Page 60 of Born for Lace

“You’re embarrassing yourself! I just wanted your soft, young pussy on my fingers, Lace Girl,” he growls, releasing me with disgust. “I don’t care about you.” He turns from me.

I wrap my arms around my stomach, holding myself. Long legs take him away from me. I watch his naked back, muscles roiling beneath tattooed skin.

The cave around me fades and I’m suddenly alone with the weight of this moment pressing on my heart. I let him touch me.

Let myself enjoy it.

I can’t forget it.

Sleep it away.

And I don’t want to.

I watch him in silence, waiting for him to disappear from view before slowly heading back to the boat, because where else can I go? Nowhere.

My steps are slow, like my heart. By the time I get back to the room, I’m ready to burst into tears. I see Spero is awake but not making much fuss. He must have been fed by Tomar.

Absently, I scoop Spero into my arms. Gritting my teeth, I ignore the pain and manage to get onto the bed with him. I lie down on my good side, which happens to be with my face to the wall, and tuck my tiny burden in the curve of my torso.

My skin still hums from Lagos’ rough, possessive touch, while between my legs, a heavy pulse resonates as if blood rushes to a fresh wound.

A tear slides down my temple, nesting in my ear. I don’t know what I was thinking, asking him personal questions, wanting to get to know him. He is just a brute, nothing more. Not a Trade man who I can maybe relate to, but a rogue. A Xin De monster with no heart, no kindness at all?—

I sigh. I can’t convince myself. Sobs fall heavier because it’s not true. There is kindness, sweetness, and a gentle touch. I have felt it—seen it.

Why is he like this?

ChapterEighteen

Lagos

That was a damn mistake.

Surrounded by jagged rock, I press my palm to the limestone wall. Hidden in a private alcove, the same one we hide extra supplies in, in case the catamaran is found and sacked. I rip open my top button with the hand smeared in her blood and fist my cock.

I shudder and growl. Fucking hell, I need this. After that. Fuck.

If I had a slither of humanity for every time I pushed her away and yearned to hold her, I’d be human enough to deserve her.

But the fact I just took her virginity without consent, punctured her so thoroughly there was no chance she wouldn’t bleed for me, attests to my lack of anything decent.

And I won’t tell her. Not that she was a virgin. That her Ward never claimed her. For whatever reason, he didn’t touch her pussy while she lay drugged beside him.

And not that I—stole it.

It’s why I preferred her look of fear and disdain. That fits. It fits my leather-like skin, the beastly muscles that ripple beneath it, and the charred heart that serves to pump my iron-blood.

I can’t bear her sweet gaze.

Don’t deserve the look she just gave me after she came on my fingers. Not the loved-up awe or the naïve hope that we aren’t worlds apart.

Yes, I’m a Trade man.

And no, I am not.

It’s not that simple.

I can accept gratitude and lust from townies at The Bite, House Girls, and the nomads, but not her.

---