up clit meets them.
A sharp pain in my back makes me groan as my pussy floods with excitement and my eyes flutter.
I don't close them completely, watching my devil boy as he pumps his shaft, delicious noises falling from his fuckable lips as he zeros in on what my hand is doing, before flicking back up to my back.
His finger pushes deeper into my back, another sharp pain sending fire racing across my skin as my fingers strum a quick rhythm on my engorged bud.
“Naughty little broken bird,” he rasps out as another moan leaves my lips, bliss fluttering at the edges of my vision in kaleidoscopes of colors.
Looking up, his face is a mask of exquisite torture, his gaze fixed on my back, which, if the warmth seeping down my side is any sign, is currently bleeding.
I watch enraptured as he brings a bloodied finger up to his plush lips, his eyes rolling back as his tongue flicks out and licks the crimson off, a deep animal sound of pleasure rumbling out of his chest.
My orgasm takes me by surprise, exploding over me like I dipped my finger into an electric current, and my whole body goes rigid as I cry out.
My eyes flutter shut as wave upon wave of pleasure rolls over me, obliterating the pain from my wounds, as well as the fact that I'm being held against my will because of my shitty last name and a rivalry that started before I was even born.
The bed shifts beneath me, and I crack my eyes open to see devil boy up on his knees, his dick clutched in bloody fingers as he tugs at it with a furious intensity.
Spellbound and unable to look away, I watch as he throws his head back, his own body going rigid and his member going rock-solid before spurts of creamy cum shoot out of him.
I jerk a little as they hit my back, the slight sting not unpleasant though given all the endorphins running through me at the moment.
The sight and feel of him coming all over me triggers another rush of wetness to pool out of me, a gasp leaving my lips as a second climax rips through me.
Moments pass, both of our panting breaths loud in the room's silence.
The mattress moves again, and I open a single lid to watch my Baby Devil walk away, the sound of water running reaching my ears seconds later.
He appears back in my line of sight, his naked body a masterpiece of pain and beauty, the entirety of his skin covered in stunning, black images and white scarring.
I clench my teeth when he cleans my back with a wet cloth, the cool flannel soothing at the same time as it stings.
“What's your name, Baby Devil?” I ask through gritted teeth as he makes another swipe.
“Jude,” he answers, the wet sound of the cloth hitting the carpet rings out as he drops it, clearly having finished his task.
I feel the warmth of his breath fan over the skin along my spine before the soft caress of his tongue.
Holy fuck, he's licking my blood off my back, and I shiver with the realisation. Why is that so fucking hot?
“Thank you, Jude,” I murmur, my breath stuttering with another swipe of his tongue. I'm a little unsure if I'm thanking him for the orgasm or the cleanup, but either way, a good job always deserves to be praised, I think.
“Oh, don't thank me, Nightingale. I haven't started breaking you yet.”
“I WANNA BE YOURS” BY ARCTIC MONKEYS
JUDE
I watch with delight as my little Nightingale widens her eyes, the traces of languid pleasure dissipating as fear enters her emerald depths. I eat it up, relishing the heady feeling of power that I get from her terror.
She shows no other signs of fright, her breathing even and the tremble gone from her limbs. Such a beautiful, brave bird.
“You need to eat!” I declare, and this time she does flinch, then winces in pain.
Fucking exquisite. “I'm going to get you some food, my little Nightingale, and you'll eat it all up like a good little pet, won't you?” My eyes narrow in a hard glare, and she just nods, a bemused look on her beautiful, pale face.
“I knew you would,” I praise, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before heading out of the room.
Jogging down the stairs, I whistle the tune to “Part of Your World,” my Nightingale reminding me of that sexy, red-headed mermaid.
“Please tell me you didn't fucking sleep naked next to her?” Aeron's exasperated voice sounds to my right, and I glance over to see him pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed in frustration. My lips tilt upwards in a Cheshire Cat grin.