Monster (11 page)

“Come here,”
I said, stretching an arm across the back of the couch.

“What?” she
asked, brows drawing together.

“Come over here,”
I repeated.

“Why?” she
asked, but her body had turned slightly. Even without knowing why,
her body wanted to be closer to mine.

“Because I am
going to show you one of the many reasons you should be upset about
not being alive to keep experiencing.” Her eyes held mine,
seeing my intentions, and weighing whether or not she was going to
submit herself to them. “Seventy-two hours, doll,” I went
on. “We could both be dead. The fuck we wasting time for?”

Her eyes slanted to the
laptop for a second, seeing no activity, then letting her eyes fall
on mine. I saw it before she did. In the quickening and shallow-ing
of her breath. In her slightly parted lips. In her heavy lidded eyes.

She swallowed, wet her
lips, then closed the space between us.

Eight

Alex

I knew what he meant.
The second he told me to go to him, I knew. It was in his voice.
Lower. Deeper. Almost soft. And it sent a ripple of desire through my
system.

The question was... did
I want to go to him? Knowing that it wouldn't be another kiss.
Knowing his fingers would slide up my thigh, find the sweet spot,
work it. Knowing that it wouldn't stop there. That within the next
hour, I would know what it felt like to have him inside of me.

And did my libido want
that? Hell freaking yeah.

But did I?

I had about thirty
seconds to decide, with a clear and rational mind, if it was
incredibly twisted and stupid... or the best decision I could make.

To go out with a bang,
as it were.

I'd had sex before.
Once when I was sixteen. With one of the older kids living at the
group home. I don't know why really. I wasn't ready. I barely had a
grasp on the concept of sex, let alone the possible physical and
emotional repercussions. I long since learned to blame the grief, the
loss of everything I knew, the need to feel alive again.

Danny he had been tall
and strong with dark hair and piercing green eyes. From the moment I
walked into the common room, his eyes were on mine. I learned later
that it was because he banged all the new chicks provided they were
halfway decent looking. But at the time, I had thought I was special.

Then he started hanging
around me, talking sweet, using kid gloves as if sensing (more
likely, having known from previous experience) how fragile I was.

A couple days later, I
fell onto my back in his bed. He stripped us both, slipped on a
condom that had come in a camouflage wrapper that boasted “Don't
let them see you coming!”, and slammed inside me. As most
would expect (though I was wholly clueless), it hurt like a bitch.
But was thankfully over in under five minutes.

I found out later that
while he was fucking me, his buddies were stealing my shit.

A few days later, I was
moved to a foster house.

I didn't have sex again
until I was nineteen. Though I did have the unfortunate repeat
occurrence of fending off at least three of my foster fathers and
then pretending I didn't notice the fourth one would come in and jerk
off while watching me 'sleep'.

The guy when I was
nineteen was names Glenn and was someone who had taken time out of
his life to sit me down and teach me all the things about computers
and hacking that I hadn't already picked up- the skills that would
allow me to make a living of it. And gather better information on
Lex.

I guess it could be
said that I fucked him out of gratitude. I had nothing else to offer.

And he was nice enough.
Twenty-five, a little short, kinda pudgy, with pasty white skin and
big black-rimmed glasses. He could have been cute had he put any kind
of effort into his appearance or wardrobe. There was none of the
rough hands and frantic stabbing of a cock that my first partner
provided me with. Glenn had hot hands, always just shy of truly
clammy. But they always touched me softly, hesitantly. And his cock
had only ever seemed half-hard when he got it inside me, slid around
for a few minutes, made a choking sound in his throat, and came.

Such was sex for me.

So experience hadn't
exactly suggested it would be a fun way to spend what little time I
obviously had left.

But that being said,
Good Guy Glenn and Dickhead Danny were not Breaker. They had been
man-boys. They had been guys with cocks and no idea how to use them.

Something told me that
Breaker knew how to use his.

And my body responded
to that.

It had never done that
before.

Sex had been a weird
detached sensation.

Certainly not hot.

Nothing like the fire I
felt when Breaker's lips were on me.

And if he could manage
that with just his lips, what could he do with the rest of him?

Maybe I owed it to
myself to see.

With that, I folded my
legs up under myself and moved until I was kneeling beside his body
on the couch, my knees pressing against his thigh.

His eyes found mine a
second before his hands went out, grabbing my hips, and pulling me
roughly until I was straddling his waist.

I
had the almost blinding realization that I was completely naked
underneath his tee before his fingers pressed into my hipbone
hollows, drawing
a throaty groan out of my lips
and making me forget all about unimportant things like panties.

My hands went to his
chest, pressing down both to steady myself and to feel connected to
him.

He was barely touching
me and I could feel the pulsating desire between my thighs.

“You want more,
you're gonna have to take it,” he said, making my body jerk
back slightly. Take it? Take what? As if sensing my confusion, he
added, “I ain't no slow and sweet lover, doll. I fuck hard and
rough and you'll probably walk away from this with some bruises along
with your memories. You accept that? You want that? Then you are
gonna make the first move.”

Oh.

Well.

