by Eva Ashwood
The fear of loving, and losing what we love. The fear of not being able to keep the people we care about safe.
Unconsciously, our kiss deepens. The strokes of our tongues become harder and more demanding as we angle our heads. His hold on me loosens just a little, enough for his hands to start roaming over my body, as if he’s trying to verify by touch that every part of me is truly still here. That I’m alive and whole.
His broad palms move over the scrapes and bruises on my skin, and I wince from the pressure of his hands. He makes a noise in his throat and starts to pull away, but I palm the back of his head, sliding my fingers through his wet hair as I smash my lips against him, gasping into his mouth.
It hurts, but I don’t give a fuck.
I need this.
Before he slipped into the bathroom, I scrubbed body wash over myself, hating the sting as the soap cleansed my cuts. But this pain feels good. It feels purifying in a way the soap didn’t, as if Gray’s touch can burn away the reminders of what Reagan did to me.
He doesn’t want to hurt me. I can still feel him trying to hold back, to slow the hungry movements of his mouth, to keep his fingers from digging into my skin. But I need more. I need him to know he won’t break me, no matter what he does.
As his hands skate over the slick curves of my hips, I reach between us and find the thick length of his cock, already hard and hot. When I wrap my fingers around him, he growls into my mouth. There’s a warning in the sound, and I know exactly what he’s trying to tell me.
I’m straining his self-control.
I’m testing his restraint.
Good.
A feral sort of smile curves my lips, and I know he can feel it in our kiss. Squeezing his shaft a little tighter, I slide my fist up and down, stroking his entire length.
His hips jerk forward, his fingers tightening on my hips until they dig into my skin hard enough to bruise. I let out a muffled grunt, and again, he tries to loosen his grip. But I move closer to him, kissing him desperately as I slide my hand up and run my thumb over the rounded head of his cock. I brush the pad of my thumb over the slit at the tip, feeling the slick wetness that has nothing to do with the water pouring over us.
“Sparrow…”
Gray rasps the word. The name he gave me. The warning is even more evident in his voice, and I know that he’s about to break.
“I need you, Gray,” I murmur against his lips, realizing he needs to hear it from me before he’ll let himself go. “I don’t care if it hurts. I need you to fuck me.”
“No.” He grunts, contradicting his own word as his hips thrust into my touch. I stroke his cock harder, my pussy clenching and my clit throbbing as I feel him pulse against my skin. “I won’t risk hurting you, Sparrow. You’ve already been through too damn much since last night.”
“Yeah, I have. But I still need you.”
My voice cracks as I speak, and I know he hears it. I might be tough, but I’m not invincible. I’m falling apart at the seams a little here. But what Gray doesn’t realize is that his presence, his touch—no matter how rough—isn’t going to tear me apart. It’s going to piece me back together.
His body goes stiff, tension rippling through his muscles. Finally, he drags his lips away from mine. His calloused hands slide up to my shoulders, pushing me away gently. When our gazes meet, I see the wildness in his blue-green eyes—fear and need and anger that he’s afraid to unleash on me.
His brown hair is wet, slicked to his head by the spray of the shower, and water droplets cling to his skin. My own skin has been washed clean of blood, and the water runs clear as it disappears down the drain. But I can see the marks on my arms, marring the pale skin.
I know what he sees when he looks at me. And I know he feels responsible for every single bruise and cut.
He’s still trying to protect me, to do what he couldn’t when Alan had me captive. He’s trying to take care of me.
But I need him to realize that the best way to do that is to treat me like he always has.
Like a fighter.
Breathing heavily, I unwrap my fingers from around his cock. But before he can step away from me, I bring both of my hands up to my breasts, palming the heavy, aching flesh before rolling my nipples between my fingers.
Gray goes still, his pupils dilating as he watches the movement. The rush of endorphins and arousal that floods me as I take in the expression on his face makes the biting pain of my injuries fade into a dull ache.
