by K. L. Savage
I should be horrified.
But I’m not.
If anything, it only spurs me on and has me losing control. I kiss her again, and she greedily licks every corner of my mouth, tasting the hint of blood from her shoulder. I didn’t mean to bite her so hard, but I think she liked it.
And if she likes it, I’ll never stop doing it.
I flip her around with a savage snarl and yank her pants down. “Yes, Patrick! Yes, please, don’t stop,” she begs, and I drop to my knees, spreading her beautiful round ass cheeks that I haven’t been able to tear my eyes from since she forced her way into my life.
“Look at you,” I praise her, taking each globe in hand and jiggling the flesh. A rumble fills my chest when her pink star winks and her pussy is shining, dripping for me. I lean forward, readying myself to fucking feast, when a knock at the door interrupts us.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Sunnie does a decent growling impression of her own when she glares at the door. She slaps the back of my head. “Ignore it. It will be fine.” She pushes her ass against my face, begging me to bring her to orgasm, and there is nothing I want more.
I haven’t had time to think about the consequences of our actions. My cock is still rock hard, and her drenched sheath is beckoning me closer.
“If you do not answer this door, I’m afraid I’ll have to enter by force,” Gale threatens.
Damn it, Gale! You ruin everything.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. I’m not leaving this goddamn room until I taste her. I wrap an arm around her waist, yank her closer, and plunge my tongue inside her pussy. My eyes roll to the back of my head from her honey gliding down my throat, smoother than any top-shelf alcohol has ever done.
Sunnie thrusts her ass against my face, fucking my tongue to bring herself to orgasm. How have things gotten so out of control? We weren’t supposed to kiss, yet here I am, eating her sweet cunt without regret.
I haven’t tasted a woman in a long time, been too drunk, and I haven’t cared to. Most of the time, I just want my cock sucked and to feel something good after living through something so bad, but I could never come.
Unlike right now.
I know if I reach down and touch myself, I’ll blow for the first time in years. Alcohol has blocked every other sensor in my brain for far too long. Now that it is out of my system, and I’ve survived the agonizing pain of my body ripping in two to see which half conquers, I can enjoy the finer things in life.
Like Sunnie.
“What’s going on in there?” Gale repeats and knocks again, tapping like a woodpecker against a damn tree—persistent and annoying.
I pull my mouth away and kiss each cheek. “We have got to stop. We need to slow down.”
“Fuck slowing down. You have me burning up! Please, don’t leave me like this.” Sunnie flips over and shoves her hand between her legs, pumping her fingers with ferocity. I watch, entranced by how much wetter her fingers are with every stroke.
“You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” I fall back to my ass and pull my cock out of my sweatpants. The gun tucked in the back of my waistband digs into my skin, but I don’t give a fuck.
Not when I have the hottest woman alive putting on a show for me. Her nipples are tightened to beads, pressing against her shirt. Her back bends, and her lips press together so tight they turn white as she watches me jerk myself to the sight of her.
I know I won’t be able to come this way. I’ll get close to the edge, but I won’t fall over. I haven’t been able to. I’m closer than I’ve ever been, my fucking shaft burns with the need to release, but something stops me. There’s a blockage in my brain. I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve pleasure, and I don’t know how to get around that.
“I’m opening this door right now!” Gale yells, and the door handle sounds again from the keys sliding into the lock.
“I’m fucking busy, Gale!” Sunnie moans loudly to get the point across, and the other side of the door is silent. “Damn it, no! No, no, no.” Sunnie circles her clit so fast it’s nearly a blur, and I reach out to stop her before she ends up hurting herself. It isn’t pleasure anymore. It’s pain. Not physically, but mentally.
It looks like someone else has a block too.
