Текст книги "Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood"
Автор книги: Meghan Quinn
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Her fingers found the belt loop of my jeans and gripped tightly, pulling my hips closer to hers. I pressed my erection against undulating hips that were begging for more, making me inwardly smile from her neediness. Even though I was a corrupt bastard, I still enjoyed the feeling of being needed, the feeling of being able to take care of a woman, to own her, at least for one night.
I continued my descent until I got to her breasts, which were aching to be released from the confines of the lingerie she had picked out at the store. Thankful for the flimsy fabric, I tore it, exposing her bare breasts to the warm night air. Her gasp made her chest rise and fall, moving her breasts at a rapid rate that had the crotch of my jeans throbbing.
“You’re better naked,” I said, moving my lips to the swell of her breasts.
Her legs wrapped around my hips, pulling me in even closer. Like a desperate man, I rubbed the crotch of my jeans against her heat, soaking in every mew that escaped her mouth.
My tongue darted out to her skin and made deliberate circles around one nipple, causing a frustrated cry to escape her lips. Carefully, my teeth nipped at her puckered nipple, making her fingers to claw into my back. I welcomed the new pain and in return pushed my tongue against her nipple and lapped at her skin. I rounded her nipple, flicked it, and then finally sucked it into my mouth while biting down with little pressure.
“Yes,” she screamed as she arched under me.
Pleased with her reaction, I moved to her other breast and gave it the same treatment. As she writhed under me and ground into my hips, I moved my hand down to the juncture of her thighs, letting her know what my next move was going to be.
Pulling away from her now red nipples, I looked at her and was rewarded with the vision of a picture perfect woman lying naked under me. Her eyes were glazed with passion, her skin was slick with sweat, and her hair was messy from my hands. She was a woman in need, and fuck if I wasn’t about to fulfill that need.
I stood up and found the button of my jeans. A gorgeous smile caressed her face as she scooted forward on the bed and pulled me between her spread legs. From my view, I could see how turned on she was for me, which in return turned me on even further.
She ran her hands around my waist, to my back, where she pressed them down into my pants and briefs, dragging them over my ass and down to the floor. My heavy shaft sprang free.
I stepped out of my clothes and faced her, my cock at her eye level. With greed in her eyes, she gripped the root of my dick and pulled on it hard, milking me in one smooth stroke.
A sharp hiss escaped my lips as I dropped my hands to her shoulders to gain some balance. Her tongue darted to lick the tip of my cock. The little teasing motion didn’t escape me; I knew she was trying to torture me just like I’d done moments ago, but the difference between my torture and hers was that mine had been short-lived.
I pressed against her shoulders, making her fall to the bed. I fell on top of her, our skin meeting, the warmth of our bodies igniting a flame I knew would burn until the early morning light.
I gripped her hands in mine, threading our fingers together, and brought them above her head as I straddled her body. My cock lay heavily on top of her pubic bone, and I lowered my head to her mouth where I greedily nipped, sucked, and kissed her full lips.
“God, Kace. I need you so fucking bad. Fuck me, please just fuck me.”
A part of me wanted to do as she asked, to plow into her and take what I wanted, but I couldn’t do that, not with the way she’d spoken to me earlier, not after the kind words she’d expressed to me. She deserved more, she deserved to be made love to, and that’s what I set out to do.
I dug my fingers into hers, and my muscles rippled above her as I continued the slow, arduous process of worshipping her body, of slowly rolling my hips just enough where she gasped, where I could barely feel the wet seeping from her.
The feeling of having Lyla underneath me, completely at my mercy, was addicting. It was mind-altering. It had me thinking I could possibly give her more, that I could stuff away my demons and try to live a normal life with this woman. She gave me hope for a future, a future I knew wasn’t for me.
Releasing one of my hands from hers, I ran it down the length of her body to the juncture of her thighs, where I pressed a finger against her clit. Immediately I was welcomed by a warm liquid that was all Lyla.
“Fuck,” I groaned from realizing just how wet she was. “Lyla, you’re so fucking wet.”
“For you, for only you,” she replied, kissing lightly against my jaw.
Growling, I pressed two fingers inside her and watched as her entire body reacted to the invasion. She moaned, squeezed her eyes shut, and covered her forehead with an arm.
Needing a small taste, I made a trail of kisses down the front of her body until I hovered right above her pussy. I took the opportunity to spread her legs wide enough so I could fit between them and then lowered myself.
