Chapter 55 #4
Our lips sealed together again, and I carefully guided her to the bed across the room. She stumbled, using me as guidance until the back of her knees hit the mattress. I helped her up slightly and never let her get very far from me as she fell to the bed.
Her fingers felt like fire as she tested my exposed skin. I was mostly uncovered under my jacket, my skirt flaring up and giving her the perfect chance to touch anywhere she wanted.
I’d let her do anything she wanted. Touch me, kiss me, taste me—anything. I’d get on my knees and let her fucking shoot me if she wanted. All I needed was her kiss to unravel everything I’d done to keep myself in control.
Her hands ran over my tattoos. I didn’t show them often, but this skirt didn’t cover the entire rose and chain that marked me in prison. She pointed it out in the woods before with her usually nosy curiosity. I wondered if she’d feel the same about the inverted crucifix on my back.
I took the chance to feel her skin. She didn’t stop me as I toyed with her sweater, giving her every chance to pull away. My fingers crept under her baby pink top and caressed her hip.
My lips brushed her lips. I was so focused on tasting her lipstick that I must have strayed away from what Quinntessa wanted. Her fingers moved over mine and guided me deeper into her shirt.
I wanted to ask her if this was okay. I didn’t want her to think she had to do this. Before I could, Quinntessa kissed me harder, as if she could read my mind. She wanted me as much as I wanted her.
A low groan escaped me. Desperate and keening for more. Her skin was so soft. I stopped on her side and brushed my thumb over her ribs, smirking slightly as Quinntessa pushed into my kiss and guided me just under her bra.
I pulled away and looked down at her body, pulling her sweater up enough to see her stomach.
She had the hottest tummy. Her hips jutted out and fit perfectly in my hands, a valley of her side as my fingers retraced their steps to return to her breasts.
She hid them from me. It was selfish of me to take advantage and lean down to kiss the sexy fat of her muscled body, but I couldn’t help it.
I apologized with a kiss on her lips directly after.
My thumb brushed her bra, then felt the courage to feel a little more. Something about putting my hands entirely on her felt wrong. She was delicate, gentle, and deserved to be cherished like fine fucking China.
“You’re like an angel,” Quinntessa giggled, breathless as we kiss. My hair curtained over her face, my bandanna no help anymore. “A pink, cotton candy angel.”
“Angel?” I whispered against her lips.
My mouth moved down to her throat. I pressed soft kisses at first. I didn’t want to scare her. I enjoyed seeing the red smeared along her throat.
If I slit her throat…would she still look this beautiful? If I gave into this desire to take her with me to hell, would she stay this sweet honeybee?
No.
“I’m no goddamn angel, Quinntessa.” I bit down lightly on her neck, under her ear, and growled in bliss as one of her hands fell to my thigh. She was so close to my ass, I almost tugged my skirt out of the way for her. “I’m your fucking demise.”
Quinntessa moaned quietly as I locked my teeth on her neck again. I opened my mouth and dragged my tongue along the red lipstick, smearing it to look closer like blood. I kissed her throat, her pulsing vein, and sucked harshly against the blend of her neck and jaw.
I wanted to hear her want me. I wanted to feel those long fingers in my hair tugging and begging me not to pull away from her.
I wanted to see my lipstick all over her.
Her lips, her neck, her sexy, football player body.
I wanted enough glitter in my fucking lungs that it would kill me before my terrible smoking habits.
I wanted her so much, I was willing to kill her so no one else could touch her this way.
I had no choice. If I didn’t, someone else would.
“I-I’m sorry, Mustang,” I mumbled against her neck, kissing the small flush of color on her skin.
My fingers caressed her face before wrapping around her neck. I straddled her and brought our lips together again. Her fingers tangled in my hair, petting my head as she smiled against my lips.
Both my hands wrapped around her neck, dragging over her until I felt her take a final breath.
It’s okay, baby.
I didn’t stop kissing her as tears slipped down my face.
If she was going to stop breathing, it was because I wanted to take her breath away.
Me. She’d breathe in my tender words of apology as her last breath.
My thumbs pressed down harder against her windpipe, feeling her strain at the more obvious change in force.
Quinntessa squirmed lightly but otherwise didn’t pull away. I counted in my head as she became less responsive to my lips. Her stomach rippled underneath me, diaphragm no doubt jerking against her shriveling lungs for a breath.
Digging in, I pulled away from her and felt the waterfall of tears begin. My forehead rested against hers as her hand in my hair slowly slid down and weakly grabbed my cross.
She never pulled. She never even tried to fight it. Her eyes stayed closed for a few more seconds as I lightly kissed her lips. She tried to respond and kiss me back, a soft gurgle of a noise escaping her mouth.
Quinntessa’s eyes opened, and I witnessed that dark hold on her give up. She didn’t fight. She only stared up at me with hazy eyes, so much admiration and trust in them, I felt violently ill.
A flicker of acceptance. She was ready to die.
Her brain kicked in for her, and she made the smallest of choking noises.
“Qui—cy,” she wheezed.
I released her. I couldn’t do it. I flew off her and hammered down onto the mattress a few feet away from her, fighting the urge to hurl.