A Gorgeous Villain

by Saffron A Kent

  I can’t.

  Because two years ago, I loved him too much and sometimes I still feel that love.

  I hate it.

  I hate that I can feel it in my chest but I feel it nonetheless.

  But then, that’s why I’ve done this, right?

  To not feel it anymore. To end it once and for all.

  “So say it,” Reed commands after a few seconds. “Say the words then.”

  I’m not surprised that he already knows what I’m going to say. It’s the strangest thing that we can sense each other’s thoughts like that but I’m not going to dwell on it.

  I’m going to say it.

  “I-I think we should…”

  His grip flexes around my throat, in my hair. “We should what?”

  “You should f-fuck me.”

  It took me what felt like forever to say it but it doesn’t take him more than a fraction of a second to repeat it. “I should fuck you.”

  I jerk out a nod and swallow that I’m sure he can feel on his rough palm. “Yes.”

  “Because you’re not an innocent flower anymore. I don’t need to tell you to hold on to your dress. Or to hide your pussy from me.”

  I’d forgotten.

  I’d forgotten how filthy his words can be. Or at least what they made me feel when he talked to me like that. How they affected me.

  How they sent currents running through my body, my stomach, my limbs. How my skin would tremble and become coarse with goosebumps.

  “Yes,” I reply, swallowing again. “It didn’t work the last time. Protecting me, my body. So I think we should d-do it.”

  “Do it.”

  “I think we should get each other out of our systems. Get closure. So we can move on. We can —”

  “Yeah, you said that.” He squeezes my throat again. “You already said how you wanted to fall for someone else.”

  “Reed —”

  He cuts me off again. “So you want me to fuck you, fuck that thing between your legs, so you can offer it up to someone else. A good guy. A guy who doesn’t hurt you like I do. Am I getting it right?”

  At his angry words, jealous words, a great, mighty tremble rolls through my thighs, through the thing between my legs, and I have to press my thighs together to keep my balance.

  But then, I shouldn’t have worried about falling because he’s got a good hold on me.

  A possessive hold.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that we have to end this and —”

  “And you’ve already done it, haven’t you?” he growls, his wolf eyes narrowed. “You’ve already offered it up to fucking Toby. Toby with his brown fucking eyes and his fucking kindness. He was kind to you. Isn’t that what you said? Toby was kind to you and so you went wherever he took you. And when he asked you, you spread your legs for him, is that it?”

  “Reed —”

  “Toby tell you that though? That you have to fuck someone to get over someone else. He teach you that?”

  I tug on his hair. “Reed, that’s not —”

  This time he cuts me off not with his words, but with his actions. His fingers shift and ripple around my body and he comes ever so much closer to me.

  His mouth breathes fire over mine as he rasps, “Let’s see then. Let’s see what that motherfucker taught you.”

  Before I can respond to that, he puts his fire-breathing lips on mine.

  For a second I’m so shocked, I’m so taken aback, that I freeze.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I don’t know if I should move or breathe or what. And I guess he has the same problem because he doesn’t do any of those things either.

  He only presses his mouth on me.

  But then slowly he breathes.

  Slowly, he opens his mouth over mine and his sweet and smoky breath fans over my lips. And his life-giving air goes down into my lungs and slowly resurrects all the dead spaces inside of me.

  Slowly, I come alive and I breathe too.

  I not only breathe, I open my mouth and I gulp down all the air he gives me.

  And when I’m all alive for the first time in two years, I kiss him.

  I kiss the guy I fell in love with when I was almost sixteen, and the sky opens up.

  Exactly like it did two years ago.

  Two years ago, when Reed Roman Jackson kissed me for the first and only time, the sky broke into pieces and scattered around us in raindrops. The same thing is happening right now and it’s a shock to my body.

  It’s a shock to his body too but he doesn’t take his mouth off like he did that time, and I thank God for that. I wasn’t about to give him up. I can’t. Not yet.

