Page 75 of Stitches

A groan fell past his lips as his cock twitched against my tongue, his hot release spurting into my mouth and down my throat.

I gagged hard on him, but he continued on, groaning as he filled my mouth. I managed to swallow him down and sagged forward once he untwisted his fingers from my hair and pulled free, tucking his dick away.

He’d hurt me.

Quickly, I snatched one of his t-shirts off the cushioned seat at the end of the bed and tugged it over my head before pulling on my panties. He didn’t move. He simply watched me dress.

It was when he stepped around me to leave me there that I got to my feet and grabbed his hand.

I glared at him when he turned to face me.

“Are you mad?” he asked softly.

I was livid. I was hurt. Humiliated. I felt used when all I’d wanted to do was help him.

“Tell me,” he continued. “Or are you going to keep that a secret too?”

I frowned at him, confused. Fear bubbled up in my chest. Did he know about Mirage? About Sin bringing me back that night? About Stitches not telling him that Sin had been here?

He stepped toward me and cradled my face. “I’d die for you, Sirena. Without a second thought, I’d die. But you need to fucking talk to me and not just when it’s convenient. I get you’re fucked in the head. We all are. But I really fucking need you to tell me what happened to you in that facility with Stitches.”

My breath stuttered in my chest.

“Speak,” he commanded softly. “Tell me who the fuck put his dick inside you.”

I quaked in his hold, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

“Fucking speak!” he bellowed, shaking me so hard it felt like my brain was rattling around inside my head.

I shoved at him, trying to break him away from me, but he only shook me harder until I collapsed at his feet, my heart thundering in my chest and my breath coming in gasps.

“I can’t fucking do this shit,” he said, backing away from me. “I just can’t. Not with you.”

I stayed trembling on the floor on my ass, my knees tucked to my chest as he stomped around the room. It only took me a moment to realize he was gathering what little clothes I had and was stuffing them into a bag.

When he was done, he grabbed my arm roughly and hauled me to my feet and dragged me downstairs, my bag slung over his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Ashes demanded, getting to his feet.

Church didn’t say a damn word as he hauled me through the house and outside, Ashes on his heels.

“Fucking Stitches went to therapy, so I don’t have help, man. That means I’ll fucking punch you in the face if you don’t stop. Where the fuck are you taking her?” he shouted, running out behind us. He grabbed hold of Church and pulled us to a stop.

Church released me and shoved Ashes hard in the chest, sending him stepping backward. Ashes surged forward like a tidal wave and got in Church’s face.

“Don’t fucking start a fire you can’t put out,” Ashes snarled, nose to nose with Church. “Now where the fuck are you taking her?”

Church trembled. “I don’t know. Away.”

“Why?”

“Because…I-I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Ashes asked, backing off a little and frowning.

Church glanced at me before looking back to Ashes. “She needs to go to Cady’s for the night.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Ashes said. “You have her out here in her fucking panties and a t-shirt.”

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