Chapter 37
COLLINS
What the hell is happening here?
Hayes cages me against the table, the floor littered with debris, and he removes his shirt. One finger traces the lace design of my robe and he nods appreciatively.
“Pretty.”
Then it’s ripped, torn to shreds, thrown to the side. Under is a pale blue nightgown, too short to be considered decent. I gasp, glaring at him. “Hayes!”
“Don’t act innocent now.” He bites my jaw, my ear. “Not after you sucked me off in a janitor’s closet during one of your rounds.”
I rub my legs together. “I’m not acting. It's just—”
The faces of the men I killed are in my head. Their screams, their pleas, Pops’ terrifying commands.
Hayes grabs my chin, forcing our eyes to meet.
“Stay with me, Collins,” he says softly. “Focus on my words. My touch. Don’t let the memories take you. The only thing that matters is the here and now.”
Hayes knows what I did. He knows what Pops made me do. I bared my soul, offered up the broken black pieces and he looked at them, gathered them close and took them into his heart as if they belonged. As if I belonged.
I exhale. “Is that what you do?”
He runs his fingers over my shoulder, pulling my straps down. Then he hands me the bottle of liquor. “Beat people to shit, usually.” He winks. “Or lose myself in the woman I love. I suggest focusing on me.”
It burns, but it tastes like warm brown sugar and spice and the sea air. Greedily, I tip my head back, gulping it down and a trickle falls out of my mouth.
He pushes me down, heavy hand on my belly. My exposed pussy flashes in the room and he inhales sharply.
“Close your eyes.”
When I don’t, he rolls his eyes playfully. “Always so damn stubborn.”
He rips my gown down the middle and laughs at my outrage. “Hayes!”
“What?” The innocent look makes me want to slap him and laugh at the same time.
He takes a piece, wrapping it around my eyes. Before he does, he kisses my cheeks. “Trust me.”
“Always.” And I do. I’ve always trusted Hayes, that was never the question. He’s my protector, my safety, always in my corner, a welcoming presence that never let me down.
I open my mouth to tell him—to say those three words that have been floating in my mind, but he interrupts. “Feelings, only, viper. No words.”
Everything goes dark. I hear him unfasten his pants and a warm belt surrounds my wrists, pulling them high.
He gives a firm tug. “Is this okay?”
I nod, breathless. My body is tight, memories disappearing as I imagine Hayes in his glorious naked form and me spread out before him.
“Words, Collins.”
“Yes.”
The sloshing of liquid spills over my chest, and I tense. The harsh scent of oak and spice hits my nose and I gasp. It’s cool to my inflamed flesh and I twist to seek a reprieve.
That’s not happening. Hayes pins me down, his tongue following the path of the booze, lapping up my taste and the scotch together. I moan, loudly, stomach clenching as his teeth rake, firm and begging to break skin. Slowly, my mind unravels—mentally mapping his way down my body.
“Fucking Christ, Collins,” he groans, and I pant. “You taste like Heaven. Focus on my touch. Listen to my words,” he commands, directing me.
“It’s just us.” He soothes, fingers running over my sides, hot open mouth kisses following. “And you’re all mine.
He nips and bites, soothing my flesh with kisses and praises. He works his way down my belly, caressing my thighs, molding them to his palms.
All my thoughts—the downward spiral, stops.
His touch is electric, his mouth my salvation. I let him burn away all the bad memories until it’s just us, like he said.
With Hayes, I’m safe. I’m perfect. I’m loved.
“Hayes, I—”
“Shh,” he whispers. “No words, remember. This isn’t about what you can give me. This is what I can do for you.”
He lowers further, hands pulling my legs open wide. His tongue runs along my inner thigh and I buck, chasing his tongue. He’s good as a distraction but beyond that, he’s great at giving me what I need.
I open my mouth to try again—to tell him I love him.But he pours a few splashes of scotch on my tongue. “Eh, eh,” he taunts. “Save those wonderful words for later. Just feel.”
That’s the problem. I do feel. For him, for us. I want to tell him and he keeps halting me.
Hooking my legs over his shoulders, I’m wide open for him and he inhales. My thoughts vanish.
“You’ve wrecked me, viper.” His tongue laps at my pussy and my head falls back, weightless. “But that’s alright. If there was anyone who I would let see all my broken pieces, it was always going to be you.”
He eats me like I’m a cold sip of water after being in the hot desert—he’s ravished and I’m held open, forced to endure. But it’s not a hardship as his tongue swirls inside of me, tasting all the parts he can reach.
“My soul is yours,” he whispers, lips nibbling my flesh. “My heart is yours. My life, all of it, is yours. I’m yours, Collins.”
He grabs the bottle of liquor, sloshing some over my pussy and his tongue follows the path. Yelping, he hums against me. “Oh, did that hurt?”
I nod, panting with anticipation. “I liked it.” I grow wetter and he laps it up, drinking it for himself.
“Of course, you did.” His tongue flicks my clit, moaning with pleasure and my knees tremble.
He continues to work me as he slides two—three—fingers inside my tight body.
He doesn’t stop, building me up until I’m breathless.
My throat is hoarse from the long moans, lost to all the sensations.
Pain, pleasure—this is what I need. I need the hurt to heighten the lust. I need the carnage to feel alive.
He knows that—accepts it.
“That’s it, viper. Let go.”
I do, loudly. Clutching him close, my body arches as I cum, body igniting. I don’t have a moment to think before he crawls over me, cock sliding inside as if he’s home.
“Fuck,” I gasp, body still tight as the orgasm lessens.
He chuckles into my neck. “High praise from you. Now, hold on.”
He sets a punishing pace and I claw at his shoulders to hold on. It’s rough, dirty. We claw and bite, pulling the other closer as if we can bury ourselves into the other’s soul.
The climax takes me hard and fast. He bites my neck, following me over. “Fuck, you sound so good with my name on your lips.”
I chant his name like a prayer as he continues to stroke us until the orgasm is gone and I’m filled with his cum.
We collapse back on to the table, bodies slick with sweat.
He takes off the blindfold and undoes my wrists, rubbing them and kissing the marks.
I feel nothing but soaring contentment and bliss.
“There she is.” He grins. Dropping his forehead to mine, he inhales. “Don’t let him win. What happened isn’t your burden to bear. Share it with me. That’s the only way this works between us.”
Our relationship. Once fake, it’s now one of the most important things in my life.
“I know.”
I make myself a promise to never give Pops another moment of my time.