IMPERFECT MONSTER

by Bene, Jennifer

  “That’s it,” I whispered, growling as she leveraged my shoulders to lift her hips into my cock and fingers. It took every shredded scrap of my concentration to focus on rubbing her clit as I moved in her ass, thrusting again and again, but her muffled cries of pleasure were worth it.

  She made the best noises.

  I wanted to make this last, to make the distraction stretch into the infinite, but my balls tightened and lightning stroked up my spine, sending heat mirroring downward in response, and I came deep inside. Everything disappeared, whited out, the world evaporating for a glorious moment of pure bliss — pure escape.

  Her whimpers drew me out of my haze, my weight crushing her legs to her chest, and I clumsily pushed myself up, cock slipping free of her ass as I rolled myself to the side. I laid out beside her, breathing hard, hearing her groaning and panting as I tried to return to reality.

  “Did you come?” I asked, and she shifted on the bed but didn’t respond. “Answer me, Nicky.”

  “No,” she grumbled, and it was a prick to my pride. Grabbing her thigh, I turned her on the bed, and she gasped as I ran my tongue over my pussy. Swollen, red, she was soaking wet now and still needy. I could feel her desperation as I flicked over her clit, hips bucking, her sweet whines louder when I pulled my mouth away.

  “Beg.”

  “What?” she asked, more anger than pleasure in her tone, but I was sated and content to wait her out.

  “Beg me to make you come, belleza.” Speaking the words directly against the golden down between her thighs, I leaned forward and breathed in the scent of her. It made me salivate. She smelled like sex, all female wetness, but I wanted her to ask for it.

  “You hurt me,” she whined, accusing, and I nodded, nuzzling her clit with my nose but not offering my tongue.

  “Yes, I did.” Burying my face against her cunt, I let the scruff on my chin scrape over her sensitive parts, and her hips jerked, but I forced her to be still, digging my fingers in at her hips. “Now, beg me to make you feel good.”

  “You’re an asshole,” Nicky growled, fists clenched in the sheets on either side of her, breasts aimed to the ceiling as her back arched off the bed.

  “So?” I chuckled. “Do you want to come or not?”

  Just as I flicked my tongue against her clit, she hissed and nodded. “YES! I want to come!”

  “Then beg,” I demanded, already salivating at the movement of her sweet hips against my grip. She had the slightest softness to her belly, enough weight on her hips that I’d been able to squeeze her flesh, and now all those curves were writhing above me. Another delicate flick of my tongue and she buckled.

  “PLEASE! Andre, please, just… just do it. You had me, please?” Nicky pleaded, whining as her hips twitched, seeking my mouth, and I almost wished I hadn’t come already, just to feel her cunt reaching for my cock. But, having her desperate was fun either way. The darkness inside me seemed to abate as I licked between her thighs, swallowing her wetness as she moaned and whimpered. When I sucked on her clit she jerked off the bed, pushing up onto her elbows for a moment, cursing and crying out.

  It was perfect.

  I strained to remember which fingers I’d shoved into her ass, and then remembered so that I could bury the other hand between her thighs and focus my mouth on her clit. Two fingers, then three, and she was practically screaming her pleasure to the house. How long had it been since I’d had a woman like this? Something more than a drunken one-night-stand? I wasn’t sure on the timeline and didn’t care as she started to twitch her hips, writhing, whining. The time didn’t matter, because I still remembered how to bring a woman over the edge. Curving to match my fingers to the place where my tongue focused, she jerked, thighs squeezing at my shoulders, and then she shouted and came hard.

  Body shuddering, legs spreading, feet planted to lift her cunt to my mouth, I rode out her orgasm as her liquid heat pooled against my fingers. Licking, stroking, slowing down until she was twitching and satisfied — as sated as my dick was. I wanted to make her come again, but I was dizzy and my own orgasm had caught up to me. Giving her one last long lick as I slid my fingers free, I turned her on the bed so she was laying the right way and then moved beside her.

