by T Steele
My eyes glide over his body and I’m relieved to find that he’s unscathed. His eyes are emotionless and dead, and I find myself wanting to say or do anything to help him, to comfort him, to comfort myself.
There’s so many things I want to ask.
“How many people did you kill tonight?”
“Did it make you sad?”
“Do you regret it?”
“How did you kill them?”
Instead, I settle on, “John, are you okay?”
His intense eyes narrow and he stalks closer to me, towering over me and caging me in with his arms. “Why the fuck are you still here?”
Hurt by his words, I glare at him. “Because I fucking wanted to make sure you were okay. I thought . . . I thought you might—”
“What, you thought I’d want to see you? As if you’re mine? As if I go to my 9 to 5 job wondering what my sweet little wife will be cooking for dinner when I get home? That’s not what this is, Ruby. You need to stay the fuck away from me. I killed four men tonight and I loved every second of it. I love letting that side of myself out. It’s like letting out a chained beast. The beast needs violence. Its claws are sharp and jagged, and anyone it touches will be ruined.”
The emotionless John with the dead eyes is gone. Now his chest is heaving and the rage in his eyes is something I’ve never known. The way he’s crowding my personal space frightens me, but more so, I feel myself getting angrier and angrier.
I splay my hands on his chest and push with all my might and he barely budges.
He laughs coldly. “Aww, is the little kitten mad? Finally realizing the big bad beast could chew her up and spit her out,” he mocks.
And I hate that I feel tears well in my eyes. I hate that I’m a rage crier. People think it makes me weak, but really I’m trying not to lash out at them. It’s even more frustrating with John, though, because he is big and tough and could knock me down with a flick of his fingers.
“You’re the one who asked me to ‘keep your dinner waiting’,” I yell, crossing my arms, trying to force a barrier between us.
When he does nothing but glower at me with a clenched jaw, I go on. “Why are you being like this?” I yell. “What’s wrong with you?”
I try pushing him again and he doesn’t budge, but at least moves away on his own. Now, both of our chests are heaving, and I know I have tear streaks on my cheeks. But at this point, I don’t have the energy to care.
“This is who I am, Ruby.” He laughs harshly, but to me, he just sounds like he’s in pain.
“What happened to you?” I ask gently, trying for another route. “My dad told me—”
“That he found this fucked up and disturbed scrap of a kid and that he took me under his wing? Did he tell you the part where a bunch of rapists broke into my house and beat the shit out of me, then brutally raped my mother right in front of me? Did he then tell you that I made my first kill at eleven years old and it was the first time I wasn’t afraid?”
A sob rips out of my chest. John is hurting and he’s trying to hurt me, too. And I am hurt, but I’m hurt more for him. For the little boy who had to grow up so quickly. For the little boy who had to live with the guilt of what his mother had been through.
John’s eyes gleam with a ferociousness to rival the fiercest of beasts. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Room.”
I try to catch my breath to say something, anything, but my tears come faster, and I shake my head no.
“What do you mean no? Are you stupid? You’re already so scared of me you’re about to piss your pants. And why wouldn’t you be disgusted after what you just heard? Stop messing with my already fucked up head and get out,” he grits all that out with clenched teeth as he points a trembling finger to his door.
“I’m not,” I sniff. “I’m not scared of you and I’m not disgusted by you.”
“And here I thought you were smart.”
He’s trying so hard to push me away, but deep down, I know he needs me, so I close my eyes, taking a deep breath and try to scrounge up the courage for what I’m about to do. The only thing I know I can do. At least, what I think might work. And if the way John looked and acted every time he saw me naked indicated anything at all, it’s that this plan will definitely work.
I stand up on wobbly legs, looking like a blubbering mess, but I rip my shirt over my head. I’m not wearing a bra, so my breasts are out and ready, my nipples already pebbling.
John’s eyes lock onto my chest and darken, the towel around his waist barely containing his desire. “What the fuck are you doing?” he rasps.
“Come here,” I say as I pull down my shorts and underwear. I stand before him completely naked.
He licks his lips, and I hear him swallow. He starts backing up as if he’s the one who’s scared now.
“Come on, John,” I say softly. “You need me. Fuck your pain away. If only for a little while.”
He starts breathing heavily, a pained expression appears on his face. He looks away. “I’m too rough like this. I—I don’t want to hurt you, use you.”
“I thought you were a monster,” I mock, throwing his words back at him. “The man you describe yourself as would jump on me in an instant.”
“Ruby . . .” he breathes my name like a prayer. Like he doesn’t know if he’s telling me to stop or continue.
I slowly walk toward him. So close that my breasts almost touch his ribs. I crane my neck to stare up at him, and then I get down on my knees in front of him.
“Oh fuck,” he swears.
I hesitantly rest my fingers around his towel. “Is this okay?” I whisper.
His mouth is open as he stares down at me and he gives a subtle nod and I unwrap the towel. His erection springs forward and I stare at the soft skin, admiring it, watching the precum spill from the tip. I gently rest my hand on it and John swears once more.
I look up at him again and my voice comes out husky. “What do I do? I’ve never done this before,” I murmur, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks.
