Page 67 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
And then he thrusts in hard and deep, filling me up, and driving the last scrap of innocence I had from me. It’s like a cleansing, an exorcism of sorts. Pleasure courses through me in waves, and I can feel my body clamping down around Grainger with a grip that’s a hundred times harder than his hand. He makes this sound that can’t be faked, this wild ecstasy that precedes his next thrust, sliding almost entirely out of me before ramming his hips forward again.
There are no words left in me, no quips, no witty repartee. I’m full, completely and entirely filled with Grainger and his heat, his cock, his hatred. And that last part, that’s the most exciting bit of all.
My lips quiver, but I can’t get the words out—more, harder, faster. He seems lost, too, in total oblivion as he grinds into me like he’s got a vendetta. There’s a slight bit of pain edging the pleasure, but not much. I might be a virgin, but I know how to masturbate, and I’ve done plenty of it. Still, there’s something so different about sharing your body with another person, this intimate edge that I resist at the same time I embrace it.
The bed creaks beneath us as Grainger moves inside of me with long, deep strokes, pulling all the way out before he moves back in again. I feel like a bowstring, pulled taut, ready to snap.
And then the door opens, and there’s Sin, standing there with his mouth hanging open.
Crap, right before I pushed Grainger, he’d unlocked the door. We never locked it again.
“What the fuck?!” Sin snarls, just as the storm picks up and the power … abruptly goes out. Sin moves into the room, reaching for Grainger like he plans on picking a fight. Grainger slaps his hand away and gives him a look that I can just barely see limned in the glow from the solar-powered porchlight.
“If you touch me, I will break your face,” Cade snaps, his voice on edge. “You don’t interrupt a man while he’s fucking.” My face is on fire, but I’m turned on by his words anyway. I shouldn’t be, maybe, but I really am. I must be a masochist and a sadist all wrapped up in one messed-up package.
“Gidget isn’t some club-whore, Grainger! This is Cat’s daughter.” Sin’s voice drops to this low, dangerous point, turning the darkness into a shadowy pit of violence and need. There’s some of that in his voice, too, regret and want.
“I want oblivion,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I strain against Grainger’s grip and find that he really means business. I’m not getting out of this unless I specifically ask him to stop for good. Even then … “Cade is giving it to me. Leave us alone.” My face flames as Sin gapes at the pair of us, looking like he both wants to kill Grainger … and fuck me. Lifting his beer to his lips, Sin downs it one go, and I realize that the slight quaver in his voice is a sign that he’s drunk off his ass.
Grainger turns back to me, looking down at me through the darkness, and then he begins to move again, mercilessly, hard and fast and hateful. He fucks me until his muscles tense with the effort of holding back.
Sin watches the whole thing, eyes on me as Grainger comes with a low, violent groan, pumping into me a few last times before rolling off with a curse. Meanwhile, he leaves me rife with heat and want, desperate for another orgasm, like the one I had in the bathroom.
“Jesus, are you still here?” Grainger snaps, giving Sin a dark look that I can’t quite read in the shadows. “Thinking of taking a turn?” He smirks, snapping off the condom and chucking it into the wastebasket at the end of my bed.
“You deranged psycho,” Sin snaps, but when I sit up, our eyes meet, and I realize with a thundering heart that I’d do it, that I’d fuck him, too. He grabs my half-empty beer from the side table, and throws that back, too. His eyes, though, they never leave my face.
Closing my legs, I rub my thighs together, feeling my own wetness slick and hot on my skin.
“You promised me,” I whisper, voice broken with lust. “Don’t be a total dick about it.”
Sin stares me down, and then curses under his breath, sharp, hot sounds that I can barely hear. But when he turns back to me, I can see it in his eyes: he wants to do this. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself.
“If you touch her,” Grainger says, his voice tinged with malignant intent, “I will end you.”
My blood goes cold with the sound of violence in his voice … and then white-hot with a bizarre mixture of rage and lust. That was hot, what he just said, I think, exhaling sharply, but at the same time, he doesn’t own me. And he doesn’t want me either, that much is clear.
