Page 129 of Beautifully Shattered
Abbey’s hand falls away, and for a brief moment, Jols and I lock eyes, and I see her worry.
It’s not for herself. It’s for JD.
“Babydoll,” JD whispers, but Jols doesn’t even spare him a glance. Probably because she can’t or she’ll break, and then Smitty will know what he probably already suspects, which is exactly why he’s demanding she go with him.
When Spud opens the door, Jols slips out of the Landy, being led with an iron grip by our VP over to Smitty’s hog.
“I’m gonna kill him,” JD mutters quietly so only we can hear, and I reach forward, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.
“I need to get home, man. This gauze ain’t gonna stop the bleeding for long.”
JD’s eyes snap to mine in the rearview mirror, and with a nod, he slowly pulls away from Smitty and the carnage that man leaves in his wake, merging with the Marx convoy.
Abbey hurries to get her seatbelt on before applying pressure again to the gauze, doing her best to stop the flow of blood as we hit the road.
Since we are in another lockdown, and the freeway should be like a ghost town, we avoid it, sticking to the back streets so we don’t draw too much attention.
By the time we reach the south-eastern suburbs, I’m starting to feel woozy, and know I’m going to black out soon.
“Angel,” I grunt, as the darkness closes in. “My phone’s in my pocket. Text Mills. Tell her to have blood ready.”
Abbey’s eyes widen. “JD!” she snaps over her shoulder. “He doesn’t look good.”
“I know. Just do what he asked,” JD mutters from the front. “I’ll get us there as fast as I can.”
I feel the Landy pick up speed, and one of Abbey’s hands slips into my pocket, fishing out my phone.
Her frantic fingers move over the screen as she struggles to send the text with one hand while keeping her other hand pressed to me, and even through the haze, I can’t help but smile at how fucking pretty she looks in the glow of my screen light, even with smears of my blood coating her chin and cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper, finding it hard to speak any louder, and her eyes dart up to mine.
“Cam?” She sets the phone down, shifting closer, her delicate hand cupping my cheek. “Stay with me.”
I think I smile. It’s hard to tell.
“You’re the only thing I want to see when I take my last breath.”
“What? No, Ringo, you’re not dying. Right?” she snaps over her shoulder. “Tell him, JD. He’s not dying.”
I smile, I think. She’s so fucking adorable, those big doe eyes frantic as she looks over me.
I blink a few times, each one heavier than the last, and the darkness starts swallowing me until the last thing I see is the tears springing from her eyes.
26
Trailing the tip of my finger over the dusting of hair that leads from Ringo’s navel, I watch his face to see if he’s awake.
I did this a few months ago, when everything was new and I was struggling with my trauma. He’d been asleep, and I was curious. I somehow trusted him not to hurt me, even though I don’t think I really knew that at the time.
He’d been rock hard in my hand, and I loved the feeling of being responsible for turning him on. For making him feel good. For making him come.
Now, I want to do it again. But this time, I want more.
His breathing is even, telling me he’s still asleep, so I ease the sheet down, revealing his package.
For a dick that’s soft, it sure is big. His erect size had terrified me at first, reminding me of… nope, not thinking aboutthatarsehole. But as always, Ringo made sure I was well prepared, and the first time he sank inside me… well, now I’m all hot and flustered.
Sitting up, I get comfy next to him, careful not to disturb him too much, and I gently graze my fingers up and down his sleeping dick, applying a little more pressure after a few strokes, watching him slowly harden.
