Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I pushed the remaining coke with a credit card, forming another line before I bent my head, pressing my index finger to the nostril I used to rip the first line and snorted the second.

  I lifted my head, stumbled back as the door opened and I turned my head, lifting my hands to push the hair away from my eyes as they locked with Lacey’s.

  Shit.

  I didn’t need this now, another fucking temptation I wasn’t strong enough to beat. I shook my head, wishing she’d disappear, but she was there, staring at me with innocence radiating from her dark eyes. She looked at me like I was some goddamn mythical warrior.

  “Your old man ain’t here, go home,” I clipped, peeling my eyes off of her as I walked around the bar, sniffling from the coke and itching for a drink. I pulled a bottle of whiskey from the shelf before reaching for a glass and filling it with the amber liquid. I placed the bottle on top of the bar and lifted the glass to my lips, knocking back the liquid in three gulps.

  I set the empty glass down and she was in front of me, her eyes bored into mine and as much as I wanted to look away I couldn’t.

  “Lace, I’m not in the mood, so why don’t you go on and tell me what you need that way you can get the fuck out of here,” I slurred, watching as her eyes widened at the tone I took with her.

  Fuck.

  I ran my fingers roughly through my hair, teetering on the edge of insanity, hating the way she was looking at me.

  Quit looking at me like I’m something when I’m nothing.

  “What’s the matter, Lace? You didn’t know your favorite Knight got down like this?” I sneered.

  “Oh, I knew,” she quickly said, pulling out one of the stools before she took a seat.

  Great, she was sticking around.

  “I never saw it firsthand before is all,” she added, softly as her teeth dug into her bottom lip and continued staring at me.

  I leaned over the bar, so she could get a better look at me and see how truly fucked I was. I wanted to scare her, to make her run the fuck away from me before I lost the little control I was hanging onto.

  “Get out of here Lace, run the fuck away and don’t turn back,” I warned her, leaning back and refilled my glass.

  “I have nowhere else to go,” she whispered.

  Her broken voice and the words she uttered forced me to look back at her and through my hazed eyes I noticed the pain in hers. Lacey was the girl who lit up a room with her smile but, staring at her now, seeing how tortured her eyes were, made me wonder if the smile was a mask. And then Jack’s voice worked its way inside my head, reminding me that today was Jack Jr.’s birthday and he went off on a mission to wallow in his own misery.

  “If Lacey comes around or calls…”

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “Buying her an ice cream cone and pretending the world is a giant playground don’t work no more for her.”

  He smiled proudly. “Girl’s all grown up.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  God or whoever the fuck was responsible, made it real fucking hard for me to ignore Lacey had grown up. He gave her a fucking body that made you want to drop to your knees and worship. Jack would’ve shot me dead if he knew the thoughts that sometimes ran through my head or the way I couldn’t help but look at her.

  She was fucking beautiful.

  And sweet, so goddamn sweet.

  Fucking lethal was what she was.

  Wasn’t that what I was looking for?

  “Your pretty little face doesn’t belong here,” I grunted, reaching across the bar to tuck a strand of her brown hair behind her ear.

  I was jonesing.

  Not for drugs, not even alcohol.

  I was jonesing for her.

  For Lace.

  I snapped my hand back, tore my eyes from her as I walked around the bar, taking a seat next to her. She lifted my glass to her lips and took a sip, cringing immediately.

  “How do you drink that?” She asked in between coughing, shoving the glass back at me.

  “Why the sad eyes?”

  “Do you always answer a question with a question?”

  “Cut the shit,” I clipped, reaching out for her again, this time lifting her chin with my index finger.

  Touch.

  I wanted to touch her.

  I needed it.

  I shook my head, raging against the need, trying to convince myself that it was the drugs fucking with me. I wanted to believe that deep inside me I was a good guy, that I had morals, maybe not many but enough to know touching her was fucking wrong.

  So fucking wrong.

