Page 81 of The Devils They Are
I'm still needed.
I still want to live.
Somewhere in my hazed, adrenaline-fueled rush, I lose track of my control, my fist connecting with Rylan's jaw harder than anticipated. He stops instantly, rubbing his jaw with an amused look.
"Jesus, Spencer. You have a mean right hook."
"Shit." I step forward, pulling his hand down to survey the damage. Thankfully, it's just a pink mark, but it's probably going to bruise a bit. "I didn't mean to hit you so hard."
I let out a squeak when Rylan snakes his arm around my body, pulling me flush against him. My eyes widen when I realize just how little he cares about his face, erection pressing into my thigh.
There's a small calm before the storm, the two of us staring at each other. It's electrifying, and I'm not sure who moves first, but when our lips smash into each other, I find I don't care.
Our teeth clash together in our intensity, tongues battling for dominance as my hands waste no time in slipping down the waistband of Rylan's shorts. I grasp his hardened cock, stroking him from tip to shaft as his lips trail down my jaw, feasting on my neck.
The rest of our clothes get thrown around the ring, creating a makeshift circle around us. Rylan's foot attempts to sweep me off my feet, but I quickly turn the tables, swinging him around until he lands with a heavy thud on the floor.
Straddling him, I hold him down, my hands pressing against his rock-hard chest. Rylan doesn't fight me though, his own hand slipping past mine to grip his cock. I feel it pressing against my entrance and I slam myself down, impaling my body with his.
Rylan hisses softly, hands gripping my hips. I roll my body, little gasps of pleasure mixing with his rugged breathing. It feels like we're back in his truck again, two dominant forces, and once again, he's giving me control—like he knows it's what I need.
Raising myself on my knees, I slowly draw him out before sliding back down. It's agonizing for both of us, but the speed keeps me level-headed. I don't get lost in a frenzy. And when his head tips back, eyes closing tight, I realize he needs it too. We're almost cut from the same cloth, except his is designer while mine is thrift store. There's nothing wrong with our differences, and I think we're both starting to see that. Here, we're taking what we need—polar opposites.
I need control as much as I need pain. The unwavering desire to feel a hold of something is all I have left to cling to right now, while Rylan clearly needs someone else to take the reins for a minute.
We're perfect, in complete unison as our hips smash together. We chase our releases as one, my nails digging into his chest as I start to feel the coil tighten in my stomach.
"Bexley," he says, deep and low, and already I know what he's asking. Not realizing my eyes had fluttered shut, they open, locking with his. And when I come, I don't hold back, letting him see everything wash over my face—the pleasure, the destruction, the agony. It's all one, and I allow myself a reprieve to enjoy a moment of weakness in the safety of his tight grip.
As soon as my orgasm finishes, Rylan is right there with me, groaning deep in his throat as his hips finally jolt up, taking control as he falls over the blissful edge.
Flattening myself against his chest, I feel the thudding of his rapid heartbeat through his chest. It's soothing, hearing it beat, and a tear slips out and splashes onto his skin.
He doesn't point it out or make a big deal of it though. His arms wrap around my back, holding me against him while I silently cry.
And there, in our new ring where we will return as enemies, I find some short lived peace.
Chapter twenty-nine
Bexley
"What'sthat?"Iask,amused.
I shove back a laugh as Soph frantically waves a flyer in my face. Arch and I are at our usual lunch table on Friday in the cafeteria, joined by Parker, Millie, and Abby. They don't seem surprised either at Soph's insane arrival, Arch moving down to make room on the bench next to me.
"It's our annual dance," Soph replies, throwing herself into the space. "You have to come. Please."
"A dance?" Abby gasps excitedly, and Soph squeals at her enthusiasm. New friendship incoming.
Arch starts choking on his Caesar salad, reaching for his bottle of water as he attempts to clear his airway. That boy will do just about anything Abby asks, but dancing? That's going to take some convincing. For as long as I've known Archie, he's had a strict no dancing policy. Go figure that he ends up in a relationship with a cheerleader.
"It's themed too," Soph says, elbowing me. "You have to come, Bex. I've never been and it's our last year here."
"Why haven't you been?" I ask, deflecting. Me and dancing? I'm kind of on Arch's team here. Pretty certain I was born with two left feet and the last thing I need is to fall over in front of everyone at Willowbrook.
Soph falls quiet for a second, seemingly embarrassed. "I didn't have anyone to go with. But now I do! You'll come, right?" she turns to Abby. "New person…"
Abby laughs warmly. "I'm Abby. And you are?"
