Page 127 of Theirs to Ruin

If I couldn't join them in body, I would share this with her.

I abruptly stopped pumping my cock and tightened my hand around it, almost as if I could physically block my cum from shooting out of me. Camille’s gaze latched onto my hand and she licked her lips.

"Oh, fuck, Kage..."

"What is it?" he said, lifting his head slightly, his fingers pistoning in and out of her. "Tell me what you want. Beg for it."

"Please, Kage..." Her eyes bore into mine. "Please make me come. Please, please, please…"

As she begged so sweetly, he tongued her clit then closed his lips around it. As soon as she started shaking, she exploded.

With a shout, I released my orgasm, spraying hot cum on the concrete below me. My whole body shook as I watched Camille cry out, her thighs clenching around Kage’s ears.

"Fuck yeah," he groaned.

My breathing slowed, my muscles slowly relaxing to the point I had to lock my knees so they wouldn’t go out from under me. Kage kissed Camille, letting her taste herself, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her. Finally, he pulled away.

"Let's get you home." Kage tugged Ty’s jacket around her again, lifted her in his arms, then carefully put her inside the Lambo. Before he got behind the wheel, he stared at the blue fabric on the ground, the dress Camille had dropped. Slowly, he picked it up. Without looking at me, he climbed into the driver’s seat, dragged Camille to him for another kiss, then drove away.

Chapter 52

Ty

Istomped down the accelerator and raced down the street, memories of another night when I’d driven so recklessly flashing in my head and competing for space with my thoughts of Camille as she’d stood in front of all of us, her body bare, her expression unflinching.

She’d beaten me at my own game, taunting me with her creamy skin, her subtle curves and pink flesh, her bare pussy shaven and her clit hidden between her thighs like the rarest diamond just waiting to be discovered.

And plundered.

Part of me was so damn proud of her while the rest of me was consumed by jealousy and anger. Jealousy at how Kage had touched her. How I knew that even now, he was touching her. And fuck, my anger, it wasn’t directed at Camille. It was directed at me. At my reckless stupidity. Seeing her at all had been bad enough but stripped down to nothing? Her beauty would haunt me, but the reminder of all that I’d lost would be like a slow poison.

So fitting given how my family had died.

Now my mind flashed with images of them: my mother, father, and sister.

Instinctively, I wanted to turn the car around and go to Camille, drop to my knees and beg her forgiveness. I wanted to tell her everything - my pain, my loss, my guilt. I wanted to be the boy I used to be, the one who laughed freely and loved fiercely. But that boy was gone, swallowed by the darkness that now consumed me. Every fiber of my being screamed for her, but I was trapped in a cage of my own making. A cage forged from vengeance and pain. I couldn’t reach out to her, not when every touch, every word, would be tainted by the blood on my hands.

But still. As I drove, I allowed myself a moment of weakness. I imagined what it would be like to go back to her, to hold her in my arms, to feel her warmth against my cold skin. But it was a fantasy, a dangerous one that could only lead to more pain, more heartache.

I was no longer human, not really. I was a machine, programmed with a single purpose–to avenge my family. To do anything else, to allow myself to feel, to want, was a betrayal to their memory.

Suddenly, bright lights flashed in front of me. A car horn blared. I was still driving fast and had drifted over the center line. I wrenched the wheel, causing my car to swerve. The other car whipped by me by the smallest margin.

Shit, shit, shit.

I was shaking, my hands trembling uncontrollably on the steering wheel. The world outside my SUV blurred into shadows, an abstract painting of my inner turmoil. With a curse, I veered off the road at the next pulloff, the tires screeching in protest.

Panting, I struggled to regain some semblance of control. My heart was racing, pounding against my chest like a caged animal desperate to escape. My thoughts were a chaotic messof blood and lust and regret. In a sudden burst of self-loathing, I slammed my fist against my own face. The pain was sharp, a brief respite from the emotional agony tearing me apart. But it wasn't enough.

I reached down for the sheath strapped to my leg until my fingers wrapped around the cold handle of my blade. I whipped it out, stared at it, then jabbed it into my thigh, easily ripping through the fabric of my pants. I shouted with pain then pulled the knife out. This time, I dragged the blade across my thigh two times. Again, the pain was immediate, a searing line of fire that focused me on the present and for a moment caused my tortured thoughts to fade. Blood seeped through the material of my pants, warm and wet against my skin.

I sat back, breathing heavily, feeling the sting of my wounds with every beat of my heart. In my mind, the sting served two purposes. Grounding me.

And punishing me. I was a guy driven by vengeance, a guy who had no right to the softness, the warmth of someone like Camille. I’d killed someone. Could have easily killed someone tonight.

"Fuck," I muttered, staring at the blood that soaked my pants. My thighs hadn’t been marked by the car accident that had left me with most of my facial scars but they were still littered with scars. I’d put them there, along with the deepest scar on my face. Every scar, every drop of blood was a reminder of the life I took. And now I was just adding to the list of my sins.

My only hope was that by continuing to be cruel to Camille, by pretending I hated her, I could set her on the path of forgetting me. But part of me worried that it was all getting mixed up in my head. The need to hurt her to protect her, and the need to hurt her to share my own pain.

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