Page 175 of Brutal Obsession

I’m falling apart around him again when he quickens, then stops buried fully inside me.

My heart slams against my ribcage, and I twist my fingers through his short hair. He comes, and I press my lips to his, swallowing the noise. His heartbeat is as frantic as mine.

“Wow,” he murmurs.

Our fronts are covered in blood. Not a lot—the cuts weren’tthatdeep—but we’re streaked with dark brownish-red.

“Shower,” we say at the same time.

He doesn’t even put me down. He adjusts his grip and carries me to the bathroom. Only when we’re locked inside does he set me on the counter.

“When you spit in my mouth?” I say suddenly, gripping the edge.

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Yes?”

“I, um, liked that.” I cough to hide my smile. “Just saying.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, so, feel free to do that again. When the mood strikes you.”

Grey crosses back to me and steps between my legs. One hand cups my pussy, and the other grips my chin. He pulls my mouth open and leans in.

“What do you like more?” he asks, flicking my clit. “When I touch you here, or…here?” His hand slides lower, and suddenly his finger is pushing into my asshole.

I try to wriggle away from him, but he keeps a tight grip on my face.

“Maybe my spit would be better used to wet my cock before I fuck your ass,” he muses. “Have to keep my girl on her toes.”

He kisses me again, then backs away. He’s smirking at me as he goes.

Fucker.

53

VIOLET

Istride into the Crown Point Ballet building. I’ve been coming here for years, but this time feels more significant. There’s a new energy in the halls. People I don’t know—men and women auditioning, hoping to be signed on for the performance season.

The familiar faces, though. They smile when they see me. Hug me, say they’ve missed me. I’m not sure I believe them. I got a lot of condolences when I was in the hospital. No one knew why I had driven back to Rose Hill—my hometown—that day. I asked them because my memory was… blank.

I remember being in Crown Point the day before. We were preparing for the home performances, and then the touring would begin after that. There were interviews and clips of rehearsals to be filmed, costume fittings, classes.

Being back here reminds me that I never did find out why I went back.

At the time, I assumed it was for my mother. I never asked her, and she never said. I guess she thought I’d know.

“Violet,” Sylvie, Mia’s assistant, calls out. “This way.”

I follow her into one of the large studios. It’s set up for a barre class. A handful of dancers are already here. They’ve claimed spots and are slowly warming up.

“You’ll be auditioning with everyone else,” she says when I reach her side. “Mia wanted me to apologize—”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I get it.” Expected it, even. She can’t give me preferential treatment just because she likes me.

She leaves me there, and I drop my bag next to one of the bars. I sink to the floor and unzip my bag. The first thing in it surprises me. I half pull it out, rubbing my fingers through the soft blue material.Devereux, it says in white letters. He put his jersey in my bag.

I allow a small smile, then lean down and press my nose to the fabric.

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