The Cruelest Chaos (Unsainted Book 3) Page 3

  She nods. Red explodes above our head again as I glance up. I see the moon as the sparks of light disappear.

  When I look back at her, I can’t read the expression on her face. Is this a fucking setup? Do I care enough to stop? I just ran after her. Tackled her to the ground. Held a knife to her throat.

  She doesn’t care.

  “Did you come here with just Natalie?” I ask her, trying to keep my voice even. “Is there some poor boy back there that’s going to be missing you?”

  She just smirks up at me.

  “You probably wouldn’t care, would you? You probably want me more, don’t you? You know that I’ll fuck you better.”

  She bites her lip, doesn’t say a word. I want to destroy her.

  I dive down, run my lips over her cheek, around to her mouth. A wet, sloppy kiss. “What’s wrong with you, Ella Christian? Why’re you so fucked up?”

  She laughs, her body straining against me, her hands still over her head even though I’m not forcing them there. Still, no answer.

  The world seems to spin a little as more fireworks pop off, one after another. I wonder if I should stop. I wonder if she really is crazy. But fuck it. I just killed someone. This would be the least of my crimes tonight.

  She bucks her hips against me, and I bite her lip, feeling the skin give way against my teeth, tasting her blood in my mouth. She gasps, but she presses harder against me.

  I run my tongue over her lips, my fingers clamping down on her bare thigh beneath her dress, over her socks. “You sure you want this?” I prod her, wondering if I’d stop. “You don’t even know me.”

  She spreads her legs wider, and my fingers brush against her damp panties. She shivers, her breath catching for a second right before another firework explodes.

  And then she says, “I don’t want to know you.”

  Perfect.

  I push her panties aside, slide my finger up her wet slit, circling her clit, wondering how she’d feel if she knew I just had a dead woman’s blood on my hands. But her eyes are closed tight, her throat arching upward as she moans, clouds of cold coming from her lips. I put my hand around her throat.

  She wants to get lost. For some reason, she wants to disappear.

  So do I.

  As another firework sparks above us, she suddenly grabs my hand, her eyes wide. I still, wondering if she’s about to try to tell me to stop. Wondering if I’ll be able to.

  “Hit me,” she whispers. Her voice sounds…choked. I feel her swallow, and I don’t know if it’s just the green fireworks exploding overhead that make it look like she’s got tears in her eyes, or if they’re real.

  I feel my blood hot in my veins, my chest constricting. “What?”

  The logical part of my brain tries to tell me to get away. She’s nineteen. Goes to a school for people with…problems. I don’t know shit about her. She’s already spread her legs for me, hasn’t screamed yet.

  She’s either fucking insane or she’s setting me up.

  But all the blood has rushed to my cock and I feel like I’m going to explode. Besides that, I chased her. If she’s insane…well, so am I.

  “You heard me,” she taunts me, her eyes narrowed, her red painted nails digging into the hand I’ve got at her throat. I slide my finger down her slit, tease her wet opening. She takes a shuddering breath, but she doesn’t lie back. “Please.”

  I shake my head. “Nu uh.” I push two fingers inside of her tight pussy, and I want my hand back so I can unbutton my jeans. “Ella, you don’t know what you’re—”

  She drops my hand, and with my fingers still inside of her, as another firework explodes over us, she fucking slaps me.

  My head snaps to the side, my face on fire. She didn’t hold back, and I know she did it so I’d feel exactly like this: Pissed the fuck off.

  It feels good to be angry. Even better to have someone to take it out on.

  Before I can think, I add another finger inside of her, stretching them and her. Her legs shake beneath me, a strangled moan coming from her throat, but when I turn my gaze back to her, she’s still staring right at me, propped up on her elbows.

  “What the fuck was that?” I ask her, fingerfucking her harder than I should. Her body jolts with each thrust, her lips parted as she stares at me, something like fear in her gaze.

  Good. She should be fucking scared of me.

  When she doesn’t answer me, I grab her shirt, pulling her up so we’re nose-to-nose. “When I ask you a question, fucking answer me.”

