by Lily White
Voice rough, he taunts, “You can’t help yourself, either, can you?”
No is the simple answer.
Not with him.
Never with him.
Even when he’s the worst thing for me.
With his mouth still against mine, he stills. The length of his lashes brush against my skin when Ezra closes his eyes. But what I feel is tension stretched so thin it’s about to snap.
Weeks, months and years of it, all building up to this point, this moment, this decision of what to do now that we’ve reached this precipice.
Do we fall?
Or do we back away from the edge to safely return to our lives apart from one another?
The only problem with falling is that I’m not sure what’s at the bottom of the cliff. It could be sharp rocks that tear and shred, or it could be a distance that’s never-ending, a perpetual dark hole that leads directly into hell.
“It’s been a long time, killer.”
Yes it has.
Not long since we’ve been together, but years since he’s scared me so much that I feel the need to fight.
Wherever this cliff leads, we’re going over it together. Because the sad truth is that not falling was never an option. Not with us, at least.
Or more truthfully, Ezra may have planted his hand against my back and shoved us both off a long time ago, in a shadowed room in Kevin Landry’s pool house, on the first night we revealed our truths.
We’ve been free-falling ever since.
Despite the lies.
Despite the betrayals.
Despite the distance.
Everything was all just smaller cliffs we hit going down, and we’re both bruised and scarred because of them.
Ezra picks me up from the counter with an ease that astounds me, like I weigh nothing at all, his arms a steel band, his hand supporting my ass, my arms slipping over his shoulders where they were always meant to be. And although I should complain and protest, should remind him that this can’t happen, I say nothing as he quietly moves us through the house and upstairs into the guest bedroom he’s using.
He wastes no time after dropping me to the bed, my butt pulled up as he tugs my shorts and panties off, my arms stretched over my head as he yanks the shirt up and off my body.
And while I’m naked and exposed within seconds, he’s in jeans that hang from his trim waist, the black t-shirt he wears struggling to stretch against the heavy bulge and deep valley of muscle that carves his body into a machine intended to cause damage, to seduce, to intoxicate me until I’m thoroughly besotted.
I shiver beneath the impact of his stare, the amber like molten liquid, a bit delirious, a touch lazy, but so fucking hungry that I still in place as if held down with shackles locked over my wrists and ankles.
It’s like staring down a lion; any wrong move and you’ve invited it to attack.
I stretch my body over the mattress while he watches, my arms above my head, my feet on the edge of the mattress, my knees held together demurely to hide the view he wants most.
The bastard grins, knowing he’ll splay my legs apart eventually, the challenge I’m silently giving him nothing more than a game he aims to win.
Reaching over his shoulder, he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it off, the fabric not yet on the ground where he drops it before my mouth is watering and my insides are tight and throbbing.
Fuck, this man is too perfect for words even with the patchwork of faint white scars.
His eyes find mine, pure masculine arrogance in that stare, his head tilting slightly to the side in question. When I don’t move, his eyes spark, and his grin widens, that deceptive dimple indenting his cheek.
“It’s going to be like that, is it?”
A fight.
Just like it used to be.
Because that’s the way we like it.
“Yeah,” I say, voice husky.
The sound rattling in his chest makes my stomach clench, a challenge and an acceptance, a growl so inherently male and approving of my answer that my breath catches to hear it.
“Just remember you started this.”
You know what else I remember? Ezra’s been drinking. He’s not controlled. And we still haven’t finished that conversation from earlier. It’s a shame I don’t have time to consider those thoughts before he’s dragged me to the edge of the mattress and locked my wrists in place with one hand.
The first sharp bite against the side of my breast is a warning, the pain of it slicing deep as his lips close over the sting, and his mouth marks me with a blistering kiss.
I yelp in response, my back arching, my thighs squeezing together as he slips a hand behind my legs to tease me with cruel fingers.
Keeping my knees together means nothing. Not with Ezra. He’ll find a way to get to me regardless of any fight I put up.
Another bite arches my back more, the wet heat of his tongue laving the sting.
“Open up,” he murmurs against my breast, the stubble on his jaw a rough scrape against sensitive, taut flesh.
I shake my head, rebelling against what he wants. Ezra grins, another masculine growl crawling up his throat as he thrusts two long fingers inside me, his shoulder pushing against my bent knees until they’re shoved against my chest.
“I think we both know what happens when you don’t give me what I want.”
Soft laughter, his hand pumping idly, a tease of what he knows I want, a slow priming that plucks at all the right strings.
Still, I resist. I attempt to tell myself I can hold out. I ignore the way his stubbled cheek runs slowly down the outside of my thigh, my inner muscles clenching tight in demand of more.
“You know I love it when you fight.”
Releasing my wrists and pulling his fingers out, he fists his hand into my hair and tugs my upper body up. I’m being directed onto my knees, my legs moving quickly to hold my weight, his mouth crashing against mine, demanding my lips to part.
And it burns, my scalp on fire from how tight he holds my hair, the violence of it drifting down my body to ignite all the places that need him.
