I Was Born Ruined

by Stunich, C. M.

  “You’re right,” I say with a sigh, leaning my shoulder into him in search of comradery. “I’m in no place to judge anyone.” Standing out here in the quiet and the cool and the shadows, I can think a bit more clearly, past the blow and the booze. “It was kinda fucked of me to hit on Grainger after I, you know, kissed you.”

  “You don’t owe me shit. We aren’t going steady. This isn’t fucking high school, Gidge.” Sin smokes his cigarette, still not looking at me. When I reach over and run my nails down his bare arm though, he shivers and flicks that silver gaze in my direction. There’s a flare of heat there that he tries to hide, but I catch it and hold onto it, leaning close and putting my lips near the corner of his mouth. I want oblivion tonight, and I caught of glimpse of it in the bathroom with Grainger. I need more.

  “Nobody said anything about going steady,” I whisper, trailing my lips down the line of his jaw and then working my way back toward his ear. “I just want to fuck.” My teeth nibble his earlobe as my right hand drops down and slides over the bulge in his jeans. Oh yes. He’s hard for me. Bet he’s been hard for me all night.

  “Grainger’s inside,” Sin says, his voice husky and dark with lust. He reaches down and captures my wrist, pushing my hand away. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to help.”

  “Seriously?” I choke, thinking about that hot and wild moment against the tree. He damn near fucked me then, but I’m no good now? My lips purse into a tight frown, and I reach out, popping Sin’s button open before he has a chance to stop me. He turns to look at me, raising his brows, the lines of silver hoops he wears along the edge of his right ear catching the moonlight. “Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

  “Isn’t that what I just implied?” he growls out, reaching down to capture my wrist. “Screw off, Gidge.”

  “You’re just being salty,” I snap, refusing to budge from my position. “If I told you I’d drop to my knees right now and suck your dick, you’d say yes, please.”

  Sin’s brows go up, and a smirk crawls across his face.

  “Really?” he asks, his voice darkening. Sin steps toward me, putting the toes of his boots right up against mine. “Because I’m calling your bluff.” His mouth curves to the side in challenge, gray eyes sparkling. “You want to fuck me, Gidge? Then get on your knees and suck me off, right here.”

  Pretty sure Sin doesn’t actually think I’ll do it.

  Asshole.

  I don’t back down from a challenge, especially not one that I started.

  Slowly, I begin to kneel down, but I keep my eyes locked on his, watching the silver moonlight play across his short, dark hair. When my fingers reach for his fly, he doesn’t stop me. Sin stares at me as I free his cock from his jeans, taking him into my hands like I actually know what I’m doing. I don’t, but it can’t be that hard, right?

  Posey always used to say that men were the easiest puzzles in the world to solve: they only have one piece and that’s their dick.

  My fingers curl around the base of his shaft while my too-red lips smear color across the head, teasing him with the barest flick of my tongue in his slit. His breath rushes out, and he mumbles a string of curses that even I have to admit are creative. I continue my slow, languorous kissing and licking down his length, using my left hand to tease his balls.

  There’s a salty taste on the tip of my tongue when I put my mouth around the tip and suck, keeping my gaze locked on his. Sin watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, his breathing speeding up as I take as much of him as I can into my mouth, surrounded by other Daybreakers and their—for lack of a better word—dates. And by dates, what I really mean is groupies, club-whores, and old ladies. The club isn’t exactly the best place for a young feminist to find her footing.

  Only … I don’t care about that anymore. I don’t care about anything except running from the sadness and obliterating the anger. Everyone keeps saying that I need to deal with my feelings, that things’ll get easier, but they don’t. They fucking don’t, no matter how much I try, no matter how long I lie in bed wishing for a life worth living. My sisters’ absence in my life isn’t getting filled. Instead, it’s gaping, the sides caving in, until there’s nothing but a widemouthed hole to hell in the middle of my heart.