Okay then.

I was pretty sure I
wanted that.

I had never needed to
initiate before. Douchebag Danny had pounced on me. Shy, awkward
Glenn had kinda just fumbled around until I responded. Sort of.

I was pretty sure I
could initiate. I wasn't sure what kind of initiative he was
expecting, but I slowly leaned forward, my hands pressing harder
against his chest as they took some of my weight and pressed my lips
to his.

Apparently, that was
enough.

His hands slid from my
hips, going around my lower back and completely flattening my body to
his. Then one of his arms moved up my back, his hand grabbing the
back of my neck hard as his head tilted and he deepened the kiss, his
teeth snagging my lower lip hard and pulling. Unprepared, my hips
jerked, rubbing against his, finding his cock straining hard against
the material of his jeans.

Breaker's tongue
slipped inside my mouth, repeating the same predatory mating dance it
had the last time, promising things as well as demanding them. My
hands moved up toward his shoulders, curling in, feeling like I
needed to hold on. The arm around my lower back tightened and pushed
down until I felt the exposed sensitivity of my sex brush against the
rough material containing his cock. A surprised gasp escaped my lips
and a growl burst from his, his mouth pulling from mine, his eyes
holding mine as he pulled my hips across his hardness.

My hands curled into
the skin on the sides of his neck, my mouth falling open on a huff of
air.

His hand released the
back of my neck, his fingers moving around to brush ever-so slightly
over the skin near my collarbone, making a shiver course through my
body.

“You're so
sensitive,” he said, his voice even deeper than usual and it
sent a shiver to somewhere he couldn't see but I could feel all too
clearly. “Arms up, doll,” he instructed, both of his
hands sliding down to settle at the hem of his tee that was inched up
high on my thighs. My arms went up above my head and with no
pretense, he whipped the material off my body, leaving me naked on
top of him while he was still completely dressed. “Fuck me,”
he said under his breath, his hands planting on the sides of my
thighs while his eyes roamed over my body.

I had never had much
cause to feel insecurity. Given that I spent almost all of my time
alone, wearing whatever I wanted, foregoing makeup, barely bothering
to run a brush through my hair some days, it never much occurred to
me to feel much of anything about my body.

I knew most would feel
self-consciousness in my position.

But Breaker's ice blue
eyes raked over me like I was something of a wonder, something to be
memorized, something he never wanted to forget.

So it didn't even occur
to me to feel like I should hide that from him. Or even want to.

His hands slid up my
thighs, over my hips, up my sides, then rested, spanning out on my
rib cage, the bottoms of his thumbs brushing up against the
undersides of my breasts.

His eyes went up to
mine and held as his hands moved up and cupped my breasts, squeezing
hard. My nipples hardened under his palms and my chest felt suddenly
weighted, a heaviness there that I had never experienced before.

My brows drew together
questioningly, but before he could even register the expression, he
was moving. Knifing up from his position whilst slamming my back
against the cushions of the couch and coming down on top of me, his
lips taking possession of mine again.

My legs struggled
underneath his, trying to break free. He brought a knee up between
them, lifting some of his weight and I yanked my legs from under him
and wrapped them around his back, pulling him down on me again. He
made a grunting noise as his mouth lifted, running down the side of
my neck, his beard burning across my skin as his teeth nipped into
it.

And it was new.

Everything about what I
was feeling was new. Foreign. But still somehow familiar. Like it had
always been there, sleeping under the surface, waiting for someone to
wake it up.

It was awake.

And it was consuming.

Like being on fire.
That was what being with Breaker felt like... like I was burning, but
blissfully sinking into the sensation, wanting to go deeper and
deeper to see where I ended up, even if that meant in ashes.

Breaker's head tilted
and moved down between my breasts, his beard tickling across my
overly sensitive skin before his lips closed around my nipple and
sucked hard. I arched off the couch, pushing myself further into his
mouth, my hand slapping down on the back of his neck, holding him to
me. Wanting, needing more.

His head pulled against
my restraint but only to shift and take possession of my other
nipple, sucking for a minute before nipping into it hard enough for
me to yelp and jerk away.

To this, his head
tilted to look up at me, a devilish smile playing at his lips.

He rested his weight on
one of his forearms beside me, lifting slightly off my body to give
him access. His head raised above mine, watching my face as his hand
slid across my ribs, down my side, over my stomach. Then he paused,
the smile coming back to his lips a split second before his hand flew
between my thighs, stroking up my slick cleft.

My entire body jerked
upward, my mouth opening to moan as my hand slapped down hard on his
shoulder.

“Fuckin'
drenched,” he growled, his finger sliding upward and finding my
clit, circling it quickly.

No. Nothing had ever
come close to this before.

This overwhelming
sensation.

The feeling like I was
going to explode and fall apart.

But not wanting to do
anything but experience it.

My heart rate sped up.
My pulse pounded hard in my throat and temples.

Then just as quickly as
he touched me, he pulled his finger away, chuckling when I whimpered
and ground my hips up toward him. He brought his hand up, taking his
finger and slipping it into his mouth, tasting me.