John licks his lips once more, a groan leaving his mouth. “That makes me the luckiest sonofabitch in the world. Fuck, Ruby, how can you look like every man’s wet dream yet still be so fucking sweet and innocent?”
He bends a little, cupping my chin and gently smoothing his thumb over it and then moves his hips forward. “Open for me,” he growls. “Just the feel of your mouth on me will be enough.”
I moisten my lips with my tongue, and more precum spurts from him. When I lick it off, it tastes salty and—if I’m completely honest—not too bad.
John gasps, his fingers shoving into my hair, guiding me.
I move my head forward, taking him in as much as I can and John makes this sound in the back of his throat, a deep rumble. I find that I like being the reason he makes that sound. When I move my head back down the base of him and to the tip, John gently pulls my head back.
“Huh?” I say, looking up at him.
“I can’t come in your mouth, Ruby. I’m just . . . you can’t be around me right now.”
“Are you sure you want to be alone?”
“Yes,” he says with no life behind his icy eyes.
“I don’t feel right leaving you alone like this,” I whisper, crossing my arms trying to cover my nakedness.
John’s jaw works. “Right now, I need you to leave so I can let off my adrenaline the only way I know how.”
“How do you normally do that?” I ask, fearing the answer.
He runs his hand through his hair, resigned and exasperated. “Please leave, Ruby.”
Rage burns through me even though I’m in his room and he’s asked me to leave, and he has the right to. But it doesn’t stop the feelings of hurt and rejection that pass through me when all I did feel before was worry for him. All I wanted to do was comfort him.
“Fine,” I say. “Maybe I should go find Luca or Ryder, then and—”
John pins me against the wall so fast, his finger stroking my clit. “Ryder and Luca co
uld never give you the pleasure I can.” His eyes are vicious and focused. “You’re already so wet for me,” he breathes.
I buck my hips into his finger, my hands coming up to cup his jaw. “It’s not just about the pleasure, John. I came here to comfort you. I was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”
His hand stills and a small whimper falls from my lips. His nostrils flare with turmoil. “I’m not the kind of man you should be worrying about.”
“Well, I worry about you anyway. I can’t just turn it off.” I smooth my thumbs over the stubble on his jaw and he recoils as if I’ve slapped him. “Why are you so angry with me?”
“Because I’m not a gentle man, Ruby. I can’t be,” he seethes. “I’ll only complicate your life and ruin you. You’ve already given me your virginity. The damage has already started. And when I came home tonight, angry and ready to fuck anything in sight, I felt guilty for thinking of anyone else because you’re the only one I want to be fucking.” His chest heaves and there’s still rage in his eyes, but it’s mixed with lust as well. “Sometimes, when I touch you, I’m almost afraid I’ll leave a stain on you or taint you in some way, but fuck, I can’t keep resisting you either. You’re fucking with my entire life.”
“Why would you go and fuck someone else when I’m here and willing?” I ask, my voice trembling with jealousy and hurt.
His lips slam down to mine roughly, his teeth sinking into my bottom lip. “Run. Get out of here now. This is your last chance before I lose all my motherfucking control.”
Maybe I’m an idiot, but his words cause heat to explode through my body, and I put my hands on his shoulders, hoisting myself up and wrapping my legs around him.
“Let me take your pain away for a little while.”
The words are all it takes for him to slam his erection inside me. I tense, my inner walls clenching around him and he throws his head back with a visceral growl. He doesn’t stop. Our skin slaps together loudly along with the lyrics to System of a Down’s “Chop suey!”
The song blares as the singer screams, “Why have you forsaken me?”
It’s fitting for what all I’ve learned of John today, and it’s almost as if he’s keeping his thrusts to the beat of the music. My scream is nothing but pleasure when John bites down on my nipple and I cum, hard, my sex gripping him tighter and tighter, and John grunts, moaning in pleasure. Our bodies are slick with sweat and John’s hands squeeze my ass, his fingers near my back entrance, touching me there, a forbidden place I didn’t think I’d like—but I do. It heightens my pleasure, forcing my orgasm to press on and on and I feel John’s release as well as our bodies jerk uncontrollably. We scream together in ecstasy and I move my hips faster, my mouth coming down on his shoulder, biting into the flesh there, which seems to spur John on.
Our breathing is frantic, and my legs feel like jello, but somehow John still has the energy to carry me to the bed and flip me around on my stomach. My feet are touching the floor still while John palms the flesh of my ass before plunging deep inside me once more. My feet lift off the floor for a moment while my face sinks into the mattress. I turn my head sideways, gripping the comforter, bracing myself.
He grunts with every forceful thrust of his hips, my feet leaving the floor with every clap of our skin.
John’s fingers find that tiny bundle of nerves that he enjoys touching so much and firmly massages it with his long fingers.
His other hand slaps my ass and it echoes louder than when his hips smack against my skin and I orgasm violently. A second time. My body goes limp as euphoria bursts inside me. John speeds up his thrusts, which I hadn’t thought was possible, and finds his release once more, before he falls on top of me.