  Closing my eyes, I take Sin all the way in, until he bumps the back of my throat. The sounds he makes are criminal, delicious, as rich and thick as molasses. His fingers curl in my hair, not rough, but needy. There’s a different sort of pleasure in working him, one that distracts me from my dark thoughts, but not enough. Not quite enough. So I drop my hand between my thighs, reaching up beneath my skirt and finding the molten heat that Grainger left me with. Using my own excitement as lube, I tease and play with my clit until it’s swollen and hard, an aching nub beneath the rough whorls of my fingertips.

  Moans escape my throat and get lost around the length of Sin’s shaft, and I end up working him as hard and fast as I’m working myself. I get so lost in the pleasure that I almost miss that critical moment when his hand tightens on my head, his hips bucking, his hot seed spilling across my tongue.

  As soon as Sin comes, he pulls back, almost like he’s in shock

  He looks down at me like he’s never seen me before, watching as I lick the last of his taste from my lips, shaking with need and still desperate for more. More, more, more. I don’t care what it is: drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex. I’m not done for the night.

  Sin fixes his pants as I rise to my feet, but neither of us gets a chance to speak because suddenly Crown is just there, and I’m praying to whatever dark and decrepit gods will listen that he didn’t see anything. Based on his expression, I don’t think so. He’d be a lot more pissed off if he had.

  “We’ve got orders from Cat,” he says, looking from me to Sin. “Full escort for Gidget back to the house.”

  “Too little, too late,” I murmur, feeling my heart crash to my stomach like a block of ice, frigid splinters cutting me to pieces. The last thing I want to do is leave the wild energy of the clubhouse and all its vices, so I can head home to the place my sisters took their last breaths.

  “Who else?” Sin asks, but he doesn’t have to wait for an answer because I see Grainger and Beast making their way toward us.

  The full cavalry, all of my father’s officers.

  If he’s sending me home with four bodyguards, there must be trouble brewing around town.

  I almost hope it kills me this time.

  That Same Night …

  My head is swimming, and it takes every bit of focus I have to keep my arms around Sin’s waist on the ride home. A princess surrounded by her honor-guard, I think as the bikes keep a tight formation down the length of our suburban street. The thought makes me chuckle, and Sin stiffens up a bit. Maybe he’s remembering what an amazing, fucking BJ I just gave him? Or maybe he’s remembering that he promised to fuck me if I did it.

  Though how we’re going to get a moment alone with Beast, Crown, and Grainger here is beyond me.

  I groan as we pull into the driveway, and I see Nellie’s new Cadillac Escalade sitting there. Damn it. I hadn’t seen her at the clubhouse party, but I was hoping she’d be there, so I could avoid her unnerving stares, uncomfortable touches, and tangible desperation. Maybe you should’ve been a better mom when all your kids were alive, huh? It’s too little, too late with Nellie. And really, it’s just wrong, selling her two-seater convertible and getting an SUV, like she still has three daughters to drive around instead of just one.

  “Hey,” Sin says after we come to a stop, pulling his helmet off and turning to look at me over his shoulder. “We should keep what happened at the clubhouse between us.”

  My brows go up.

  “Really? You don’t want me telling my mom and dad that I sucked your dick tonight? Shocking.” With a dramatic eyeroll, I climb off and toss Sin my helmet, heading for the front door with Crown on my heels.

  “Beast, check the property. Grainger, secure the doors and windows.” Crown is barki
ng orders, nothing unusual about that. I find the front door unlocked and roll my eyes. Nellie is such an idiot. The mafia that killed her daughters is in town, and the bitch couldn’t bother to lock the damn door? Not that it matters. My sisters and I had all the doors and windows locked, the security system on, a whole host of guns at our fingertips. Didn’t matter.

  Queenie still bled out on that floor; Posey still died from three gunshots to the chest and abdomen.

  “Sin, take Gidget to her room.” I turn around and walk backwards toward the kitchen, giving Sin a look that he returns with a glare. He’s not enjoying himself, and it’s pissing me off. A frown creases my mouth as I spin and head for the fridge, pulling out a six-pack of beer before making for the stairs.

