And the Sweet (Addiction Series Book 2) (8 page)

              EIGH
T
             

Weeks. Months. Time speeds along. The same routine. The same monotony. The same insecurities and delusions.

            The same questions that will no doubt plague me for the rest of my life at this rate because I’ve become too much of a pussy to do anything about them.

            But I’m terrified. And sick of it all.

            It’s an interesting dichotomy.

Shadows pass along the walls. Rats run along the floor and into their nests deep within the rotten wood of the walls.

It’s the Witching Hour.

Her grace has come to call her minions to service.

And no one is allowed to refuse.

There’s a light shining somewhere in the distance.

A damaged streetlamp on a wrecked street.

It’s the only one left. And even it’s ready to leave.

The sound of car alarms blare for hours. Cops rarely come to this part of town anymore. And even if they did, they have no authority here.

The sound of fists hitting flesh, of shouts of encouragement; they fade in and out of my memory. My ribs are a little sore, a remnant of a battle won only hours before.

My name is called, over and over. Shouts and taunts filter up through the open window, seeping past tattered curtain.

Girls, dressed in little more than scraps, cheer for me. They promise naughty spoils to celebrate my victory even though none are brave enough to attempt to deliver.

Guys, sweaty and bloodied want to be me. I haven’t lost a battle in ages. No one else can make that claim.

But none of them know me. None of them have any idea of who I really am, of what I really want and desire. They never will. I’ll give them blood and sweat, but never the real me.

A stingy mattress in the middle of the room has claimed me. And I won’t be budged.

My eyes scan a stain on the ceiling. There’s no apartment above mine. Makes me wonder how destroyed the roof has become to allow for this yellowed stain to appear and grow.

“Delane! Where the fuck are you! You’re up, man!”

“Come on, Chace. We know you’re up there!”

There are new calls for my presence but I ignore.

They can yell until their throats are raw.

I focus on my breathing. The way the oxygen flows in and out of my lungs. They way my heart speeds and slows with every breath I give and take. The way my ribs twinge against the blow that didn’t cause enough damage to bruise, just be noticeable.

I blink slowly. Feel my fingers twitch against their resting spot on my chest. The cotton is soft but the jeans I’m wearing feel rough against my legs. Reminds me I need to do laundry sometime soon.

There’s a knock on my door. A soft quick seven tap.

I know who it is without needing to ask. Only one person I know gives me that knock. Their superstition too great.

I can’t help it. My lips twitch. My lips twitch into a small grin and my pants tighten.

I don’t say anything, grant no entry, but the door opens all the same.

And there she is.

Cecelia Santos. Celia. My beautiful goddess.

Honey hair. Chocolate eyes. Delicious skin making her look more fragile than she ever could be.

Fire. Ice. Lust. Love. The Devil’s Queen and just as ruthless. If not more.

She doesn’t speak as she moves toward where I lay. I barely hear her breathing.

But I feel her life. Her heat.

I stretch out my arm for her to rest beside me.

Her lithe body molds against mine. She’s wearing a short frilly skirt. It’s a blue plaid and screams naughty school girl. If she bends over, her ass and pussy are on full display since my baby has never been a fan of panties.

And her tank top… it’s a luscious violet that has sculpted itself against her beautiful breasts. She’s braless too which makes me harder to know.

“Everyone is waiting for you. They want to celebrate their reigning champion,” she whispers against my ear. Her tongue follows, tracing the shell while her left hand dances across my stomach toward the button on my jeans.

“Fuck ‘em,” I tell her and she just giggles at me. My pants are undone, the button open and the zipper pushed down.

“Maybe later,” she answers back with another giggle.

That reply should bother me. It
does
bother me. The guys on the street. The ones calling for me to join them; they know Celia. They know her taste, her sounds. They know the way she moves. They know the way she comes and all the ways to make them come too.

It eats away at me that she’s not mine alone anymore. It tears apart everything I am. But I use it as motivation when I face them.

It makes my resolve for this time different too. I’m changing the stakes. Throwing down an ultimatum because I can’t take it anymore.

She probably won’t like it. But fuck, I’m not playing these games any longer.

Moving away from my side, she works my jeans down my thighs to my knees. Not being a fan of underwear myself, my cock springs free, pointing right at her. Her eyes are fierce as they take me in. Her pink tongue wets her glossed lips before she lowers her mouth to the head, licking the tear of precum that's already gathered.

Celia knows exactly what to do to make my mind go completely blank. She’s the only woman I’ve ever known who could make this death feel exquisite. And it seems that every time we’re together, I die a little more.

As her mouth engulfs me, her tongue circling so deliciously around my length, tugging on my apadravya, every thought I’ve just had vanishes.

I’ll deal with reality later.

My hands move to her hair, pulling it into my fist so I can watch her mouth love me.

“Fuck, baby,” I gasp as her teeth skim my length over and over. I never thought I’d be one for teeth, especially given what I’d always heard about how painful it was, but then I met Celia. She likes to bite a bit, let that sting become pleasure and it’s the most amazing feeling in the world. NWA don’t know what they’re missing out on “God, you’re mouth feels so fucking good. You make me want to explode down that pretty little throat of yours.” I tell her through a grunt. “But I need to fuck you.”

I don’t give any warning, just push her mouth away and pull her up the length of my body. I feel her heat; wet and wanton, resting over my cock. She’s panting, that wicked glint in her eyes. “Fuck me so good I scream, baby,” she demands.

For a moment I’m struck dumb at her request. The guys are right outside my window. My apartment isn’t that far up from the street. She knows they’ll hear. She knows they’ll
know
.

