Broken Rebel: A Lawless Kings Novel

by Sherilee Gray

  I stood slowly, my body so damn weary, achy, and gathered my bags, swinging them over my shoulder and opened the door. I found Neco in the living room. He had a desk set up in one corner. There were three large computer screens and other techy stuff that I had no idea what it was used for. Neco was on the phone. I didn’t know who he was talking to, but he wasn’t happy. Nothing new there. There was a laptop in front of him as well and he was staring at the screen. He ended the call, throwing his phone down. His body had gone rigid, fists on the desk, fingers curled so tight it looked painful.

  I walked up behind him and dropped my bags. “Van’s on his way. I’m going to his place.” I didn’t want to know what had him pissed this time. I just wanted to get this over with and leave.

  One of his hands went to the top of the laptop and he angled it to me, still not looking my way, eyes still locked on the screen. “He won’t get away with this, I promise you that.”

  My eyes dropped to the image he’d been staring at and nausea curled in my belly. It was a video of my room. I was putting away my laundry. I watched myself move around then lie on my bed and pick up my book.

  “Turn it off,” I rasped.

  He slammed it shut and shot to his feet.

  Shit. Knowing I’d been filmed, watched, was one thing, seeing it with my own eyes . . . I felt ill. The last person I wanted seeing the footage was Neco. I knew how he’d react—well, I thought I did . . .

  God, he was so angry.

  “I don’t want you to do anything crazy,” I murmured.

  His eyes were shooting fire. “The minute he hurt you, put one mark on your skin, he fucked himself.” He stood, and reached out, taking my phone from me before I could stop him.

  “What are you doing?”

  He ignored me, tapped something out, and then flung my phone on the couch.

  “What the hell, Neco?”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

  “God, not this again.” I threw up my hands. “You don’t get to decide that. That’s not . . .”

  “You said it doesn’t need to be me.” His chest was rising and falling fast, intense gaze burning into me.

  “What?”

  “You said . . . this time, it doesn’t need to be me.” He stabbed his thumb at his chest.

  Then he was in front of me, so close his boots butted against mine.

  “You ever thought, for one second, that maybe I want . . . no, that I fucking need to be that for you? That being the man you need when things get too much, or you’re scared, or, shit, just in the mood to be a fucking brat . . . doesn’t mean something to me?” He dipped his head lower. “That I’m the man you think of first, that I’ve always been that for you . . .” He closed in, backing me up against the couch. “It means fucking everything to me. Christ, Ruby, you mean everything to me.” He shook his head. “You’ve got some fucked-up idea in your head, and right now you think you know what’s going on in mine.”

  He closed the remaining space between us, the length of him against the length of me. I tilted my head back, heat racing, palms sweating, throat like a damn desert.

  “You don’t,” he said.

  My mouth wouldn’t work; all I could do was stare at him, trying to understand what was going on here, trying to tell myself it wasn’t what I thought it was. That it couldn’t be what I thought it was.

  “You want to know why I’m so angry? Why I’m this close to losing my fucking shit every minute of every day?” His hand curled around the side of my neck, thumb sliding along my jaw, back and forth, lifting goose bumps across my skin. Somehow, I managed to nod.

  He dipped lower, so he was eye level with me. “Because you are mine, Ruby. You are mine and for the longest time I haven’t allowed myself to have you. I’m angry because some fucker put his hands on you, hurt you, scared you, and I wasn’t there to protect my woman. I’ve been fighting this thing between us, babe. I’ve been fighting it since you walked your sweet sixteen-year-old ass into that party, in that dress you bought with the birthday money I gave you, wanting more from me, and looking at me like I’d ended your world when I told you to leave. I knew what you wanted from me. I knew it then, but I was into some serious shit, bad shit, and that night, after what happened, as much as it killed me to do it, I did what I had to, what I’ve always done. I protected you.” He cupped my jaw, eyes locked with mine. “I protected you . . . from me.”

