Page 29 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

I laugh, not because it’s funny, but because it’s uncomfortable. When we first met, I expected him to act like this. Hell, this will probably be who he always is. The least I would expect though is for him to rein himself in long enough to return home from the burial of Asher. Instead of arguing with him, I climb out of my seat.

He angles his gaze upwards. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go drink my drink in peace in the bathroom.”

No sooner than I’m in the safe confines of the bathroom, he joins me, closing the door behind him. I dump the whiskey into the sink and toss the plastic cup into the trash before turning to him. “You can’t be in here.”

“I can’t do a lot of things, but I do them anyways.” He chugs the rest of his drink and sits the cup onto the sink. “Have you ever joined the mile high club?”

“You’ve had too much to drink.”

“Sing me a new tune, honey.” He closes the distance between us, and it’s not like it takes much considering airplane bathrooms are smaller than a closet. “I’m the most clear when I’m the most drunk.” He breathes hot fire, and the temperature of the tiny space begins to rise rapidly. Sweat pools at the small of my back, and my throat becomes dry. He places a hand against my cheek. “I know what you’re going through. I know that you’re lost in a world of darkness and you can’t seem to find your way out of it. I also know that you’re the type of girl that needs to fuck the pain away.”

“Do you think my love language is toxic masculinity or something?”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. All I know is that your pretty lips are moving when they should be on my dick.”

“I’m not doing this here,” I say, reaching my arm past him to try and unlock the latch, but he pushes me against the sink.

“Why not?”

“Because we could get caught,” I say, but that’s the least of my concerns. I’ve killed someone, so what’s a little bit of public indecency?

He cocks his head sideways, a grin hitching across his lips. He thinks he’s going to win this fight and he’s probably right. “Isn’t that half the fun?”

“You’re assuming I believe it’s fun at all.”

“Last night, you said that you missed when we were at each other’s throats. Here we are, wanting to tear each other apart, so why don’t we start by tearing our clothes off each other?”

I fucking hate that he’s right. I hate that he’s using my own words against me. I hate that I’m even considering letting him have his way, but I’m tired and I can’t get the internal monologue to shut up. I press my hand against his chest, though, cautioning him to stop. But when he shifts his knee between my thigh, my hand falls limp.

And then his lips are on mine, hungry and biting. His hands are on both sides of my face, holding me in place as he slips his tongue into my mouth and devours me. And then I’m kissing him too, reaching my hands underneath his tee shirt and caressing the rigid muscles of his abs.

We don’t have a lot of time before we are caught, and he knows this. He’s probably done this countless times before with countless women. He knows the drill. He grabs me by the waist and spins me around so that I’m facing the mirror. I see my own reflection–the redness of my cheeks, the empty eyes. His eyes are feral, like he’s a fucking animal needing to take what’s his.

He undoes his jeans and pushes them down so that his already hard cock slips free. I reach forward, unbuttoning my own jeans, but before I have the chance to pull them down, he’s ripping them down just enough to grant him access. He smacks my ass with his cock first before angling himself just right, and then without notice, he pushes in. He doesn’t take his time, doesn’t let me adjust the girth of his cock. Just pushes until he’s filled to the hilt.

I let out a gasp, and it must scare him or something because he throws one hand over my mouth to silence me before he begins thrusting. No foreplay. No niceties. Just like in my dream. My throat tightens, waiting for the moment that he turns into Carter. I don’t want to wake up though. He was right that this was exactly what I needed.

He’s burning hot as he takes me from behind. Fucking me like he needs me. Fucking me like he hates me. Fucking me like it’s the last time he’s ever going to fuck me.

His thrusts become uneven, and I know that he’s about to reach the brink. I’m not there though, not even close. Sometimes, it’s not the destination that matters. Sometimes, it’s the journey to getting there that fills the void. Sometimes, we never get where we’re going. He lowers his hand from my mouth to my hip and I have to do my best to control the moans that want to race from my throat.

His fingers dig into my flesh hard enough that I know there’ll be bruises as he empties himself inside of me. One final thrust and then he stays there, his sweaty head falling against my back as his ragged breaths dance along my skin.

I look up into the fogged mirror just in time to watch him pull his jeans up over his cock and zip them up. I reach down and do the same, but I don’t have the strength to button them right away. I’m still leaning over the sink when he drops the weight of his body against my back and whispers into my ear…

“Maybe this time, you’ll actually be pregnant.”

A chill passes over me as I look into the mirror and gaze into his eyes. They’re empty now, just like mine. I flash back to the time I first met Nick in the bookstore. I needed something to help me forget the world and he needed a quick fuck. It was a match made in heaven until he whispered into my ear that he was the brother of the boy I had killed.

Never change, Nick. It’s like he needs to get his rocks off before he drops the bomb. Somehow, I think he gets more satisfaction from whispering than he gets from the actual penetration. It wouldn’t surprise me if there’s a splash of fresh cum in his pants.

And then there’s a knock on the door.

ChapterFourteen

NICK

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