Break Me Beautifully

by Nora Flite

  Marshall slides my leggings down and I feel the buttery sheets beneath my naked skin. He then strips off his pants, and they puddle at is feet, landing softly as autumn leaves. His nakedness reminds me that clothes aren’t the only thing missing from his body. "Where's your gun?" I ask.

  He studies my face a moment. "In my bedside table there." He points at the tiny brown furniture with a yellow lamp sitting on top.

  "You didn't bring it to the show?"

  "Of course not. The cops would have charged me for carrying an unregistered weapon."

  "But I thought you had a deal with them?"

  He smiles with some chagrin. "I did. Setting up Bradford to be caught red-handed wouldn't stop them from also putting me behind bars if they had an excuse. I wasn't going to give them one."

  "How could you act so confident in that little room when Seya and Burgh and everyone had weapons, and you had nothing?"

  "They'd never have the balls to shoot me. If Benson didn't slit their throats, the top boss himself would. There are rules we all have to follow."

  "Isn't setting up Bradford breaking a rule?"

  His chuckle is bone dry. "Absolutely. If they figure it out. Which they won't."

  I shake my head in wonder. "Your life is so complicated, Marshall."

  "Yes," he agrees solemnly. "Does that make you hesitate to be with me?"

  "No. I love you. I'm not going to run away."

  "Good." He settles over me on the bed, the mattress gives under his presence, his weight, and my heart emulates all of it. "Because I wouldn't let you run. You're mine, Leona Hark." His lips rub over my temple, seeking my mouth then my smooth throat. "You swore it to me," he mumbles through my cells, infecting my voice so that I moan. "I'll never forget how I was your first. I'll also be your last."

  His fingers that are capable of such cruelty run down my rib cage, tracing each curve with varying speeds. It leaves me on edge because I can't predict what he'll do next.

  "Fuck, I need to see all of you," he growls. He wrangles my shirt over my head, leaving me in my metallic lavender bra and matching panties. I gaze upwards at him like he's as memorable as the Northern Lights. I indulge in this once in a lifetime experience that I want to last forever.

  His fingers link with mine, sweeping my hands upwards and pressing them on the headboard. I'm trapped under his weight. Knowing that he can do anything to me makes me shiver, and my thighs squeeze together as I get wetter with anticipation.

  "Hold still," he demands huskily.

  "I'm trying."

  "It's about to get harder," he teases, his smirk slicing straight through my defenses, making my clit throb with his sinful promises. His confidence in his ability to turn me on is in itself an aphrodisiac. Gliding down my body he presses on my hips, forcing my legs to scissor, nudging my pelvis upward. The pressure thrills me to the point of goosebumps.

  "I can smell you," he groans, kissing my hip. He flattens his tongue and runs it over my panties, right over my clit, making me strain upwards towards his mouth. "Greedy, greedy girl," he chuckles.

  Craning my neck, I stare at him where he's lying on the bed on his belly, his face resting right beside my pussy. "Eat me out," I say, panting.

  "Not yet." He climbs over me, his strong thighs straddling my shoulders. His hard-on curves against the front of his boxers, ready to spring free. "Suck me first. I want to feel the sweet mouth say ‘I love you’ as it wraps around my cock."

  “Mn,” I whimper, tugging his elastic waist-band downward. His shaft arches proudly into the low lights, tip glistening. I don't think twice. I lather my tongue over the ridge of it, making Marshall hiss loudly in delight. He slaps his hands onto the wall above the bed, hips thrusting into my face.

  Cradling his shaft, I cup his balls, feeling them flex. "Fuck, Leona," he whispers. "That's amazing."

  I draw him in deeper, suckling, my tongue making circles. All at once he rips away from me. I gasp for air. "I'm not done," I argue.

  "You'll have free reign to suck my cock anytime you want," he says, eyes flashing. "I want my turn again." He pushes my knees apart, shoving my soaked panties aside to expose my vulva. I squeal, heat erupting in my center, in my clit, as he starts licking me. I go wild, eager to feel my heat to turn into release.

  Sweat slides down my temple. I'm already close to coming. "Marshall, oh my god," I moan loudly.

  "You're so damn wet," he says, his voice vibrating against my pussy. He spreads me wide, a single finger sinks inside, my walls sucking on it, wishing it was his cock but taking what they can get. I want to kiss him and fuck him and everything in between.

  His galaxy-black eyes fix on me. Somehow that puts me over the edge, my mind decimated by a tingling rush of orgasm. My toes curl as I gasp, fingers wrenching in his thick hair.