“Stop,” I whisper, wrapping my hand around her wrist. I hate seeing how she’s on the familiar edge, dying to jump off, but can’t. I want nothing more than to see her fall apart, but neither of us can right now; not when I have no idea how to put her back together. I tuck myself in my sweatpants and kiss her blonde bush before pulling her pants up. I’ll have her one day, when I deserve her.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are glazed over. I gather her in my arms and set her on the bed, holding her as if she’s about to fly away. I don’t know what we are. I don’t know if what happened between us is a good thing, especially when we each have issues that don’t allow us to feel pleasure.
“We rushed that,” she says, laying her head on my chest.
“I know,” I reply.
“I don’t regret it, but maybe it shouldn’t happen again for a while.”
“I know,” I repeat. I never should have pulled her pants down. I should have kept kissing her until our lips numbed, but I got ahead of myself.
I’m annoyed.
With her, with me, with this damn situation I’ve found myself in. Women aren’t meant to get lost in, yet here I am, needing directions to the middle of nowhere.
Both of us are searching for more than what an orgasm can give. What can beat the high of heroin or the taste of alcohol?
It isn’t about pleasure between us.
It’s about learning to find it.
I don’t think either of us know where to start.
“Do I still tick you off even though you got a taste?”
I hide a grin as I look down to see her blue eyes squinting from the large smile across her lips. Happy-fucking-go-lucky, she figures out how to shine no matter how bad she feels.
“You’ll always tick me off,” I tease her, but she hasn't gotten under my skin, not in a bad way. Just in a way I wasn’t ready for.
She’s too bright for me, and I’m too dark for her.
“Good, if not, I’m not doing something right,” she says with a delicate squeeze of my midsection.
I grip her chin and lay a soft kiss against her lips.
Everything is right, but the timing couldn’t be more wrong.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SUNNIE
The V between my legs is still throbbing with the need to be touched. The last time I had sex was when I was high, and I can’t remember when I had an orgasm. I was always too out of it to really be present.
Patrick awakens the desire I thought had died when I lost myself to addiction. It had been years since I wasn’t blinded by the high of the drug, and when Patrick touched me, kissed me, caressed me, and plunged his tongue inside my depths, I thought I’d lose my mind if I didn’t orgasm.
And I couldn’t.
I’ll never be able to. It doesn’t matter who I’m with and how strong the need is, how it scolds me from the inside out, making it unbearable to move because how sensitive I am.
This isn’t a marathon, but we can’t seem to stop sprinting to the main goal. We are forgetting there are steps we have to take to fully heal and rejoice in special ideals like sex. We aren’t like normal people.
We are damaged.
A bit broken and maybe beyond saving.
That’s what makes the journey so hard because at the end, I don’t know if there will be a happy ending for me. The journey is painful. The need for my next fix is always there, a low simmer in my tainted veins.
When does someone like me realize the battle isn’t worth the war?
“I think it’s time we tell each other what’s going on to better understand the situation we are getting ourselves in,” he says after a few minutes of silence.
“And what are we getting ourselves involved in?”
> Patrick flips us over until he is laying half on, half off me, drifting his hand across my chest. “I don’t know, honestly.” His brows cramp together as he thinks.
Well, this is comforting. He looks as sure as I feel.
Which is a bad thing, considering I’m not sure at all.
He falls to his back and tucks an arm behind his head, using it as a pillow as he stares at the ceiling. “The last thing I expected was you. I didn’t want anything to do with you, with anyone, really. I have my own shit to deal with. I don’t want to have to deal with yours too; no offense.”
“None taken. I understand what you mean.”
“But I have this overwhelming…” Letting his thoughts trail off, he thinks of the word he needs to portray what he means. He lays a wide palm across his chest, over where his heart beats with unknown determination to conquer the wicked grip of alcoholism. “I want to be around you,” he finally says with a small shake of his head and then lets out a sarcastic laugh. “It makes no sense to me. I never want to be around anyone. I’m fucked up. I have a lot going on inside me. My goal was to get the fuck out of here and get another bottle on the way out. I don’t know much, Sunnie, but I know this…” He rolls to his side and places his fingers along my jaw, staring at my lips like they are his next meal. “I know when I’m with you, the urge to ruin myself isn’t as strong. I like who I am with you. Even the urge to drink fades. It’s still there, but inside of this boiling craving, it’s a slight slimmer. There’s only so much you can do, I realize, and I have to give this place a fair chance if I ever want to…”
I rub the middle of his brows to stop him from thinking so damn hard. “If you ever want to what?”
