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He muffled my mouth shut with one hand for his roommate’s sake while continuing his torture until I was screaming into his palm and seeing stars. “If I could bottle that sound,” he chuckled, and threw me onto the bed, his erection at full mast fighting the fabric of his jeans.
“I didn’t know you then, and I sure as hell don’t know you now Cecilia. The only thing I’m certain I ever knew about you was how to make you come.”
“Let’s see if you can still make my favorite sound?”
“So wet,” he groaned. “Still waiting for me all this time?”
He removed his fingers and brought them to his lips before sucking them clean and said, “Maybe next time then,” before he winked my way.
“What are you doing?” I asked her while turning the key into the lock of the kennel door before pushing it open. “Making Serotonin,” she answered before getting herself right side up. “Being upside down makes me want to kill myself a little less.”
What they hadn’t realized was that they would have to do a lot more than just pluck away at my petals if they wanted me to wilt and die. I wasn’t a flower; I was the bronze fucking cow made in the shape of God in the heat of scorching fire. I was the statuette that mere mortals kneeled for reverence in hopes of a rainy day, and I was that same rain that bathed away their sins. I had forgotten the queen that I had been molded to become, so I would have to thank Ronan for the reminder.
It was time these fuckers dropped to their knees and worshiped.
When you were born to be queen of something that was covered in blood, violence, and money, well let’s just say even your personality wasn’t left up to chance.
My lips were sealed though, and I had the scars to prove there was nothing in this world that could make me crack under any amount of pressure. I was a fucking diamond when it came to my secrets.
That was my favorite part about him though, there was a tragedy buried so deep inside of Santo that the only way he knew how to heal it was to keep others from feeling it too. His easy-going façade was how he coped with his mistakes, and amusingly enough it was completely polar to my cold-bitch exterior I had to use for the same purposes.
I could already smell the difference between Mateo’s trademark pine and leather scent, to the peppery cedar of Ronan’s Bleu de Chanel. What I did know for certain was that Santo never came down here with them, because Santo smelled like gunpowder and smoke. Like his hands were either busy shooting a weapon or holding a lit cigarette.
My torture standards were apparently much higher than theirs, but I played along. I would let out a scream or two and earn their pity and get my ass back on that dry cot again.
“I could never leave you Cecilia, but I need to go home and sit with the fact that you will someday,”
We sat on a throne out of the skeletons from our past hoping we could muffle out their cries and screams.
Where Ronan was fire, consuming everything in his path -whether in passion, hatred or anguish- Mateo was an ocean waiting to pull me under until all that was left was waves upon waves of his current washing through me, slowly cleansing me of everything I once thought I was.
If Mateo was the ocean, Santo was the air. Everything about him was so light and free, and filled me with life like a lungful of the purest oxygen. Even when the past tried to weigh him down, he could rise above it.
If they were going to give me an inch, I would take a few fucking miles.
Yeah, Santo was looking at me like I was Lembas bread, and he was Frodo on his way to deliver the rings, but I knew it was just the dress.
“I’m no one’s prize. I’m the curse that slowly drains the life of those who come too close,”
“It’s hard when you don’t feel like you’re from anywhere. Nowhere that’s really yours anymore. Nowhere you can call home.”
“You called us home once.”
“I did.” I looked up at him and stared into his greenish caramel eyes. “And now he locks me in a box and brings my ghosts out to haunt me.”
He looked one hundred percent like a melt-my-panties-hot gang Boss and I had to send psychic messages to my vajayjay to stop bossing me around.
The kiss was like a jumpstart that my heart had been severely needing to bring me back to life, but there was so much pain in coming back from the dead. I knew he could taste it too.
The thought of being someone’s captive and receiving gifts I couldn’t really afford was a real fucking mind trip cherry on top of the stockholm sundae.
“Zerkos is just a heartbroken fucking idiot, and his pride is what gets in the way of you two, every time. That’s why you clash. But me? I’m doomed to never get to touch, or taste, or feel you. And to never have, is a greater curse than to have and to lose.”
She wasn’t just sunshine, she was the whole fucking Sun. So far, so Goddamn unreachable, and when I thought I was close enough to touch, I would burn instead. She was all my sins coming back to haunt me, to push me over the edge so that I would lose control.
“There are two ways I can get you out of that kennel.” I told her, “You can either start telling us the truth…” I stopped for a bit, but she urged me on with a look that told me that option was completely out of the question for her. “Or you go out there and tell Berserk you’re mine.”
“She hasn’t been your girl for a long-time brother. And if she had been mine, and walked in here for me she wouldn’t be sitting in a box downstairs. That’s for damn sure,”
Were we all destined from the beginning? Did none of our choices matter? Would we always end up in the path that was laid out for us?
Sometimes we were so burdened by the ghosts of our pasts that we didn’t realize we might not be the only ones who were haunted.
“Part of me is also afraid that letting anyone else in, might force me to stop loving him. I’m not ready to do that,”
She tasted like honey-dipped in shadow and I wanted to get lost in her darkness and be consumed by her void.
“I told you, I’m not letting you have it that easy,” she said, licking my blood off her lips like she was savoring the taste of my pain. “But you are going to let me keep having it,” I growled in her ears, more of a statement and less of a question. She didn’t agree but she didn’t deny it either.
We stayed like that, breathing heavily while we both found our way back to reality again. I didn’t care for it. It was filled with the ghosts of our love that guarded the crypt to our past, buried deep in its grave.
No woman had ever made me feel something. No woman could make me laugh or share ideas and thoughts with me. There had never been anyone I could let my walls down and open up to, no one I could just be myself with. Except for her. But she was never mine, and she never would be, and just the idea of speaking these heavy feelings out loud could risk burning down everything my brothers and I had worked to build.
