Chapter 13 Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You
NOTHING'S GONNA HURT YOU
brEE
Baz was different tonight. When we got to the bedroom, he cradled my face and pulled me close. His lips sank into mine, his fingers curling around my cheeks.
He backed up, pulling me deeper into the room. His legs hit the bed, and he sat down, dragging me into his lap.
“Bree,” he sighed, pressing his cheek against my chest. Baz's arms slid around me, radiating warmth to the point of making me sweat. Something terrible was developing inside him, but I didn’t want to think about that.
I pressed my fingers into his hair, drawing rough lines across his scalp.
He groaned, and his arms tightened around my waist.
“Having you touch me is a dream I don’t want to wake up from.”
“Then don’t,” I responded. Baz pulled back and smiled lazily at me. His fingers tangled with my shirt and bra, dragging them down to expose my breasts. He buried his face against them.
“Nothing’s going to hurt you, pretty Bree,” he whispered.
“Not even me.” His mouth dragged across my breasts.
Soft lips trailed over tender flesh before a molten tongue caressed my sensitive skin.
My grip tightened on his forearms as he pulled me down further into his lap.
A pleased groan rumbled from him when I ground against him.
This was all very nice, but it wasn’t like him at all. His gentle movements made me uneasy.
“What’s up with you?” I grabbed his face, lifting his gaze up to mine. Of course, I knew what was up. Didn’t I? But it didn’t feel real. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Baz closed his eyes, savoring the touch of my palms against his jaw.
Baz was my soul mate, and nothing would get in the way of that.
He’d see that tomorrow. Nothing would be different.
He wasn’t going to change from the serum because he was already perfect.
And because … because he had a huge tolerance to drugs, didn’t he?
So what could the serum do? Nothing. Even if he was looking at me with slit pupils.
Even if the tip of his tongue had started to fork.
Even if his body was as hot as a scalding bath, making lines of sweat trail down my back.
I was desperately clawing at any logic I could to make what happened a bad dream, instead of reality.
“Nothing.” He delivered the words with a charming smile. “I just don’t want to be rough tonight.”
“What do you want then?” I asked. He stood, grabbing my ass and lifting me with ease.
My legs wrapped around his hips. Normal Baz would push me against a wall, desperate to get inside me—rough, intoxicating need that I ate up.
I enjoyed the dominant hand pulling my hair and the overpowering thrusts between my legs.
Especially when delivered with the rasped compliments of how good I made him feel, how pretty I was, and eventually, the broken I love yous as he came undone.
Baz was very casual about being the most sexually dominant person in our group. I’m not sure he even realized it.
Tonight, though, he laid me against the soft bed, gently settling me atop cotton sheets before crawling back off. He stared down at me as he began to pull his gloves off. Next came his boots, then his jacket.
My lips parted. Usually, Baz stayed as clothed as possible when we had sex. Not tonight. He pulled each layer off until he stood naked in front of me. Handsome felt incomplete. And his muscular trim … I felt guilty appreciating it.
I’d been drowning in the world of psychologists since I was a child, and I watched Baz—watched all of them.
It was polite not to bring things like this up, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know that he used exercise as a way to cope with PTSD.
Not a single day went by in the asylum without his eyes measuring the floor before he sank to his hands and knees, a long series of endless pushups until his arms shook and his lungs screamed.
But he wouldn’t stop until he could no longer hold himself up.
We were all like that, politely allowing each other our coping mechanisms instead of pointing a finger and demanding we say the quiet parts out loud. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, I didn’t know. But it worked for us.
Baz watched me take him in—hypervigilant in my reaction. All my face had to offer was pure need. He crawled onto the bed, his cock growing thick. It pressed against my thigh, and I reached for my clothes, ready to strip.
“No,” he said, twisting his fingers with mine. His other hand slid under my skirt, teasing the edge of my panties before he settled his body fully on mine—a solid, muscular weight capturing me against the soft bed.
Our mouths met and his fingers rubbed against my panties in languid circular strokes. When my nails dragged up his naked back and I moaned, he ripped my panties aside and angled himself. Before I could wrap my legs around him, he was sliding inside me, long and sure.
Baz wasn’t in a rush tonight. Instead, he was teasingly slow, taking his time spreading me open with shallow thrusts and heavy breaths.
He kissed me, slowly pressing deeper as if he meant to memorize each inch inside me—remember the warm, tight hold of my cunt around his body.
But he didn’t need to memorize it; I’d remind him every day.
My fingers traced his sides, enjoying the rare treat of his exposed skin. My legs spread, willing him deeper, faster.
Stop trying to commit me to memory. I wanted to scream it at him.
His fingers dug into my thighs, his fingernails biting my skin without gloves between us.
He forced me open wider as his weight trapped me beneath him.
I was helpless, forced to take his slow movements.
It felt like hours passed within the few minutes it took him to finally bury his cock fully.
It left me breathless and full—a pleasant sensation that grew as he slid out and did it all over again.
“Usually Nemo’s here to lick you as we fuck,” Baz rasped.
I tightened around him, eliciting a chuckle from him.
He pulled out and flipped me on my stomach.
Then his hips pressed into my ass as he slid into me from behind.
His groan trailed up my spine. Reaching around, he pressed the tips of his fingers between my legs.
“Have I ever fucked you alone? Almost feels like we're doing something wrong,” he rasped into my ear. I whimpered into the pillow as he rubbed my clit.
“Turn your head. I want to hear you.” Baz’s tongue darted out, flicking over the vein in my neck.
A quick taste. He hesitated, panting against my neck.
Then I felt his teeth. I shuddered. Baz had never been into biting.
There was a surprising sharp prick and then a burn.
It pulled a moan from my throat, startling him.