  “You know what today is don’t you?” She asked, looking away for a moment before she turned back

  “Yeah,” I muttered, staring at her lower lip as it quivered slightly. “I know. Is that why you’re here? Checking in on your old man?”

  She lifted her eyes to mine.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Then tell me why.”

  She remained quiet as she studied my features. I opened my mouth to speak, but she shook her head, cocking it to the side as she laid her hand on my thigh and leaned close.

  “Does it ever go away?” She asked barely audible.

  I glanced down at her hand and closed my eyes as it burned a hole in my jeans, lighting my whole body on fire.

  Drugs man, they’ll fucking ruin you.

  Wreck you.

  Destroy you.

  I shoved her hand away, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “What are you doing, Lace?”

  “I asked you a question,” she said, her hand closing over my wrist. “Does it ever go away? Tell me it goes away Blackie, tell me this isn’t it,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with mine.

  “Does what go away?”

  “The pain,” she replied, tightening her hold on my wrist as she peered at me. “It doesn’t,” she said, answering her own question. “Look at you,” she added. “The pain never left you. It’s written all over your face, it’s there, alive in your eyes but the rest of you is dead.”

  “You in pain, Lace?” I asked hoarsely. “Came here looking for someone to make it go away?” I ground out.

  She shook her head.

  “I came here, hoping someone, anyone, would see me.”

  “I see you,” I said as her hand dropped from mine.

  “You see what I allow you to. No one sees the real me,” she whispered.

  She was going to fucking bury me.

  “Show me what you’re hiding,” I coaxed. “Take off your armor, peel back your mask and let me see you. Otherwise you’re going to let that shit tear you down. Pain is a bitch and it’ll swallow you whole if you let it.”

  “Like you did?” She snapped. “You haven’t let anyone in, never ‘peeled back your armor’, you never gave anyone your pain, never gave anyone a chance to take it away from you. You hang onto it like it’s an organ you need to survive.” She paused, sucking in a deep breath. “We’re not that different, Blackie. You and I, Leather and Lace, on the outside we’re total opposites but inside, deep down inside, we’re the same.”

  “God, I hope not,” I said, twisting in my stool as I stared at her.

  I wanted to hang on to the belief that there was still good in this world, still purity and it was there looking back at me.

  Then I saw her.

  The Lacey she hid behind, the fractured soul that was tortured by the pain no one knew existed in the sweet girl with the pretty smile.

  I saw her.

  And I wish I hadn’t.

  She wouldn’t just bury me.

  She’d own me.

  She’d make me wish I had given up the pain.

  She’d make me wish I was a better man.

  Someone who could take away her pain.

  A man fit to rescue her from her demons.

  She’d make me wish I wasn’t a fucking junkie with a death wish.

  She moved off her stool, stood in front of me and took one dangerous step toward me and then another, until
I felt her breath against my face.

  “Don’t,” I said.

  “Look at me,” she whispered.

  The addict in me surfaced, and I was drawn to her like any other toxic substance, lifting my eyes to hers.

  “Do you see me, Blackie?” She asked, taking my face in her hands, her fingertips brushing over the scruff hiding my face.

  She leaned closer, her lips just a breath away from mine.

  “Say it,” she demanded, as she pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth.

  I pushed back my stool, the legs dragging across the floor as I stood. Her eyes widened and her lips parted as she took a retreating step, backing herself up against the bar.

  Bury me, girl.

  Make it end.

  I braced one arm on either side of her and gripped the edge of the bar as I caged her in.

  “I see you,” I said huskily. I was about to add that I wished like hell I didn’t when her arms wrapped around my neck and her mouth came crashing down over mine. Her lips were frantic as they worked mine, begging me to respond, to give in to her and give her what she needed.

  I lifted my hands to her face, heard her moan against my mouth and then I did the one thing that would secure my place in hell and bring me there soon… I gave into the lethal temptation that was Lace.