  My breath was forced from my lungs on a shaky exhale past my lips, like I’d been punched in the chest. “That night, you wanted me to find you with that girl . . . didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Pain flashed through his eyes. “I needed you to give up on me. I was young and stupid, and so damn scared after what happened to you . . . because of me. So, I pushed you away the only way I knew how. Those guys were part of my world, and there were a fuck of a lot more like them. I didn’t see that changing.” He released a rough breath. “I’m not part of that world now. And you’re sure as fuck not a kid anymore.” His hand dropped to my ass and he lifted me, so my butt was on the back of the couch. “I was waiting until you were better, until your injuries had completely healed, but I don’t want to wait any longer. I’m done fighting. You understand what I’m saying, Ruby?”

  I heard every one of his words. Every one. But I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing, what he was saying to me. So I shook my head. “No.” My fingers dug into his biceps, not sure if I wanted to shove him away or never let him go. “I don’t understand.”

  He cupped the back of my head, sliding his cheek again mine, his five o’clock shadow lightly grazing my skin, lips pressing against my temple. “About time I showed you.”

  Then he lifted me off the couch and strode down the hall, back the way I’d come.

  To his bedroom.

  He walked in and lowered me to the bed, coming down on top of me, this time carefully. His hand dropped, curling around my knee and he spread my legs, pulling the one in his hand up and around his waist.

  His nose slid along mine, mouth a breath away. “You gettin’ it now?” he said, voice so rough the hair on the back of my neck lifted.

  I blinked up at him. “I’m not sure I am,” I whispered.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled and he chuckled low. I felt it. It vibrated right through me. “Cute as well as sexy,” he muttered.

  I wasn’t trying to be cute, or sexy. I was too stunned to be anything.

  He brushed his lips over mine, once, twice, then lifted his head, looking down at me. “How about now?”

  The way he looked at me had my toes curling in my Doc Martens. He hid nothing from me, it was all there, everything he felt, everything he wanted. I was still too scared to believe it.

  I shook my head.

  His eyes drifted down to my lips, back up. “What will it take?”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, and licking my suddenly dry lips, I forced words out of my mouth. “M-more . . . more kissing might help?”

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded.

  He grinned, then slowly slid my glasses off, putting them on the bedside table, never taking his eyes off me once. I bit my lip and his gaze dropped to my mouth, a second before he pressed those full, soft lips of his against mine again. This kiss was nothing like the angry, punishing ones he’d given me before. This was sweet and slow and packed full of emotion that made my heart soar and ache all at once. One of his hands cupped the side of my face, the other still holding my leg high on his waist, then he tilted his head and parted his lips, sliding his tongue across mine. My mouth opened on a moan, and he delved deep. He kept the kiss slow, painfully slow, and the sensuality of it had my belly squirming and my heart racing.

  Neco kissed me for the longest time, until I was dizzy, drugged from him. I never wanted to stop. I could feel the length of his hard cock between my legs, through his jeans. He didn’t grind against me, just held still, the hard, heavy weight giving me the pressure I needed while driving me wild for more, all at th
e same time.

  Finally, he lifted his head, eyes dark and hungry locking with mine. “I want to fuck you, Ruby, so bad, baby. But you’re still bruised.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “I won’t hurt you. I will never hurt you again.”

  He wasn’t just talking about the bruises on my body, and I bit my lip to stop it quivering. “I know.” I lifted my hand, curling my fingers around the side of my neck. “But I don’t want you to stop,” I whispered. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Neco. Don’t make me wait anymore.”

  His nostrils flared and I could feel the beat of his heart against mine pound harder, faster.

  “Shit, baby.” He rolled his hips, making me gasp. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” I urged him back down, my lips touching his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” That was the truth. I’d known from that first night I was meant to be Neco’s girl. But I’d given up believing he’d ever feel the same, that he’d allow himself to.

  He pressed a hard, fast kiss to my lips then lifted me up, his hands dropping to the bottom of my shirt. Then he was sliding it up, helping me out of it. His gaze dropped to my cotton encased breasts. My bra was plain and boring. Something soft and comfortable. Neco looked down at me like I’d just stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret changing room. He cupped me in one of his large hands and hissed out a breath.