  “Good girl,” I mumbled, drawing her against my front as she panted, breathing hard, and I licked my lips, savoring the taste of her.

  * * *

  It was some time later when my heart had stopped racing, and I roused from my half-asleep state to take a deep breath of the tangled hair in my face. Nicky. My innocent warrior, my brave Valkyrie, mine. Pulling her closer to me, I buried my face against her neck and nipped her flesh before I kissed her soft skin. Licking over the fading imprint of my teeth in her shoulder, which would definitely bruise.

  She squirmed, making quiet sounds in her sleep, and I propped my head up so I could look down at her. We were still on top of the sheets, but the air conditioning wasn’t strong enough to make us cold with the afternoon Miami sun battering at the windows. Stroking along her side, keeping my touch light, it took a few minutes for my actions to catch up with me. But it wasn’t the beating or the murder that weighed on me… it was what I’d done to her.

  Nicky hadn’t signed up to be in my bed, had never agreed to choose me over the other monsters in the house. No, I had chosen for her. I had decided I was a better option for this golden skinned beauty. My belleza. Mine. The word echoed in my head again, and I felt the sickening pit in my stomach as I recalled Paulo’s addendum to our agreement. Yeah, I could have her, I could keep her from everyone else in the house, and any of the men he was bringing in — but I couldn’t keep her from him.

  Fuck.

  I hadn’t thought of anything but touching her on the long ride home. Knuckles bloody, the smell of gunpowder on my hands, and I’d gone straight for her. Didn’t even wash my hands before I climbed the stairs to seek her out. As I looked her over, I could see blurred smears of red on her thighs, her hips, her breasts… all from me. I’d tainted her, and I needed to wash it away. Needed to wash it off of me.

  Leaning down, I tilted her face towards me so I could kiss her softly. Nibbling her lower lip, I felt her wake, the twitch of her body as she curved towards me, leaning into my mouth for just a moment, but then she jerked back.

  Her blue eyes would have singed me if she’d had the ability to turn that glare into fire, but she didn’t, and so I simply sighed. “Hola, belleza.”

  Twisting away from me, she gained a few inches as she turned onto her back, but it only gave me an excellent view of her naked body. The death glare didn’t change though. “Is this how it’s going to be?” she asked, and I felt my stomach tighten.

  “Nicky…”

  “Don’t say my name like you know me,” she snapped, throwing my words back in my face.

  “You’re beautiful,” I replied without thinking, landing my hand on her thigh as she bent her knees and brought them together.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Shifting her gaze, she grabbed at my hand and pried it off her leg, but she didn’t let go. “And what the fuck did you do this morning?”

  “What I was told to.”

  Her expression tightened, tension etching a furrow between her brows, and then she brushed her thumbs just below my bruised, split knuckles. “Paulo made you do this?”

  “I work for him,” I answered, trying to end the discussion, but she tightened her grip on my hand as I attempted to pull it away.

  “And, what? You went and beat someone up for him?”

  The truth weighed heavy on me, on my fucked up soul, and I confessed to her like it could somehow ease me. “Yes, and then I shot them. Killed them for him.”

  Nicky jerked, her reaction one of shock and confusion and a hint of concern. “You killed someone? This morning?”

  “Yes,” I answered, unable to lie to her about it, and I found myself leaning forward to capture her mouth — and she let me. The kiss was rough, messy, but still perfect. Her warm lips
parted and our tongues met in a clash, the softest of moans rumbling up her throat until I could feel the buzz as I pulled her closer. It was good, too good for someone like me.

  Then she broke the kiss, exhaling against my lips. “Are— are you going to kill me?” she asked softly, the hint of fear in her tone sending a dark, twisted thrill through my veins.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “But…” Nicky licked her lips, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, those sweet blue eyes pleading with me to lie to her. “But you will? If Paulo tells you to?”

