Page 79 of Deceptive Games
“So good,” he repeated, his tongue teasing my lower lip, and this time, my mouth opened for him.
His hand moved from my throat to my leg, lifting it higher to try and get deeper, and he made a sound of annoyance before pushing me further up the bed so he could kneel on the mattress properly.
I hated him, but I wanted him. The pain and pleasure was riding a fine line, and it was the most confusing thing I’d ever felt.
This wasn’t like the other times where I felt sick with fear and they were only trying to hurt me. My fear had ebbed away to make room for something else, some kind of sick sense of enjoyment rising to the surface from him wanting me to feel good too.
I hooked a leg over his waist, my arms going around him to keep him close as our heavy breathing filled the room, muttered curses leaving his mouth between kisses as he ground into me.
He was going to make me come again, my body practically singing for him.
One of my hands tried to slip between us, but he snarled and slapped it away, giving me his fingers instead. My back arched as he got rougher again, his thrusts almost painful as he forced one more orgasm from me before grunting out his own release.
We didn’t move for a few moments, my brain trying to catch up on what the fuck had just happened, and I winced as he suddenly jerked back without warning.
“Fuck,” he spat, and I was surprised to find genuine panic on his face. “Fuck!” My mind got sick of fighting itself and I burst into tears, his face falling even more. “Donovan— Shit.”
I drew my knees up to my chest and sobbed harder, flinching as something crashed in the room and Slash cursed loudly again. He moved around the room for a second before my bedroomdoor slammed, and I looked up to find him gone, the shelf close by knocked over.
His Mustang tore out of the yard a moment later, my body shaking as reality set in.
The sheets were ruined, a mixture of our combined cum and my blood on them, and I winced as I sat up and got to shaky feet.
His gun was still on my bed, and I quickly put it in my bedside drawer and righted the shelf as if it would erase him being here, then I shoved my sweats and shirt on so I could drag the bedding down to the laundry room, wanting to wash away the evidence before anyone got home.
Slash
The anger I’d felt for Rory had completely vanished, guilt and regret taking its place. I hadn’t meant to touch her like that, I’d just been so damn angry after this morning’s encounter with Skeeter and Diesel that I snapped.
I was just supposed to threaten her with the gun and try to scare the shit out of her that way, but the second I saw her, something flipped inside me.
She was just one small woman, how the fuck did she have so much power over me?
I’d gone straight home, washing her scent off me and scrubbing my skin raw, but nothing could take back what I’d done. I wasn’t that person, I didn’t condone rape as a punishment like a lot of old crew rules had allowed, and disgust filled me at the thought of my own actions.
My brother was a cruel asshole who thrived off causing pain and fear through forcing himself on people as some kind of power-play, and I hated him for it.
How was I any different than him?
My stomach twisted, and I shut the water off and climbed from the shower, still not feeling clean. Not after I’d dirtied myself with the one thing I swore I’d never do.
I stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes catching on the scratches along my side. I closed my eyes, hating how images of her terrified eyes flashed through my mind.
What the fuck had I done?
I didn’t realize how much time had passed until Matteo’s name popped up on my phone with a text.
Matteo: Where’d you go? Skeet and D just got back.
The clock on my phone said it was two in the afternoon, and I blinked hard as if I’d read it wrong. I’d somehow lost hours in the day since getting home.
Slash: Just leaving my place. Be there soon.
Once I’d gotten dressed, I headed out to my car and drove towards the Shed, not paying attention as I drove on autopilot. I slammed on the brakes when I realized I was about to run over Skeeter in the yard, who was glaring at me.
“The fuck?” he demanded when I shoved open the door and climbed out, his brow creasing when I didn’t respond. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I said as I waved him off, trying to push the guilt off my face.