What the fuck is she trying to do? What game is she trying to play?

It makes me wonder. It makes me angry.

Is she trying to start shit? Is she trying to piss them off by letting the whole fucking world know it’s me who’s inside her? It’s me fucking her till she’s incoherent? That while they’re hollering on the street for me to “get my ass down there already,” she’s taking me into her, letting them know I have her taste, her touch, her sounds?

Then I wonder, and this is a wonder I’m hoping for; is she staking her claim the way I want to but haven’t felt the right to? Is she telling them to fuck off? Is she telling them she’s chosen who she wants singularly and that that someone is me?

Because fuck! I want her all to myself so fucking bad I can’t breathe sometimes.

She rises up and positions me at her entrance. Then slowly, as though time has stopped, she slips me into her welcoming heat my piercing dragging along her inner walls.

As with every time before, I know given the fact that I don’t know who all she's been with that I will always need a condom. But fuck, I just want to feel her. I just want
her
. Like we used to be. So I continue to let logic and rationale fall aside as she sinks all the way down onto me.

I can’t help the groan that flows freely from my lips. I can’t help the grip I place on her hips to steady her over me.

With hungry eyes, I watch her pull her tank over her head, exposing those alluring tits to my eyes. Her nipples are hard, the small bars pierced through them gleaming in the passing light.

She’s so fucking perfect. So fucking perfect and I can’t play anymore.

I bring my mouth to her tits, gripping them harshly with one hand while the other kneads her round ass. She thrusts her chest toward my face, delicate hands holding my head to her. She’s writhing against me as my mouth sucks, nibbles and marks her perfect breasts.

Her sounds, the raspy moans only spur me on. I’m so hard inside of her it’s becoming painful.

Pushing her back slightly, I yank my shirt over my head and then wrap my arms around her pulling her tight against me as I lower my mouth to take a nipple back into my mouth.

With moans breaking from her throat, I grip her hips. This won’t be soft. This won’t be gentle. My anger, my desire, my absolute need for her is overwhelming my senses. The primal part of me is staking his claim.

Push. Pull. Thrust. Retreat. Repeat.

I grind our bodies together. Sweat builds against my skin, making her clawing fingers slip.

My mouth crashes against hers as I claim her tongue.

Our breaths mingle as our bodies continue to rock against one another. I feel her nipples brush against my chest with every thrust and it makes the coil in my belly string tighter.

“Fuck, Celia!” I gasp against her lips. “I can’t do this anymore.” I flip us so she’s on her back. Opening her legs further, I pull out and place my mouth right where my cock was. My tongue laps at her juices, slipping into her tight hole before slipping up to nibble on her clit. Her hands are in my hair, gripping, pulling and scratching my scalp.

I look up and love my view. Her perfect tits are thrust up, her back arched as she succumbs to the pleasure my mouth is bringing to her. I want to make her come this way. I want to taste her desire before I pound into her again.

With a groan, I eat Cecelia’s pussy like I kiss her. It’s slow, sensual and purposeful. And with a graze of my teeth against her clit, she shatters with keening mewls. Juices spill out into my waiting mouth as she continues to rock against my face. Just as I feel her tremors start to slow, I pull away and line my cock up with her entrance.

I don’t give warning, I just slam into her, feeling how tight she is still in the throes of her orgasm. It feels amazing and life-altering. I push in deeper. “Fuck! I can’t share anymore or act like it’s okay. I can’t do it,” I tell her, desperation obvious in my voice.

As my pace increases, I feel her clamp down on me. Her eyes bore into mine before shutting so tight. And then she screams for the universe to hear. And it’s my name slipping through those perfect pink lips.

Her nails peel down my back, no doubt leaving bloody trails in their wake, as she quakes through her second orgasm.

“Fuck, Chace,” she whimpers, her body clamping down on mine. But it’s her next words that finish me off. “I’m all yours.”

I come so hard my vision abandons me.

All I see is white. My balls empty into the depths of her body and my skin tingles from the explosion.

Collapsing onto her, my breath ragged and nearly lost, I almost don’t believe what I’ve heard.

“What? What did you say?” I gasp out.

I pull myself up, so I can look at her. There’s tears in her eyes.

“I said I’m all yours,” she repeats. “I’m only yours.”

“But what…what about the ot-other guys?” Even as I ask, my stomach turns. I’ve not yet softened, still nestled in her body, but the thought of the others with her makes me ill. I pull out because I do not want to have this conversation this way.

She shakes her head. “It’s always been you,” she begins. We both sit up and look at each other. “Do you remember the first time we met?” I nod unsure where she’s going with this. She just smiles sadly at me. “Remember how messed up I really was? How even in the middle of getting help, I was trying so hard to stay lost because I didn't think anyone really cared?”

I hate remembering that time. I hate thinking back to it because she’s not that person anymore. Neither am I. And yet, I don’t know if we’re really any better off. Not with the life we both lead now.

“What about it?”

“You saved me, Chace. I pretended I was trying to just get out of there, but I stayed clean, I stayed on the straight for you,” she tells me. Her eyes are downcast toward the dingy mattress.

I shake my head because her words are manipulating me. “And after?” I ask still feeling the presence of the guys downstairs all around her. “After we got out. And every moment since?”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“You’ve fucked all of my friends.”

“Your friends? What are you talking about?”

“Those guys down there.” I point toward the window with a growl.

“You can’t be serious. Those guys are not your friends.” She shakes her head at me like I’m dumb. “Especially with the way they act around you.”