  “Fuck.” His eyes darted back to mine. “You’re pierced.”

  I nodded.

  He cursed again. “Christ. You know how many times I’ve thought about these, touching them, kissing them, sucking them?”

  I shook my head, trying not to squirm and beg for more.

  “You got your tits early. Maybe it makes me a sick asshole, but I can remember lying in bed with you when you were fifteen, arm over your waist, wondering what you’d do if I slid my hand higher and cupped one of them.”

  Oh God.

  “I noticed you’d changed, wanted to touch you, kiss you, but I never fully understood how badly I wanted you until the night of that party. Seeing those guys look at you, wanting you, afraid out of my mind that one of them might hurt you . . .”

  He squeezed my breast again, sliding the pad of his thumb across my nipple, the barbell there. My lips parted on a moan.

  “Those guys weren’t the only ones that hurt you that night.”

  Hurt didn’t cut it—he’d destroyed my teenage heart. “I thought I was going to die,” I admitted.

  His eyelids dropped for a second, and then his gorgeous eyes were back on me. “I was a dumb fuck, too young to know what to do with you, how to protect you without hurting you.”

  Neco had broken us that night, in a way that had taken us years of dysfunction, and me getting the shit beaten out of me, to get back. “I don’t want to talk anymore,” I whispered.

  His gaze searched mine and I started to worry that he’d pull away, but then he lowered his head, sucking the mound of flesh pushing out the top of my bra into his mouth. One of his hands slid under my back and he unhooked it one-handed. He stared down at my bare breasts, stroking me, lightly touching my piercing with the tips of his fingers.

  I whimpered, arching up, and he groaned low and long, then dipped his head and wrapped his lips around my nipple, tugging gently on the purple barbell, sucking, lapping it with his tongue.

  He had a hand at my other breast, rough calluses abrading my sensitive flesh and I arched up again, crying out, fingernails digging into his shoulders as well as holding his head where it was, afraid he’d stop.

  “Please . . . please, don’t stop,” I moaned.

  He tilted his head back. “Baby girl, I’ve finally got you where you belong. Nothing’s going stop me from doing what I’m about to do to you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Neco

  I stared up at Ruby, under me, in my bed. I had a handful of soft creamy flesh in one hand, her other tit in my mouth, sucking her tight, fucking pierced, little nipple. Finally tasting her, feeling her on my tongue, I was struggling to fucking breathe. She was mine. I finally had her where she should have been for the longest time, and it was taking everything in me not to lose my shit, strip her down, and fuck her like a goddamn animal. The animal I was, the one I’d been hiding from her, the one that was created out of necessity. But that could never happen. I had to be careful with Ruby, and not just because of her fading bruises. I had to keep the ugly in. Keep the angry, rough, relentless side of myself away from her. I’d never hurt her, but I was afraid if she got a glimpse of that part of me, she’d run. That couldn’t happen again. Never again. She’d suffered enough, had faced enough of that in her life. I was determined to be her safe haven, her shelter from the outside world, and that meant keeping all that dark shit from her.

  I couldn’t lose control with her, not like I had earlier when I’d kissed her. I’d walked out, convinced to take this slow. But then I’d seen that video footage of her in her room, proof that Scott had been watching her, how much danger she’d been in for so long, and that tiny bit of control I had holding me back, decimated.

  I dropped my hand to the front of her jeans and tugged open the button, sliding down the zipper. Her eyes were wide, staring up at me, a mix of innocence and lust that twisted my gut and made my cock throb like fuck.

  “It’s not just your tits I’ve been dreaming about, babe.” I tugged the jeans down her smooth thighs, revealing a plain pair of blue cotton underwear. They were nothing special, but the way they hugged her pussy had me fighting back a growl. I pulled off her boots, dropping them to the floor, then her jeans the rest of the way. “What’s between these sexy thighs has been fucking with my head.” I slid my hands from her calves, higher, and dipping my fingers down the sides of her panties, slowly dragged them down.

