Page 77 of When Sinners Dare

She looks at the floor, the room, anything but me. “This isn't fair, Kai. This isn't you.”

“Screw fair.” I rip my Tee over my head and toss it, showing her the multiple bruises on me from the beatings I’ve taken. “You think my day’s been fair?”

She stares at me, her eyes taking in the view. Yeah, it ain't pretty, and she better make the right choice here about what I’m needing to cool me down. This is all because of her, because of who she is.

Slowly, she gets closer to me, but stops an arm’s length away. Light fingers reach for me, and her hand runs across my skin. “They did this to you?” Her voice is quiet, like seeing the damage has calmed all her fire right down. I nod and keep watching her looking at the bruises, her touch bringing me off the edge. “They shouldn't have.”

“No. Don’t think they care about that, but this is where we’re at. You’re gonna help me deal with that.”

She doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t look me in the eye, just keeps her hand on my chest. “Okay. Once, though. And only once.” I doubt that with where we’re heading for, but I watch her get on her knees and start tugging at my jeans. Soft lips land on my dick the moment she’s got me out, and I keep grunting and holding her head exactly where I need it. My fingers stay harsh in her hair, my muscles stay strained, and my eyes stay glued to her moving on me.

I come hard and fast, and it’s nowhere near enough to ease me down, so I handle her harshly again until she’s rucked over the edge of a couch, and my mouth is eating her out like someone’s life depends on it. I bite her. I grate at her. I hurt her. I don’t care a damn what I do to her, and she lets me do every last thing I can think of anyway. She’s shoved around and hauled, legs spread wide and breasts bitten roughly. She shouts and whimpers. I don’t listen to her pleas, and eventually, I’m buried balls deep inside her and ramming home for the next round of cum I can get out of me.

Nails shred the skin on my face as I pull up to look down at her. I get it – doesn’t mean anything to me at the moment. I even let her slap me again before forcing my mouth down on hers and taking some more of what I deserve. She might be pissed, but she engages with that and starts moaning under me.

Venomous hands pull me closer, and the slick feeling of sweat and cum between us starts building me faster. “Harder,” she snaps, grabbing at my neck. “Fuck like you mean it.”

Not sure where we go then, but it’s somewhere I’ve never been before. It’s pain, vicious words and power.

This new side of me likes every damned minute of it.

~

I wake up with her draped over my chest. Slow thoughts of where we were at last night start coming back to me, and I smile and run my hand over her head. I might have started out mean, but it cooled off with time. We morphed into lazy and slow fucking, like we’d got every ounce of rage out and just needed to reset. Quiet lips chased each other around, and gentle hands wandered while we found some peace in each other.

She grumbles and tightens her leg on my thigh, groaning with the move. I just keep staring at the ceiling and run my fingers through her hair. There's no real noise outside, other than the usual run of traffic, and nothing to think about for a while. Calm. Seems like it’s been a while since we’ve had any calm, if ever. It's nice. Quiet. Soft.

“You alright? I murmur.

She groans again and nods into my chest. “I was until you woke me up.”

“You hurting?”

“Yes. And not just physically.” I don’t doubt that after a family fight. Not that I’d know, but I guess they're tight as a unit, regardless of bitter words.

She rolls off me after a while and pulls herself upright, grabbing her ankles to huddle up. “God, I really screwed up last night.”

My hand runs over her back. “You’ll be fine. He’s your brother. I’m sure a little punch didn’t hurt him. Can't say I blame him for some of his words, though. You shouldn't have put yourself in that kinda situation, but he took it too far.” I let go of her and swing my legs out of the bed to pull my jeans on, in need of caffeine to get this head sorted out. “He should never have hit you. Asshole deserved a punch or two.”

“He didn’t deserve what I did.”

Yeah, he did.

I walk off into the lounge area and start up the coffee, digging around in my cupboards for food. The gun still sits there on the table, which immediately brings back thoughts of the killing I got involved in. It might not have been me that pulled the trigger, but it might as well have been. Tie that thought process in with the real fucking image of her actually doing it, and I’m still thinking too much about it.

I sigh and pick it up, shoving it in a cupboard so it’s out of my sight.

No hiding it in reality, though, is there?

She comes out and looks around for her dress and shoes. “I should go,” she says.

“What? Why?”

“I’ve got to apologise. I’ve got to try and …” she reaches for the dress and slips it over her head. “I didn’t mean it. He made me so angry. So fucking angry with him and them and …” She pushes her feet into her shoes and looks around. “I’ve got to try making it right.” She’s over to the door before I’ve worked out what she’s trying to say.

“Mariana. Stop. What are you talking about? You all said things you didn’t mean. I don’t see him here apologising or-”

“You don't understand,” she cuts in. “I told Wren.”

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