A hand on my lower back yanks me against him, his teeth punishing my bottom lip when they sink down.
His voice is a gritty command against my mouth. “Open up, Em. This is the last time I’ll ask.”
I clench my thighs together and shake my head, even against the tight hold he has on my hair, even knowing it won’t stop him. I rebel to awaken the part of him that gives me no choice.
“Fuck, beautiful, you drive me crazy.”
Our foreheads press together, my gaze drifting down to where he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down his legs.
Gripping his cock, he pumps slowly, the head glistening with precum, the skin tight and deep red as he strokes the thick shaft.
My eyes lift to meet his, and what I see is feral.
“Warned you.”
My eyes round as he forces me down until I’m on hands and knees, the head of his cock pressed against my lips until I open, and he sinks inside my mouth. I stretch my jaw wider, my tongue running along the bottom of the shaft as my lips close around him.
His fingers don’t loosen their hold on my hair, his hips beginning their dance as he fucks my face to take what I wouldn’t give him between my legs.
I don’t mind at all.
In this way, I drive him crazy, my back arching, my ass in the air, my fingers fisting the sheets beneath me as he grunts his pleasure above my head.
“Fuck, Em, just like that. Damn it.”
His hips buck harder, a tear slipping free of my eye, not from sorrow but from the struggle it is to breathe around how full my mouth is. I’m all spit and teeth, tongue and lips, and he’s attempting to control himself, but failing miserably at the effort.
There is no control when he gets like this, and it’s exactly how I want him.
Fingernails scrape up my spine, the slight burn only making me wetter, the beast I know hides behind this man’s cold fu
ry rising to the surface.
He’s close, so damn close to coming that he pulls out of my mouth and lifts me back to my knees to taste himself on my tongue. His body moves as he kicks the jeans from his legs, the kiss broken when he flips me over and shoves my body down until I’m practically bowing.
When he drops to his knees behind me, the heat of his mouth covering my pussy, I moan into the mattress, my body jerking with every nip of his teeth, every slide of his tongue, the press of his nose against wet, swollen flesh as he breathes me in.
Yet my knees are still together. I haven’t opened for him once and he still has the ability to drive me over a sensual edge.
Just when he has me shivering at the precipice of a release, he stops, his slick lips sliding down the back of my thigh, his teeth biting down to mark me again as his hand slaps my hip.
“Open.”
Face pressed to the mattress, I shake my head again, my thighs tightening together.
“Woman, you are testing my patience.”
His teeth sink down into the flesh of my ass, and I cry out, the sound muffled against the bed, my body shaking as he marks me again, his lips closing down to suck hard with a sensual kiss.
His patience snaps when he pushes to his feet and notches his cock at my body, a full thrust forward sinking him deep.
“Fuck, you’re tight like this.”
Another hard thrust and another before his fist is in my hair again pulling me up so that my back is against his chest. His hand takes possessive hold of my tit while he continues to move inside me, his fingers pinching the nipple so that a line of sensation shoots down my body to my core.
I hiss at the pleasure, my head falling back as his mouth presses to my ear. “I’m beginning to believe you do this on purpose.”
His teeth softly catch my jaw as I grin. “Maybe, oh...”
Ezra pushes deeper inside me suddenly, my body stretched taut, his palm shaping and squeezing my breast as our bodies slap together.
“Then I guess it’s too fucking bad I’m not playing around with you anymore.”
He pulls out of me and flips me to my back, his hands forcing my knees apart before he lifts my hips from the bed and thrusts fully inside me. I watch with fascination as the muscles in his abs bunch and flex, the shimmer of sweat over his tan skin as his hips roll between my legs with every thrust.
He fucks me so hard that my breasts bounce over my chest, his eyes studying the sight of me, pure heat dripping from his expression before he leans down to take my mouth with his. He tastes like whiskey and my body, like salt and sweet, like a man who won’t be denied no matter how much I fight.
I get off almost instantly, an orgasm bursting in wave after wave of excruciating pleasure, his name falling from my lips as my hands dive into his hair and hold on for the ride.
Maybe it’s the pain that gets him off, or the sound of my voice, but he thrusts forward one more time so forcefully and deep that my body arches up to feel him come deep inside me.
When my muscles give out and I’m practically melting into the mattress, he laughs against my cheek. “It’s like you think I’m done.”
He wasn’t.
Not after the second time, or the third, this man exhausting me so thoroughly that by the time he’s cleaning us both up, I can barely keep my eyes open.
“I need to get back to my room,” I mumble, my voice weak and consciousness hazy.
All Ezra does is press up behind me, his arm wrapping around my waist to tug me close.
“Just stay here for a little while, Em. I won’t let you fall asleep.”
Sorrow is in his voice, a sound that freezes me in place and makes it impossible to leave.
Ezra promises again to keep me from falling asleep.
Yet that’s exactly what he does.
I wake up the next morning to a door opening, to a deep voice talking to Ezra, to a familiar voice stopping mid-sentence, the sudden quiet jarring me into opening my eyes.
God, how I wish I’d kept them closed.