“This is what I need right now, Gray,” I murmur, keeping my gaze locked on his as I slide my hands lower, over the flat plane of my stomach and down between my legs. “I need to feel good. I need a reminder that not everything is fucking awful.”
He draws in a ragged breath as he watches me part my pussy lips with one hand, spreading myself wide open for him. When the fingers of my other hand find my clit and tease the sensitive little button, his nostrils flare.
“I’ll make myself feel good if I have to,” I continue, my voice raw and husky with need. “But I want it to be you. Fuck me like you did that night at The Silent Hour. Like we’re the antidote to each other’s pain. Please.”
The last word ends on a gasp as I thrust two fingers inside myself, imagining the slide of Gray’s cock against my inner walls.
He makes a noise that barely even sounds human, and a second later, his hand wraps around my wrist, yanking my hand away from my pussy. He brings it to his lips, drawing the two fingers that were just inside me deep into his mouth, licking them clean as he holds my wrist in an iron grip.
“You are the antidote to my pain, Sparrow,” he murmurs when he withdraws them. His pupils have expanded so wide that only small rings of blue-green still surround them, and his jaw clenches as he steps toward me, closing the small space between us. “You’re everything I’ll ever need. I can’t fucking lose you.”
“You haven’t,” I tell him. And then, even though it’s a promise I know I can’t keep, I add, “You won’t.”
Something in those words does what all my teasing seduction earlier couldn’t. It snaps the last of his restraint.
He jerks on my wrist, pulling me flush up against him as his lips crash against mine.
And this—this is the kiss I’ve needed since the beginning. It’s fierce and brutal, his lips forceful and demanding as they move against mine. He takes whatever he wants, his tongue delving into my mouth with no hesitation, sliding over my lips, my teeth, my tongue. I can feel the pressure of his cock against my stomach as his hands come up to grasp my head on either side, as if he’s holding me in place for his ravenous lips.
When he wrenches his mouth away from mine, it’s not to end this. It’s not to pull away. It’s just to take more of what he wants—what we both need.
His hands drop to my hips, and he spins me around before pressing a palm between my shoulder blades. I bend forward a little, my hands flattening on the slick tiles of the shower.
“Fuck.” Gray’s fingers sink deeply into the flesh of my hips, shaking slightly as he curses. “I can’t… Jesus, Sophie, I can’t—”
“I don’t need you to be gentle,” I gasp. “Fuck me. Just, please, fuck me.”
I don’t care if it’s not gentle.
I don’t give a fuck if it hurts.
Hell, I don’t even care if it kills me.
I need him more in this moment than I need food or water or oxygen.
Gray’s grip tightens even more, and I feel the stretch of his cock breaching my entrance a split second before he slams inside me.
It’s exactly what I asked for. Exactly what I needed.
Nothing about it is gentle or sweet. But I can feel every one of Gray’s emotions in the way he draws back and drives into me, his hips slapping against my ass as he fucks me hard and deep. I can feel my own need reflected back at me in his barely controlled thrusts.
My fingernails scrape against the slick tiles as I work to keep from collapsing forward, and when Gray slides the fingers of on
e hand around to find my clit, my knees almost give out.
He circles my clit with the same harsh, punishing tempo, and pleasure explodes through every one of my nerve endings. I’m dizzy from it, and although I’m still aware of my injuries, they feel like they belong to someone else now.
All that’s left is the blinding ecstasy of my body connecting with Gray’s.
As one hand continues to work me closer and closer to my release, his other moves up my body, ghosting over the curve of my spine before settling on my shoulder, right where the tattoo of the bird is.
“Come for me, Sparrow,” he grunts.
It’s not a fucking request.
His fingers flick at my clit, making my entire body shudder, and I come hard, my head dropping between my arms as my pussy tightens around him.
A deep grunt falls from his lips, and he stops thrusting abruptly and pulls out. The absence of his cock inside me, combined with the lingering waves of my orgasm, are almost enough to make me collapse.