  She sucked in a sharp breath as I revealed the last secret between us, and I lost the battle, growling like the animal I was. “Fuck.” I dragged a hand across my mouth, positive I was drooling. “Spread for me, baby. Show me what I’ve been dreaming about.” I sounded as close to the edge as I felt.

  Color darkened her cheeks and her thigh muscles quivered in a way that told me just how hot she was. Then she bit her lip and slowly, so fucking slowly, parted her thighs. My hand dropped to my cock and I squeezed through my jeans, a deep groan ripping from my throat. She was pink and delicate and wet as fuck. I reached back and tugged my shirt off over my head, breathing like I’d just finished a goddamn marathon. Sliding my hand up her inner thigh, to her sweet little lips, I dragged my thumb through her juicy slit. “I’m gonna taste you now, Ruby. I need to feel you under my mouth before I finally get inside you.”

  She fucking undulated on the bed, spreading wider for me. I damn near shot a load in my boxers. Giving my now painfully hard dick another squeeze, I dropped to my stomach and pressed open mouthed kisses to her inner thigh, sucking and licking her smooth skin, moving higher . . . I paused, something gripping me like an iron manacle behind my ribs, a need, so strong it wouldn’t let go. I lifted my head, hand sliding to her hip, to the Superman symbol there. I’d been desperate to see it again since the night she got it, the night I tore us apart.

  I leaned in and kissed it, drawing in the scent of her skin, absorbing her heat, the soft moans she made with every touch of my lips.

  “I let you down, sweetheart,” I muttered. “I won’t do that again.” Then I shoved her legs wider, dipped my head, and dragged my tongue through the center of her.

  She cried out, hips lifting off the bed for more. I held her down and fucking lost myself to her. To the first taste of my woman. Mine. I took my time, sucking and licking until she was squirming and begging. Tonight wasn’t for begging, though. Tonight I was going to give her anything she fucking wanted. It was my privilege. Her pleasure was mine. So, sliding one finger inside her, I pushed deep, cursing at how tight and hot and wet she was, and worked at getting her off, giving her what she needed.

  “Oh shit.” She did it again, body rolling. Sexy. As.
Fuck. “God, please, Neco . . . more.”

  I pulled out and shoved in a second finger. She screamed, back bowing as she came. I kept at her, sucking her tight little clit, keeping her coming as long as I could. When the tension in her body left and she collapsed back on the bed, I climbed off and shoved down my jeans, kicking off my boots. A better man might wait. But Ruby wasn’t the only one that had been waiting for this, and I wasn’t a better man.

  She was looking up at me, eyes glazed as they moved over my naked body—and fuck, her nipples puckered, tightening, then her legs spread for me again.

  I dragged in a rough breath and climbed on the bed, straddling her. Then, shoving open the bedside drawer, I grabbed a condom and suited up. She watched me roll the rubber on, licking her lips. My balls drew tight. I needed in, now.

  The way I was feeling, I couldn’t go easy. I sure as hell couldn’t give her sweet and slow like she deserved for our first time, so I dropped to my back, reached out, and lightly touched one of the fading bruises on her ribs. “Get on, babe. You’re gonna have to ride me so I don’t hurt you.”

  If she were still in pain, you wouldn’t know it. She moved easily, up and straddling my hips a few seconds later.

  Her hands went to my abs and she trailed her fingers over my skin, a tiny shiver racing through her. “God, everything on you is so hard and smooth.” She licked her lips again, then grabbed her glasses from the bedside table and slid them on. A sweet, sexy as hell smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I don’t want to miss a thing,” she whispered.

  Now I was struggling to breathe again, heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest.

  She looked down at me as she rose up, color on her cheeks high. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said blinking fast, her voice soft, husky.

  “Me either,” I murmured, a fucking lump in my throat as I dragged a hand up her thigh, fingers digging into her hip. Fisting my dick with the other, I waited while she positioned over me—then finally started to ease down my hard-as-iron cock.

  She was so tight, so fucking hot.