Chapter 6
BILLY
Everyone in the room is fucking.
Nellie’s eyes are as round as saucers as she peers over my shoulder.
All around us, cocks fuck into holes and fingers grip flesh. The sound of it loud, obscene, slick skin sliding, hips clashing, flesh pounding. I don’t know how she didn’t notice.
But then, she’s always so consumed with me, even when she pretends to hate me, that everything else just falls away. I know that to be true because that’s how I feel about her.
Most people are either completely stripped bare or in a severe state of undress, but everyone is touching.
The fifteen people in the room writhe around the floor, the space Nellie and I occupied left empty.
And I feel the moment her eyes come back to me.
I feel them like scorching heat, her gaze, her attention, everything about her burns me in the best way.
I carry her through the door, a narrow dark space I have to angle myself side on to walk through with the way I cradle her in my arms. It opens up into a little square hallway, dimly lit with the same sconces throughout the rest of the house.
Three more doors, one on each of the other walls.
I march us across the small space, opening another door, and manoeuvre us inside.
Lowering her legs down, feet still dangling above the floor, I hold her up, tight to my chest with a single arm around her waist, closing us inside, and spinning her around so we’re front to front.
The room is in pitch darkness until I flick the switch, another sconce flaring to life, illuminating the tiny space.
I blink at the same time she does, clearing the coloured spots swimming across my vision at the sudden light.
A small gothic style window set with stained glass is on the wall to my left, the door at my back, and a small black marble counter inset with a copper sink at hers.
“What is this room?” she asks me quietly, her eyes focussing on the stained glass window for a moment before coming back to me.
She’s beautiful, but right now, tear stained cheeks, shining eyes, swollen lips red, she is ethereal.
I stare at her, my hands on her waist, long fingers digging into her back.
She drops her gaze to my chest, staring at the branding.
She hasn’t seen her own yet. Hasn’t looked down at the weepy, red swelling on her chest. My number.
Our number. My own throbs in response, her attention making my blood hum.
We are Two.
“A washroom,” I reply after too long, gripping beneath her thighs and lifting her up, perching her on the edge of the counter, the thin silk of her dress not protecting her skin from the cold contact of the marble causing her to flinch closer.
Her fingers come to my abs of their own accord, the tips pressing against the hard muscles, my skin rippling with goosebumps at the contact.
I know she’s upset with me. I know this is scary and confusing and I’m no good at explaining the things that I am allowed to explain to her.
But I just don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to her.
I want to keep her safe, and bleed her and fuck her and strangle her.
All of those things clashing. I don’t know how to deal with this monster inside of me, wanting to smother and love her and murder her all at the same time.
“Little Lamb,” my voice a rasp, rough, heavy, deep, dripping with desperation, just those two words, only for her.
It’s unconscious, the way I step into her, her thighs parting without hesitation, her fingernails biting into my skin, clawing me closer as her delicate hands grate up my chest, scraping over the weeping wound making me hiss.
She clings onto my shoulders, and I yank her closer, the heat between her parted thighs like lava against my cock.
My slacks slip down lower, barely hanging onto my hips, and my cock jumps, twitching, hard, precum beading at the tip, desperate to be back inside her. Be enveloped in her tight, wet, heat, she’s addictive, like sweet poison, she infects me, and I climb higher and higher off of her. Only her.
I shove down my boxers, taking hold of my cock, “I need to be inside you, baby girl,” I tell her huskily, moving closer, pressing up against her entrance, watching my cock crown her, stretching her slowly as I push inside.
“Fuck,” I hush, biting my bottom lip so hard I taste blood.
“Fuck, you feel good, Nells.” I start to move, bottoming out, her thighs stretched so wide I can see the tendons straining beneath her skin.
“Fuck, I love you,” I breathe out sharply, still watching the dark length of my cock slide in and out of her, slick with both of our releases.
Doesn’t matter that I just fucked her.
That was a show.
This is just us.
Just her.
Just me.
The two of us together.
Two.
It draws my eye back to her chest, my brand, our mark, something that we’ll always share, permanent.
I can feel my cum inside her, making her so sloppy wet, I can’t take my eyes off of where we meet.
Dropping my gaze to watch it ooze out as I fuck her hard and slow, squeezing out on either side of my cock.
