Page 23 of Born into Mayhem
She raises a brow at me as her lips curl up in a familiar smirk. “And why is that?”
“Because you’re upset and you’re hurt.”
Her hazel eyes look away from mine. “It’s just a scratch, and I’m not upset.”
“Don’t waste your time trying to lie to me. I can read you too well for that.”
She huffs out a breath as I set her ass on the counter and then grab the first-aid kit I keep in the drawer. Her hoodie is ruined. There’s blood all over it and a huge tear running up her arm. I motion for her to take it off. She scoffs and says, “Trying to get me naked, Dario?”
“If I wanted that, your bare ass would be sitting on the counterright now, Mia. Take the shirt off. It’s filthy, and I need to see how bad the cut is.”
Mia’s always been comfortable in her own skin, so I’m not surprised when she starts to take the hoodie off and the knife sheath she’s wearing. Her mouth tightens in a firm line when she pulls the sleeve off her hurt arm. I’m dying to see how bad it is, but I’m distracted when she tugs the rest of the shirt off, leaving her in nothing but a thin, pink bra. I’ve seen Mia in sports bras, so it’s not like she’s showing me skin I’ve never seen before, but the thin material of her bra is revealing something her sports bras always kept hidden.
Both of Mia’s nipples are pierced. The obvious barbells through each of her swollen nipples is something I hadn’t been prepared for, and I can’t force my eyes away. My cock grows hard, my mouth waters with the need to taste her, and my ability to think clearly goes right out the goddamn window.
“Everything okay, Dario?”
Not even the teasing tone of her voice can get me to look away from the pierced pair of tits right in front of me. Everything about Mia is petite, and her breast size is no exception. I’m surprised by how much I love that. Most of the women who throw themselves at me in the club have huge tits, most of them bought and paid for, but the truth is I prefer this, and it’s taking everything I have to not reach out and touch her. I want to slowly peel her bra off and spend the rest of the night exploring her piercings. I have no experience with them. I have no idea if they make her more sensitive, if she’ll like me sucking and gently tugging on them, or if she’ll want me to leave them alone.
I’m dying to find out.
“Dario,” she says again, snapping her fingers in front of my face to get my attention. I finally force my eyes to meet hers. “Stop acting like you’ve never seen a pair of tits before. I’m bleeding all over your floor.”
“Fuck,” I groan when I look down and see the bloody gash on her arm. Worry replaces the feral lust that had just been running through me, and I quickly grab a towel and get to work. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”
“I did show you, but you were too busy eye-fucking my chest.”
She’s got me there, so I can’t really argue. “I didn’t know you were pierced,” I say in my own defense. “It took me by surprise. When did you do it?”
“As soon as I turned eighteen,” she says. “They’re finally fully healed. It took forever, and it hurt like hell to get it done.”
“I bet,” I say, knowing there’s no way I’d ever let someone shove a needle through any sensitive part of my body. I get her to hold the towel to her cut while I get out the disinfectant. “Do you want to go to Tony so he can sew you up, or do you want me to do it?”
“I can’t go to Tony. He’ll tell my dad, and he can’t know about this.”
“How did this happen? Who hurt you? Was it the guy I saw on the floor?”
She ignores all my questions and instead asks, “Do you like them?”
I briefly meet her eyes before moving her arm over the sink. “What?”
“My pierced nipples, Dario, do you like them?”
It’s my turn to ignore her and say, “This is going to hurt,” right before I pour the bottle over her arm.
“Bastard!” she yells. Her whole face scrunches up in pain as she hisses out a breath and tries to free her arm from my grasp. I dig my fingers in harder and pour some more on, making damn sure the wound is clean. Mia would rather die than cry in front of me, so I’m not surprised that she doesn’t cave in on herself and give in to what I know for a fact is a fair amount of pain.
Instead, she clamps her lips together in a flat line and stares daggers at me, probably imagining killing me in all the ways I’ve taught her. It bothers me to see her in pain, but I’d rather hurt her now than have her develop an infection later. My instincts are still screaming at me to make her feel better, though, so against my better, rational judgement, I reach out and very lightly drag the pad of my thumb along the outline of one of her piercings.
She lets out a soft gasp, pain momentarily forgotten when I give it a very soft pinch. Her eyes go heavy-lidded and her lips part,answering my curiosity about whether or not she’d like them played with.
“Sì,streghetta mia, I like them very much.”
I swear I see a soft shudder run through her body, and before she can have another one of her spontaneous orgasms, I grab the lidocaine from the kit. Holding up the needle, I say, “I’m going to numb it before I stitch it up. Hang in there, Mia, almost done.”
“I’m fine,” she insists. “I can handle a cut.”
“I know you can, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel pain.” I hold up my arm, letting her see the scar she gave me in almost the exact same spot. “I know exactly what this feels like, and it isn’t pleasant.”
