Lethal Temptations (Tempted #5) (5 page)

I fucked her mouth, creating a rhythm she easily adapted to as I started for the stairs. Her hands were everywhere, exploring my body over my clothes, before she threaded her fingers through my hair and pulled.

Driven by the need to take her pain, to claim her as mine and secure my hell, I made my way up the stairs, slamming her back against the wall once we reached the landing. I squeezed the back of her neck and kissed her so deep, so fucking hard that she forgot whose air she was fucking breathing.

My hands slid down her throat, over her tits, cupping them in my hands before snaking around and grabbing her ass—bringing her body flush against mine again. I stumbled back, find my balance and carried her down the hallway to my room. I kicked the door open with my boot and stepped inside, balancing her waith one arm I swiped my free hand across the desk and set her down on top of it.

I pushed my hair back from my face and stared at her, my dick straining against the denim as my eyes dipped to her chest and watched as it rose and fell with each exasperated breath. She reached out, taking my shirt in her hands and pushed it over my chest. I reached with one arm, behind me and pulled the shirt over my head, letting my messy hair fall back into my face. Her fingers ran down my chest, over each tattoo that marked my skin, stopping to flick the barbell pierced through one of my nipples.

I lifted my hands to the neck line of her shirt and pulled it apart, exposing her lace covered tits. I bent my head and closed my mouth over the lace, dragging the flimsy fabric down with my teeth until I freed one of her nipples.

I took it between my teeth, sucked on it before running my tongue over it, as my hands dragged her pants down. I grazed her nipple one more time before leaning back and removing her pants completely. She was wearing a skimpy thong that barely covered her and when I leaned back to stare at her, really taking her in, she hooked her thumbs beneath the waist band and dragged the underwear down her legs.

She would be my death.

But I’d remember her in the depths of hell.

The innocent girl with the sad eyes that begged me to take her pain away.

I wasn’t sure if it was the drugs or my head playing fucking mind games with me but as I walked towards her, unbuttoning my jeans and freeing my throbbing cock, my eyes locked with hers and the pain faded from those dark eyes and was replaced with desire.

I reached for her hips, pulling her to the edge of the desk and positioned myself between her legs. My head spun, my conscience resurrected as I wrapped my hand around my cock and peered at her through the hair that covered my eyes.

What the fuck was I doing?

Committing suicide.

She lifted her hand to my face, brushing my hair away from my eyes and forced me to look at her.

“Leather and Lace,” she whispered, covering my hand with her own.

The thread of control I was grasping, finally frayed, and I grabbed her hands, pinning them to her sides as I closed my eyes and drove my dick deep inside of her. She screamed out, her head falling onto my shoulder as she remained perfectly still. I couldn’t move either; her fucking pussy was so tight. I turned my head just as she did and saw the tears in her eyes.

Shit.

I removed my hands that kept hers flat against the desk and started to pull out when she lifted her arms around my neck and held me close.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

I slowly pulled out and more carefully charged back in, repeatedly until I stretched her enough that I could slide in and out without killing us both. She arched her hips, and that was all the encouragement I needed to drive home, still, I restrained myself from all I wanted to do to her. I could fuck her until the sun rose, every which way, with my mouth, my cock and my fingers.

Never stop fucking her.

Because I was an addict, and I realized, balls deep in the sweetest, tightest pussy, I ever had wrapped around my dick, Lacey was my new drug.

I’d never get enough.

I wanted to stay high on her all the time.

Until I fucking died.

Bury me, girl.

End me.

I lost it. I fucking lost my mind and my control as I gripped her hips and pumped her harder and harder with each stroke until she was gasping for breath and I was coming. I heard the moan escape my lips as her pussy milked every drop from my dick.

I fought for control, for breath, and for clarity. I felt her hands travel up my back to my neck and toy with the ends of my hair.

Clarity came first.

I had just fucked the girl I always tried to protect, to shelter from the darkness and now
I
was her darkness. I crossed a line in my quest to end my pain and took something I had no business having. I told myself I did it because I was searching for the end, the end of my life, the end of the suffering I liked to inflict upon myself. But, this, having her, taking her, it was just the beginning.

I lifted my hands and pulled hers away from me.

Breathe.

I took a deep breath and pulled out of her and looked down at my cock, covered in my release and her blood, her fucking innocence.

I lifted my eyes to her as she stared at my dick before meeting my gaze.

“Blackie,” she started.

The control never came.

She didn’t have to say the words, the evidence was on me and reflected in her eyes.

“You need to get the fuck out of here,” I growled, angry with her for not telling me, livid that I didn’t realize it first, disgusted by the realization I polluted the purest thing I had ever known.

“It’s okay,” she struggled, as I backed away from her and she hopped off the desk. “I wanted that to happen. Blackie, don’t do that, don’t shut me out,” she begged as she reached for me.

“Get dressed,” I ordered.

“But—,” she argued.

“GET DRESSED!”

I turned my back to her, bending down to pick up my shirt and wipe the evidence of her and me from my cock before pulling up my pants. I didn’t turn around and look at her. I heard her sniffle, and shuffle around the room collecting her shit as I walked to my nightstand and grabbed a vile of heroin and a syringe I kept tucked away in my drawer.

I filled the syringe before knotting the band around my arm and searched for a vein.

“Blackie, please look at me,” she pleaded.

“I’m done looking at you, Lace,” I said stabbing the tip of the needle into my arm before I glanced over my shoulder. “Get out!”

