Page 110 of Born into Madness
“AmIokay?” he asks. Disbelief hangs heavy on his words. “Me?” He closes his eyes and forces out a breath before looking at me again. “You are the one I’m worried about,krovinka. He hit you. He was minutes away from raping you.” His tone is as sharp as his knife and just as deadly, but underneath that rageis fear and an unrelenting anger that’s directed at himself, and I hate seeing it.
“You got there in time,” I remind him. “You saved me, Sasha.”
“If I had been ten minutes late,” he starts to say, but I put my finger to his lips stopping him.
“But you weren’t.”
“But I could’ve been,” he says, refusing to let himself off the hook. When he can tell I’m about to argue with him, he slowly shakes his head to stop me. “When my sister was stabbed in Italy, I lost it, completely fucking lost it. All I could think about was killing, and so that’s what I did. I hunted down every single person in those woods, and I killed them one by one.” His fingers trail along my cheek when he says, “I wanted to do that tonight, but I couldn’t. All I kept thinking is that if I let myself go, I won’t be able to save you. I had to stay sane so that I could get to you. In Italy, I knew Mia was with Dario, that he would make sure she got to the hospital, so I was free to deal with things in the only way I know how. I couldn’t do that with you, becauseI’mthe one who’s supposed to take care of you.”
I feel the sticky dried blood that still clings to his hands as he sighs and caresses my face once more before kissing my forehead and stepping back. “Come on,krovinka, I don’t want you anywhere near this place. Do you feel well enough to ride on the bike?”
His eyes run over me, checking for signs that I’m still drugged, but what little got into my system seems to be long gone, so I say, “I’m fine. I only had a little bit of the drink. I got really lucky.”
“Lucky?” His eyes land on my bloody upper lip, and I can tell he’s thinking my definition of lucky might not be the same as his, but I know I’m right. I got very, very lucky tonight.
He puts the helmet on my head before I can argue with him about it, and when he gets on his bike, I do the same, wrapping him in a tight hug from behind. He gives my hand a squeeze before he starts the engine and drives us away from the house that I never want to see again.
As we hit a few side streets and then merge onto a busier road, my mind races through everything that happened, reliving every scary second of it, and the more I think about it, the tighter I hold him. I’d come so close to never seeing him again. I have no idea what Ben’s plans were beyond the obvious raping, but if those other girls had been held for days, what on earth were they planning on doing with them after they’d had their sick fun?
The uninvited images that question brings to mind have me needing the comfort of Sasha more than I ever have. I slip my hands under his shirt, desperate for the feel of his skin against mine. He’s where I feel the safest and so that’s what I reach out for, but even though my hands are pressed flush against his chest, and even though I feel the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath my palm, it’s not enough. I need more of him.
I slide one hand higher, letting my fingers poke out from the top of his shirt as I graze the soft dip in his throat while my other hand slides lower to feel the deep peaks and grooves of his abs. When it’s still not enough, I slide lower, sinking a finger into the waistband of his jeans. I hear him rev the engine, feel the powerful force of it as he speeds past a line of traffic before cutting across and taking a right onto a side street. A few turns later, he’s stopping the bike on a dead-end road that butts up against the back of a doctor’s office that’s long since closed for the day.
When he starts to turn his head to look at me, I pull my helmet off and grab the back of his neck, pulling him towards me, not caring about anything except my need to have him closer.
“You’ve been through a lot tonight,” he starts to say, but I stop his words with a swipe of my tongue, licking the seam of his mouth and pulling a deep groan from his chest. He immediately cups the back of my head and presses his lips to mine, kissing me with an intensity that steals the breath from my lungs and forces every single thought from my head that doesn’t revolve around the love I feel for him and the bone aching need I have for him.
His tongue brushes my top lip as he uses his other hand to cup my face. He lets out a deep groan when he tastes the blood from when I’d been hurt and then deepens the kiss. His tongue slides along mine, hungry and desperate to get as much of me as he can, and when it’s not enough, he breaks the kiss and growls, “We need to stop.”
“The hell we do,” I quickly say, trying to pull him back to me.
“You don’t want me like this.” He shakes his head and takes a breath, trying to get himself under control. “I feel like I’m barely hanging on, Cyn.”
I cup his face and force him to meet my eyes. “Then let go.”
The streetlamp at the end of the alley gives off enough light for me to see the war going on inside his head. Maybe I am playing with fire, but I don’t care. I trust Sasha completely, and it’s time he started trusting himself.
Getting off the bike, I step closer to him and say, “I need you right now.”
“I’m right here.” He reaches up and brushes back my hair before caressing my cheek. “I’ll always be right here, Cyn.”
I grip the neck of his T-shirt. “I’m very glad to hear that, but I need more than that right now.”
I swear his eyes darken at my words, and when I lower my hands and start to undo his belt and the top button of his jeans, he groans and says, “I’m trying to do the right goddamn thing here.”
I grin and start to work on his zipper. “The right thing is for you to help me get your giant dick out.”
“Careful,krovinka,” he warns.
I raise a brow and tug his jeans open. “Or what?”
The dark look he gives me is a warning that I choose to not heed. Instead, I reach my hand into his pants and wrap it around the thick base of his cock and give him a squeeze that has his eyes fluttering closed as he gives a deep groan and rocks his hips at my touch. I carefully work him out of his jeans, and when he’s free and jutting out between us, I rest my hands on his thighs and lower my head down.
“Fuck,” he groans when I swipe my tongue over the swollen head of his cock, dragging along his slit and tasting his pre-cum on my tongue. His fingers thread into my hair, fisting it gently as I give him another lick before slowly kissing my way down his shaft.
“I’m obsessed with this tattoo,” I whisper against his skin before licking up and down my name. He groans and rocks his hips again, fisting my hair a little tighter when I start to trace each letter with my tongue.
“Cyn,” he warns as I keep teasing him.