  Burying my face against her shoulder, I pulled her harder against me, breathing in the summer scent of her hair. “I don’t want to,” I repeated, because I had killed this morning at his word, and Nathan had already told me that one girl’s life didn’t matter to him. Didn’t matter to the department. The only thing that mattered was Paulo, and his connections in South America. He was the highest point on the food chain in Florida, and unless I could take him down, there was no way in hell they were pulling Nicky out. One sweet, innocent, warrior-like girl didn’t matter to them, but she did matter, and I wouldn’t feed her false hope.

  “I just… I only wanted to save Chris,” she whispered, and I felt her shudder as she stifled her tears. On instinct I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her tight to my chest. All of those soft curves conforming to my hard edges as she started to cry.

  “I know, belleza,” I whispered, but I couldn’t offer any other assurances. I had pulled the only string I had, and Nathan had told me no. The only hope I had was that, eventually, everyone in the house might stop caring about her and I could take her outside without an argument. Let her go, let her be free… even if I never could be.

  Twelve

  Nicky

  Standing in the warm shower with Andre was an odd, soothing experience. His hands expertly slid over me, gliding the soap into every nook and cranny, not leaving anything to chance, and as I braced my hands on the tile I wasn’t sure I could really challenge him. Part of me craved his touch, the gentle, soothing strokes of his palms over my soaped flesh… but the other part wanted to shove him away, scream and rail at him until he left me alone.

  I felt better when I plucked the soap from his hands and returned the favor. Gliding the stiff soap over all of his hard muscles, feeling his chest and the ridges in his abs, slipping my fingers between his thighs to move the suds over his cock and balls. His soft groan had me hiding a smile in my wet hair. Even flaccid he was impressive, which made me wonder how I’d ever taken him into my ass. Every inch of him was muscular and intimidating. So much of his chest, neck, back, and arms covered in ink.

  Dragging my thumb over a scar across his ribs, I looked up at him and broke the stoic silence. “What is this?”

  “A scar.”

  “I know that. What’s it from?” I asked, running my hands across his back, pulling him closer even though I wasn’t completely sure I wanted it. The dull sound of the shower filled the silence for a moment as he closed his eyes, and then opened them to stare down at me.

  “It was a knife. Someone pulled one in a fight, cut me to the bone. Twenty-two stitches.”

  I couldn’t help but gawk at him, my eyes glued to the long scar over his ribs, extending over the top of his ripped abs. “But you survived,” I whispered, using his word from the day before, and his hand cupped my chin to make me look at him.

  “Yes, I did. The pinche pendejo didn’t stab me, he cut at me, but I killed him.” Andre had a slight tilt to his lips, a hint of pride, and then he shrugged. “And pain is just pain.”

  “Is that why you do all of this? Because you don’t care about pain?” I kept my eyes on him as he flinched a little, those dark brown eyes averting for a moment as he shifted me under the showerhead.

  “I do what I have to do, belleza. Right now, I need to wash your hair.” Without another word, Andre leaned away to snag a bottle from the corner of the tub. I couldn’t deny the pleasant sensations as he turned me around and started to shampoo my scalp, working the lather to the ends of my hair before sliding back up. He massaged, fingers digging in to relieve the tension at my temples, caressing the base of my skull until I felt my body turn to liquid.

  “That feels so good,” I murmured, and he huffed.

  “Bueno.” When he shifted me again, putting my head under the stream of water, he was sure to brush the water back, washing the suds from my hair, squeezing as he went, and after a few movements he tugged me out of the stream. Pressed against the tile, I could only open my mouth and breathe in the steam as he looked down at me. So much taller than me, so muscular and broad, I didn’t understand why he’d chosen me. I was no one special, not very interesting, and I came with the baggage of my little brother so most men didn’t bother with more than a fuck. Yet, Andre hadn’t just fucked me — he’d paid off my debt, protected me, kept me from the others.

  And hurt you.