I let the heroin drain from the needle into my veins as the door closed. I pulled the empty syringe from my arm and flicked it onto the nightstand before untying the band and covered my face with my hands, waiting for the numbness to inebriate me.

Leather and Lace.

Opposites.

But the same torture lived inside.

The door opened again, and I lifted my head, prepared to drag her out by her hair if I had to but came face to face with Riggs.

“Get out,” I seethed.

“You the reason Lacey just ran out of here crying?” The newly patched Knight questioned me.

“What’s it to you?”

I rose to my feet, stumbling as the drugs swarmed my system, and crossed my arms against my chest as I struggled to glare at him.

He stepped closer, his eyes zeroed in on my arms before he lifted them to my face.

“You’re using?”

I uncrossed my arms and reached into my back pocket where my gun was tightly secured and brought it around, aiming it at him.

“Get the fuck out of my room, Riggs,” I shouted, unlatching the safety.

Bury me.

End me.

Chapter Three

I prayed for death as I remained hunched over the toilet, ridding myself of the toxins that filled me but death never showed. I didn’t miss this feeling, the hopelessness, the regret, the way my body felt as if it was being torn in two. The alcohol never did this maybe because drinking was as natural to me as breathing and I barely got drunk anymore. I pushed through the agony, ignoring the debilitating headache and stood up, flushing the toilet as I gripped the wall and made my way to the shower stall. I didn’t bother turning on the hot water letting the ice cold water rain down on me.

I leaned my forehead against the tiles and closed my eyes as the pellets hit my back. Flashes of the needle sticking out of my arm haunted me first, quickly replaced with the prettiest face I ever laid eyes on. Even with the torment reflected in her eyes she still made me forget the shit I was and the man I felt I could be whenever I was with her.

I was addicted to the aura of Lacey as much as I was to any illegal substance. Drugs became a crutch in my life binding me to the demon I had become but one fix of her wiped that shit away. I was different in her presence, not the usual self-destructing asshole. But make no mistake about it, my addiction to Lacey was just as toxic as all the others because she gave me hope.

I didn’t deserve hope so I didn’t know what the fuck to do with it.

Her innocence was refreshing in a world so full of manipulation, crime and deceit. A world known as the Satan’s Knights. The world I chose and the world I worshipped. The same world that destroyed any hope I had of being a better man. She became my light and that light’s been shining down on me for years now, since Jack went away to Riker’s and I would check in on her from time to time.

At first I did it out of duty but that smile of hers…it became my salvation. I still remember the first time she genuinely smiled at me, one I earned, not one manufactured by the innocent crush she had on me. Jack was doing time, and it was my job as his vice president and his friend to look out for his interests—first on that list was Lacey. I had taken her up to visit her father in Riker’s and afterwards we stopped at the Vegas Diner in Brooklyn. She ordered disco fries with extra gravy on the side and when she finished her food she picked off my plate.

There were two old ladies fighting at the table next to us. One lady yelled at the other as she tried to shove everything from the table into her tote bag. I think the only thing she left behind was the menu. It was amusing to watch the klepto ignore the ranting and keep pocketing things until the table was clear. I tore my eyes off the two broads to watch Lacey cover her mouth and mask her laughter. I reached across the table and pulled her hand away from her mouth and stared at her as she smiled.

I wanted more of it.

I wanted to hear her laugh.

I leaned over, stretched my arm across the space that separated the two tables and tapped the klepto on the shoulder. The lady she was with continued to rant and rave about the cold coffee and the fact that the tables were too small.

I grabbed the bread basket off our table and tipped my chin towards her tote bag.

“Open it,” I said, watching as she stared back at me with skeptical eyes.

I chucked the bread basket into her tote bag, followed by the ketchup bottle on our table. Lacey giggled, handing me the salt and pepper shakers next.

I turned to her.

“Give it a go,” I told her.

Her smile spread wide across her face. The smile I earned and the one I became a fiend for.

She threw the sugar packets into the woman’s tote bag.

“What are you doing?” The grumpy woman yelled. “Nina, for crying out loud you’re taking their condiments!”

“Oh, Provie, shut up. They offered,” the nice one argued.

Lacey leaned back in her chair and the smile that spread across her face became ingrained to my memory.

It was that moment, for purely selfish reasons, I vowed to keep her smiling and make her laugh more often. Because when she smiled at me, when she laughed with me, I felt like fighting instead of quitting, living instead of dying.

Lacey became my hope, and I gravitated to her like an electric current. She made me forget it was me who sold those innocent kids the drugs that ended their young lives. The same drugs Christine ingested when she killed herself. She pulled me into her light reminding me there was still good in the world, still things that were pure and untainted by filth.

Until last night.

I turned the water off, pushing my fingers through my hair and away from my face. The minute I drove my dick into that virgin pussy and tore her to shreds I tainted her. I ruined Lacey, selfishly taking something from her, something a piece of shit like me didn’t deserve. 

I didn’t bother with a towel, and stepped out of the bathroom into the scene of the crime, staring at the desk where I fucked her.

Fucked her.

Her first time.

The fucking blood on my dick was the evidence.

Tainted by filth.

Branded by me.

The deeper I got inside of her, the deeper I drew my mark in her, branding her mine. Not just because I was the only one to have her but because the beast inside me threatened to never let her go.

I was fucked.

I had wanted her and more than wanting her, I wanted to ruin myself.  I used Lacey mindlessly, to take away my pain, to secure a way out of this hell—to fuck the sweet little thing that’s had my head up in knots for some time now.