Her breath hitched, she squirmed, her skin glistened from sweat as my fingers spread her apart, and my tongue struck her with force, causing her hips to hitch upward.
“Yes,” she breathed, pulling on one of the pillows resting near her. I watched in fascination as I worked my tongue in and out of her as she gripped the sheets, begging for more.
While I ran my tongue up and down her pussy, I kept my eyes on her the entire time. I watched as her lips parted slightly, soft cries escaping her plump lips. I relished in the taste of her, in every reaction and every movement she made. She was addicting.
This was what a little breath of heaven must feel like. Right here, watching the woman of your dreams crumble to pieces from the touch of your tongue. I was in a fucking dream.
From under my lashes, I stared at her stomach muscles contracting with each swipe of my tongue. Her mouth gasped for air with each inhale of her heady scent, and her control slowly slipped. I showed no mercy.
“I’m going to come, Kace,” she announced just as I pressed two fingers inside of her. She arched off the bed as a shrill cry escaped her. “Yes! Fuck, fuck! Yes, more, please more.”
Her hips undulated against my tongue, taking her orgasm to a new level. I allowed her to ride me just the way she wanted and watched in fascination while she dissolved into a puddle of content pleasure under me.
My cock painfully throbbed between my legs, begging to enter her, to take what it wanted. I itched to feel what it was like to be inside her again. I wanted to be sheathed by her warmth, to get lost in her body, so I reached down to my jeans while she recovered and grabbed a condom from my wallet.
Quickly sheathing myself, I hovered back over her and waited for her to open her eyes. The moment her pools of meadow green stared at me, my heart swelled and I smiled. There was something different about Lyla, something that made me think for only a moment that maybe, just maybe, she would understand my drunken sin.
She cupped my cheek. The unspoken emotion we were both feeling settled in the pit of my stomach just as she spread her legs open for me and pressed her hand deeper into my cheek, urging me to move forward.
My eyes instantly closed from the warmth pouring from her.
“Take me, Kace. Take me to a place far away from here. Make us forget the past and the present.” Her voice was soft, encouraging.
Taking a deep breath, I lowered my mouth down to hers and passionately kissed her while my arms fell to the sides of her head, framing her in my heat. My hips settled between her legs, and the tip of my needy cock rubbed against her slick core. Her hips moved against mine, allowing my cock to play with her entrance, but that’s all I allowed while I fucked her mouth with my tongue.
I was greedy, I was selfish, I took everything I wanted, not letting her have a say in any of it, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she matched every stroke of my tongue, every thrust of my hips, and every tightening of my body.
She was just as greedy as me if not more. It was a battle of wills. Who was going to crack first? Who was going to give in and start begging for more?
My cock pounded with need, with yearning, and even though I wanted the upper hand, I wanted her to beg just one more time. I didn’t think I could take the wait any longer, so I grabbed her hands and pulled away.
Linking our hands together again, I brought them above her and lowered my forehead to hers. Looking into her eyes, I pressed my hips forward and felt my cock slowly slide inside her tight canal. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her breath hitched.
Kissing her forehead, I said, “Look at me, baby. Let me see those beautiful eyes.”
Immediately her eyes flew open, and my fucking gut twisted in my stomach from the loving kindness radiating off of her. Her eyes glistened, and the strong walls I’d erected around my soul started to fade.
Instead of focusing on her eyes that were tearing me apart, I tried to bring my attention down to our most intimate connection. I focused on the feel of her tight pussy, the way her hips moved with mine, and the building of pressure inside my cock with each stroke.
I’d had sex with Lyla before. We’d fucked but never shared an intimate moment like this before. We’d never looked into each other’s eyes, trying to understand one another. This was different from fucking. This was making love, and why I was letting it happen, I would never understand.
Maybe I was a masochist. I enjoyed inflicting pain on myself, well-deserved pain. Maybe I knew that after tonight nothing could transpire between us, so I’d gone all in. I gave her everything I had, knowing in return my heart was going to be ripped out of my chest when I left.
But what about Lyla? Could I really do that to her?
“Kace, yes, harder.” Lyla writhed under me, seeking more from me, and even though I knew I was going to destroy both of us when we were done, I couldn’t fucking stop. I wanted to give her everything she wanted, so I did.
With brutal force, I slammed into her and then pressed my lips against hers. Her fingers gripped mine tightly, showing me how forceful I was being, how much pleasure I was able to deliver.
