Damnable Grace
Page 48
The thought of her fucking with other men made my blood pound even harder through my veins. Pulling my hands from her clit, I bent down and took hold of her legs. Lifting her up was nothing at all. Phebe moaned and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I backed her up against the wall, then in one fast push, slammed inside her wet cunt.
“AK!” Phebe called out as her head tipped back and hit the wall behind her. I was a fucking man possessed as I thrust into her. Phebe brought her hands to my face and held me in place. She stared into my eyes as I worked my hips, biting on my lip at the feel of her hole choking my dick. Her moans were low and long. Her lips met mine. She fucking ate at my mouth, and I swallowed her cries. My hands gripped her thighs tighter as I drove into her. Her nails raked at my skin, but it only pushed me on.
I plowed into her, harder and harder, until I felt her pussy begin to clench. My balls began to ache, and I tore my mouth from hers, tucking my head into her neck. Her cries came louder and louder and her hips rocked faster against mine.
“AK . . .” she said, her voice no longer screaming and mad. Her breathy voice was cracked, losing all its anger. And then she came, breath hitching against my skin. Her hands slipped to the back of my neck, her nails drawing blood. With three more thrusts, I came inside her, jerking, sweat dripping down my back, her back scraping against the wall.
And then it all went quiet.
It was quiet, except for our breathing. Silent enough that I heard her crying before I felt the tears falling down my neck. I heard her crying before I felt her shaking in my arms.
I lifted my head, and Phebe tightened her arms around my neck like I was anchoring her. I blinked, not knowing what the fuck to do. As gently as I could, I brought my hand to her face and moved her head from the crook in my shoulder. Phebe resisted at first, but gave way when I said, “Red. Look at me.”
Her cheeks were flooded with tears, the pale skin marked with black from her eye makeup. Her red lipstick was smudged across her face. Her tits were out of her ruined top, and her hair was a mess.
She was breaking my goddamn heart.
“They will let me see her now,” she slurred quietly. “If I am successful, they will let me hold her hand.”
What the . . . ?
I brushed the tears off her cheeks with my thumb. She took hold of my hand with her shaking fingers and brought it to her lips, and I felt as though I’d taken a punch to the face. She stared at the broken skin on my knuckles from the fight, kissed over the smear of blood—I didn’t know if it was mine or belonged to someone else.
She dropped my hand and gazed at the floor. I stared at her downturned head, and fuck if I didn’t hold her that much tighter.
She was broken.
Lost.
Her words from earlier in the week circled my head. I didn’t know how long I stayed against the wall, just holding her. But eventually all the liquor she’d consumed took its toll, and her forehead fell onto my shoulder. Her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep.
I pulled out from inside her and fastened up my jeans with one hand. Phebe shifted in my arms, but she didn’t wake. I carried her through to my bedroom and laid her down on my bed. I pulled the comforter over her almost-naked body. When I looked down at her looking like some fucked-up lost whore, a piece of me died. The sleeves of her top were ripped, showing her scars from the needles. And now we were out of the bar, I could smell the scent of liquor evaporating in waves off her skin.
I pulled off my shirt and cut and tossed them to the floor. As I walked into the bathroom I caught my reflection in the mirror, and I froze. The skin on my cheeks, neck, chest and upper back was scratched to fuck and red with blood. Phebe’s lipstick was smeared across my face. My eyes were dark, and as I took a step forward, I was no longer looking at AK, a brother of the Hangmen. Looking right back at me was Xavier Deyes, sniper in the Marines, Special Ops. I knew this fucker and regarded him with nothing but hate. This fucker lived with death in his eyes.
And I thought I’d put him to bed years ago.
Clearly Red could nudge him awake.
Frustrated, not wanting to see his face, I clenched my fist and slammed it into the glass. It shattered in my sink, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, the lack of the breath I couldn’t catch creeping up on me like a weight bearing down on my ribcage.
I backed up to the tub and sat on the edge. My hands were shaking. My always-steady sniper hands couldn’t be calmed. I dropped my head forward, and a barrage of images came racing forward. Blood and screams and anger. Anger that burned so hot and bright it transformed me. Then helplessness, sadness, and motherfucking guilt. So much guilt that I could taste its bitterness on my tongue.
Forcing myself to get my shit together, I stood and wiped the lipstick off my mouth with my forearm and wiped the blood off my knuckles into my jeans. I soaked a towel in water and went back to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I started wiping the black and red off Phebe’s face. As the makeup gave way to her pale skin and freckles, I couldn’t help but relax a little. Fuck knows why she would ever cover up those freckles. I cleaned her face until there was nothing left but her.
Phebe.
I dressed her in my sweat pants and clean black Hangmen shirt and covered her back up. For twenty minutes I stared down at her, sleeping. I thought of all the liquor she’d stolen this week and realized that since she’d last been here, screaming and smashing up my room as she came off the heroin, she hadn’t been sober.
“What is it you can’t face?” I asked her as I leaned over where she lay. She didn’t wake, and I didn’t want her to. Like this, she was at peace. Awake? It seemed she was just as fucked as me.
“Sleep.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her pale skin was cool under my lips.
I took my smokes from my back pocket and headed out of the door. Leaning against the outside wall of the cabin, I dropped down to my ass. I kept my head down as I took drag after drag of my smoke.
I sat in silence, just fucking thinking. Thinking about shit I never wanted to think about again. The only time I stopped was when I heard feet move into the clearing. I heard the low murmur of voices, then a door close.
I sensed them standing before me, so I lifted my head. Vike and Flame were staring at me. I saw Ash go into Flame’s cabin with Maddie, leaving me and my brothers alone.