But it doesn’t matter, because my legs no longer need to hold me up.
In one quick movement, Gray turns me around again and hoists me into his arms, pressing me against the steam-covered shower wall as he drives back into me. His cock is already slick with my arousal, and my body welcomes him as if he’s coming home.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his lips roaming feverishly over the dark marks there, as if he could heal them through his touch alone. The hard tiles dig into my back as he pumps into me furiously, and my legs shake as I hold on to him, pushed almost beyond the point of exhaustion.
With a roar, he comes hard. His cock pulses and jerks as his hips grind against mine, and he keeps thrusting over and over until there’s nothing left. Until every bit of his essence has poured into me.
Until we’re as close as two people can physically be.
It’s only in the aftermath, with our wet bodies pressed tightly together, that I realize how fucking fast both of our hearts are beating. They race side by side as we cling to each other, holding on for dear life. Finally, they begin to slow, beating in an even rhythm as if they’re falling into sync.
“I’m sorry,” Gray murmurs. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I don’t know if he’s apologizing for losing control when he tried so hard not to, or for not being able to protect me from Alan, or what. But I don’t ask him to clarify, because it doesn’t matter.
I lift my head, grabbing a fistful of his hair to drag his head up too so our eyes can meet.
“No.” My voice is firm, but there’s a tenderness in it I almost don’t recognize. “You don’t get to feel guilty for any of this. We’ve had our shit in the past. I’ve been pissed at you; I’ve tried to convince myself I hated you. But that’s done now. I know you won’t hurt me again. I fucking trust you. So I don’t need you to be sorry. I only need you to be with me… just like this.”
I kiss him as I finish speaking, and I feel the tense lines of his body melt against mine as he kisses me back.
I don’t think I’ve convinced him to stop worrying. To stop feeling responsible. But it feels like something has shifted between us, and his expression isn’t as darkly tortured when we finally break apart. He pulls out and sets me gently on my feet, then helps me clean up.
As determined as I am to be strong and independent, I don’t raise a finger to stop him when he lathers up his hands and washes my hair. It feels fucking amazing, and with Gray—with all the Sinners—I don’t feel weaker for accepting his help.
I feel stronger.
After we finish showering, we towel off and dress quickly. He brought up some clothes Declan scrounged from his mom’s room—a pair of leggings and a t-shirt—and I slip them on. They’re not my usual style, but it beats the fuck out of putting on the clothes I had on last night. I’d rather burn those than wear them again.
Gray follows close behind me as we make our way back downstairs, smelling of the same sandalwood and sea air soap I used on my own body. The barely contained guilt is now gone, erased between us, but I can still feel the tension radiating from his body and mingling with my own.
This shit won’t just end because I’m safe for the moment. I’m never going to be truly safe until Alan is behind bars.
And even then, I think with a chill, how connected is he? Can he still manipulate things out here from behind bars? Can we even get him behind bars?
Gray’s fingers brush up against my palm and I let him take my hand for a second, squeezing his.
At least I’m not alone.
I’m still not totally used to having people in my corner, but I’m grateful as fuck for it.
We find everyone else in the kitchen, gathered around a large island in the middle of the room with a bunch of untouched food spread out in front of them. Max looks like she’s showered too, or at least splashed some water on her face, and Declan hands her a shot of whiskey that she takes with a grateful look.
When we walk in, Elias’s gaze snaps to me, then Gray. His jaw twitches, as if he can tell what just happened between the two of us in the shower, as if he can still smell the sex on our skin. The way his eyes flash makes my skin go hot all over again, my body thrumming with energy despite the lingering weakness.
With deliberate strides, he walks over to me and pulls me flush against his warm side, guiding me to the other side of the island counter.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Better now that I’m clean,” I answer honestly, glancing at the food as I lean against him. I’m hungry, but my stomach rebels at the thought of eating. I reach for the whiskey instead, pretty sure I can keep that down.