The weight in my cock was undeniable. I was on the precipice of orgasm, waiting, prolonging the inevitable, wishing she would come with me, needing her to come with me.
I was about to release my hand from hers to push against her clit when her chest arched up into mine and she gasped.
Like a fucking vice, her pussy clenched around me and an indescribable sound departed from her enticing lips. She rocketed against me, screaming my name as tears fell from her eyes.
That was all it took. I felt from the rumble of my stomach to the base of my cock the explosion of my pleasure inside of her.
“Fuck…!” I roared as I pounded into her until she milked me dry.
I slowed my hips down as my cock continued to throb inside her. Her breathing evened out, and that’s when I realized I’d buried my head in her shoulder. Slowly, I picked my head up and smiled at her.
“You’re so fucking sexy when you come,” she said as her erect nipples teased my chest.
“I can say the same about you, baby.”
Chapter Fifteen
My present…
Hundreds of cracks covered the plaster ceiling of Lyla’s apartment, just another feature that bothered me about where Lyla lived. I stroked her back as she pressed against me, resting her head on my shoulder and running the tips of her fingers along the ridge of my abdomen.
No words were spoken as we lay in her twisted sheets, the moonlight shining through her window and on our slightly sweaty bodies.
The silence was welcome. It was necessary for my beating heart, my uneasy thoughts of what was to come next. I didn’t want to talk about the future—whether I was staying the night, whether I would be able to get out of her bed and leave.
With my spare hand, I rubbed the top of my head, agonizing over my feelings for her, my desire to keep her near but my urgency to push her as far away from me as possible.
“Are you thirsty?” she asked.
“I’m all right,” I replied, feeling awkward.
“I need a drink.” She pushed off my chest and crawled across the bed butt naked and then walked out of the room, wiggling her ass for me in the most delicious way.
Once she was gone, I groaned and pulled on the strands of my hair. What the fuck was I thinking? Inner turmoil churned as I weighed my options. One part of me kept telling me to leave, get the fuck out of her apartment while I still had a shred of protection around my black soul. The other part of me yearned to hold her all night long.
With a racing heart, I threw the sheets aside and was getting out of the bed when Lyla reappeared. Her hair was mussed from my fingers, her lips swollen from my unyielding kisses, and her eyes sated from my lovemaking. She was a completely satisfied woman with a kind understanding coming from her eyes.
“Leaving?” she asked, leaning against the wall of her room and sipping a glass of water. She didn’t look upset or mad, almost like she’d expected me to want to go.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I wasn’t sure what the fuck I wanted. I’d never been so unsure about something in my life.
Staring at her fucking amazing body and beautiful personality, I knew I didn’t deserve her. The moment I’d taken a man’s life, I’d sworn I would never be happy again, that I would serve my repentance and then die on this earth alone, so why was I half kneeling on Lyla’s bed, considering doing something I had no right to?
“What does it say?” Lyla asked, nodding at the tattoo on my ribs.
“Nothing of importance,” I answered, turning so it wasn’t so visible.
Indignation passed over Lyla’s features as she placed her cup of water on the floor near the window and walked toward me. My gaze fell to the floor to avoid the beautiful sway of her hips and the way her plump breasts tried to capture my attention. If I didn’t look down, I was going to be swept up in her body again, a mistake I so desperately wanted to entertain.
She grabbed hold of my shoulders and pushed me down on the bed. Like a fucking leaf in the breeze, I floated to the mattress, not putting up a fight. I was too damn weak, too damn desperate for human contact to fend her off.
I was a desolate man, broken and battered and clinging to the one thing I knew would ruin me.
Lyla straddled my hips, keeping her heated core away from my growing erection, torturing me by not giving my cock what it wanted. I was too engrossed in what she was doing to notice her hands running up the side of my ribcage.
“Seeking Repentance,” Lyla read, softly trailing her fingers over the black ink that branded my body. Her soft gaze found mine and her head tilted to the side in question. “What are you seeking repentance for, Kace?”
My eyes quickly shut as I tried to block out the question, tried to ignore the fact that she was digging further and further into my fucking soul.
I didn’t talk about my past to anyone. I barely spoke to Jett, the man who knew the whole story, about it. It was a general understanding that we didn’t talk about it. The only time we ever reflected on my actions was on the anniversary of the day my soul had died, no other time.
“Kace, it will help to talk about it.”
