Damaged (Boys of Winter #2) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,87
what I need.”
His thumb flicks over my clit and sends an electric shock shooting right through me as he pinches my nipples. A loud gasp pulls from deep within me, and as he slams his fingers back inside and massages my walls, my body falls apart beneath him.
My orgasm tears through me, so much wilder, hotter, and louder than the explosion at Sam’s house. “FUCK, CARVER,” I cry, the desperation coming through loud and clear in my voice.
Carver doesn’t let up, he keeps moving his fingers, keeps flicking my clit, and massaging my walls as my pussy clenches around his thick fingers, convulsing with wild, erratic movements.
When I finally come down from my high, Carver’s fingers slip out of me and I instantly miss his touch. His head tilts forward, his forehead leaning against mine for just a moment. Satisfaction pulses through me but I get the exact same vibe from him, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if he was the one who just came within an inch of his life.
I reach for him, curling my legs around his waist and drawing him back into me, so ready for what else he has in store, but he pulls back. His gaze sweeps away and in an instant he pulls his shirt back over his head and shoves my bra and tank into my hand. “Go,” he tells me.
I just stare, the confusion pulsing through me. “What do you mean?” I question, unable to take my eyes off him as he distracts himself with the shit on the table. “We were doing something here. I wasn’t nearly done.”
“Yeah, you were,” he tells me. “You asked me to touch you. I did, and now we’re done.”
I just stare a little longer, watching as he takes a blade and walks across to Sam’s hanging body. The blade slices through the binds with ease and Sam drops to the ground with a heavy thud, the blood beneath him splattering across the room.
How could he be so dismissive?
‘You asked me to touch you. I did, and now we’re done.’
He said it as though I held the same gun that I’d just killed Sam with up against his head. He acted as though it didn’t mean a thing, that he was just crossing off another thing on his ‘to do’ list.
Screw him. That meant something. It was raw and filled with passion and desire. That wasn’t just some random finger-fucking to pass the goddamn time. It was a huge fucking step that I thought we were taking in the right direction. I thought maybe we’d finally jumped over a hurdle and came down the other side.
Apparently, I read the situation wrong. Again.
I jump off the table and my hand instantly curls into a fist, my brass knuckles tightening on my fingers. If I wasn’t so exhausted after beating the shit out of Sam, I’d force Carver up against a wall and refuse to leave until I had every little answer I needed. But instead, I just stare.
“What are you still doing here?” he asks, looking back at me. “Would you prefer to stay and deal with this mess?”
A breathy scoff comes flying from between my lips as I just watch him, unable to believe what the hell is happening. He turns his back and focuses his attention on the body, but I’m not quite done with him.
I walk right up behind him and grab his wrist so fast, tugging it hard and leaving him absolutely no choice but to spin around or risk dislocating his shoulder. I narrow my gaze on his and raise my chin, wanting to hate him so badly. “The second that bullet went through his skull, I felt fucking free. My monsters were gone, and I knew that I could finally put it behind me. He was never going to hurt me again, never going to haunt my dreams, and I had no reason to fear him anymore. But you … fuck, Carver. You are the one that I should be watching my back around. I gave you a fucking shot and then you dismiss me as though it meant nothing. You are the one I should be terrified of. You are the one who’s going to destroy me, and from now on,” I step right into him, holding his dark, stormy gaze hostage, “I’m done playing your game.”
Without a backward glance, I turn and walk out of the shitty little torture chamber, leaving my feelings for Carver