“Good.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to my temple, then looks over at Gray again, making a little noise in his throat. “You get clean too?”
I don’t think he’s jealous of what happened between me and his friend, he’s just staking his claim. None of them own more of me than the other, because none of them own any of me. I own myself completely and entirely, and I think they know that. There’s no animosity between them, but all of us are still figuring out how this thing will work.
Me being in a relationship with all of them.
Is that what this is? I wonder, taking a shot of whiskey. Are they all my boyfriends?
We haven’t defined it. We haven’t needed to. Everything just sort of fell into place naturally, as if this is the most natural thing in the world. As if the four of us were never meant to be anything but what we are.
“Yeah.” Gray settles in on the other side of the island, the coolness of his blue-green eyes warming a little as he shares a look with me. “I did.”
Declan huffs a breath, and Elias shakes his head. “Come on, dude. She’s recovering from being abducted, fighting for her life, and escaping from a damn psychopath’s bunker.”
You didn’t have to go and fuck her, is the unspoken rest of his sentence, and I glance at Max, rolling my eyes.
She’s blushing just slightly, and I’m not sure if she’s blushing for my sake or because the… relationship between the Sinners and me is so different from most traditional sorts of relationships. I haven’t had time to talk about it specifically with her, but she knows there’s something going on between the four of us, and I’m glad to see she’s not questioning it.
I’ve stopped questioning it myself. Stopped trying to define it. I feel something for all three of the guys—maybe something slightly different for each one, but equally intense. I think they feel it too, and I already know they like sharing me sexually.
Elias doesn’t have an issue with Gray having sex with me, just with the timing.
“I’m fine, Elias,” I promise. Giving him a sly grin and dropping my voice, I add, “Next time I shower, you can join me.”
His eyes go dark instantly and my heart stutters, my grin fading away. I go to lean past him to reach for the whiskey that Max is working on, but he stops me, clamping a hand on my waist.
“Sophie,” he says quietly
, spinning me around to face him so that my chest brushes his chest, his breath fanning against my lips. “Don’t tease me like that, Blue. It’s not funny.”
When the lower half of his body presses into mine, the kitchen is suddenly hot and heavy. My skin is suddenly hot and heavy. He’s being completely fucking serious, and my mind is tripping on images that don’t have anything to do with the fact that I just got kidnapped and we need to take Alan down.
I open my mouth to say something sassy, but he shuts me up with a kiss before I can even think about it. When his tongue slides up against the seam of my mouth, I know he’s showing off a little for the others, putting on a show for them. But I play along, tasting the spicy whiskey in his kiss and absorbing the rumble of a groan that vibrates in his throat.
I pull away before it can get too indecent, but our lips stay connected until the last second. When our gazes meet, something warm blossoms in my chest. I know I still look like shit despite my shower. My skin isn’t dirty and bloody anymore, but my eyes are puffy and I still bear the marks of bruises and scrapes. I like that none of the Sinners look at me like I’m broken, though. I like that they look at me like they still want me.
Broken or whole, they’ll always want me.
The grip Elias has on my hips tightens almost painfully for half a second, then he lets go. When I turn back for the whiskey, Declan is staring at me, an intense look on his face as he rests his palms on the kitchen island.
I feel my lips tilt up despite myself. “You too? We’re gonna need a bigger shower.”
I know it’s stupid to joke around right now, but after all the shit I’ve been through in the past twenty-four hours? I need to feel something besides the unrelenting wash of anger and pain.
Pushing back from the island, Declan walks around it and reaches for me. Elias relinquishes me to his friend’s grasp, and our gazes meet for a time-stopping second before he puts a gentle hand around my neck and under my hair, tugging my face toward his. His kiss is just as gentle as it is possessive, and when we pull away, I see the promise of so much more lingering in his eyes.
I clear my throat, ignoring the pulse of heat that’s rapidly settling in my chest and between my legs. Whatever this is between us, this thing that doesn’t need to be defined or explained, I know one thing for sure.