  “Yes, sir,” Sin says, and I swear there’s a bit of sarcasm in that. Crown chooses not to acknowledge it, waiting for the two of us to ascend the steps. Sin closes and locks the door behind us, putting his back to the wood and closing his eyes as he exhales sharply. When he opens those beautiful gray eyes of his, I offer up a beer. There’s a slight hesitation on his part before he takes it. “What are you doing, Gidget?”

  “Taking the party home with me,” I tell him, turning Eminem’s Kamikaze album on full-blast. It’s just angry enough to soothe the writhing demons in my soul. That edginess, that itch I felt earlier is still there with melancholy crouching on the balcony, waiting to strike at the first sign of weakness. No, I want to stay angry. There’s no way in hell I’m dropping into that dark hole of pain again. “Besides, you owe me.”

  “Owe you?” Sin asks, scoffing as he sips some of his beer. He’s always so angry with me, but not like Grainger; it’s a deeper, more personal anger with Sin. Why? What the fuck did I ever do? “I don’t owe you shit, Gidge.”

  “You said if I sucked you off then you’d fuck me,” I tell him, popping the top on my own beer and leveling a dark look on Sin. He returns it, like he thinks he’s so much more badass than me.

  “Lesson learned,” he tells me without flinching. “When a guy tells you he’ll do something for you if you suck him off, don’t believe him. One hundred percent of the time, it’s bullshit.”

  My nostrils flare, and I feel a hot, white rage come over me. Sin just glances away and mumbles something rude under his breath.

  “You think you’ve got me cornered?” I ask, slamming my beer down on the side table next to my bed. The sound draws Sin’s eyes over to me. “How about I call Daddy and tell him what happened tonight? Do you think he’d like that, to hear that you lied to get me to suck your dick?”

  “You’d bring his wrath down on you, too,” Sin says, narrowing his eyes at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t I? He told me tonight I may as well be a whore in training if that’s what I want. But do you really think he’ll forgive you so easily for giving in? Because I don’t.” Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I kick off my boots. Somewhere inside of me, there’s a teenage girl with tears on her lashes wondering why I’m doing this, blackmailing some guy who doesn’t even want me into taking my virginity. It’s not fair; it’s not right.

  And yet … I’m going to do it anyway.

  I lift my eyes up to Sin.

  “You will fuck me,” I say, thinking that at sixteen years old, I’ve got this twenty-something a-hole wrapped around my little finger.

  Sin smirks at me, like he feels sorry for me. That anger inside of me amps up to unbearable levels, burning my insides and turning what little there is that’s left of Gidget Kesselring into ash and embers.

  “How about I don’t, and we both see what happens when you tell Cat?” Sin asks, pushing off of the wall and unlocking my door. He pauses as he runs into Grainger, stepping aside to let the King of Assholes into my room.

  I’m fuming, my eyes on the floor, my fingers curled into fists on my bedspread. Pretty sure my cheeks are bright as fuck red.

  Grainger closes the door and locks it after Sin leaves, standard procedure. I ignore him as he checks the windows, leaving the one behind my bed for last. When he puts his knee on the mattress, I’m thrown off balance and end up tumbling into him.

  “I heard what you said,” he tells me, and my heart freezes in my chest, eyes flicking up to his brown ones in a panic. Sin was right to call my bluff. I’m too wary of Cat’s wrath to tell him anything about what happened between me and Sin. “What are you doing? Are you stupid?”

  “What does me trying to get laid have anything to do with my intelligence?” I fire back as Grainger grunts in satisfaction that the window’s locked, and stands back up. All the places I touched him when I rolled into him are burning, like my body’s remembering the delicious press of his fingers into my core.

  “If you keep trying to throw your virginity away like that, eventually someone will take you up on the offer.” Grainger changes his mind about the window, cracks it open, and then proceeds to light up a cigarette. I used to smoke in here all the time with Posey, but after she died, Nellie started getting on my ass about it. Guess it makes her feel like a mom to bitch about shit like that. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s never really been a mother to me, not in the ways that count.

  “Thanks for the advice,” I schmooze, touching my chest in mocking deference. “I mean, you are the consummate expert on offering sex to anyone that asks. But hey, at least I don’t have to worry about you volunteering. I saw your face when you realized who I was. What was it you said to me: do you know how much trouble you could’ve gotten me in? Alas, I’m still sixteen years old.”