  My muscles still twinge as he climbs over me. On impulse I lean up and kiss him. He tastes like salt and stars and our future. I love it. The raw hunger in his face makes my lower belly tighten. There's more under his surface. It seeps out in how he grips my cheeks, palms my breasts, and kisses me again and again.

  He reaches for his bedside table. I know he's going for a condom. Gripping his wrist, I halt his action, forcing him to stare at me uncertainly. "It's fine," I assure him.

  "You want me to fuck you bareback?"

  "Is that bad?"

  "Oh, very bad." The danger in his low whisper makes my heart thrum. "Maybe I corrupted you after all. You really want my cock that bad? My thick come filling up your hungry pussy? Say it."

  Scalding pink with excitement, I reach down until I'm gripping his shaft, guiding it toward me. "Fuck me. Fill me up, I need it so damn bad."

  He crashes into me with full force, treating me not like the former virgin I was but like someone who can survive all that he is. I deserve what he can give me—we both know it.

  "Christ," he growls, sinking into me in a single stroke so solid it impacts me like a comet, the force going beyond flesh and blood. I blink back the orbs of beautiful color that try to blind me. I fight them off because I want to see his face. I don't want to miss a second.

  Marshall rests his muscular body on top of me. My hands explore his strong back while his mouth searches mine. He's kissing me like he's looking for something. He’s kissing me like he's found it.

  Each thrust of his full length makes my body throb. Everything is liquid warmth. My existence is a puddle he could drink in a single mouthful. I'd let him devour me until I was nothing but a whisper of passion. I'd let him do anything, I think, if I could feel this good while it happened.

  Here, in his arms, there's no more fear. I'm forgotten what sadness is, what ailed me as I wondered about where I fit into the universe.

  Now I know.

  I belong here.

  "Leona, Leona." My name sounds like a mantra. Hugging him tight, I meet his piston hips, driving myself towards a fast, hot, trembling climax. His cock swells so fast I think it'll break me. And I want it to. The idea alone sends me over the edge, making me come a second after he starts to. There's nothing but his erotic voice and our pulsing muscles in this place.

  His hips keep gyrating, his craving not satisfied. His breath is pure steam. I come again, screaming, toes pointing, nails digging in for any source of stability. Black dots blur my vision. I realize they're his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks, stroking my hair from my forehead.

  My lids flutter. I kiss him, laughing through it, giddy with madness. There's too many emotions burrowing in my chest, laughing is all I can do. When I finally stop shaking, I notice he's grinning at me. "What?" I ask, my giggles waning.

  "I was thinking how much I love watching you."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. You're fascinating, Leona. I was drawn to you from the very start."

  My smile weakens a little as his words sink in. "You're the first to see me. Really see me, I mean. I was hiding all my life, Marshall, doing my best to let no one see me. Then you did. You broke me."

  "Leona,"
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  "You broke me," I repeat, clasping his face, "and I don't care. All the cracks you made helped the light inside of me shine free. Now I'm glowing so bright I can't hide anymore, and I don't want to."

  We converge together in unison, seeking comfort, chasing our drive to become more than ourselves. More than us. We're not there yet.

  But I know we will be.

  "I'm going to get the shower going," he murmurs in my ear. "Sound good?"

  "God, yes," I chuckle.

  He kisses the space beside my left eyebrow before dragging himself from the bed. Light from the city sifts through the blinds of his bedroom window, outlining his muscled hamstrings and his tight ass. My heels hit the floor and follow him until a buzz catches my attention.

  "That's me," I say, kicking my things aside until I find my phone. My sister is calling me. I answer, tucking the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

  "Hey," she says hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah. I'm with Marshall."

  "Oh. That's ... are you two ..."

  Turning my head, I watch him as he climbs into the steaming shower. I'm dying to join him. "Yeah. Listen, Katy—"

  "Wait. Let me. I'm sorry I didn't prepare you more for all of this."

  "It's fine, you thought you were doing what's right." I haven't fully forgiven her, it's too soon, but I don't want her hating herself for what's already done. "I'm going to stay here."

  "What? Why?"

  "You know why."

  I hear her sigh, then laugh, resigning herself to my news. "Well, you weren't supposed to come home for another two months. I'll wait for your decision about moving in with your new boy after that."

  Though I blush, it's less severe than normal. I've gotten used to the idea of Marshall and me as a couple. What's to be ashamed about?

  "Can I ask something kinda crude?"

  "Sure," I say.

  "You're not pregnant, right?"

  Laughing heartily, I pat my belly even though she can't see it. "No. Feel free to tell Mom I managed to do as she asked."

  "For now."

  "For now," I agree in a quieter voice.

  "What happens next, Leona? What will you two do?"