  She’s breathing hard, and her breath smells like alcohol. I realize she’s too young to drink, and then I realize I don’t give a fuck. Giving alcohol to minors seems like the most charitable thing I’ve done in the past few hours, so fuck it.

  “Please,” she begs me again, a moan coming out at the end of the word. I want to stuff my whole fucking fist inside of her for slapping me, but I don’t think I actually could, not without ripping her apart, so I keep the three fingers in her, twisting them around as her eyes nearly roll back in her fucking head. “Please, hit me.”

  “Why?” I mean, there’s rough sex, and then there’s…whatever she’s asking for.

  “I want to feel it.”

  My fist loosens around her shirt. I bite my lip, close my eyes, stilling inside of her a second.

  Let go.

  I think about Pammie’s skull. Think about Sid’s rage. About Lucifer in the room with Ezra and the girl. I think about watching my brother kill his own father. About how I couldn’t do the same, even though I should have. Even though he destroyed both of my sisters’ lives.

  Another firework explodes. And another.

  Let go.

  I think about how I’m always angry. I always want to hurt someone. I always feel like I’m .2 seconds away from snapping. From wrapping my car around a tree. But I can’t leave my brothers. I can’t leave my family.

  Let go.

  I pull my fingers out, let Ella’s shirt go, and go to work on the button of my jeans, my fingers slippery with her. She tries to help me, her fingers shaking, but I slap her hand away.

  But when she goes to yank down my jeans past my thighs, I let her help with that. Let her push my boxer briefs down too and watch her eyes as she takes in my aching cock.

  Her slender fingers wrap around the base, and she pulls me toward her.

  I pull her down by her waist, shove up her dress. I wrap my fingers around hers and help her guide me into her.

  She spreads her legs wider, and I push against her. She bites her lip, lies back down, and she feels so fucking tight, it almost hurts. Her panties are pressing against the edge of my dick, too, but I don’t want to pull out and take them off of her.

  I keep pushing into her, and it hurts more, even with as wet as she is.

  Let go.

  My heart is racing, adrenaline flooding through me as I try to hold myself back. Try to go in slowly. But I’ve got one hand on her throat, the other on her thigh and her skin feels so damn soft. She’s grabbing at my forearm with one hand, whimpering, and I know I should slow down. Maybe even get out of her and get the fuck away from her.

  She’s clearly as fucked up as I am.

  But she feels so fucking good.

  And as I push all the way into her with a groan that I can’t hold back, I know that I’m not going to stop.

  And when she forces her eyes open and says, “Don’t be a fucking pussy. Hit me,” I know I’m going to do that, too.

  Let. Go.

  I lean down over her, moving slowly inside of her, one hand on the cold ground to hold my weight off of her. My other hand caresses her soft skin, and this close to her, with white lights exploding over the trees, I can just make out those freckles all over her beautiful face.

  My mouth meets hers, but I don’t kiss her. “You sure you want me to do this, kid?”

  “I’m not a fucking kid,” she snarls at me.

  Then she digs her nails into my back, under my shirt and my hoodie, and her lip
s part in surprise at what she feels.

  My open wounds.

  But she recovers quickly, and this little bitch scratches vertically down my mangled flesh, breaking the skin open again. Her eyes are narrowed in a challenge.

  She scratches me again.

  She meant what she said, about what she wanted.

  And when I lift my hand and slap her across the fucking face, I mean it too. This isn’t a game. This isn’t some BDSM bullshit. I don’t play by any rules. There are no safe words here. She wants to get hurt, I’ll fucking hurt her.

  I catch her chin in my hand to keep her head from turning to the side. Her nails dig in deeper and she glares up at me as I fuck her, her chest rising and falling as she breathes hard. She looks so goddamn angry, I think I’m going to come inside of her right then.

  But I take a breath, hold back.

  “That’s it?” she taunts me even though she’s clearly in pain. She scratches her nails slowly down another set of wounds.

