Chapter 24 #2
“You see that door? One day, I’ll fuck you against it.
I’ll turn up the lights so everyone can see everything but our faces.
They’ll watch you take my cock like a good girl.
Then I’ll cover your face with my cum and make you wear it out of here so everyone will know you’re my little slut. Would you like that?”
“Yes, yes,” she squeaks. She’s soaking my fingers.
I pull off my clothes and lie back, positioning her over me. My cock stands up, ready to be sheathed inside her. “You’re in control. You decide how deep you want to go.”
She looks uncertain. Should I tell her it’s the first time for me, too? I’ve never fucked anyone raw. She’ll be my first. My only.
I cup her ass. “I’ve got you, baby.”
Slowly, she moves herself down. She only has the tip of me inside her before she stops, tensing.
“It’s okay. Take your time,” I say, even though I’m dying. I’m barely inside her, and I can feel her wetness, her heat, the sweet kiss of her inner muscles. I’m still numb, but I sense the sensations. They’re distant, like they’re behind a curtain, but they’re there. Both pleasure and pain.
It’s heaven and hell, but it’s her, so it’s better than anything I imagined.
I wanted to be close to her. I wanted to know her, and now she’s here and on top of me, and I’m inside of her.
Just knowing that makes it so good, it’s unbearable.
I could nut right now. There’s a tingling sensation in my spine, in my balls. I brace against it.
Her clamped nipples are right in front of me but too far for me to reach with my mouth. I free a hand and unclamp them one by one.
She cries out, her inner muscles clenching on me as she slides further onto my dick. Fuck me. The pressure is perfection. I’m going to die from this. I’ll go willingly. Just please don’t let me cum before she does.
I focus on her face, her frantic expression. Forget everything new I’m feeling, I need to make this good for her. Her hands brace on my abs. Her legs are shaking. “It’s so much.”
“You can take it.”
She whimpers, but her muscles ease, letting me in. Her eyes flutter closed.
“Eyes on me.”
She obeys. She looks at me like I’m her god.
I cup the side of her face and drink in that look. She won’t let me kiss her, but I can have this. “Are you ready for me to move?”
She looks concerned but rocks a little, experimenting. Then nods.
“Easy.” I work my hips, showing her how to ride me in an easy, rolling motion. I’m still holding her up, and she’s not fully seated on me, not yet. I can’t give her all of my dick, not yet. I have to hold some back.
I hold her tight and increase the speed of my thrusts.
“Look at me,” I order. “We’ll come together.”
“I can’t—”
“I got you.” I steady her with one hand and find her clit with the other. The bliss breaks over her face.
And suddenly, I feel nothing but pleasure. Usually, I can’t feel anything but pressure, but I can feel this. She’s so expressive, but now I’m with her, drowning in the ecstasy in her eyes. She feels everything so strongly, and somehow, I can feel it through her.
It wrecks me. It’s everything, but it’s too much.
“Fuck,” I growl and punch my hips into her harder, careful to pull back before I give her too much.
One day, I’ll fuck her and give her every last inch.
She wants the intensity, but she’s a damn virgin.
I can’t break her, I won’t. I don’t leash my violence for anybody but her.
She breaks apart, moaning, and I let myself go, cursing and letting my cum spurt into her. She fucking wrecked me, and I was barely inside her.
“Good, baby. You did so good.”
I pull her shuddering body over me. The skin of my naked chest is numb, but underneath the layer of muted sensation, tingles spread like tiny needles pricking my skin.
It hurts, but that’s okay. I’ll take the pain if I can have her like this.
I must have fallen asleep, because when I wake up, someone is screaming.
They’re not nearby but close.
My head’s pounding. Pain radiates out from behind my eyes. Headache. Like I’ve had too much to drink.
My skin is still tingling, like more nerve endings are coming alive. It hurts so bad. I grit my teeth. I’ve hurt worse.
I’m lying on the couch and Bella’s on top of me, fast asleep. The room is stuffy and too warm.
And somebody’s screaming. I need to check it out.
I shift Bella off of me and make sure she’s comfortable before I grab my clothes and dress to open the door. The rave is still going on, but there are fewer people on the dance floor. More doors are lit up on the wall opposite me.
“I can see god,” someone screams. A few of the party people are literally trying to climb the walls. Everywhere I look, people are laughing. High-pitched hysterical laughter.
But something’s wrong.
I glance back at Bella, who’s sleeping, completely out. Then I grab my skull bandana and exit the room, making sure the door locks from the inside.
Something’s up. My brothers might need help.
I find Atticus at the bottom of the stairs in a pair of boxers with fuzzy slippers on his feet.
“What’s happening?”
“They’ve gone completely crazy,” he sounds calm. We look out over the dancers. There’s a two-drink limit at Club Empire on most nights. Tonight is special, but the bartenders know to cut people off before they get drunk.
“Drugs?” I ask.
“That’s my guess.”
A shout rings out and then another. At the far end of the room, the velvet curtains shake, and then a steady stream of men in suits bursts onto the dance floor. They’re all armed. Several are holding machine guns.
The fuck? I go to take a step, and Atticus stops me. “Wait, so far no one’s shooting.”
He’s right, but I don’t like it. They came into our house, armed. Who the fuck are these guys? They’re in dark blue body armor with some sort of silver insignia on their sleeves.
They advance across the floor, grabbing dancers, pulling off their masks, and then shoving the confused people away. Even in their altered state of mind, the dancers realize they’re in danger and start to flee.
“They’re looking for someone,” Atticus observes.
I see St. James enter the ballroom, a group of Fraternitas by his side. “Come on,” I say. We both fall into step behind him. He’s in his typical gray suit, no mask, and he’s pissed.
Our group meets the group of armed men in the middle of the dance floor. I step forward, making myself a target. One of them tries to rip off my mask, and I grab his wrist and pull him toward me so I can punch him in the face. He drops, and I take his gun before it hits the floor.
Suddenly, all the guns are trained on me.
“Stop,” a deep voice commands from behind the gunmen. “Don’t shoot.” Which is a hell of a thing to say when you bring an armed guard with you.
“What is the meaning of this?” St. James snaps.
The guards part, and a tall, dark-haired man steps out, murder written on his face. “I’m here for Raine.”