“If I ever want to be someone who deserves you. I want to get to that point, Sunnie. You make me want to. I never wanted that for myself; I never cared enough. I need to be strong enough and be the reason for my change on my own, but if I’m honest, if I leave it up to me, I’ll grab that bottle again. I know myself well enough to know that much.”
Oh, my heart. Don’t tease me like this…
“I’m not the kind of man to want things for myself, Sunnie. I don’t want to want you. I want alcohol. I want rum. I want vodka, whiskey, gin. Anything that will make me feel good again. I want it so bad, my fucking mouth waters for it, Sunnie. Then you come into the picture, driving me crazy with your smile, and I think I want you more. I think I want you more than the thing that’s meant to kill me.” He rolls his head to the side, our gazes meet, and I hold my breath with the uncertainty etching the lines on his face. His frown deepens, something he must do a lot since the deep grooves on either side are so pronounced. “What the fuck am I supposed with do that? What am I supposed to do with you?” He sounds so doubtful, a bit angry, and I want to tell him what I want him to do with me.
“We can be friends?” I offer, wanting to give options so he doesn’t feel caged in.
“I have plenty of friends, Sunnie. I couldn’t be your friend. I’m too goddamn selfish. Seeing you with someone else? Flashing that annoyingly bright, positive smile at someone else? Fuck that.”
“I’m getting the impression you don’t like me very much,” I tease, letting the small bit of insecurity seep out.
He scoots closer and spoons me, his arm falling in the dip of my waist. “Are you kidding? I like you too much. That’s the problem.” His thumb traces my lips, and I close my eyes, remembering our kiss and how he outlined me with his tongue. “Your smile crumbles every reason for me to be angry. I’ve been an angry man a long time, babe. It’s hard to let go of when it’s all you’ve known. What the hell you see in me, I’ll never understand.”
I lay my cheek where the curve of his neck and chest meet, thinking about the first time I saw him. I didn’t think much of him at first, just another addict going through withdraw, until I heard him scream for Macy.
“I see a kindred spirit. Someone who understands what it means to lose the other half of your soul.”
We fall into quiet again. The air conditioning kicks on at the same time as a violent strike of lightning cracks outside. I’m not expecting the sound, so I’m startled and my body jumps just as fierce rain bullets against the glass.
His chin rubs across the top of my head and he croons, “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” His arms tighten around me, protecting me even though I’m not scared. The storm is unexpected is all. I get cozy, lifting my leg and wrapping it around his waist, burying myself until all I feel is his warmth and all I smell is the fresh burst of soap on his skin.
That damn soap. It gets me every time. It’s so silly because it doesn’t even smell that great, but on him? It makes my body go from 0 to 100 in record speed.
A flash of light illuminates the sky, and the clouds are a dark plum color, vicious and evil with fury. A second later, the ground shakes from a rumble of thunder. I think it’s fitting, an exact representation of how we feel in this very moment. Our feelings are dangerous, relentless, and can cause someone to get hurt.
The lightning is my heroin, using me as its sky. The rain is Patrick’s alcohol, every drop dripping down his throat. A storm wouldn’t be what it is without the other element. We’re a perfect fit in the worst way.
“Why did you become a heroin addict?” he asks out of the blue.
“Are you going to tell me why you became an alcoholic, or are we going to sidestep the issues forever?” He wants to tackle my problems, but he won’t tell me what causes his. I have a problem with that. It isn’t how relationships work. Someone can’t give, give, give, just so the other person takes. I need honesty too.