I never want to get up. My body is spent and I feel fully satiated. John releases a breath when he slowly pulls out of me and then flops onto his back, eyes dazed and staring at the ceiling.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks gruffly.
“No. Not at all.”
His head turns to me and he tucks a piece of sweaty hair behind my ear. “Thank you,” he whispers.
And I know the smile I give him is so wide because that was the first time I’d ever heard John Russo sound so vulnerable and absolutely sincere.
Chapter Nine
I wake up to soft kisses on my face, and John’s still sleep-ridden voice. “We fell asleep.”
I jump up in a panic, the blanket falling from my still naked body in a rush. We were fast asleep not long after we’d made love.
A sound of approval leaves John’s lips. “Now, that’s a sight I could get used to when I first wake up.”
I smile, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, and I stand from the bed. The faint smell of sex still lingers in the room and I find that I don’t mind it. I walk to John’s bathroom and find my clothes where I’d left them the night before. I cringe in embarrassment at the way I’d handled things, but it worked. John seems lighter and happier this morning. Knowing I had something to do with that fills me with satisfaction.
John leans against the door, he’d quickly dressed and now he’s watching me pull my clothes on, and it makes me nervous. Being the recipient of his gaze, having his full attention, it’s powerful, a lot to take in, and it makes me feel significant, rare, exceptional. His gaze is possessive, like he’s marking me, branding me. When it’s just us, alone, everything else seems to fade away and it’s hard when we have to reenter reality.
“Let’s get back to your room now.”
“Won’t that be suspicious?” I ask.
“No. I’m your bodyguard. I’m supposed to be following you around, and if Eli was the one guarding your door last night, I’m willing to bet he’s still asleep.”
I snicker when I think about how I’d easily left my room last night. I probably should be panicking, but being around John and also being sleep deprived makes me feel delirious.
John nods his head to the door. “Come on.”
I follow and John puts a hand up and looks out his door first, and then nods, letting me know the coast is clear.
We get back to my room and I open the door first. I grip the doorknob tightly and push slowly, and . . .
John was right. Eli is still sleeping except now he’s sideways on the floor, looking like he’d fallen over from his sitting position from a few hours ago.
John looks at him in disgust. “If your dad knew he was sleeping on the job, he’d kill him.”
“It’s fine,” I say, but John’s already jerking him awake.
“I DIDN’T STEAL THE CAR, OFFICER!” are the words that come from Eli’s mouth in his half-conscious state. When his eyes fully open and he sees John, they widen and he straightens. “Oh—hi John.”
“What would you have done if someone broke in and took her?” John seethes.
Eli grimaces and his brow furrows in guilt. “I know. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay,” I smile at him, and then look to John hoping to convey the message of chill, if it weren’t for him falling asleep I never would’ve made it to your room last night.
Eli looks relieved and smiles back at me, but then John steps between us causing me to roll my eyes.
I sidestep him and continue to smile at Eli. “Really, it’s fine. Go get some sleep. I won’t tell my dad.”
“Ah, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Eli says and comes forward as if he wants to hug me. I know it would’ve just been a relieved hug. I don’t feel threatened by him and he’s never stared at me lustfully, but John growls anyway and puts a hand on his chest.
“Can you not see that I’m barely refraining from beating the shit out of you? Fucking leave. Now.”
Eli nods and scrambles out the door.
John turns around and stares down at me. “What kind of bastard does it make me, that I wanted to kill Eli because you smiled at him?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not a bastard, you just need to calm down.”
John actually barks out a
laugh at that. “Oh okay, I’ll get right on that.”
I laugh, too, and stick my tongue out at him and John swoops in, sucking on it, earning a surprised moan from me.
He pulls away, but leaves his hands on my face. “No one else could get you to make that noise.”
He’s right. They couldn’t. No one could ever affect me the way John does.
The next day, I find myself practicing with Liz.
“I can’t believe you can sing.” She huffs. “Are you good at everything?”
We’re in her room today. It’s super chic and done in all black and white. The white walls, vanity, and fancy ottoman really make the black bed, curtains, and rug stand out. Oh, and there’s glitter all over the black items of the room. The vanity is filled with what looks like a hundred different makeup options and it’s all organized by color. Now all I really want to do is ask Liz to give me an awesome makeover.
I laugh. “No, why would you think that? I can work on cars and sing, that’s literally it.”
“Hey, those are two really cool talents!”
“Thank you,” I smile sincerely. “You’re really talented, too, ya know,” I say.
Liz chuckles, “Just because I compliment you doesn’t mean you have to compliment me in return. This isn’t a slumber party.”
“Fine, then. You’re ugly and I hate you.”
She slow claps. “Yes! That’s what I like to hear.”
I snicker and roll my eyes. “Seriously, though, I was being honest.”
“We have our very own Mother Teresa at the house now. I can’t believe it.” Liz smiles fondly, shaking her head at me like she’s my grandmother or something.
“Will you just listen to me sing and tell me if I suck or not?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once the lyrics from the song I plan to perform flow from my lips, Liz’s eyes widen, and she fans herself dramatically. And I smile, closing my eyes, trying not to lose my focus.
After I’ve practiced a few times, we head to the garage to see if anything needs to be done.
