Chapter Three #3
He grins through the aftershocks, hips twitching one last time. “I’ll be whatever my brat needs me to be.” And then he collapses on top of me, head resting on my chest.
“Wouldn’t it be perfect if we just stayed here all day?” he murmurs. “Marathon sex. No lies. No masks. Just us.”
I giggle, drunk on his touch. “Sounds perfect.”
His chest rumbles with laughter. “We can come as many times as we want in here. I’ll fuck you into the floor if I have to.”
He lifts his head, mischief gleaming behind those devil-may-care eyes. “But you still owe me something.”
Ugh. There it is. The deal. The truth. I groan. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.” His voice hardens. “Unless you want this to be the last time I fuck you.”
I pout, about to argue when I move to slip out of bed.
His hand whips around my wrist, grip firm. “No. You don’t get to shower. I want my cum dripping out of you all fucking day. Especially if Wyck so much as breathes your way, I want him to smell me on you.” He kisses my lips, then adds with a devilish smirk, “You got any plugs around here?”
“Plugs?” I blink.
“Yeah, for your pussy. I’m serious, I want to seal that shit up.” His laugh is feral when I swat him.
“Karter!”
“What? You’re mine now, right? Might as well mark you properly.”
I roll my eyes and melt into his arms anyway, whispering, “Okay.”
He leans back. “Okay? That’s it? No bratty comeback? Who are you and what have you done with my girl?”
I sigh. “I’m tired of fighting all of you. I’ll do whatever you say because I’m sick of living in the dark, of not knowing.” My hand slaps over my mouth, too late.
His fingers tilt my chin up, cool fingertips brushing my skin. I lean into it. Needing it.
“You can only fight for so long, baby girl,” he whispers, fingers weaving into my hair. “Let us fight for you.”
A tear slips free.
No one’s ever fought for me before.
“Aunt Josie is my mother,” I whisper. “Gaia is my sister. Everything I thought I knew was a lie. I’ve been living in a fucking nightmare, Karter.” It spills out before I can stop it. The words, the pain, the broken pieces.
“They all lied to me.”
My legs give out, but he catches me before I hit the floor. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed.” He kisses my forehead, grabs his clothes, and leads me to the closet.
“But this is my home,” I argue softly.
“No.” His voice is ice. “This is a shrine of betrayal.” He shoves on his shirt. “Get dressed. We’re getting the fuck out of here.”
I obey in silence, throwing on an oversized shirt and joggers while watching him rummage through the back corner.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
He pulls out the hidden box. My journals.
“Why are you taking those?”
“Because I heard Josie and Gaia screaming about them before I snuck in. I figured they were important. Thought I’d grab a few to read, until you seduced me. ”
I scoff, smirking. “Please, like you didn’t want it.”
He shoots me a look but doesn’t argue.
He takes my hand and leads me out of the closet, out of the room, past Gaia and Josie without a word.
No goodbyes. No explanations.
Just us now.
And whatever truths we tear from the ruins next.
“ Athens, where are you going?” Josie’s voice slices through the silence like a blade.
“Away from here.” Karter answers for me, voice sharp as shattered glass as he drags me toward the door.
I’m grateful. I still don’t have the spine to look at either of them.
“You’re taking her against her will! That’s kidnapping!” Josie shouts.
Karter doesn’t even flinch. “Take my keys. Start the car. I’ll be right behind you.”
I hesitate, brat instincts kicking in. There she is, welcome back. Still, I don’t move. Not until I see his jaw tick.
“Now’s not the time to be a Brat, Athens,” he grits. “Go. Please.”
I stand on tiptoe and kiss him, quick and full of unspoken things, before jogging toward the car, keys tight in my hand.
The moment I slide into the driver’s seat, the leather bites into my thighs, cool and unyielding. It doesn’t matter. Everything inside me is on fire anyway.
I glance back at the house.
What the hell is he saying to them?
Ugh. The silence is lethal. To distract myself, I pull out my phone and hop on Amazon, hoping for a hit of retail therapy.
It lasts all of thirty seconds.
Karter emerges like a storm, box of journals in hand, jogging toward me. He tosses the box into the back, climbs into the driver’s seat, and peels off without a word.
The silence between us is thick and eerie. He won’t even look at me.
I cave. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” Smooth, Athens. Real smooth.
He barks a laugh, voice a low rumble. “Panties? You know damn well I don’t wear panties. And neither do you.” His hand lands on my thigh, creeping higher.
I swat it away. “Sex won’t fix this.”
“It worked when you used it back there.” Touché. “So sit back, shut up, and open your legs. I need to clear my head.”
“Fingering me while you drive is your therapy?”
“Fuck yes.” He grins, and the look in his eyes is chaos wrapped in sin. I know that grin. That Devil’s grin.
I do exactly what he asks.
“That’s my good little Brat.”
He taps the touchscreen. The wheel retracts, car switching to autopilot.
“This thing must’ve cost an arm, a leg… Maybe a tit too.” We both laugh, brief, breathless, before it’s devoured by heat again.
His voice drops, sharp and starved. “Listen to me. I need to feel you. My hand on your leg isn’t enough. I need you. Now.”
His hand dives beneath my waistband, past the useless cotton barrier, until he’s cupping my sex like he owns it.
“Karter,” But the protest dies the second his thumb finds my clit. Sweet. Fucking. Agony. “Please,” I gasp, hips arching, legs parting wider.
“Begging gets you nowhere.” Three thick fingers slide inside me, stretching me, soaking with my slick. “But damn, you’re tight. Still full of me.”
“You don’t play fair,” I groan, grinding down, chasing that edge.
“Why the hell should I?” His grin sharpens. “This is just me getting you ready, for later .”
“Sex won’t fix everything.”
“No. But it’ll fuck the pain out of us long enough to survive the next hit.”
He curls his fingers and finds my G-spot like he mapped it out in blood.
“Fuck, I can feel my cum still inside you,” he hisses, almost reverent. “If Wyck ever fucks you again, he’ll feel me first. He’ll feel me owning you.”
The possessiveness in his voice breaks me open. I tighten around his fingers, trembling, gasping his name.
“Karter!” I clamp down, riding out my orgasm until I’ve soaked his hand, my body shivering from the aftershock.
He withdraws, slow and smug, and slides his drenched fingers between his lips. Licking. Sucking. Moaning.
“Damn,” he breathes. “My little Brat tastes better than sin.”
His eyes find mine, burning blue, dangerous. “You want a taste?”
I don’t answer. I shove his hand aside, grab his face, and crash my mouth to his. I lick myself off his tongue, kissing him like I want to ruin him.
When I pull back, I lick his lips, claiming them.
“You were right,” I say, sitting back with a smug grin. “I do taste sweet.”
His eyes are on fire. “Fuck, you’re starting to live up to your dirty girl title.” He taps a few buttons, switching off autopilot. “We’ll be home soon.”
Home. That word feels… loaded.
I close my eyes and let the darkness take over. Whatever’s waiting for us back there, secrets, blood, battles, I’ll face it.
As long as I’m not doing it alone.