Page 101 of Brutal Savior

There’s lube on the bedside table, and I grab it, covering my cock before I pull out the plug and toss it to the side. That’s going to get plenty of use. Maybe I’ll make her wear it to her next girls’ night. Her ass is ready, gaping from the wide plug, and I waste no time pressing the tip of my cock into her tiny hole.

Fuck, I love watching her stretch. I don’t go slow enough to make it easy, and she whines as I force myself into her. “Ow… Just a second… Slow down.”

“No.”

She yells as I pull out, then slam all the way back in. I don’t know how her skinny little arse takes it, but she does.

I bend down, wrap her hair in my fist, and force her head to the side so she can see me. I find a pounding rhythm, and little gasps escape her at every stroke. “Who owns you?”

Her eyes are white saucers, and her breath comes in sharp gasps as I piston into her. Fuck, she feels good. This isn’t going to take long. I don’t get a response, so I land a heavy smack on her arse before asking again, “Who fucking owns you, Quinn?”

“You…fucking…do.” She forces it out as her body jerks from my thrusts.

“You’re bloody right I do. Property of Jacob West.”

Thinking of the tattoo I’m going to brand her with is enough to tip me over the edge. I groan and yank her hair as I come, shooting deep inside her. I press my hips down, letting her feel the weight of me. Making her take it all.

She sighs as I release her hair, going limp on the bed, eyes closed. She’s exhausted and vulnerable and absolutely fucking beautiful. And best of all, she’s mine in every possible way.

I stay there for a while, enjoying the feel of her body around mine. As the high fades, a new feeling creeps in as I stare at her delicate face. Tenderness. How can I want to protect and destroy this girl at the same time? It makes no sense, but it’s true.

As I pull out, she opens her eyes and watches me, lazy as a cat in a patch of sun. If I let her, she’d fall asleep right here, but we need to clean up, and that’s my responsibility. This time, I get no complaints when I pick her up and carry her to the shower.

Afterward, we cuddle under a fluffy purple blanket—Quinn’s choice, of course—and watchAmerican Horror Story. Quinn screamed when I told her I’d never seen it and vowed to educate me. Already half asleep, she mumbles, “What are we doing later? Isn’t there something?”

“Grandad is going to his bingo night. It’ll be all the old fogies, but I said we’d pop by to say hello. You can have three drinks.”

“Oh. So generous,” she grumbles and snuggles into my chest. It’s been a while since she tried to go on a bender, though I still have to keep an eye on her. At her last checkup, the doc told us the new medication is working like a charm, and her heart should last as long as she does. Which, if my research goes the way I want, will be a very, very long time.

Quinn's been calmer lately, ever since Marlowe walked out of the Brotherhood medical facility on her own two feet. She’s still got a lot of rehab ahead of her, but she’ll be able to live the life she would have had if the accident had never happened.

I needn’t have worried about Grandad being lonely here. There’s a whole geriatric social scene I never knew existed. I’d written most of the older Brothers off as stuck-up, country club types, but it turns out I was wrong. Some of them came from working-class origins, just like I did.

With the top-notch medical care we have, there are a lot of Brothers close to Grandad’s age who are still going strong. Grandad’s suggestion of a bingo night went down like a storm, and now it runs every Thursday night.

Quinn’s breathing grows deep and even, settling into a sleepy rhythm. She’s so fucking cute with her eyes closed and her face relaxed that I can’t help landing a kiss on the top of her head. I regret it straight away when her eyes fly open. “Huh. What was that for?”

“Sorry. Go back to sleep.” I pause, then say the words that still feel awkward. “I love you.”

I don’t know if she’ll ever say it back, but that’s not why I’m telling her. She deserves to hear it. Her family all think she’s dead. Even if I go my whole life without hearing it back, I’ll never stop telling her how I really feel.

I stole her from her life, but she ripped mine to shreds in the best possible way. I never know which version of her I’ll get when I wake up in the morning, but I love them all. Even the crazy side of her. Maybe that one especially.

Her blue eyes lock with mine. She’s done this a few times. There’s been a moment when the words hang there, and then they’re gone. I hold my breath.

She looks away. Her body relaxes, curling into me, and she settles herself on my chest, eyes closed. Not today, then. Maybe one day.

“You too.” It's a grumpy mutter, hardly intelligible.

I tense. “What did you just say?”

She doesn’t open her eyes but lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “I said you too. Now will you shut the fuck up and let me go to sleep?”

My jaw drops, and her eyes shoot open. “I wasn’t swearingatyou. I was swearingtoyou.”

“I know, love. I know.” A grin splits my face as she closes her eyes again. Right now, she could call me every fucking name under the sun, and I wouldn’t care.You too.The best thing I’ve ever heard. Shakespeare, eat your fucking heart out.You too.

My phone rings. For fuck’s sake, what now? I frown when I see Seb’s number. He’s been acting weird lately, dropping out of contact for days at a time. Whenever I ask what’s wrong, he brushes me off.

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