Page 147 of Beautifully Wounded

He’s so big. Like I already knew that, but up this close, it’s something else. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about other guys at a time like this or comparing, but I can’t help it. Daniel’s really does seem so… how do I put this? Immature in comparison.

I mean, he knew how to use it as a weapon, but as I stare at the thick heaviness bobbing before me, veins coiling up to the ridge of the tip, I can honestly say nothing I’ve seen compares to this.

I should be scared. I really feel like I should. This thing is a weapon. A tool to take. To hurt. To destroy. It wields so much power. Yet as my gaze shifts back up past Ringo’s blood splattered tee to lock onto his eyes, so intense as he looks down at me, I don’t see a weapon.

I see want.

Perhaps lust.

But I also see restraint.

He may only want me because I’m on my knees before him, but he won’t act on it. He won’t force me. He’ll endure the blue balls that will come from holding back, and I know he won’t try to make me feel bad about that.

This place is something else. One could say it’s inhabited by a bunch of thugs. Brutes. Monsters.

Sure, Ringo is a monster, but he’s the right kind of monster.

My monster.

“Thanks for helping me out of my pants, Angel.” He smirks, one corner of his lip kicking up a fraction before he steps back and does that thing again, reaching behind his neck and peeling off his t-shirt.

It’s slower than last time, what with his obvious injuries from being beaten.

His eyes don’t meet mine again once he’s fully naked. This man has no shame, and with good reason. Even battered and bruised, he’s a work of art, and where I once saw an old guy, I now see nothing but a man built to protect.

He took that beating because of me. I don’t care how he tries to spin it. I’m the reason he’s hurting right now.

As he reaches over the bath to turn the shower on, I stand, needing to back away from his dick and the unusual urge I have to reach out and touch it. Here I was thinking I could train myself to only like girls and hope that one day I could find a woman to spend my life with, never wanting to see another penis again.

Cameron Musgrove sure showed me.

Not even waiting for the water to reach the right temperature, Ringo steps over the lip of the bath and under the raining water, while I standthere like a perv watching the way rivers of water run down his tanned skin, making his tattoos appear darker.

“Angel, would you mind finding Jols and asking her to bring some ice packs?”

Ringo’s voice startles me out of my perverted stupor, my gaze darting to his face to see that I’ve been sprung.

“Ahhhh, yes, of course.” I nod, spinning on my heel and darting out of the bathroom.

My cheeks are on fire as I step back outside, my gaze searching the crowd for Jols.

I spot her off to the side talking quietly with JD, who is the one to spot me, and gestures for Jols to follow him my way.

“How is he?” JD asks, clearly concerned, which is confusing. I’m pretty sure his punch was the hardest.

“He asked for ice packs,” is all I say, not really wanting to tell this man if Ringo is good or bad.

“I’ll grab some.” JD nods, turning quickly and walking away, leaving me with Jols.

“Are you alright?” she asks, and I nod even as I shrug.

“I don’t understand this world.”

She nods, reaching out and giving my arm a squeeze. “I know it doesn’t make sense to outsiders. But just remember, it’s because of the way we choose to live that your friend thought Ringo was the best option for keeping you safe.”

Lexi. Yes, she did choose him for that reason, and I guess I can see why now.

“Even so. It’s hard to watch someone you care about get hurt and just stand by and not do anything.”

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