  I slid my fingers roughly through her hair, tugging at the ends, forcing her to angle her head back and watched her eyes flutter open and look up at me.

  Bury me.

  Make it end.

  I crushed my mouth over hers, my tongue slid out and ran along the seam of her lips demanding entry. She opened for me and the high I was on from the drugs faded away and was replaced by a high induced by her taste. There was nothing sweet and innocent about the way I kissed her, or even how she responded. We kissed like we needed to, like it was our survival and maybe it was for her. But for me kissing her, it was my desperation to ruin myself.

  I had finally found a way out of this misery and it was wrapped around me, asking me to take away her pain. I grabbed her hips and lifted her up, her legs wrapped around my waist and her tits against my hard chest, awakening the beast inside of me.

  I fucked her mouth, creating a rhythm she easily adapted to as I started for the stairs. Her hands were everywhere, exploring my body over my clothes, before she threaded her fingers through my hair and pulled.

  Driven by the need to take her pain, to claim her as mine and secure my hell, I made my way up the stairs, slamming her back against the wall once we reached the landing. I squeezed the back of her neck and kissed her so deep, so fucking hard that she forgot whose air she was fucking breathing.

  My hands slid down her throat, over her tits, cupping them in my hands before snaking around and grabbing her ass—bringing her body flush against mine again. I stumbled back, find my balance and carried her down the hallway to my room. I kicked the door open with my boot and stepped inside, balancing her waith one arm I swiped my free hand across the desk and set her down on top of it.

  I pushed my hair back from my face and stared at her, my dick straining against the denim as my eyes dipped to her chest and watched as it rose and fell with each exasperated breath. She reached out, taking my shirt in her hands and pushed it over my chest. I reached with one arm, behind me and pulled the shirt over my head, letting my messy hair fall back into my face. Her fingers ran down my chest, over each tattoo that marked my skin, stopping to flick the barbell pierced through one of my nipples.

  I lifted my hands to the neck line of her shirt and pulled it apart, exposing her lace covered tits. I bent my head and closed my mouth over the lace, dragging the flimsy fabric down with my teeth until I freed one of her nipples.

  I took it between my teeth, sucked on it before running my tongue over it, as my hands dragged her pants down. I grazed her nipple one more time before leaning back and removing her pants completely. She was wearing a skimpy thong that barely covered her and when I leaned back to stare at her, really taking her in, she hooked her thumbs beneath the waist band and dragged the underwear down her legs.

  She would be my death.

  But I’d remember her in the depths of hell.

  The innocent girl with the sad eyes that begged me to take her pain away.

  I wasn’t sure if it was the drugs or my head playing fucking mind games with me but as I walked towards her, unbuttoning my jeans and freeing my throbbing cock, my eyes locked with hers and the pain faded from those dark eyes and was replaced with desire.

  I reached for her hips, pulling her to the edge of the desk and positioned myself between her legs. My head spun, my conscience resurrected as I wrapped my hand around my cock and peered at her through the hair that covered my eyes.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  Committing suicide.

  She lifted her hand to my face, brushing my hair away from my eyes and forced me to look at her.

  “Leather and Lace,” she whispered, covering my hand with her own.

  The thread of control I was grasping, finally frayed, and I grabbed her hands, pinning them to her sides as I closed my eyes and drove my dick deep inside of her. She screamed out, her head falling onto my shoulder as she remained perfectly still. I couldn’t move either; her fucking pussy was so tight. I turned my head just as she did and saw the tears in her eyes.

  Shit.

  I removed my hands that kept hers flat against the desk and started to pull out when she lifted her arms around my neck and held me close.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  I slowly pulled out and more carefully charged back in, repeatedly until I stretched her enough that I could slide in and out without killing us both. She arched her hips, and that was all the encouragement I needed to drive home, still, I restrained myself from all I wanted to do to her. I could fuck her until the sun rose, every which way, with my mouth, my cock and my fingers.