I leaned my head back against the wall and stared at them both. Flame was rocking on his feet. And fuck if that didn’t make me feel even more guilt. He was looking at me like he didn’t know me.
“AK!” Phebe called out as her head tipped back and hit the wall behind her. I was a fucking man possessed as I thrust into her. Phebe brought her hands to my face and held me in place. She stared into my eyes as I worked my hips, biting on my lip at the feel of her hole choking my dick. Her moans were low and long. Her lips met mine. She fucking ate at my mouth, and I swallowed her cries. My hands gripped her thighs tighter as I drove into her. Her nails raked at my skin, but it only pushed me on.
I plowed into her, harder and harder, until I felt her pussy begin to clench. My balls began to ache, and I tore my mouth from hers, tucking my head into her neck. Her cries came louder and louder and her hips rocked faster against mine.
“AK . . .” she said, her voice no longer screaming and mad. Her breathy voice was cracked, losing all its anger. And then she came, breath hitching against my skin. Her hands slipped to the back of my neck, her nails drawing blood. With three more thrusts, I came inside her, jerking, sweat dripping down my back, her back scraping against the wall.
And then it all went quiet.
It was quiet, except for our breathing. Silent enough that I heard her crying before I felt the tears falling down my neck. I heard her crying before I felt her shaking in my arms.
I lifted my head, and Phebe tightened her arms around my neck like I was anchoring her. I blinked, not knowing what the fuck to do. As gently as I could, I brought my hand to her face and moved her head from the crook in my shoulder. Phebe resisted at first, but gave way when I said, “Red. Look at me.”
Her cheeks were flooded with tears, the pale skin marked with black from her eye makeup. Her red lipstick was smudged across her face. Her tits were out of her ruined top, and her hair was a mess.
She was breaking my goddamn heart.
“They will let me see her now,” she slurred quietly. “If I am successful, they will let me hold her hand.”
What the . . . ?
I brushed the tears off her cheeks with my thumb. She took hold of my hand with her shaking fingers and brought it to her lips, and I felt as though I’d taken a punch to the face. She stared at the broken skin on my knuckles from the fight, kissed over the smear of blood—I didn’t know if it was mine or belonged to someone else.
She dropped my hand and gazed at the floor. I stared at her downturned head, and fuck if I didn’t hold her that much tighter.
She was broken.
Lost.
Her words from earlier in the week circled my head. I didn’t know how long I stayed against the wall, just holding her. But eventually all the liquor she’d consumed took its toll, and her forehead fell onto my shoulder. Her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep.
I pulled out from inside her and fastened up my jeans with one hand. Phebe shifted in my arms, but she didn’t wake. I carried her through to my bedroom and laid her down on my bed. I pulled the comforter over her almost-naked body. When I looked down at her looking like some fucked-up lost whore, a piece of me died. The sleeves of her top were ripped, showing her scars from the needles. And now we were out of the bar, I could smell the scent of liquor evaporating in waves off her skin.
I pulled off my shirt and cut and tossed them to the floor. As I walked into the bathroom I caught my reflection in the mirror, and I froze. The skin on my cheeks, neck, chest and upper back was scratched to fuck and red with blood. Phebe’s lipstick was smeared across my face. My eyes were dark, and as I took a step forward, I was no longer looking at AK, a brother of the Hangmen. Looking right back at me was Xavier Deyes, sniper in the Marines, Special Ops. I knew this fucker and regarded him with nothing but hate. This fucker lived with death in his eyes.
And I thought I’d put him to bed years ago.
Clearly Red could nudge him awake.
Frustrated, not wanting to see his face, I clenched my fist and slammed it into the glass. It shattered in my sink, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, the lack of the breath I couldn’t catch creeping up on me like a weight bearing down on my ribcage.
I backed up to the tub and sat on the edge. My hands were shaking. My always-steady sniper hands couldn’t be calmed. I dropped my head forward, and a barrage of images came racing forward. Blood and screams and anger. Anger that burned so hot and bright it transformed me. Then helplessness, sadness, and motherfucking guilt. So much guilt that I could taste its bitterness on my tongue.
Forcing myself to get my shit together, I stood and wiped the lipstick off my mouth with my forearm and wiped the blood off my knuckles into my jeans. I soaked a towel in water and went back to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I started wiping the black and red off Phebe’s face. As the makeup gave way to her pale skin and freckles, I couldn’t help but relax a little. Fuck knows why she would ever cover up those freckles. I cleaned her face until there was nothing left but her.
Phebe.
I dressed her in my sweat pants and clean black Hangmen shirt and covered her back up. For twenty minutes I stared down at her, sleeping. I thought of all the liquor she’d stolen this week and realized that since she’d last been here, screaming and smashing up my room as she came off the heroin, she hadn’t been sober.
“What is it you can’t face?” I asked her as I leaned over where she lay. She didn’t wake, and I didn’t want her to. Like this, she was at peace. Awake? It seemed she was just as fucked as me.
“Sleep.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her pale skin was cool under my lips.
I took my smokes from my back pocket and headed out of the door. Leaning against the outside wall of the cabin, I dropped down to my ass. I kept my head down as I took drag after drag of my smoke.
I sat in silence, just fucking thinking. Thinking about shit I never wanted to think about again. The only time I stopped was when I heard feet move into the clearing. I heard the low murmur of voices, then a door close.
I sensed them standing before me, so I lifted my head. Vike and Flame were staring at me. I saw Ash go into Flame’s cabin with Maddie, leaving me and my brothers alone.
I leaned my head back against the wall and stared at them both. Flame was rocking on his feet. And fuck if that didn’t make me feel even more guilt. He was looking at me like he didn’t know me.