  Grainger cringes like I’ve struck him, scowling as if his face is permanently painted in unpleasantness. He runs his fingers through his hair. I don’t know what that haircut’s called, that short-on-the-sides, long-on-the-top thing but it suits him. It’s handsome, but still edgy. Aaaand, I hate that I’m paying so much attention to the bastard’s hair.

  “Would you stop saying that?” he snaps, ashing his cigarette out the window. I popped the screen out a long time ago for that exact purpose. “You might be sixteen, but you look twenty-five, and you talk like a fifty year old woman.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I snort, wishing I had the guts to ask for more. More blow, more booze, more … of what he gave me in the bathroom? Leaning back into my pillows, I tuck my legs underneath me, my skirt hiking up and revealing a whole hell of a lot of my torn fishnet tights. Grainger’s eyes catch the movement, and I see his pupils track the movement of my hemline. “You ever heard the Bible quote about making man in God’s image?”

  “Do I look like I’ve heard many Bible quotes?” Grainger asks, lifting his gaze from my thighs and letting it linger on the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts, and then finally landing on my face. Is he … checking me out? But nah, this is Cade Grainger. He’s a fucking jerk. No, no, he’s the King of Jerks. And yet, how could I possibly mistake the lustful glimmer in his eyes? “Well, what the fuck does it say?”

  “Are you always this goddamn rude?” I snap back, feeling heat suffuse my chest. It’s a different type of heat from what Sin brings though, a burn that makes me slightly uncomfortable. “I was getting to that.” Exhaling sharply, I push my hair back from my face and try to imagine Reba’s Southern drawl in my head. “Genesis 1:27: Let Us make man in Our image, after Our likeness, to rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, and over all the earth itself and every creature that crawls upon it.”

  I exhale sharply, surprised that I remembered it word for word. Maybe I shouldn’t be, considering how often Reba quotes it to me. She’s a real character, that one. And one of only a few people who know how to sit beside me in my darkest moments and wait it out. If she knew what I were up to tonight, she would not approve.

  “What does that have to do with you wanting to get fucked?” Grainger asks, and I grit my teeth. I swear, I hate everything about him: the sound of his voice, the way he plays with his lip rings, the stupid shit he says.

  “You are so
frigging impatient,” I grumble as he pulls a silver bullet necklace out from under his shirt and unscrews the top. The hell is that for? Ignoring him, I continue on with my story. “Let me make Gidget in my image, after my likeness, to rule over the depraved and the ruined, over the broken, and over the darkness itself and every asshole that crawls around in it. That’s the devil’s version of that quote. And by devil, I mean Cat.”

  “Wow, clever,” Grainger says with an eyeroll. “Is this what you do in your spare time, fuck-up the Bible with your sinful, little tongue? You think you’re poison because of your dad? If anything, you should feel lucky to be made in his image. The man’s a legend.” Grainger gestures at me with a tattooed hand. “Here, use those long witch nails of yours and make yourself useful.” I narrow my eyes, but I have no idea what he wants, and my face must show it. He scowls, and holds the open bullet necklace out to me. “Use that long-ass fucking pinky nail of yours to pick up a bump and snort it.” Grainger spits the words at me like I’m a moron, and mimes the motion. Oh. There’s like, fucking cocaine in there.

  Running my tongue across my lower lip, I do what he says, scooping up a bit of white powder under my shiny, black pinky nail, and snorting it like I do this every damn day. My brain lights up with colors, and the drug burns like fire through my sinuses. Oh my God, that feels good. “My turn,” he says, voice low and dark.

  I dip my nail back into the bullet, scooping up another tiny portion; butterflies take over my stomach when Grainger grabs my wrist in a rough grip, lifting it to his face, and running his tongue along the length of my finger before taking the hit. He releases me abruptly, snatching the necklace back and tucking it away again, like there’s nothing brewing between us, no violent, turbulent heat simmering like virulent sin.