My hands grip her backside, harsh fingers digging into her cheeks.
I yank her into me, shoving inside of her harder, deeper.
Iron is thick on my tongue, and my teeth release my lip, my eyes flicking up to hers, and I go still.
Her eyes glazed over, staring off over my shoulder.
“Nellie,” I say, my cock pulsing, sheathed in her heat, but it’s like she’s not here, like I’m not buried so deep inside of her she can taste me on the back of her tongue, it’s like this isn’t happening at all.
“Penelope,” I growl, squeezing her flesh in my hands harder, more violently, dragging her even closer.
“Look at me,” I demand, grabbing her chin with firm fingers, turning her face towards me.
“Little Lamb,” I whisper, anger and softness warring in the words. “Look at me.”
She doesn’t speak, fingers digging into my shoulders, she bites her lip, staring at mine where it bleeds. Slowly, her eyes come back to me, a swirl of pain, of distrust, of love.
“I don’t wanna look at you right now,” she whispers, holding my gaze, even as her cunt squeezes around my cock like she’s lying.
“No?” I ask her, dragging a hand up her back, over her shoulder, stopping to cup the side of her neck.
I lick my lips, staring into her eyes, dark ash brown, black outer ring seeping into the brown, “You don’t wanna kiss me either?
” I trace my thumb down the length of her jaw, tugging on her bottom lip, before dragging my mouth over hers.
Her breathing comes hard, but she doesn’t move, “You love me, Nellie.” It’s a fact, I know she does, I feel it, every time she looks at me, even when she’s angry.
I know it’s only been hours since we reunited, but really, soul deep, it’s been a lifetime.
Waiting.
Wishing.
“Tell me you love me, Little Lamb.” I thrust into her hard, just once, and her pussy clenches tight. I tilt her face up, her eyes holding mine. “Say it,” I coo. “Tell me you love me.” I fuck into her again, once, twice, slow, hard, deep. Fuck, she feels so good. “Tell me.”
“You’re a monster,” she breathes out instead, and I can’t help it, I keep fucking her, nice and slow, harder, as I grit my teeth.
“Yeah, baby. Yeah, I am.” I smile at her, tightening my grip on her arse, my hold on her neck, the pad of my thumb hovering dangerously over the front of her throat.
“But you love me, anyway,” I say confidently, knowingly.
“You have a sickness, Little Lamb.” I’m breathless, quiet with my words, fucking her harder, holding her tighter, our gazes still locked in this tiny room.
“You’ve been running from monsters all your life,” I whisper over her mouth.
“Until you met me.” Her walls squeeze around my cock, sending a bolt of lightning shooting down my spine, directly into my balls, hardening my cock further.
“Then you fell in love with one.” I drop my forehead to hers, staring into her eyes despite my vision being blurred at our closeness.
“Tell me you love me, Little Lamb. Tell me how much you love your monster.” It’s commanding, the rasp of my voice, the way my lips move against hers with the words.
“After all.” I lick my lips, tasting her almost silent gasp, “You’re a monster too. ”
Her hand cracks against my cheek, whipping my head to the side, making my bloody lip bleed once more, forcing me to still.
I’m staring at the stained glass window, the way no light casts through it, the hour ungodly on this Novus.
I feel it drip, the blood, rolling over my bottom lip, dribbling down my chin, dropping onto my bare chest, my shirt still pushed back over my shoulders, the sleeves caught around my biceps.
Slowly, I turn, bringing my attention back to her.
Her breathing shallow, heart racing so fast I can hear it pounding in her chest as though it were my own.
My eyes flick between her wide ones, her pupils flaring as violence flashes in mine, and then I grab hold of her dress.
My hands fist the side of her long skirt, already a little torn, and I rip up the length of it, shredding it open, past her hip, stopping just beneath the curve of her breast. She gasps, her cool breath a rush against my hot skin, and I catch her hand this time, as she draws it back, swings it up, just before it reconnects with my face.
I tut, shoving the fabric open, revealing the smooth skin of her belly, the curve of her waist, flare of her hip, I shove it further aside, showing myself as much of her as I can without tearing the entire thing off of her.
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” I breathe out the words, staring at all of her smooth skin, licking my lips as I glance down to where we’re connected.