  And it looks like he doesn’t want to give me up either.

  He doesn’t want to let go of my mouth, so he keeps kissing me.

  Although the rest of the things, he does them exactly as before.

  Last time, he picked me up from the ground and cradled the back of my head. He made me take shelter in his big body before he carried me to his Mustang to protect me from the rain.

  This time too he does all of that.

  He picks me up and my thighs go around his waist. He cradles the back of my head but only to press our mouths closer and I wind my arms around his neck only so I can let him.

  Still kissing, he takes me over to his Mustang.

  And God, I’m going to start crying.

  I’m going to start sobbing because he’s still doing it, isn’t he?

  He’s still protecting me.

  After all the things I said to him just now. After how I’ve angered him and hurt him and invoked his jealousy and violence, he’s still taking care of me, and my heart squeezes in my chest.

  My heart cries for him. For this guy who has a penchant for acting like a hero when he’s the villain.

  Why does he do this though?

  Why does he make me hurt for him? And Jesus Christ why does he taste so good?

  Why does he taste like something I want to eat and consume and drink for the rest of my life?

  Because he does and I missed it.

  I missed his taste.

  You’d think that a guy like him would taste spicy and tangy, but no. He tastes like my favorite dessert.

  He tastes like cupcakes.

  He tastes sweet and sugary and rich. So addictive, so toxic for my broken ballerina heart.

  So injurious.

  But fuck it.

  Fuck it because I’m going to taste him tonight and I’m going to curse and open my mouth over his so he can taste me as well.

  So he can taste me as much as he likes.

  I let him eat me, eat my mouth. Bite at it, nip and lick and suck. Everything that he wants to do to me as he carries me to shelter in the pouring rain.

  And with the grace of the athlete that he is, he opens the door and bends down to deposit me inside his car. And yes, we have to break apart for that to happen but the separation only lasts like two seconds before he’s inside the car too and like the last time, I hurry over to straddle his lap.

  And then we’re back at it.

  He’s back at kissing me, grabbing my jaw to deepen the angle, and I’m back at kissing him too as I fist his hair, rub my fingers over his stubble that feels so smooth to touch but irritates the life out of him.

  I don’t know how long we go on kissing each other. I don’t know how long he sucks on my lower lip or how long I claw at his t-shirt but somewhere during all of that, something has happened.

  Something vital and important that hadn’t happened two years ago and I feel it in my thighs.

  I feel his hands on my thighs. Both of them.

  His fingers are gripping me, my flesh, and they’re so forceful, so dominating that it makes me whimper and gasp in his mouth.

  Our lips break apart and we pant.

  With a heaving chest, I glance down between us.

  I see his soaked t-shirt that
sticks to his contoured muscles and raindrops decorating his arms. But more than that I see myself.

  I see why it was such a shock to have his hands on my thighs.

  Because my dress — as soaked as his t-shirt — is all messed up.

  My ivory dress with a lacy overlay that I wore for him tonight, that was hiding me away from the world, from his animal eyes, has ridden up.

  All the way up to the tops of my thighs.

  And he can see what he couldn’t. Back then.

  He can see my panties.

  A peek of them at least. A very tiny peek of my cream-colored lacy panties, and he’s right there.

  His hands with knobby knuckles and long fingers and moon-kissed skin are right there. At the seam of my panties. So much so that if he decides to stretch out his fingers more, he’ll touch it.

  He’ll touch me. My core, and even though it’s covered, I don’t think it’s much protection from him.

  I snap my eyes up to his face then and blurt out, “Reed, I need —”

  He doesn’t let me talk though.

  He gropes at my thighs forcefully, making me gasp again and fist his damp shirt on his shoulders.

  “No,” he growls, sitting back in the seat, sprawled and wet and sexy. “You don’t get to talk anymore. Time for talking is over. It’s time for something else, isn’t it?”

