Page 48 of Boy of Ruin
I don’t let her go even when I’m done, and Mav licks the seam of my lips, bites me again before he pulls back, letting me go.
“Get off her,” he snarls.
I blink my eyes open, feeling dizzy as I release Ella’s head, pulling my dick out and seeing strings of saliva connecting me to her.
Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, and Maverick sinks to his knees, cupping her face in his hands. He leans down close to her as she blinks up at him, looking scared.
“You did good, pretty girl.” He tilts his head, his mouth claiming hers in a noisy kiss. I see the Unsaint’s tattoo on his back, watch his shoulders flex as he holds onto her face, pulling away from their kiss. “You did so good, baby. I fucking love you.”
And with those words, the pleasure leaving me, I remember.
And my heart breaks all over again.
Pedicabo vos et irrumabo.
Jeremiah signed his letter to Maverick that way. A Latin line in a Catullus
poem. Roughly translated to, “Suck my fucking dick.”
I’m going to fucking kill him.
The drive to Julie’s does nothing to get her off of my mind. The lines I did before I got in the car does nothing to get her off of my fucking mind. Maverick’s threats to keep my hands to myself, his insistence he’d be looking for my ass if I’m not back tomorrow, that doesn’t do shit to help clear my head.
And Ophelia in my passenger seat, wearing a dress she changed into that hits at her upper thighs, riding up further as she’s sitting in the leather seat of my M5? Fucking nothing.
“Who do you think did that?” she asks, her tone guarded as she drums her manicured nails on the center console. The windows are cracked, and she bitched about it messing up her hair.
I wasn’t going to roll my fucking windows up because it’s a gorgeous day outside, just past noon, and while I don’t exactly love the sun, I hate using AC.
Sid used to sneak down in the night to turn it down.
I told her there was an app on her phone she could use.
She said the fun was in crawling out of bed without me noticing. I’d laughed at that, pinned her down on the couch in the living room, flipped her over, and fucked her in the ass.
And every time I heard her get out of our bed, I’d pretend to sleep until she crept back up the stairs and I’d fuck her again.
Thinking of it now—a time when we were happy in the night; not when I woke up hurting her, dreaming of my fucking father—I can’t hide my smile.
O stops drumming her nails, reaches for my hand on my lap.
I stiffen as she tries to thread her fingers through mine.
That’s for my fucking wife.
I casually pull my hand away, go for the stereo even though I could turn the music up on the wheel.
O sighs, getting the point, and slouches back in her seat. She’s on spring break from pharmacy school she told me, and being a spoiled asshole like I was, she doesn’t work.
Perfect for now, when I need someone to distract me from the nearly all-consuming thoughts of my fucking wife, although this drive to Julie’s is for just that. I spoke to Julie on the phone and she was freaked out. I don’t really think I’ll find anything driving up here, but I own a house not far from her I can stay at, and it’s good to clear my head.
Except it’s the fucking house where Sid found out that I wasn’t the one who assaulted her.
I grit my teeth, thinking about it. About her. With him.
Even after that, she still chose him.
O blows out a breath. “You think you’ll be able to find out anything, going here?” I know she isn’t pumped about going. Her and Julie didn’t exactly get along, probably because they both wanted my dick. I don’t care, I didn’t fucking force her to come.
