Page 18 of Boy of Ruin
“She deserved to die,” I say, exhaustion evident in my every word. Maybe he’ll hear that and let me sleep. “We both know she did.”
“That wasn’t your call.”
I pick my head up and turn to lock my eyes on his. “Oh yeah? You wanted her to suck your dick again, baby?”
His eyes widen, his arms falling by his sides, the blue veins straining against his pale skin. “What the fuck did you just—”
“I mean,” I shrug, throwing up my hands, pissed off right along with him now, “that’s the only thing I can figure from this.” I gesture toward him. “You must miss her mouth on your cock, is that it? I’m not doing enough for you? Want mommy back in your bed?” I fling my covers, my feet hitting the floor, my back to my husband. So much for getting some sleep tonight. “Get the fuck over yourself,” I mutter under my breath, crossing the room to the balcony.
Before I can pull back the floor-length curtains, a hand is on the back of my neck, jerking me around and shoving me against the wall. Lucifer is in my face, his fingers curled around my throat.
“You know what I wanted tonight, baby girl?” he asks me, his voice low. I smell the vodka on his breath and a sense of unease crawls down my spine.
My hands are by my sides, and I don’t feel like fighting him. Not tonight.
“What, Lucifer?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even.
He dips his head and runs his mouth over mine. My own lips part for him, but he pulls back, smirking at me. “Not you,” he tells me, flicking his eyes up and down my body. “I didn’t want you.”
My heart twists with those words, and I dig my nails into my palms.
“Guess since I’m not related to you, you didn’t want—”
He lets go of my neck, steps closer to crowd me against the wall, where he plants his forearm beside my head, his other hand pressing against my sternum.
I can hardly breath with that pressure, but I like it. It keeps me together. Stops me from falling apart.
“You’re one to fucking talk.” He shakes his head and my face heats. “Fucking my best friend? Your fucking brother? You got an incest fetish, baby girl? Wanna roleplay with me as your foster dad, huh?” His eyes rake over my body before meeting my gaze again. “You been a bad little girl, Sid? Need daddy to punish you?” He presses harder against my chest. “Need me to fuck you up, baby girl?”
There’s venom in those words.
I swallow, hard, wanting to get back into bed. I’m not even angry anymore. We’ve fought this fight before. He obviously isn’t over me fucking Maverick, but I can’t take it back and neither can he.
“Nah, beautiful, the reason I didn’t want you is because there was someone so much fucking better in Ezra’s bed. A hot blond with a fat ass and big tits.” He bites his lip, looking down at my own chest, covered by his T-shirt that’s far too big on me.
My face flames with his words, my chin quivering. I don’t have big tits and we both know it. I never knew it bothered him.
I didn’t think he cared about that. I thought he loved me…
“Kinda reminded me of Ophelia’s. Or Julie’s, when she was pregnant.” He groans, even as he steps closer to me, the bulge in his pants against my low belly. Where I’m carrying his fucking baby. “God, her tits were so swollen, I couldn’t fucking get enough of her in my mouth. And when she squeezed them around my dick—”
My hand comes up fast, and I slap him as hard as I can, the sound seeming to echo in the quiet room. His head spins, his jaw clenched.
He doesn’t move his forearm from the wall or his hand from my chest.
But he turns slowly back to me, a scowl on his face. His lip curls up into a snarl, and he says, “You can hit me all you want, Lilith. Doesn’t change the fact that tonight my dick was hard for a girl that wasn’t you.”
“Get the fuck off of me.” I shove him, but he doesn’t move. “Get the fuck off of me now, Lucifer. Get the fuck out of my face!” I’m screaming the words, pushing at his chest. He clamps a hand over my mouth, spinning me around and dragging me backward, until he comes down on the bed, lying on his back, me on top of him, my back to his chest.
I squirm in his grip, but he moves his hand from my mouth and bands his arms around me.
I keep kicking and clawing at his arms, his chin on my head as he whispers, “Shh, stop fighting me, baby girl.”
My throat tightens, pressure building behind my eyes. But I’m so, so tired, and if I was strong enough to say it out loud, I’d just ask that he hold me, so we can sleep. So we can pretend tonight never happened. That none of the bad shit ever happened, and that we were whole and perfect for each other.
“Why do you do this?” I ask him instead, my words coming out broken. I hate that, too. This weakness I have with him. I’m not used to people seeing me weak, but it seems like all he wants to do is break me down. “Why do you act like you hate me?” I whisper in the dark, trying to hold back my tears as he holds me. “Did you…did you cheat on me?”
For a long moment, he doesn’t speak, and I take a shuddering breath in, my chest heaving as I try to hold back my sobs.