  I swallow, staring at his features, all tight and leached of color. “Reed —”

  “It’s time for you to show me what he taught you.” He squeezes my thighs again. “Show me all the new skills you’ve learned from him.”

  I shake my head, squirming in his lap. “This is not about that, Reed. You —”

  He lets go of my thigh then and brings one of his hands to grab my face, cutting me off. Pressing his fingers on my cheek, he asks, “Did he teach you new moves, Fae, huh? New tricks. Did he teach my Fae, my pure, daisy fresh Fae, all the new shiny tricks? Is she going to dance dirty for me now, huh?”

  “Reed.”

  “Because she knows everything now, doesn’t she?” He shifts up from the seat, his muscles taut and angry. “Thanks to one fucking Toby. Who I’m going to end by the way. I’m going to find him and I’m going to tear him limb from limb for taking what was mine. What belonged to me.”

  I grab his face too then, my eyes stinging, my body burning with his jealousy. With the heat radiating out of him. Out of his vampire skin and his black, villainous eyes. “It didn’t belong to you, okay? It didn’t. Please, Reed. This is about us. This is —”

  He rises from the seat like a coiled animal then, ready to strike, to bite, to leave teeth marks all over my skin and poison my veins with his venom and my stupid heart rejoices at that. That he’s leaving something in my body that will stay with me and it doesn’t even care that it’s poison and that it will kill me slowly.

  “There’s no us though, is there?” he growls, the words ripping out of his chest. “That’s the whole point. There will never be an us. Isn’t that why you want me to do this?”

  At his word ‘this,’ that hand of his on my thighs moves and his thumb touches the seam of my panties.

  For the very first time, and I jump.

  I rock in his lap, and staring at me with anger, with lust, he presses that digit into my pussy. In the valley between my lips, making me moan.

  “Isn’t it, Fae?” he rasps, watching me. “Isn’t that why you want me to fuck you, here.” He presses his thumb again, his fingers on my face moving too, capturing my jaw and squeezing. “Answer me. Isn’t that why you want me to stick my dick in your not-so-innocent hole? So it all ends tonight.”

  My lips part and I nod. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He pushes his thumb into my core again and somehow finds that exact spot, that bundle of nerves, that makes me whimper and dance on his lap. “So you’ll answer me. You’ll answer me when I ask you. Did he make you cry?”

  “What?”

  “Did you cry for him, Fae? When he fucked you.”

  I shake my head. “N-no.”

  “Good. That’s good too,” he says roughly, his fingers squeezing my face again. “Because only I get to make you cry, you understand? Only me. Say it.”

  “Only you.”

  “Yeah. Me. Only I get to hurt you. I get to make you mad and pink and angry. Only I get to make you dance on my lap. Don’t I?”

  And he does. When he flicks at my clit again, rubbing the fabric of my panties over it.

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Tell me why I get to do that.”

  “B-because only you are my villain.”

  “Fuck yeah, I am. And you’re my Fae. Mine.”

  I claw at his shoulders, at his neck. “I’m not. I don’t want to be.”

  “You’ve pissed me off, Fae,” he snaps, his body vibrating against me, his thumb on my clit so urgent and pushy and so freaking maddening. “You’ve pissed me the fuck off and now you’re going to pay for it. You understand what I’m saying to you? I’m going to make you pay for it. I’m going to make you cry.”

  His words make me moan. Or maybe it’s his hands, his thumb on my clit that hasn’t quit torturing me.

  It could be his eyes too, all dark and aroused and violent and beautiful.

  I don’t know what’s making me feel this way. This angsty and lustful and frustrated and eager. All at the same time.

  All I know is that I want more of him, more of this even though I shouldn’t want to.

  “You know how I’m going to do that? How I’m going to make you cry for me, Fae?”

  “H-how?”

  “With my dick,” he rasps. “With my big fucking dick. Tell me how big my dick is.”

  I can’t tell him anything right now but I try.

  I try my hardest. “As big as… my arm.”

