Page 77 of Twisted Heathens
I try to advance, but she raises her hand in warning.
“No. I said no.”
The words are clawing at my throat, so damn close but stuck behind that invisible barrier. Brooklyn shakes her head and disappears into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, leaving me standing there in the dark room. Anger fills the silence and matches the brewing storm in my mind.
The shower clicks on. I shouldn’t go in there, her refusal was clear. The front door is right there. A better man would walk through it and never return, just like she wants. But fuck that, I never claimed to be a good person.
I slip into the steam-filled room against my better judgement. She stands under the spray, hands braced against the wall as sobs wrack her body. I stand there staring, enraptured by her pain. She turns and stares, somehow unsurprised that I followed her.
“Fuck off, Eli,” she croaks.
I shake my head.
“Leave me alone! I don’t want you here.”
I shake my head again.
“Why won’t you talk to me? Just say it! Say that you’re disgusted by me.” Brooklyn sucks in a pained breath, her rage rapidly spiralling. “Say that you hate me. Don’t just stand there looking all pitying and shit.”
I take a tentative step closer. Softly sliding the door open and stepping into the warm spray, fully clothed. Her back hits the wall as I crowd the small space, her bare breasts brushing against my soaked t-shirt.
“You don’t fucking give up, do you?”
This time, I answer with a kiss. Brushing my lips against hers so gently, like one wrong move and she’ll break. I want her to break. Fall apart in my arms. Cling to me like a lifeboat. Nobody has ever needed me. What would it be like to be wanted?
She grabs a handful of my hair, her lips firm against mine. Our tongues tangle as my hands roam her body, gliding across scarred skin to cup her butt. She’s kissing me like I’m the air she breathes and I’ve never felt so fucking alive.
“Off,” she orders.
All signs of resistance are gone as she tugs my shirt. I freeze, my body flush with ice-cold dread. I can’t let her see what’s hidden beneath. She can never know how damaged I really am. Backing away, I try to escape the shower as she pursues me, no longer running or afraid.
I’m the prey, and she’s here to devour me whole.
“I said off.”
My hand scrabbles with the handle, desperate to escape.
“I thought you wanted this?”
We’ve fucked, but she’s never seen me. Not fully. There’s no turning back from that. All I can do is stare into her hooded eyes, hoping she can sense the fear in me.
Brooklyn’s bruised forehead meets mine. Nose to nose, inhaling each other in a moment that feels infinite. “You don’t need to be afraid, Eli. Not from me. Please, trust me.”
Her hands grasp the hem of my shirt, dragging it up inch by inch. I’m on the precipice and about to plummet to my demise as she strips me off. Her gaze eats up my twisted flesh, more scar tissue than actual skin. I don’t need to look. I know it snakes all around my torso, across my shoulders and dips into the waistband of my jeans.
Understanding flickers across her face. “Fire?” she murmurs.
I swallow. Try to breathe. Lick my lips. Nod my head.
You’re a sinner, Elijah.
This is what sinners deserve. Fire cleanses everything.
The smoke in my nose is too real, infecting my senses and blocking out reality. It isn’t until she unbuckles my jeans and frees my dick that I come back slightly. Brooklyn spares me a knowing glance as she falls to her knees in the shower, mouth secured to my hard length. Bobbing, sucking, licking; she invades my mind with sensations that refuse to be ignored.
The fire in my mind rescinds as I latch onto the feel of her mouth around me. Hitting the back of her throat, I brace my arms against the wall. My breath hisses from between my teeth and when I’m on the verge of coming down her throat, I yank her up. Back against the wall and legs wrapped around my waist, she’s breathing hard as my fingers tug on her clit. She’s so fucking wet.
“Eli…” she cries when I thrust inside in one slick move.