The only way to describe Damon’s expression is complete and utter loss. He looks like he’s been punched in the chest. Like the wind is knocked out of him, like there isn’t enough oxygen in his blood for his mind to process thought.
Damon freezes in place as my mind scrambles to remember last night, to remember where I’m sleeping, to remember who’s lying next to me without any clothes.
Fuck...
“Damon,” I say, pushing myself up while holding the sheet to my chest. “Wait.
His stare cuts through me. “Friends, huh?”
We both turn to look at Ezra. And while I thought he was asleep, I find him leaning up against the headboard with one arm folded behind his head, his amber stare locked directly on his brother.
It’s clear from his expression that he’s not surprised by this, not upset Damon walked in, not concerned at all that our secret was just tossed out in the open without worry for what it would do to his twin.
“You son of a bitch,” I whisper, my eyes narrowing on him as he glances over at me.
“I guess things don’t change after all,” Damon says. “Or maybe you were finally just fulfilling that promise you made him.”
At that, my head swings back to Damon. “It’s not like that.”
“No, it’s exactly like that, Red.” He shakes his head. “And the most fucked up part is he’s been treating you like shit these past couple weeks, and you still want to be with him.”
“Damon,” I move to get up, but Ezra wraps an arm around me to hold me in place, not that I could have stopped Damon anyway.
He turns to leave the room and slams the door shut, his heavy steps fading as he moves down the hall toward the stairs.
I try to wriggle out of Ezra’s hold, but he only tightens his arm.
“Let him go, Em. He needed to find out. It’s better to just rip off the bandage.”
“You intended for this to happen,” I snap, expecting him to deny it, silently begging for him to tell me it was a mistake.
He doesn’t.
“What are you going to do, Em? Run after him? To tell him what? This shit has to end, one way or another, and Damon needed to see the truth of what you’re doing.”
No.
He can’t be doing this.
He can’t.
“So last night-“
“Was me ending it for all of us.”
I didn’t think it was possible to hurt more than I have in the past, but the lack of emotion in Ezra’s expression, the cold cruelty in his voice - it’s taking a knife to every vital organ inside me until I’m unable to breathe, unable to feel, unable to hold on to even a glimmer of warmth as realization douses my thoughts.
“You fucking bastard,” I growl, refusing to shed the tears burning my eyes, my nails raking over the skin of his arm hard enough to draw blood.
He releases me without even acknowledging the way I scratched him, without one ounce of guilt or remorse for using me to send a message to Damon.
He destroyed us both, and I have no doubt that had been his intent from the beginning.
“Why?” I ask, my voice growing louder. “Why would you do that?”
Sitting forward, he fills my vision, his eyes level with mine.
“I don’t know, killer. But let me ask you a question. Why the fuck have you been going behind our backs with William?”
Ezra
I’m going to stop you before you say it.
Yes, I’m a complete dick for what I did.
I knew it before I did it.
Knew it during.
And I know it now.
So I don’t need your opinions.
What I do need is Emily’s honest answer to my question because the bullshit excuse she gave me last night isn’t cutting it.
Unfortunately, now is apparently the worst time for me to demand answers, especially with the fire blazing behind her eyes, the hatred rolling across her expression and the cute as fuck sneer curling he
r mouth that only makes me regret doing what had to be done.
“You can fuck off with any questions or demands at the moment, Ezra.”
She tries to pull away from me again, but I tighten my hold, those turquoise eyes narrowing on me with enough warning behind them to make my dick twitch.
“Let me go.”
“I will when you tell me what I want to know.”
It probably doesn’t help that I’m mocking her with my grin. But hell, I’ve never been known for calming a situation down. If anything, I’m the guy who pulls chaos and violence out of everyone around him.
When Emily attempts to break free once again, my hand clamps down on her hip, my body moving to pin her down.
She glares up at me, her cheeks painted a sheen of red, her hair a blanket of crimson framing her face.
Pure fire, this girl.
Her temper hidden behind a mask of civility, but she’s just as fierce as me.
It doesn’t mean I suddenly learn my lesson. When you have a shovel as big as mine, you might as well keep digging that hole because you’re already too deep to crawl out.
“Are you keeping it in the family, Em? Already fucked the two brothers, so you wanted to see if Daddy’s cock is just as big?”
My head snaps right from how hard she slaps me, my cheek burning as she takes advantage of my surprise to shove away from my hold and off the bed.
Rounding the end of it, her eyes cut my direction as she grabs her clothes.
“You deserved that. And don’t you ever touch me again.”
Rubbing my cheek to ease the sting, I stretch my jaw. Emily’s never physically hit me before, and I’m a little shocked at how hard she did it.
“And if I do?”
After tugging her shirt on, she shoves the hair out of her face and steps back to place distance between us.
“I’ll gouge out your eyes and then rake my nails down your face. You might as well be as ugly on the outside as you are inside right now, Ezra. What you just did is unforgivable. I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to get a handle on it before you lose everybody who’s ever cared about you.”
Emily yanks up her cotton shorts and marches out of the room, my skin still pulsing from the force of her slap, the blood rising to the surface.