Here Lies a Saint (Here Lies #2) - C.L. Matthews Page 0,49

corrupting it with his carbon, forcing me to breathe slower.

"Why not?" I taunt. "I'm just Freak to you now. Or Colt... Am I not?" Moving back onto my elbows, I give him nothing but sass. He can get angry at me, point out that I only call him his nickname when I'm unhappy, but he gets to call me Freak and Colt? Not in this lifetime.

He closes his eyes. A tremble hits his frame like a mini earthquake. When they open again, the black starless expression hits me in the ribs, digging for that organ beneath. If anyone could get to it by simply staring, it would be him.

Twisting away from me, he leaves, and I hear his phone ring soon after. Letting out a huff, I go back to packing my shit, but when silence greets me ten minutes later, curiosity gets the better of me.

Aggressive whispering meets my ears. The onslaught of curse words and hatred are like a pendulum, knocking back and forth, telling me my doom is to come, my life is going to end, and these fuckers are going to be my undoing.

“She will find out if we aren’t careful,” I hear Bridger saying on the phone. “You’re being super fucking stupid, Jay.”

Who is Jay? And why does it feel like he’s talking about me?

“No, I’m not fucking doing this anymore. Do you know what is at stake—” He grips his hair. “I didn't sign up for this shit!”

The way he roars out that last bit makes me jump, and that makes Bridger very aware of me standing nearby.

His head turns to me, his black eyes leveling with mine. “I’ve gotta go.”

It was directed to whoever is on the phone. After he tucks it into his pocket, he comes toward me with a new gleam in his eyes.

Urgency.

Heat.

Distraction.

These boys are good at that, thinking they can fill me up on their dicks, weed, and food, and I won’t notice they’re hiding shit. I don't even know why I’m here, risking my life for secrets I’m no closer to getting. Not that this, right now, is my choice in the least. They stole that from me, and somehow, I let them.

It was a mistake, falling back into whatever the hell this was.

What if they killed Cass?

What if they’re the reason he’s buried six feet deep?

My soul screams for salvation and peace, and as Bridger grabs me and swallows down my words with his mouth, I’m frozen to the spot. He lifts me and pours me onto the couch. With amble fingers, he lifts my dress, pulling my boy shorts to the side, fingering me harshly soon after.

It’s the first time he’s initiated anything.

Touch.

Desire.

Want.

And it’s so fucking wrong that even though I’m moaning around his two digits buried inside me, I’m cringing that he’s not mine. He shouldn’t be touching me.

“Shouldn’t listen to other people’s conversations, Freak,” he bites.

I push at his chest for using that nickname, but he doesn’t move. He’s massive and unfazed. He smiles evilly, that devilish glint scaring me. Bridger isn’t normal when he smiles. There’s no kindness behind the gesture. It’s all cruel and calculated, like an insane asylum patient with uncontrollable laughter. Unnatural. Unsettling. Unwelcome.

“Shouldn’t take calls while babysitting me,” I argue. “It made me nosy.”

"Tell me, Freak. Do you take everyone's fingers like a cock, or am I special?"

I hear the sound of my slap across his face before I feel it on my burning palm.

"Don't touch me," I cry, tears welling in my eyes. He's being hateful and callous to distract me from the fact that he spoke to someone on the phone about me. Bridger might be an asshole on his best days, but intentionally being a fuckface isn't his MO.

"You can't resist me. Just admit you're a slut for my fingers. Hell, for all of theirs too."

Those last words do me in. My tears come, and like the fucking sadist he is, he leans down, licking my cheek, tasting each one.

“I love it when you cry, Starless. Your tears feed my monster.” His hand comes to my lips, smearing my wetness across my mouth like lipstick, degrading me further. His other finds its happy place against my trachea, bringing a sneer to his lips when crashing them down against me.

Bringing his hand back down between my thighs, he rubs fast at my clit. Too aggressively to be comfortable but too gentle to stop me from coming for him. Pressure builds as he slips in two fingers, harsh