Page 33 of Tempted to Rebel

“That’s it,” I groan, “fuck, that’s it.” My balls tighten with every delicious sound her body makes for me, from the wet heat between her thighs to the screams of pleasure she makes with each thrust of my hips. I pound into her relentlessly, fearlessly, knowing that her heart will be mine as soon as she lets herself fall.

Until then, I’ll give her every last fucking drop of my battered soul and all the cum that comes with it.

Her muscles tighten all at once and she claws my shoulders hard enough to break the skin. The pain is what tips me over the edge, and we come side by side, both of our bodies shaking from the force of it. My cock twitches with each rope of cum filling up her tight channel, and I groan, thrusting as deep as I can. Stuffing her full. Cock. Cum.Me.There’s no way she can wash my scent off her body now—I’m buried deep, deeper than even Rebel was, and that alone brings a satisfied smile to my lips.

I’m definitely going to be the father of our first baby.

Once Celia comes down from her orgasm, she takes quick breaths, her face flushed a pretty crimson. Pulling herself up by my shoulders, she stares into my eyes and her lips form a hard line. “You’re a fucking asshole.” It takes effort, but she detangles from my body and stumbles onto the pad of blankets and pillows on the floor.

I lift an eyebrow and swing my leg across the bench, my cock still glistening from her god-tier pussy. “For what? Doing exactly what you wanted me to?” I run a hand through my hair and grin down at her. “You told me to put a baby in you. I’m merely delivering on my promise. You can’t bethatmad.”

The glare she throws my way is only half-hearted, which means that we’re making progress.

“You wanted a hard fuck, and you know it,” I continue. “Anytime that itch needs scratched, you know where to find me.”

Celia crawls out from the cage, giving me a perfect view of not only her ass, but her leaking slit.Damn,I did a good job.

Once she’s standing, she turns on her heel and glares at me. “I’ll fuck your brother before I ever fuck you again!”

I can’t help it. I smile.

That pisses her off even more.

“Go ahead. Fuck Rebel. Hell, fuck Ruin for all I care. If you want agoodlay, the kind that makes your throat raw and your body so blissed out that you can’t even stand—” I grin at the way her knees threaten to buckle—“I’ll be waiting.”

She doesn’t bother covering herself up as she walks butt-ass naked into the half-bath, filled with cum and not an ounce of honest regret. It’s not me she’s mad at—not really. She’s mad at herself forlikingthe sex… and for wanting me at all.

I may not have heard her say that she wants me, but I canseeit, and that’s damn close enough to make me happy until she comes crawling back for more.

Chapter 12

Ruin

I can hear them fighting.

Fucking.

Breathing in each other’s pain and expelling it through their bodies, working together to wring each other out until there’s nothing left but a tranquil state of peace.

Or so I used to think. Owning at a night club that doubles as an invite-only swingers club has proven that people usually pass out after having sex, or they’re drunk on hormones and ecstasy and feeling good enough not to care what happens next. They could be fucking one minute and flatlined the next.

Sometimes, they are.

I don’t always invite my targets to the club, but every once in a while I’ll study them before killing them. How they move. How they speak. Who they choose as partners, if any at all, and what they value during their last night on earth.

Celia isn’t a target. I’m not getting paid to kill her. No one has put a hit out for her, and I’m not obligated to study her.

But I do anyway.

While Rage slides his cock in and out of her body, I listen to the sounds she makes. The high-pitched little cries catching in her throat, the sopping wet squelch of her body as sheaccepts him over and over and over again. I stretch my fingers, remembering the heat of her pussy as I held her down on the mattress inside her master bedroom and made her come. So long ago, now, it feels like the ocean tide—receding, out of reach.

I take a heavy drag of my joint and let the THC fill my lungs. My body still itches all over, but I fight the urge to scratch and pick at my scars. Once the drug hits my system, I can relax one muscle at a time, working my way from top to bottom.

Rebel says that I should try something harder than marijuana, but I don’t want to lose myself. I just want to peel back the harshest layers of light and turn the world down a few notches. Make things quieter. Smoother.

Then, I can breathe.

I hear them arguing. Raised voices. Rage’s laugh, rough as a cliffside and dark as a starless sky. I walk down the stairs to the main level and watch Rage disappear into his bedroom, but Celia is missing from view. I scan the room once, twice, until finally, I hear the water running inside the guest bathroom. None of us use it, and we never have guests, so I doubt there’s even soap in there. Once I’ve grabbed a bar from my bathroom and carried it downstairs, I tap the box against the guest bath door. The soap rattles inside the tiny box.

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