His chest rises like a wave as he inhales, and as he exhales, the wave crashes, laying me flat against him once more. “Yeah, I’ll tell you. I haven’t ever told anyone.”
I lift up on to my elbow and give him a perplexed, questioning stare. “Never? In eighteen years?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not ever. I replay what happened over and over again. Every day, every second, until I feel so insane I drink to try to forget it. Drinking helps to a certain degree. Alcohol slows my mind down, but I still don’t have peace; something is better than nothing.”
“That’s a long time not to confide in anyone. Not even your MC? Your little boys’ club?”
“Boys’ club?” Patrick’s laugh is loud, boisterous, and with every shake of his chest, my head goes on a rocky ride. “That’s fucking cute. Jesus, is that what you think I’m a part of? I can’t fucking breathe.”
“What am I supposed to think? Your friend who visited looks like he works at a yacht club.”
“Doc? Damn, don’t I know it.” Patrick maneuvers us in a different way, so I’m off his chest, which makes me frown; I liked it there. Now, we are face-to-face, which is a cautionary game to play because all I want to do is kiss him, but he wants to get serious. “Doc is the doctor of the club. His real name is Eric. All the guys have road names. I guess it’s a boys’ club since there are no female members. It’s a rough way of life. Reaper keeps our noses clean as much as possible, but we bend the law every now and then when we have to. We like to do more bad than good,” he says, staring at his finger as he plays with a strand of my hair. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Really beautiful.”
I glance away from his compliment, and my cheeks tint; no doubt he can see the bright pink flush on my face. I’m not used to compliments.
“No, don’t look away. Look at me when I tell you. I’ve never told anyone they are beautiful before, so I want you to see that I mean it.”
“Patrick—”
“Look at me.” His tone is domineering, sending shivers down my spine.
I don’t expect a man like him to be so gentle. The pads of his fingers glide along my jawline and apply the slightest pressure to turn my head back to him, and it’s like gravity pulling me toward him.
He places a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Look at me,” he repeats.
I shake my head, but lift my gaze from his wide chest to his face.<
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“You’re beautiful, Sunnie.”
I don’t know what to say. I know thank you is the appropriate answer, but I can’t seem to form the words.
“So are you,” is what I say in reply.
His eyes widen in shock, and he looks terrified. “Nothing about me is beautiful,” he answers, just as someone who considers themselves a beast would.
“We can agree to disagree.” I lay a tender kiss on his lips, showing him that no matter what he thinks, I’ll find him beautiful regardless of the pain he cloaks himself in. We have a long way to go before both of us believe the compliments we give one another.
“I don’t deserve to feel this good,” he mumbles, his words a quick breath puffing between my lips.
“Why not?”
“Because I couldn’t save her. Why would I be enough for you, if I wasn’t for her?” Lightning veins across the sky, illuminating the room again, shining against the weary mirrors of his eyes. I see my reflection before the room darkens, and whatever he is holding inside him needs to be released. His agony is a whole other animal, lurking beneath the surface and dying to be set free. I want to be his rescuer.
Can his animal trust me? Or will trusting him be the death of me?
“You were thirteen, right? There isn’t much a thirteen-year-old can do.”
“I don’t know if I can talk about this.” He sits up and pulls away from me. His fingers catch in the tangles of his shaggy hair. He does that a lot, I notice. I think that’s why his brown strands have a constant shine to them, from the oil transferring from his hands. “I don’t know how to talk about this.”
“You don’t have to. If it’s rushed, we can wait. Maybe you need a few other meetings with your group.”
“The group? If there is one person in this damn place I can talk to it’s you. Fuck everyone else. They aren’t getting more out of me than they already have. Some of them have been addicted for six months. Please,” he scoffs. “Six months. Six fucking months. I wish my addiction was only six months. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard to break.” He pushes himself off the bed, and my eyes fall to the curve of his ass, the blunt block of the gun outlined in the back of his shirt.