  Never stop fucking her.

  Because I was an addict, and I realized, balls deep in the sweetest, tightest pussy, I ever had wrapped around my dick, Lacey was my new drug.

  I’d never get enough.

  I wanted to stay high on her all the time.

  Until I fucking died.

  Bury me, girl.

  End me.

  I lost it. I fucking lost my mind and my control as I gripped her hips and pumped her harder and harder with each stroke until she was gasping for breath and I was coming. I heard the moan escape my lips as her pussy milked every drop from my dick.

  I fought for control, for breath, and for clarity. I felt her hands travel up my back to my neck and toy with the ends of my hair.

  Clarity came first.

  I had just fucked the girl I always tried to protect, to shelter from the darkness and now I was her darkness. I crossed a line in my quest to end my pain and took something I had no business having. I told myself I did it because I was searching for the end, the end of my life, the end of the suffering I liked to inflict upon myself. But, this, having her, taking her, it was just the beginning.

  I lifted my hands and pulled hers away from me.

  Breathe.

  I took a deep breath and pulled out of her and looked down at my cock, covered in my release and her blood, her fucking innocence.

  I lifted my eyes to her as she stared at my dick before meeting my gaze.

  “Blackie,” she started.

  The control never came.

  She didn’t have to say the words, the evidence was on me and reflected in her eyes.

  “You need to get the fuck out of here,” I growled, angry with her for not telling me, livid that I didn’t realize it first, disgusted by the realization I polluted the purest thing I had ever known.

  “It’s okay,” she struggled, as I backed away from her and she hopped off the desk. “I wanted that to happen. Blackie, don’t do that, don’t shut me out,” she begged as she reached for me.

  “Get dressed,” I ordered.

  “But—,” she argued.

/>   “GET DRESSED!”

  I turned my back to her, bending down to pick up my shirt and wipe the evidence of her and me from my cock before pulling up my pants. I didn’t turn around and look at her. I heard her sniffle, and shuffle around the room collecting her shit as I walked to my nightstand and grabbed a vile of heroin and a syringe I kept tucked away in my drawer.

  I filled the syringe before knotting the band around my arm and searched for a vein.

  “Blackie, please look at me,” she pleaded.

  “I’m done looking at you, Lace,” I said stabbing the tip of the needle into my arm before I glanced over my shoulder. “Get out!”

  I let the heroin drain from the needle into my veins as the door closed. I pulled the empty syringe from my arm and flicked it onto the nightstand before untying the band and covered my face with my hands, waiting for the numbness to inebriate me.

  Leather and Lace.

  Opposites.

  But the same torture lived inside.

  The door opened again, and I lifted my head, prepared to drag her out by her hair if I had to but came face to face with Riggs.

  “Get out,” I seethed.

  “You the reason Lacey just ran out of here crying?” The newly patched Knight questioned me.

  “What’s it to you?”

  I rose to my feet, stumbling as the drugs swarmed my system, and crossed my arms against my chest as I struggled to glare at him.

  He stepped closer, his eyes zeroed in on my arms before he lifted them to my face.

  “You’re using?”

  I uncrossed my arms and reached into my back pocket where my gun was tightly secured and brought it around, aiming it at him.

  “Get the fuck out of my room, Riggs,” I shouted, unlatching the safety.

  Bury me.

  End me.

  Chapter Three

  I prayed for death as I remained hunched over the toilet, ridding myself of the toxins that filled me but death never showed. I didn’t miss this feeling, the hopelessness, the regret, the way my body felt as if it was being torn in two. The alcohol never did this maybe because drinking was as natural to me as breathing and I barely got drunk anymore. I pushed through the agony, ignoring the debilitating headache and stood up, flushing the toilet as I gripped the wall and made my way to the shower stall. I didn’t bother turning on the hot water letting the ice cold water rain down on me.