  My head focused in on the pain. How rough he was, the way he bit and hurt me over and over, and I couldn’t deny how much the assfucking had hurt… but he’d also made me come, held me as I cried, kissed me softly, and now he was gently showering me like we were lovers. It was confusing, and weird, and there was no way I could make sense of it.

  The whole situation was mad.

  “Do you hate me?” I whispered, and his hands froze as they glided across my waist, his body keeping me against the wall.

  “No…” Andre caught my chin again, forcing my face up so I looked at him. “Why do you think I hate you?”

  “Because of… how you were before. Because I showed up and yelled at your boss, caused issues… and because I cost you five grand.” The weight of that debt settled on me, and regardless of how many times he’d fucked me, regardless of everything he’d done, I still felt like I owed him. How fucked is that?

  Andre’s lips tilted into almost a smile. “I don’t hate you. Actually, I’m enjoying myself, belleza. I can’t control everyone else, or what they do, but I can make sure I enjoy you, and I can try to make you enjoy it too.”

  Because I don’t have a choice in the matter.

  “Right.” Swallowing, I pulled my chin out of his grip and nudged him back to step to the other end of the tub. “I’ll get out while you finish your shower.”

  “Nicky—” He caught my hand as my other reached for the shower curtain. For a moment we just stared at each other, and then he clenched his jaw and let me go. “Don’t leave the room.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” I muttered as I stepped out, snagging the towel from the rack. “You’ve only got one towel out here, by the way.”

  “There’s more in the left cabinet under the sink.” A low chuckle echoed from inside the shower. “And I’m not so sure you’re as smart as you think you are, belleza.”

  Rubbing my skin dry, I glared at the shower curtain. “You’re an asshole.”

  His laugh was a little louder. “You were the one that stormed into Paulo García’s house like a fucking Valkyrie. Not many people would call that smart.”

  “And you fucked me without a condom. How smart are you?” His silence had my anger snapping back, all of the soothing caresses evaporating from my mind. “I swear, if you gave me any kind of—”

  “I’m clean,” he answered in a rough tone, all of his laughter gone.

  A frustrated scream escaped me as I stomped out of the bathroom, shouting over my shoulder, “Yeah, sure, Andre. I believe that, because I have so many reasons to fucking trust you!”

  Scrubbing at my hair, squeezing as much of the water out as I could with the towel, I stared at the ripped scraps of my underwear on the floor. The memory of the rough way he’d taken me on the bed, of the pleasure and the pain… it brought back the tingling heat between my thighs, but the anger I felt was inextricably wound up in it.

  I heard the water turn off, and the metal scrape as he yanked the shower curtain back. Wrapping the towel around me, I listened as he slammed the cabinet door, and then he
stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing the towel over all that gorgeous, toned flesh. Fuck, he’s hot.

  And a total bastard.

  “You don’t have to trust me, but I didn’t lie about that. I get tested because I’m not an idiot.” He growled. “And not using a condom was a mistake I won’t repeat.”

  Rolling my eyes, I muttered under my breath, trying to bite my tongue and ignore the way his muscles moved under the ink on his skin.

  “Want to yell at me some more?” he asked, and I actually did, but his tone was dangerous. Borderline threatening.

  “You ruined my underwear.”

  “You don’t need underwear.” Andre rubbed the towel over his hair, leaving all of his skin on display. I shouldn’t have stared, definitely shouldn’t have stared at his cock, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  He was a walking, talking, seriously attractive specimen of pure alpha male. In another life he could have been some kind of model. A scary one… maybe for motorcycles or something.

  Get your head on straight, Nicky. He’s the fucking enemy.

  I growled, gesturing at my clothes scattered on his floor. “I don’t have any clean clothes, and sorry, but I actually like to wear underwear.”

  “You can wear mine,” he gruffly answered, digging in a drawer of his dresser to pull out a pair of boxer briefs.

  “I have a feeling we don’t wear the same size, and you probably don’t have a clean bra in there.” It was meant to be sarcastic, but as he turned around I saw the hunger in his gaze.