“It won’t,” I gritted out. I pushed Lyla to the side and sat up. My elbows rested on my legs while I bent my head down and gripped my hair. The once euphoric yet confusing feeling vanished at the mention of my tattoo, and in its place was a cold, dark void, the emptiness I counted on to help me through my days.
My pain was much easier to forget than relive.
Small hands rested on my back while the bed dipped behind me. Lyla gripped me from behind and wrapped her arms around my waist.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she ran kisses up my back.
I went stiff from her tender touch. I didn’t deserve this, this warm, caring woman. What did she even see in me? “Don’t. Don’t fucking apologize,” I swore, hating myself.
She gripped me tighter and her warmth started to penetrate my cold exterior, melting me in her arms.
She encouraged me to lie down. I told myself to get up instead, to grab my clothes and get the fuck out of her place, but my body betrayed me and rested on one of her pillows. Lyla settled into my side and wrapped an arm around my waist. I moved my hand to her hair and ran my fingers through it.
A lump settled in my throat as I studied the cracks of her ceilings again and our breathing evened out. Why couldn’t I let this woman go?
“You’re not alone, Kace,” Lyla said, breaking the silence between us. “You’re not the only one with demons.”
This wasn’t the first time Lyla had mentioned something from her past. I knew there had to be something that happened in her life, that had her turning to the life she held now. A part of me wanted to know her story, wanted to help fix her problems, protect her and give her everything she needed, but how could I help her when I couldn’t help myself? She wanted a whole man, someone to stand by her side, to fight and walk through this dark world with her.
I wasn’t that man.
“You don’t have to talk,” Lyla said, rubbing my side. “You don’t even have to ask any questions. I just need you to know where I’m coming from. I wanted you to know you’re not alone, Kace.”
There was no way in hell our stories were even close to being similar, but it was hard to resist what she was offering. Even though I knew I had to distance myself, I still wanted to know about her.
Instead of answering her, I pulled her closer, savoring the way her breasts felt against me, the way her nipples were puckered even though I wasn’t trying to turn her on.
“I didn’t always live in poverty, scraping for every last cent,” she said. I tensed, wondering if I really wanted to hear this. “It was me and my dad my entire life. My mom wasn’t interested in being a mom, which was fine because I would rather have no mom than a mom who lived with me but never gave me an ounce of attention. My dad gave me all the attention I needed.”
I could feel her smile against my chest as she talked about her him. It was endearing.
“He was the best man I ever knew. He worked hard, provided for me, and made it to every dance recital I had. He was the perfect father.”
“Sounds like it,” I responded, surprising myself since the lump in my throat grew. I didn’t understand what a close relationship with a father was like. Like my dad had said, I was a disappointment. He was probably laughing in his grave at me right now, watching me struggle with my day-to-day life. I knew in his eyes, I was a complete fuck-up, not worth the air I breathed.
Carefully dropping all thoughts of my father, I listened to Lyla continue her story. “After each recital, he would take me to get ice cream. We’d sit on a bench overlooking the Mississippi River and talk about our day. He would praise me for my pirouettes and tell me how pretty I was.”
I kissed the top of her head. “You talk as if he is no longer in your life.”
She gripped me tighter and sighed. “He’s not.” She took a deep breath. “He had a temper.”
“Did he fucking touch you?” I growled, instantly ready to snap.
“No!” she practically shouted. “He’d never do anything like that to me. I was his entire life, Kace. His temper was never directed at me. He loved me dearly.”
The tension in me eased. I didn’t think I would have been able to handle hearing she was abused by her father.
“How did he die?” I asked, hating how invested I was getting in her story.
“My dad used to work at the Domino Sugar Refinery.”
“In Chalmette?” I asked, referring to its location.
“Yup, he was a line supervisor.”
I was impressed. That refinery was one of the oldest and biggest in the country. It brought a lot of needed jobs to the city of New Orleans.
“He worked hard to get to where he was,” Lyla continued. “He was driven, determined to give me everything he thought I wanted when in fact all I wanted was him. He was my hero.”
“What happened?” I asked, my heart splintering for Lyla.
“When he first got a job there, he started with a bunch of his friends. It was my dad and three other guys who entered the system together. They were inseparable and were like uncles to me. When I would visit my dad, they had a little pink hard hat for me.”
Fuck my heart.
“My dance lessons got more expensive each year, and my dad insisted upon me taking them since I had talent and it was an after-school activity that kept me occupied while he was at work. Because expenses were high, he buckled down and worked harder, pushing his limits, pushing his friends’ limits.”
