Page 27 of Bleeding Outside the Lines

I follow them.

I gave them enough of a head start that the kid doesn’t know I’m here, but I would bet my entire existence that Ruby does. Her artificial giggles guide me through the maze of hallways, up the stairs, and out the back door.

The lot is dark, only a few lampposts illuminate the scene. His large body has her pinned against a car with one leg wrapped around him. I stay in the shadows, hidden from everyone but her. He moves a hand to her thigh, but she pushes it away in a flurry of movement. His body jerks. He stumbles backwards, his hands move to his throat. Dark pools begin to form at his feet. The prick falls, crumbling like Rome at the hands of a barbarian. A beautiful fucking barbarian.

She offers me a small shrug and then uses the side view mirror to apply the red lipstick I’ve come to love so much. Leaning over the kid, still gurgling with life, she speaks to him. I strain to hear, but am unsuccessful. His body slows, his movements sluggish. An eternity passes as we both wait for him to still.

She stands, stepping into the light, showcasing the splatters in shades of red that coat her body. Then the artist looks back at her masterpiece, and signs it with a kiss.

eighteen

Sometimes I lie underwaterin my bathtub until my chest feels like it’s going to cave in. Until every molecule of oxygen has been exhausted. Until I sit on the brink of death. The plane of existence between life and death is where I hold my secrets. Where my sins haunt me, and my past comes out to play.

The moments after I surface, the ones where I gasp for air? That’s when I feel lightest, when I feel most alive.

I expected the air in the Impala to be thick and hard to swallow, but it’s exactly the opposite. I didn’t know it was possible to feel alive without first knocking on death’s door, but here I am, and I’ve never felt more alive in my life. The air feels new somehow, lighter, like if I breathe too fast, I could float away.

Cassius does not speak for most of the drive, but he doesn’t need to. He feels it too. The shift in the air. The shift into the unknown. He looks at me, and I look at him, and it’s joyful. It’s happiness. It’s fearless. It’s right.

Even if it is wrong.

His grip is tight on the gear shift, the veins in his forearm prominent. I trace one with my finger, and his jaw hardens, calling to me. A siren’s song. I kneel in my seat, desperate to answer the call. Leaning into him, I press my lips into the soft spot below his chin. His pulse quickens beneath my touch, and I want him to touch me. I want him to feel how he jumpstarts my pulse too. How I was once dead and am now resurrected.

He shifts gears, and I am rewarded when his knuckles quickly brush between my thighs. The sense of loss is immediate, and a whimper escapes me when they don’t return.

A rumble builds in his chest, vibrating up his throat until a deep growl emerges. His nostrils flare. Gravel flies. My body quakes. And his primal display sends my hormones into overdrive. The car comes to a halting stop, and my body lurches toward the windshield, only stopped short by the strong arm braced in front of me. My fingers move of their own accord to my thigh, the cold steel of the blade offering comfort.

Cassius puts the car in park, his eyes never leaving mine. His hands wrap around my waist, and he lifts me onto his lap. Straddling him, I feel his arousal through his slacks. He leans forward, and then his seat falls backwards, forcing us to lay down. The tip of my blade draws blood from his throat. A strong hand grabs my wrist, squeezing until the knife falls from my grasp.

His gray eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. His practiced hands slide up my hips, my dress rising with them. Fingers dig into me hard enough that I expect I will see bruises in the mirror later. I reach for his zipper, but instead he pulls me up his body and I scramble to support myself, my body lurching forward. My hands seek refuge on the backseat headrest, and I let my knees fall to either side of his face.

His tongue slides through my folds, light as a feather. A soft tingling works its way through me as he flicks his tongue around my clit, never hitting the spot I need.

Fucking tease.

I groan in frustration, and he nips at me.

Fuck.

He works his tongue deeper, like I’m his last meal and he can’t get enough. I’m about to go over the edge, but he stops to suck on my clit. My hips buck, I need more. His hands slide over my ass, rough and authoritative. The scruff on his chin scratches the inside of my thigh and my God do I like it. He could kill me right here, and I would die on the top of the world.

I bite my lip to keep from crying out, afraid he’ll stop.

A finger joins his tongue, and he works them in tandem. Two fingers slide in and out of my pussy, harder and faster. His tongue works feverishly at my clit. The world starts to fade. He slides his other hand through my wetness, dragging it between my cheeks, priming me. He twirls a finger around my puckered hole and pushes it inside.

His hands move expertly, filling me up, building the pressure. His teeth graze me, and I come undone, my legs quake and tighten until I am paralyzed with pleasure and the dam breaks. Somewhere, mirrors break from my cries. Warmth pools between my legs.

I’m shattered. Maybe never to be put back together.

Cassius nips at my inner thigh and then slides me down his chest before lifting me back into the passenger seat. He drags his hand down his face, slick with evidence of me. His normally perfect hair is an unkempt mess, the short strands loose from their typical hold. I think I catch a glimpse of a smile, but it disappears faster than it registers.

He doesn’t say a word, just adjusts his erection and then his seat. He leans out the window, and it is only then that I seewhere we are. The Impala purrs to life, and we pull through the open gates and up the driveway to his home.

I don’t know if it’s the effect of a mind-blowing orgasm or my current love of life, but the stars in the sky are brighter, the smell of the night wind is sweeter, and the sound of Cassius snarling is the most beautiful music I have ever heard.

nineteen

She fucking cut meopen again. I don’t open the door for her. I don’t wait for her to climb out of the car. I don’t signal for her to come inside.

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