  Casting a look at the bathroom where I can hear the shower running, I smile fondly. "Who knows. Maybe we'll adopt a dog."

  ****

  I stare at his bedroom ceiling and count the paint swirls. I stop around sixty-five before I give up, but I know I'll have another shot. I plan to look at this ceiling a lot.

  Marshall is lying next to me. He's shirtless, his jacket strewn on the floor with the rest of his clothes except for his boxers. I expect him to look peaceful, but he's staring at the window, his frown subtle, scar glinting.

  "What's wrong?" I ask.

  He glances at me, startling. His smile is quick but false. "Nothing."

  I narrow my eyes. "No lies, remember?"

  Scratching his scalp, he sits up with a tired laugh. "I'm not lying. Nothing is wrong. It's actually good."

  "Then why do you look so miserable?"

  Craning his neck, he looks back at the window. I can see his entire back. Tattoos and scars create a mural of his life. "You know what I was given in exchange for turning on Bradford Mink."

  My pulse quickens, forcing me to sit up on the bed next to him. "Information about your dad's killer." He nods slowly. "Did they give it to you already?"

  He pulls in a long breath. Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed he leans down, digging in his clothing. When he faces me again there's a small white envelope squeezed between his fingers. "It's here. This tiny piece of paper is supposed to lead me to the man responsible for my father's death."

  And for putting you on the path to joining the mafia. I think it but don't dare say it. "Well," I whisper, my nerves kicking in, "are you going to open it?"

  Closing his eyes, he presses the envelope to his chest. "I don't know."

  "What? Why?"

  When he looks at me next there's a ripple of genuine fear in his black eyes. "It'll change things, Leona. It could make me do things that would put us ... you ... in danger."

  God, I feel for him. I wish I could wrap him in more than just my arms and save him from the evil things that put him in this situation in the first place. Laying my hands on his knees, I pull myself into his lap. He adjusts on the bed to hold my spine to his chest, hugging me with his chin on my scalp.

  I trace my nails over his forearm, trying to relax the veins exposed by tension from crushing the envelope. I outline the words engraved on his wrist. Powerful words. Tragic words. "You went through so much to get to this point. If you could throw the paper away, you would have already."

  "When I thought about revenge," he says quietly, "I pictured myself alone. I had nothing to lose. What if whatever is in here ruins what we're creating?"

  "What we're creating can't be destroyed by this."

  "I don't know."

  "Since when does the Devil fear something as small as this?" I tease.

  "This," he growls, hugging me fiercely, "isn't small."

  "Exactly. And it's too strong to be wrecked by a name on some paper."

  He's gone quiet again. "Not the paper," he says flatly, "but what I'll do with it. I'm not afraid to kill, Leona. I've lived so long waiting for the chance to get my revenge. Can you live with me when you see the monster lurking in my soul?"

  "I've seen it already," I reply. His grip loosens on the paper. I never thought I'd be someone to tame a beast. He isn't tamed, I remind myself. That's why he's telling me all this. "I'll love you no matter what, Marshall. I don't want you to regret not knowing who's responsible for what happened to your father, especially if it's because of me. You won't lose me. Not over this, not over anything."

  Marshall embraces me hard, his muscles trembling like he's exhausted. "Okay," he says. "I believe you. Here we go." I watch, fascinated, as he carefully opens the envelope. The paper inside is the size of a note card, thin as tissue paper. Marshall handles it like it's a grenade.

  Together in his warm bed, he reveals the writing inside. The letters are scrawled in elegant, curving black ink. It's wrong to write a killer's name with such reverence.

  The paper starts to quiver in his grip. "Marshall, calm down," I say nervously. "Marshall?"

  "No," he snarls. "Impossible. No!"

  The man I love is twitching so hard a tear begins to rip the paper. His fury is barely contained, and I wonder, if I wasn't here, how much worse his reaction would be.

  I understand, though, because I've read the name.

  "Why would he do this? Why lie to me, right to my face, telling me it was a drug deal when it was him all along?"

  Crumpling the paper into his fist, Marshall swings outward, punching the wall beside the bed. A picture falls to the floor, glass shattering. "What are you going to do?" I ask. But I know the answer.

  He opens his hand, the note dropping to the floor as a ruined clump. "He murdered my father and pretended it was an accident. He welcomed me into the family and praised me for my talents. It was all a sick game, Leona. All of it. I don't care if he's the damn Underboss himself. When I'm done, Benson Lucardo will know what it means to cross the Devil."

  Thanks for reading!

  Break Me Sinfully, Halo's story, will be coming soon!

  The Lucardo Crime Family has a lot to answer for...

  Read More here!