Page 64 of Beautifully Shattered
It’s not an insult or used in a vulgar way, so I clear my throat and give him what he wants.
“You gonna stick your tongue inside my bleeding…cunt?”
The word burns on my tongue, but the second I see that familiar pleasure-pained twist in his face, my shame melts.
“Fuck yes, Angel. I want you to ride my tongue with your bleeding cunt.”
Something inside me snaps at his filthy words, the image of me straddling his face flashing through my mind. In an instant, my hand wraps around the tip of his cock, feeling how hard the rim is.
I really love that part of him where the tip flares. It has my mouth watering, and I consider dropping to my knees so I can run my tongue over it.
But I haven’t done that with him yet, and the memory of the way Donny used to… nope. No way. That memory is not welcome, dammit!
Ringo’s pleasured grunt has me focusing back on him, and he moves his hand away to make room for mine, so I slide my grip lower, feeling the bulging veins that creep up his shaft.
Oh, I like those veins too.
“Grip me tight.” His voice is strained, his hand coming over mine, squeezing, making our combined grip like a vice as he takes control, pumping his dick.
“I’m gonna sit on your face.” I breathe, my voice husky, and oh my God, I can hardly believe these filthy words are falling from my lips.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls, moving our hands faster. Harder.
There’s almost a franticness about it now, his breaths quicker, the muscles coiling up his arms rigid and tense.
He’s close. So close.
I want to make him come.
“I’m gonna grind on your face and smother you with my blood.”
“Yes!” It’s a strangled sound, his head thrown back.
“Come all over me!” I practically yell, and he roars, his hand stopping our assault to squeeze around mine, and I feel his dick pulsing under my grip as hot white ropes of cum start spilling from his tip.
Some of it lands on me, but the water quickly washes it away, and I’m kinda disappointed. I wanted to see the evidence of his climax for a bit longer.
And just like that… I’m horny again.
Watching him come apart is something else. To know I did that to him, that I’m his spank bank material, makes me feel important. Special. And despite how aroused I am, without warning, tears spring to my eyes and I burst into tears.
Ringo curses under his breath, peeling our hands off his dick. But I’m already inconsolable, the reality of my world crashing back down on top of me, shattering me.
My legs give out, but as always, Ringo catches me, and I start blubbering, nothing making sense. Not even the thoughts in my head.
Bobbi is gone. Dead.
Others have died fighting for us. And tonight, I killed a second person. But this time, the satisfaction wasn’t what I thought it would be.
It didn’t feel like justice. It didn’t feel like enough, or maybe it felt like too much.
Oh. My. God.
I have killedtwopeople.
Maybe Bobbi was taken from me for a reason. Maybe I’m too much of a monster to be called a mother.
I’m not worthy.
