“It’s not nothing. It’s clearly a something,” she insisted. “Let me see the something.”
Brooklyn grabbed my wrist, trying to pull my hand away from my cock and I growled at her.
“Honestly, love, it’s just my own stupidity reminding me what happens when I act before I think,” I grunted.
“Let me see,” she hissed, trying to yank my pants down and making me curse again as my dick got even harder.
“Fuck, Jesus, stop pawing at me or it’s going to fuckin’ fall off,” I groaned.
“Have you hurt your cock?” she breathed. “Because of me? Did someone do this to you? Did they cut it off? Is it nothing but a nub now? Just a bloody, bleeding nub of doom? Did they leave your balls behind or are they gone too? Will I have to call you Nubby Niall now?”
“No one cut anything off of me,” I snarled.
“Then why won’t you let me see?” she insisted, yanking on my sweatpants again and knocking my hand hard enough to make a fresh wave of agony explode through my manhood.
One moment I was calling her a she-witch and the next she’d managed to pull my fucking pants down to reveal my freshly decorated dick.
“Oooh,” she gasped, leaning down to get a better look and I gripped her by the throat, forcing her back, mostly because the thought of her touching it was at least as terrifying as it was tempting in that moment, and I was pretty certain I’d pass out from the pain if it got any worse. “I’ve never seen one this fancy before.”
“I was drunk off my tits and thinking fuck knows what,” I snapped, not bothering to fight to get my pants back in place now that she was already getting her eyeful.
“It looks ouchie,” she said. “And it’s really swollen up – it shouldn’t be that big, should it?”
“That is your contribution to my problem, Spider,” I said roughly. “It hurts like a bitch when I get hard, so I’d appreciate you backing up a touch.”
I bit my tongue on the alternative offer which was burning through me because for one, I was pretty certain that I really would black out from the pain of her touch if she got any closer to my cock. And for two, this was a terrible idea. A terrible, irresistible, all-consuming idea.
Brooklyn backed away and I tugged my sweatpants up again.
The intensity of the look which burned between us had me questioning all of the decisions I kept trying to stick to about keeping a distance from this creature.
I had a list of reasons not to give in to this. A whole fucking list. But they were gone now, swept away on a wind I could no longer feel, leaving me staring at her with a pain in my soul which said that if I didn’t kiss her, I might just shatter into a thousand pieces which would never fit back together right.
“I’m marrying her,” I blurted before I could lean in and do it. Because I would. I was weak. Which meant I was going to take the coward’s way out and make her stop this. “Anastasia.”
“She has a princess name?” Brooklyn breathed, the flash of hurt in her eyes making me feel like a royal cunt as I swallowed thickly. “As well as big tits?”
I nodded, hating the coldness which was slipping in to take the place of all the heat which had been building between us.
“And is she too young for you?” she asked and I shook my head.
“She’s my age,” I admitted.
“What does she look like?” she asked, shifting back inch by inch, retreating against her pillows while I felt that wall building up between us and hated myself for every brick she laid.
“Blonde.” I shrugged. “Tall. Russian.”
“Beautiful?” Brooklyn whispered and I shrugged again, my eyes clinging to every piece of her and knowing in my soul that I’d never once seen beauty that came even close to hers. It was there in every line of her features but more importantly than that, it was painted through every stroke of her dark and twisted soul. There was no beauty beyond this woman before me, but admitting that would have been admitting to so many more things which would only end in her death, just like it had for Ava.
“I suppose so,” I agreed, but I had no interest in any part of Anastasia and I couldn’t say I’d felt even the slightest stirring of attraction towards her. I just couldn’t let myself voice those words.
“When?” she asked quietly.
“Soon. The whole thing is going to be some big showy event. I haven’t paid much attention to the details, but our families want this union.”
Brooklyn nodded again, her gaze moving to her hands where they twisted in her lap and I felt like the biggest piece of shit to ever draw breath, but I wasn’t going to back down. I couldn’t risk her for my own selfish desires. I wouldn’t.
“I took the tape of you killing Andrew Fig and his bitch of a wife from the scene of the crime,” I said suddenly, wanting to put a smile back on her face even if it had to be for reasons aside from me.
“You did?” she asked, her big blues brightening at the thought and I nodded, hooking it up to the TV so that she could get an eyeful of her victorious moment on the big screen.
I started it playing from the point where Brooklyn got the upper hand, knowing I couldn’t bear looking at that motherfucker hurting her again without losing my shit and watching her face light up like a kid in a candy store as she re-lived their deaths with a moan of satisfaction escaping her that made my fucking cock pulse with pain once more.
She kept making those noises while their screams filled the air and I couldn’t tear my attention from her, my heart thumping, blood heating and so many unspoken words tying my tongue in knots. But there was only one thing left to say that really mattered anyway.
“Will you stay?” I asked her softly, drawing her attention back to me once more and she nodded slowly, making the tightness in my chest ease at last as I took in her answer and tried not to grin like a kid smashing pumpkins on Halloween.
“Yes, Hellfire. I’ll stay.”
“R ight, Spider, where can I find this armadillo that wronged you?” Niall asked over the breakfast island.
After last night’s gift, he was back to hoarding the Coco Pops, serving me pancakes instead. I liked pancakes, but if he thought I’d forget about those delicious Pops anytime soon, he was kidding himself. I was a Pops expert and I’d sniff them out eventually, then I’d hide them somewhere he’d never ever think of and hoard the Pops all for myself. Then he’d see who the real Coco Pops master was. He’d come begging me for them and I’d make him kiss my feet in payment for them. One kiss would equal one Pop. I’d get him to kiss his way up my legs, spread them wide and call me the Pop queen as he rolled his tongue all the way over my—wait a second, what did he just say??
“What armadillo?” I asked through a mouthful of pancake and syrupy goodness.
Mateo sat beside me with a bowl of oatmeal in front of him that Niall hadn’t even put extra milk or sugar on. It looked overbaked too, like a gloop made of poop.
I made a point of feeding Mateo pieces of my pancake and he sucked the syrup off my fingers too. His teeth dug into the pads of my fingers every time he accepted a bite, and the small pain made my skin all tingly while the warning look in his eyes reminded me that I was toying with a monster. But that was my favourite kind of playtime.