  I feel my lip curl up in a snarl and I see it again; that flash of fear on her pretty little face, already red from my hand. And something else too, the redness I saw below her eye.

  I don’t want to think about who did that to her. I don’t give a fuck.

  I put my palm over her mouth as I fuck her, but she shakes her head, tries to bite me.

  If I hit her again, it’s going to fucking hurt worse.

  I try to tell her as much as my hand slips down to her throat. “You don’t want this.”

  She wraps her legs around me, tilts her pelvis up, angling me deeper. “I decide what I want.”

  “I’m going to make you cry,” I whisper against her mouth.

  She kisses me, her tongue opening up my lips, darting inside. She moans against me, then she whispers, “Do it.”

  I pull back, her teeth scraping my bottom lip. But she lets me go, and I rub her cheek again.

  I slam into her so hard I feel our hip bones knock together. Her breath rushes out of her in a gasp, but I don’t give her time to recover before I slap her again, and this time, I don’t hold her face.

  I let her head snap to the side, long red strands of her hair splayed in the dirt.

  She flexes her jaw, and I see blood on her mouth. If it’s from hitting her and not from biting her I’m going to fucking hate myself.

  And yet…just as she tries to turn back to look at me, I know I’m going to come.

  I press my palm against the side of her face, hard, my head going to her shoulder as I finish inside of her, a guttural groan coming from my mouth, lost in the night with the explosion of another firework.

  I collapse on top of her, my hand still against the side of her face. I don’t want her to move. I don’t want her to speak. Not right now.

  Her heart is flying in her chest just like mine, our pulse nearly in unison.

  She’s panting beneath me, and I’m trying to catch my breath, too.

  Finally, I push myself up, still inside of her.

  She doesn’t look at me.

  “Ella?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

  Blood trickles out of her mouth, her face bright red. Two women I made bleed tonight. I’m only feeling a little bad about one of them.

  Slowly, she turns to look up at me. I can see the green in her eyes, lines of blue, too. But beyond how beautiful they are, they look nearly…dead.

  “It’s your turn,” I tell her softly, because I’m nothing if not a fucking gentleman, and now that I’ve just come, I’m feeling less wound up. A little…nicer.

  But she shakes her head, swipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. She smears blood on the side of her face, and I have the sudden urge to lick it off. Or make her bleed more.

  “No,” she says in a soft, but steady voice.

  “No?”

  She nods.

  I’m still inside of her, and I could fall asleep just like this, even as the fireworks fire off in quick succession around us and I hear cheers, the end of the show coming.

  But everything is out now. I let go, and I’m not at all sure I did it the right way but it’s better than a session at Father Tomas’s hand. If I could use Ella as my punching bag, I wouldn’t need more wounds down my back.

  “What do you want?” I whisper in the dark as the fireworks stop. I press my brow to hers, bring one hand beneath her head, my fingers in her hair.

  “Sleep,” she mumbles.

  “Okay,” I whisper back. “I can do that. By the way,” I run my mouth over hers, taste the blood I drew. “My name is Maverick.”

  She smiles against my lips. “The moon is beautiful, huh, Maverick?”

  It sure is, Ella.

  Chapter Three

  Lucifer is the first person I see when I carry the girl back into Liber. He’s standing in the back doorway with his arms crossed, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. His dark blue eyes narrow on me, and then go to the girl.

  Ella.

  “Get out of my way,” I growl at him.

  In the light, Lucifer sees the blood on her mouth, and the handprint across her face. His eyes widen as he yanks the cigarette out of his mouth and straightens, but he doesn’t back up. “Did you do that?” he asks me in his raspy voice.

  It seems whatever the fuck he was on earlier has more or less worn off. Lucky fucking me.

  Ella’s eyes are closed, and her breathing is slow and even, but I felt the subtle tense in my arms at his question. She’s not asleep, but she’s probably about to be. She told me she took a handful of Xanax from Natalie on the way here.

  Good thing I got to her before it kicked in, or she wouldn’t have felt anything I did to her. I wonder if that’s why she asked. I wonder if I should feel guilty about it.

