She reached out and brushed her fingertips against my lips, before dragging them up to my cheek. “Different is beautiful, Cruz.”
“Even if it means I can’t restrain myself sometimes?” I asked, failing to keep the vulnerability out of my voice. “My kinks. The violence.” Leaning closer, I inhaled her neck. “My need to fuck you every second of the day and twice on Sundays.”
Her lashes fluttered before they lowered.
“You don’t have to answer that,” I told her, my voice dropping. “Just know that tonight, I needed you more than I needed air. And I don’t need you to fix me or try to make sense of it. I just need you to be here. To be my light in the dark even if there is so much shit we still need to figure out. I know I ain’t got a right to make his death about me, but losing Rev fucked up my center.” I swallowed past my desire when she adjusted herself in bed, my voice deepening when I added, “But having you here feels like my core is back.”
Her eyes watered a bit, deep emotions cracking through her expression. When she moved closer and pressed her forehead to mine, I breathed her in, holding my breath until she said, “Even if I leave The Omega House, you’ll always have me.”
And I knew she meant it.
Santari and I have always had a unique friendship, and even when I promised Rev I wouldn’t touch her, in the back of my mind, I kinda knew that would be the one promise I would have to break in our friendship.
Because I was fallin’. Hell, I felt like I had already sky-dived off the damn cliff and was close to landing on a bed of thorns androses. I couldn’t tell her though. Not yet. Our enemy was still out there, and Storm and Titan were waitin’ for me to take control and handle it, and I would. Except, I was scared shitless about what killing Baarbie would do to my state of mind.
Could I heal from that?
Santari had met Baarbie before he got hooked on shit. And while I hoped she could forgive me for killin’ my own flesh and blood—and for him being responsible for her brother not being here—I wasn’t sure she could accept that I liked to kill on Mondays. Rest on Tuesdays. On Wednesday, I fucked. Thursday, I tortured. Friday, I did mafia roulette to see what fun shit I was gettin’ into. And on Saturdays and Sundays, I put in heavy work at the club … and killed when I had to, and fucked when I needed it.
But, bruh, she been knew the type of nigga you are.So maybe I was overthinkin’ this shit.
For the first time all night, I let myself fuckin’ breathe until my need to kiss her was too overwhelming. She moaned into my mouth, tossing one of her legs over my hip at the same time that I pulled her closer. Yet, instead of me discarding her clothes, Santari was the one tugging at the fabric.
“What the fuck are you doin’?” I asked, my baritone voice causing her to freeze.
“I’m taking off my clothes,” she muttered, her voice soft and uncertain.
I chuckled, my hand moving to her neck as I ran my thumb in circles over her pulse. “I ain’t tell you to do that shit.”
Instead of getting pissed off, she smirked as if the joke was on me, prompting me to ask, “Did you finish reviewing the consent form?”
Her playful nod was slow and her eyes flirty.
“Well did you sign it?”
Once again, she nodded, seemingly pleased with herself, that teasing smirk tugging at her lips, completely oblivious to the fire she was playing with.
Underestimating me was where she fucked up. I was on her before she could finish, gripping her jaw and forcing her to look up at me. Her breath tethered when she realized I wasn’t as gentle as I had been moments prior.
“You don’t see what makes me too dangerous for you to tease like that?” My voice was primal because I was fed the fuck up. “Lemme make it clear for you, Ri. I ain’t the kinda nigga who gives warnings twice.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t try and pull herself out of my grasp. Instead, she smiled defiantly, everything in her behavior reckless as she dared me to break her when she asked, “And what if I don’t listen?”
I exhaled sharply, dragging my thumb over her bottom lip. “You’ve got such a pretty little mouth.” I dipped my thumb past her lips. “Perfect for suckin’ dick. I’ve always known that really. Wondered if you’d behave betta wit’ a dick in yo’ mouth to keep you from talkin’ outta pocket.”
This time, she did slightly tug away, but I just gripped harder. “Tsk, tsk, Ri. I’ve got plans for this face.”
I knelt on my knees, the springs in her bed announcing that I was up to no good. One hand pushed down my sleep shorts, while the other moved from her jaw to cup the back of her head as I gripped it hard, and pushed her mouth down to my dick before she could take her next breath.
Her anguished groan was music to my ears, as I relished in the softness of her satin head scarf beneath my fingers and that mouth that was so wet, but also untrained in a way that had her teeth grazing the sides of my dick.
“Shit, baby,” I huffed, my movements sporadic. “It’s coo’. I’ll train ya mouth to take my dick without gaggin’, but you ain’tgotta worry about ya teeth hurtin’ me. I’ll reward you if you break the skin and make me bleed.”
Ri squirmed beneath me, and I was sure she could barely breathe. But she signed the fuckin’ contract, so she knew damn well the kinda twisted shit I liked. Only because oxygen was important did I stop fuckin’ her mouth and ask, “Did you create a safe word to use wit’ me?”
She gave a small nod now that her mouth wasn’t full of my dick.
“What is it?”
