Page 124 of Cruel Lies

"Harpie girl," he whispered against my lips, his teeth gently nipping my tongue.

"Shh, less talk, more of—well, whatever this is," I retorted, putting a finger against his lips, needing him to realize hecouldn’t avoid me forever. "We can talk later. You’ve been putting me off all this time; what’s one more minute?"

His laugh traveled through my body, we were so close. "Minutes? Harpie girl, I don’t plan to let you out of my bed fordays."

A shiver of anticipation shook me painfully, and I gasped involuntarily, hating that I was now worried he might not fuck me because I was still injured.

If that didn’t tell you how fucked up my priorities were?—

"You sure you’re up for this?" he asked me, slowly walking me back until my calves hit his bed. "You’re still recovering."

As if on cue, Angel started banging on Nash’s door, shouting things about‘not helping me when I pull my stitches out’and‘you’re both stupid for this,’but I didn’t give a damn. He could bang on that door for the rest of the night for all I cared. I needed this. Nash needed this. My pain was second to healing the man who’d always helped me in the past.

"Don’t worry about my condition," I smart-mouthed, glaring daggers at him as I still clutched the customized one in my left hand. "That’s Angel’s schtick. You’ve never been a carer, Nash. And you’re hurting." I placed the hand with the blade atop his chest, drawing a heart over the place where his would be if he still had one. "Let me hurt with you this time."

FIFTY

NASH

Letme hurt with you this time.

Fuck, I’d never heard words that affected me as much as those ones did.

I’d been hurting so long, hating for so long, resenting myself, the world, her, anyone I could blame for the way I felt forced to live.

And here was this angel in red, her cheeks coated with my blood where she’d pressed against me as we kissed, telling me she wanted me, wantedthis,while her side throbbed from sore stitches and her body protested. Telling me she wanted tosharethe pain.

In that moment, I wasn’t alone. I wasseen.Harper forced me to look at myself through her eyes, and now I was a hot, desperate mess, needing something I’d denied myself for so long, I wasn’t sure I could last long enough to get my damn pants off.

Meanwhile, thoughts I still hadn’t managed to banish rolled around in my head, reminding me I was still fucked up.

Pain. Want her to feel how she made me feel this whole time.

Want her to hurt like I did from wanting her.

I didn’t want to hurt her, but I did. It would always stick with me, like some festering wound that was resistant to antibiotics and treatment. Like a flesh-eating bacteria that slowly infected my brain and rotted me from within, making the insides as ugly as the outsides.

Her fingers ran through my hair, still damp from sweat that still clung to the messy strands. "Where’s your head right now?" she wondered aloud, her eyes searching mine for answers I was still afraid to give.

"Not where it should be," I replied, my eyes dropping to her waist. "Itshouldbe between your legs, Harpie girl."

So why wasn’t it?

I practically heard the thought in her voice, and with a groan that held all the desperation of a man who’d gone half his lifetime denying himself true satisfaction, I lowered hergently to the bed and dropped to my knees, ready to worship her for a moment while I gathered my thoughts.

"Why the hell are you wearing so many clothes?" My fingers grazed her lowest wound, and she sucked in a breath as I gripped her waistband and tugged it quickly down. Blessings of blessings, she wasn’t wearing any fucking panties, and just like that, her bare pussy was in my face, ready to be eaten like a four-course meal in front of a starving man.

"What do you like, Harpie girl?" I asked, sudden apprehension and a strong need to prove to her I had other things to recommend me outside of this scarred mug. "Tell me what turns you on."

"You," she breathed, laying back on the bed with a wince. "Make me forget, Nash. Share your pain with me; let me carry it for a bit."

My lips brushed against her inner thigh as I skipped straight to the good part, needing her like air. "Once I start, I’m not stopping for shit, you understand?"

"I don’t need a safeword," she gasped as my fingers trailed over the mound of her cunt, teasing the cleft of her lips with a fingertip. "Fuck, Nash, don’t tease me, I can’t take it."

"Oh, you’re a needy bitch tonight, huh?" My smile was painful at the edges, and I was reminded that I’d picked apart most of my stitches and was still bleeding from both sides of my jawline. "Fuck, that stings."

Harper leaned up on her elbows, wincing through the pain, her face white as a sheet. A kinder man would have stopped right there. Would have taken her condition into account and pushed her away, refused her advances.

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