“He wanted to make more money. There is nothing wrong with that,” I said.
“There is when you have a trigger-happy temper that goes off at the slightest disturbance. I don’t really know the details, because no one would tell me, but I guess my dad got in an altercation with someone at work. It was quickly broken up, but it put a target on my dad’s back. Later that night, when he was walking to the dance studio to pick me up, he was murdered in the back of an alley, brutally beaten to death.”
Someone took her dad’s life?
Sweat started to skate across my body, and my chest began to seize. “Someone murdered your dad?” I asked, barely able to squeak out the words.
“At first they thought he was kidnapped since they couldn’t find him. I waited for hours in the dance studio for him to pick me up. Once I realized he wasn’t coming, I went to my dance teacher, who called the cops for help. I was put into protective custody. They found his body in a dumpster in the alley.”
My throat closed on me. I was being swallowed whole by the Lyla’s grief and the thought of her father being taken away from her…just like Madeline.
“Shortly after, I was thrown into the foster care system since I didn’t have any family, and I was quickly introduced into a different world where dance lessons didn’t exist and a loving father no longer lived. I was tortured by the other girls, called nicknames like ‘princess’ and ‘spoiled’ because my stuff far exceeded what the other girls had.”
“How old were you?” I choked out.
“Fourteen. I endured four years of torture until I was able to get out of the home and survive on my own. My lack of education and my jaded outlook on the world landed me in the hands of Marv, the owner of Kitten’s Castle. He took me in and showed me the ropes. Slowly, I worked my way up to the pole, where I am now.”
Fuck, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t focus. The room was spinning, causing a kaleidoscope of cracks to appear on Lyla’s ceiling. A black fog entered my brain as one sole thought appeared in my head.
Madeline, the daughter of the man I’d killed. She could end up just like Lyla, jaded and living in poverty with no future.
The urge to throw up had me springing up from the bed. Sweat trickled down my back and saliva flooded my mouth. I quickly grabbed my clothes and ran to the bathroom, making sure to close the door.
I fell to my knees in front of the toilet and retched violently, purging the contents of my stomach, along with the horrible pain that overtook my body from hearing Lyla’s story. My throat burned from stomach acid, my muscles shook violently, and I clutched the cool porcelain until I didn’t think I had anything left in me.
A light knock sounded at the door, and I prayed she didn’t let herself in. I couldn’t possibly recover from her seeing me like this. I was already gutted. I didn’t need the humiliation as well.
“Kace, can I come in?”
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “No.”
I could hear her sigh on the other end of the door, but I didn’t give in to the temptation this time. I kept the barrier of the door between us.
Pulling myself off the floor, I put my jeans on and looked in the mirror.
An ugly version of the man I’d once known stared back at me. Instead of the youthful face of someone full of potential and stardom, a broken, battered, and bruised man stared back at me. A man with age showing in his eyes, a man full of absolutely nothing, a man who only knew the feeling of remorse.
I gripped the counter and lowered my head, not able to look into my vacant blue eyes anymore. A lonesome tear left my eye and trailed down my face, surprising me with the heavy emotion I was feeling, knowing everything Lyla had been through had the potential to be what I put Madeline through or what she would be going through.
A piercing pain shot through my stomach, crippling me into the bathroom counter for support. My legs wobbled beneath me as I tried to regain control of my body. I was better than this. I was stronger than this. I didn’t let such feelings enter my body.
With a need to extract myself from Lyla’s apartment, I turned on the faucet and doused my face with water. I dried off with a little pink towel that was resting on a hook, reveling in the smell of Lyla on it. She was everywhere, making the need to leave that much stronger.
I flushed the toilet, pulled my tasseled shirt over my head, and took a deep breath before I opened the bathroom door. I half expected to see Lyla waiting for me, naked with her arms crossed, but she wasn’t there.
Grateful, I went to her door, forgetting anything else I might have left behind. I was about to leave when a flash of purple caught my eye. Lyla was lounging on her couch, wearing a short purple silk robe, holding a glass of wine in her hand, and staring at the wall.
She didn’t look at me, didn’t even acknowledge my presence as I grabbed the doorknob. Without saying goodbye, I slipped out and walked the few blocks to Diego’s apartment, where I grabbed a liter of whiskey and brought it up to my room.
It was time to forget.
