Page 56 of Better Run
My orgasm slams into me. It’s harder than the last one, coming in waves of electrifying pleasure. He also comes, pressing his body into mine and pulsing.
I gasp. When I come down off my high, I realize he’s still in me. I shove at him. He only growls and pushes in harder, claiming me, pinning me under him.
I realize there is warm wetness around my neck. What is that? Holy shit, is that blood? I reach my hand up.
Cole pulls out and gets up off me, turning the light on. I blink and look at my hand. There’s blood all over it. Oh my god. I’m bleeding pretty badly.
“Easy lemon drop, that’s not from you.”
I look up to see Cole has blood dripping down his forearm from a slash on his upper arm. He grins at me. “That was hot.”
“Holy shit, you’re bleeding.”
He looks at his arm briefly. “Happens when you play with knives.” He walks up to me and tilts my head up with a finger, looking at my neck. “Let’s get this washed out.”
As he brings me to the bathroom, I see white powder on the floor and a fire extinguisher. That bastard.
I go to the sink in the bathroom, but he turns the shower on. “Shower.”
I want to argue, but I still have endorphins flowing through me, and a shower sounds amazing. I see him stripping his clothes off. “No.”
He shakes his head. “I won’t do anything, little one. Get in.”
I glare at him. But I can’t stop him or what he has planned. I get in the hot water, and it feels like heaven.
I let out a small groan.
“Hush.” He steps in after me and looks at me with lust. I see he’s getting hard again.
I turn away and stick my face in the water, letting it run through my hair. There’s the snap of a bottle opening, and then I feel Cole’s hands on my back. I stiffen.
“Just washing,” he murmurs.
“I can do that.”
“I know you can.” He keeps rubbing the soap on my body. It’s spearmint scented and smells like him. He scrubs methodically, getting my arms, paying close attention to the cut on my neck, careful not to get soap in it. He washes my tits and between my legs but those movements are methodical and not sensual. As he bends down to get my legs, I see hash marks of scars all over his back.
I draw in a sharp breath.
He jerks his gaze up to my face. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I stare at him. Understanding flashes across his face, but he doesn’t say anything. He turns me away from him and massages soap into my hair.
What the hell. Where did he get those? They’re long but old, raised and white. They almost look like…he was whipped.
His hands are big and gentle. “I can hear your brain running. Stop that. It’s not a story you want to hear.” He continues massaging. It feels good, and my scalp is tingling. At this moment, I don’t want him to stop.
But he has to. I start to come to my senses, and for the first time, I don’t want to. I’d like to just pretend this was hot sex with a hot guy. Pretend like he isn’t riddled with signs of abuse. Pretend I’m in the comfort of my own home. Like there isn’t a girl being force-fed drugs upstairs. Like one of the guys who kidnapped her, one of the guys who kidnapped me, didn’t think about shooting me last night. That they aren’t both batshit crazy.
I get out of the shower and see that Cole is still rock hard. And it makes heat flow through me again. I desperately need to distract myself from that and…everything.
“You’ll need to bandage that arm.” I eye him. He has red scratches down his chest and an oozing cut on his abdomen. “And that.”
He doesn’t even look at them. “I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not what I said,” I mutter. As I wrap a towel around myself, I see he’s smirking at me.
Oh god. It sounded like I cared there for a second. I glare at him, “But if you want to get an infection, by all means. Go ahead. It’ll make my life easier. I don’t even know why I suggested it in the first place.”