  I wonder if I need to tell Natalie she isn’t a fucking pharmacist.

  “I said get out of my way.”

  Lucifer’s eyes shift from the girl to me. “You hit her.” It’s not a question.

  I frown. “Would you like to call the fucking police? File charges against me? If not, get the fuck out of my way.”

  “I don’t know, Mav, I don’t think the police will care too much about some consensual roleplaying, but fucking murder?” His eyes narrow, and the cigarette in his fingers snaps in half. “They might give a shit about that.”

  I snort, shifting Ella in my arms. The wind blows and I clutch her tighter against my chest. Lucifer sees the movement and a smirk turns up on his lips. I want to strangle him.

  “Wanna send your wifey to jail?” I taunt him, since Sid clearly told him about Pammie. “By the way, did you tell her about your dick being two seconds away from being inside another girl?”

  I don’t wait for an answer. I push past him, elbowing him out of my way. He backs up, slams the door closed behind me.

  I take the deserted back hallway, dim lights from sconces on the wall. I hear Lucifer’s footsteps behind me, and I’ll deal with his ass when I set this fucking girl down. I head up the stairs at the end of the hall, the music dying as I walk up one flight, then another, and finally, on the third floor, the music is just a dull thud.

  I shift Ella in my arms, and Lucifer gets the door, then follows after me like a bad dream.

  I head to my room at the end of the hall, and once again, good ol’ Lucy Boy opens the door for me.

  What a goddamn gentleman.

  I grunt my thanks and walk into the frigid room, hear the door close at my back. The lights automatically flick on, and I take Ella straight to the King bed, laying her down on the grey sheets.

  “Get the lights,” I tell Lucifer without looking at him.

  He dims them down, and I glance down at her in the remaining light, taking her in fully for the first time.

  She’s gorgeous.

  Pale skin, vivid freckles and my handprint against her face, blood dried on her lips. And there’s that other mark, that looks like someone else might have hit her.

  This time I feel my chest tighten at the sight of it, and I don’t like that feeling.r />
  Her eyes are still closed. I take in her long, dark lashes, thick, auburn brows. And her tits…I’m regretting not having slapped them, too, but at least I got to taste them. They’re big, straining against the dress under her leather jacket. I slip off her thigh-high boots, which takes a lot of fucking effort, and drop them to the floor. She turns onto her side, curling up into a ball. I grab the comforter that’s folded down on the bed, pull it from underneath her and cover her with it.

  “We need to talk,” Lucifer says in my ear, like I don’t fucking know it.

  I flex my jaw, run my cold hands down my jeans, and then walk out of the bedroom, into the adjoining sitting room, shoving open the heavy curtains as I do. I see more fireworks going off far away from here. I step out onto the balcony, take a seat in one of the iron chairs.

  I don’t want to get too close to the edge.

  It reminds me of things I’d rather never think about again. It reminds of Malachi.

  Let it go.

  Lucifer slides the door closed behind him, stands at the balcony railing with his hands clasped, elbows on the iron railing.

  “Who is she?” he asks, not looking at me.

  I stare at the back of his head, think about him with Ezra and that girl. I think about pushing him over the side of the balcony. Hearing his head crack against the concrete below.

  But I know what that sounds like.

  Do I really want to hear it again?

  I grip the wrought iron edges of the chair, force myself to look up at the moon instead. It really is beautiful. “I don’t know.” It’s not a lie. “Natalie brought her.”

  “You hit a girl you don’t know?”

  “She asked me to.”

  He spins around, his hands gripping the edge of the railing so hard his knuckles blanch. “She asked you to?”

  I stand to my feet, cock my head. “Yeah,” I say, “just like Sid asked me to take her to help kill your fucking stepmom.”

  His jaw clenches, his dark blue eyes narrowed into slits. “If Sid asked to suck your dick, would you let her do that, too?”

  Oh, he really shouldn’t have asked me that. I smile at him, slip my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. “Actually, yeah. Now that I know you don’t mind playing around without her, why the fuck not?”