“Fuck. Are you okay?” He asked.
“More than okay,” I rasped. I was pliant and weak. My body was hot, burning at the same temperature as his. Baz delicately turned me around, facing me towards him again. His snake eyes dragged over me before settling on my neck. When he brushed where he’d bitten me, I moaned.
I spread my legs and reached for him. “Please,” I begged. He bent down, kissing my neck.
“Of course.”
I’d never experienced so much of him. Everything was bare to me. The warmth radiating off us made me feel delirious. However, the difference in his actions—slow, savoring, and as gentle as Baz was capable—was a concerning pleasure. The gentle caresses and fluid thrusts were suffocating me slowly.
A thought crept into the sides of my brain, and I kept pushing it down. I didn't want to verbalize that Baz was fucking me like he was saying goodbye. That was a realization I was incapable of having. Even if my eyes were watering.
Gentle movement was his whispered demand to appreciate every second. My hands struggled to hold the sheets. Baz’s lips traced the vein in my neck as if he were going to bite me again.
“Don't stop,” I whispered. Maybe if we just stayed here in this room, panting and fucking for an eternity, then whatever future coming for us could be avoided.
“We have a very long night ahead of us,” he rasped.
He lifted off me, just enough space for his hand to bury between my legs again.
His touch felt like ecstasy. I moaned, falling over the edge.
His eyes bore into mine, each thrust growing rougher as I tightened around him.
He took deep, stuttering breaths, fingers gripping my hips.
He was going to come inside me without any layers between us. No clothes, masks, or condoms. I wrapped my legs around him, my heart beating hard in my chest. Baz gave in. His mouth pressed against my forehead, groaning as he thrust deep between my thighs.
“Bree,” he rasped, kissing me mindlessly. I wrapped my arms around him tightly.
Then a furnace of heat spilled inside me like nothing I’d ever felt. My nails dug into his skin. For a panicked moment, I thought I could be melting. When I clawed lines down his back, he groaned.
“Don’t draw blood,” he rasped into my ear, digging his cock even deeper while lava spilled into me. I whimpered, and he gave a full-body shudder.
“I know,” he rasped. “You’re doing so well, Bree.” His body covered mine entirely, his cock pushed as deep as it could. He rasped how good I made him feel, lips dragging across my forehead. His body went lax and the heat inside me started to cool into a pleasing warmth deep in my belly.
Someone else quietly came in. Baz patted my legs and I reluctantly released him.
He stretched out beside me, folding his arms beneath his head so his entire body was on display.
When he rolled beside me, Nemo replaced him, bending close to kiss me as he pulled his cock from his pants.
When he pushed between my thighs, Baz’s cum coated him, slickening his cock.
“Warm,” he groaned.
Nemo’s thrusts grew rough and deep as my hands trailed down his muscular chest.
“Still don’t want to fuck me?” Baz asked, smiling.
Nemo reluctantly pulled his eyes off me and looked at Baz with so much longing.
His eyes were everywhere, on Baz’s mouth and throat, on his stomach and cock.
He reached out, palm cradling Baz’s balls as his fingers brushed lower.
Baz sucked in a sharp breath, clutching Nemo’s arm.
“I’m not fucking you tonight,” Nemo said, reluctantly pulling his hand away from Baz.
“Just admit you’d rather me riding you than the other way around.” Baz smirked.
Nemo rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to fuck you just because you think we’ll never touch again. That’s not the type of desperation I want from you.”
Baz clicked his tongue in annoyance. Nemo resumed fucking me, his attention dragging across my body. His eyes landed on my neck where Baz had bit me and he reached out, touching the spot in confusion.
“It’s not like I’d just bend over for you anyway,” Baz sighed. “I doubt you have the energy to fight me for it.” Baz wrapped his arms around my middle and buried his face in my neck, holding me close while Nemo fucked me.
“You’re so pretty, Bree,” Baz murmured, kissing my neck.
His body pressed flush against the side of mine.
Nemo was fucking me fast and hard, his knot already starting to expand.
Baz began threading a hand through my hair and touching my face, the corner of my mouth, and eyes, his thumb dragging across my cheekbone.
“I love you,” he told me. Nemo watched us beneath him, licking his lips as Baz’s hands gripped my breast. Baz pressed his face deeper into my hair, his lips brushing my ear. His hands slid to my arms, pinning them at my side so I couldn’t get away as his friend fucked me.
“Does getting fucked by him feel good?” Baz asked.
Nemo’s thrusts stuttered, and a choked groan of shock caught in his throat as he started to come.
He didn’t even have time to press his knot in.
I felt it swollen against my entrance as his release mixed with Baz’s.
Then Nemo was kissing us both, switching between us to muffle his groans on our lips.
Once Nemo collapsed on my other side, silence filled the room. And with it, bad thoughts.
“Everything is going to work out,” I told Baz. I needed him to believe that. He turned and looked at us both, staring silently for a long time.
“Please, just … ” I trailed off, unsure what to say. I bit back so many things I wanted to tell him, worried they were the wrong things.
“Just, what?” He asked. Did I beg him for honesty? Demand he spill out his feelings and fears about what the serum would do? What it meant for us? I didn’t think demands were what he needed right now.
“We’re going to figure this out together,” I said. His gaze flipped between Nemo and me. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it back and sighed.
“Are you tired yet?” Baz asked, rubbing my arm.
“We’ll stay up with you,” I responded, looking over at the watch he’d set on the nightstand. I didn’t want to ask how many hours were left. The countdown didn't mean anything to me.
“Bring in Orson,” Baz said. He plucked up the watch and slid it on his wrist. After noting the time, he turned to us with a charming smile. “Let’s fuck again, this time while you feed.”