Page 24 of Bleeding Outside the Lines

“Not yet, baby,” I tell her, “I want to see your face when you come on my cock for the first time.”

Need to see her face.

I pull out of her and flip her over. She pushes me back and climbs down from the desk. She fists my cock with a vise like grip.

Her hand on my dick guides me to the couch. “Sit the fuck down,” she orders.

And I do, because she’s the queen, and I’m one orgasm away from worshiping her on her fucking throne.

sixteen

Cassius pulls his shirtover his head and throws it across the room.

This man.

He feels… so much better than my vibrator.

My hand glides easily up and down his shaft, still wet with my arousal. He relaxes on the leather couch, his eyes never leaving mine. Large hands grip my ass and pull me onto his lap. I release my grip and instead use my hand to guide him to my entrance. The silky head of his cock breaks the barrier, and I drive my body down. His hands drift to my hips, but I slap them away, instead grabbing one of his wrists, pushing his hand between us. His thumb glides over my clit, working it like an instrument. Plucking my strings like a tuned guitar.

Cassius may act the alpha part, but we both know the only alpha in this room is me.

I ride him with everything I have. Hate and lust and need powering my movements. My hips roll and my hands explore. They travel up his body, across torn stitches and scabbed overwounds. Wounds that I inflicted. I lean into him and let myself feel everything. My nails dig into his shoulder, my teeth bite at his nipple. Pleasure ripples through my body like electrical currents, propelling me up and down his length until I scream his name.

“I like the way my name sounds as you’re coming.”

I pull back to look at him, and an amused smile spreads across his face.

My fist introduces itself to his nose.

Blood gushes out of it.

His eyes narrow, and he thrusts his hips up. His cock is pressing on that delicious spot, and suddenly I’m in the air, Cassius lifting me as he stands. My back meets the couch with a thud as he pulls out of me. The absence of his cock has me clenching around nothing. He kicks off his shoes and pulls a condom out of the pants hanging precariously low around his hips. They drop to the floor at his feet, and he steps out of them.

His bloodied body gleams in the morning light. With the condom in place, he yanks my skirt from my body and enters me again in a single thrust. It’s not tender or soft. He’s rough and hard. Fast and angry. And it is all consuming. He presses his lips to mine, metallic and wet. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, and I greet it with enthusiasm.

An aggressive hand pulls at my shirt, dragging it up my body, grazing a nipple as it passes. Cassius breaks our kiss to pull the shirt over my head, and his rhythm never falters. He hammers into me harder and harder, filling me to my core. Extending his arms fully, he changes the angle, and I wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into his ass. He thrusts faster, pushing me steadily towards the edge. My back arches and all the muscles in my legs tighten, as my orgasm rips through me, it seeps between us, coating us in desire.

Cassius pounds harder, faster, seeking his own release. I widen my legs, resting one on the back of the couch, and planting the other on the floor. Using the one on the floor, I slide a rogue throwing knife to my waiting hand and use my free one to drag my nails down his back. Then I press the blade into his throat, drawing a drop of blood.

Cassius bites his lip, his body tensing as he leans into my blade, filling the room with the most delicious, triumphant growl.

Dropping the knife, I swallow it with a kiss.

The look on his face as he came was as close as I’ll ever get to heaven. But he’s no angel, he’s the devil, and we’re a tangle of limbs and blood spiraling down into the pits of hell. I would never feel at home in heaven anyway. I’d much rather dance with the devil.

The emptiness I feel when he slips himself out of me is more real than anything I have ever felt. More real than watching the life slip from someone's eyes. More real than my enemies’ blood swirling down the shower drain. My soul aches with every step he takes away from me. I am not sure what to think of this. Any of this. Of Cassius. Of me. Of the way he makes me feel. Wanted. Missed. Needed. Can I follow through with it? Killing him? And if I can’t, what does that mean for me? For Ruby? For the Reds? For us? My breaths come faster, my heart beats erratically, panic settling in my chest. What have I done?

With the condom disposed of, Cassius grabs two bottles of water out of the small fridge in the corner of the room. He hands me one, and I sit up, my heart regulating itself. His mere presence quiets the panic. I open the water and bring it to my lips, swishing it around my mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.

His dark hair is mussed, and he eyes me suspiciously as he drains his water.

“Is my nose broken?” I ask him.

“Nah, I didn’t hit you that hard.” He nods his head toward me, his mouth pulled into a sly grin. “What about mine? Broken?”

“I didn’t hit you that hard, either.” I raise an eyebrow in response.

“You’re covered in blood, and I don’t know if it’s yours or mine.”

---