  “Fuck yeah. My dick is as big as your pretty arm and when I stick it in here.” His thumb makes me see stars at here. “When I pound your fairy pussy with it, it’s going to feel like the first time. It’s going to feel like the first dick you’ve ever had. The first monster dick that was ever crammed into your tiny snatch and you’re going to forget all about your Toby.”

  “I —”

  “When I fuck you, Fae, it will hurt you but it will feel like magic. And you’ll love it. You’ll love hurting for my dick. You’ll love crying for it. And when you meet that good guy you’re so dying to meet, when he fucks you, your pussy will still hurt for my cock. She’ll still cry for it.”

  By the time he finishes, I want all his words to come true. All his lies to become my truth, and this feeling only intensifies when he takes his hands off my body and goes to unzip his jeans. When he pulls his t-shirt up slightly to reveal his cut abs and pushes his jeans down and gets out his dick and I swear to God I want to savor the moment.

  I want to look at it, at his cock, at his stomach, his bare skin. I want to memorize everything.

  It’s the last time, see. The first and the last.

  But I don’t get to do any of that.

  Because before I can even blink, he’s pushed my panties aside, exposing me, and then he’s there. At my hole.

  The head of his cock is there and, still holding my panties, he raises his hips and pushes in.

  He rams his way into my core and all my thoughts vanish. They leach out of my mouth in long groans and gasps as my mouth falls open and my spine arches up against the front seat of his Mustang.

  And my hands.

  They claw into his forearms, drawing blood. Because I’ve never felt this before. I’ve never felt this kind of pain.

  It explodes in my stomach and coats my eyes with thick tears.

  Tears for him.

  Exactly what he wanted.

  And even in this pain, my broken heart smiles. My stupid broken heart smiles and spins inside my chest, knowing that I gave him what he wanted.

  After hurting him so much, lying to him so much tonight.

  Because y
eah, I was lying.

  Or rather, I let him make assumptions.

  Because I haven’t done this before. No one’s been inside my body before tonight.

  Before him.

  I did meet a Toby, yes. I did kiss him, but that was it. I couldn’t mislead him when I was still hung up on someone else. I couldn’t kiss him because I wasn’t kissing him, I was kissing the guy who broke my heart.

  The guy who’s taken my virginity tonight without even knowing.

  He never would’ve done this otherwise. I know that.

  His protectiveness would’ve stopped him and I wanted this to end.

  He’s so strange, this villain.

  Whose hips are raised and whose body is taut and bowed under me and who’s breathing into my neck, puffing out warm breaths.

  Who’s lodged so deep inside of me that I can feel him throbbing. I can feel him pulsing as I try to draw breath. As I try to dull my own throbbing.

  My own pulsating, beating core that is wracked with pain.

  And I think just like I can feel him, feel his dick beating inside me like a heart, he can feel my channel pulse around his rod as well.

  He lifts his head and looks up at me. His lips are wet and parted like mine and his eyes are drugged and shimmering as he looks into my wet ones.

  His jaw clenches at my tears and I know, despite everything he said, despite all his anger and jealousy, he’s brimming with regret.

  And he proves me right when he carefully, oh so carefully, reaches up and wipes off a lone tear that had fallen down my cheek without me even knowing. He not only wipes my tear but he also wraps his big, strong arms around me and hugs me to his chest.

  He hugs me so tightly that I can’t stop my tears. I can’t stop myself from crying for him as I burrow my face in his neck.

  I feel him open his mouth on my forehead and breathe out in a puff as he shushes me. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll make it better, okay?”

  I nod, rubbing my nose in his wet t-shirt.

  He rubs his lips on my skin, rubs his arms on my spine, all the while making soothing noises, all the while whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got… I got carried away. I got so angry. I shouldn’t have —”

  “No, it’s going away,” I whisper back, looking up at him and meeting his molten eyes.

  His thick frown ripples. “Yeah?”