Beyond Pain (10 page)

He thought of Susi the squealer, and about the woman who'd crawled out of his bed less than an hour before Susi's unceremonious, drunken arrival. He cared about them, all of them, exactly as much as he needed to.

No more.

"I don't," he admitted softly. "But you always were a better person than me. You just have to see it."

Ace reclaimed the whiskey and slumped back. "It doesn't matter. It's not like I have some big fucking plan. Maybe I was thinking that right after the fight, but the truth is stupider. He's...kind of fun."

Jared's breath escaped him on an unexpected laugh. "Fun? You're tragically drunk."

"Nothing tragic about being drunk on O'Kane liquor." But Ace wasn't smiling. He was staring at the bottle, his dark eyes tired. "I gave her a tattoo."

His pain was palpable. Pervasive. "Of what?" Jared asked gently. "More flowers?"

Ace shook his head. "I could have had her. She was still with him, but when she's under the needles... Some people like the adrenaline, but she goes
beyond
."

She liked pain, the kind that came from the buzz of the needle. Maybe that was why Ace couldn't quite shake this obsession, despite his better judgment. "Plenty of women are like that. You can find another one."

"I
have
other women like that. Doesn't help. Beating the Eden out of Cruz so he can be her prince won't help either. You know what'll help?"

Sobering up. A second chance. Another drink. "What?"

"Time, brother. We all keep smashing into each other until we fit right. All of us, even Rachel and Cruz. Even me. Even you."

There was no room to argue with such nihilistic assurance, nothing to do but nod as Jared snagged a clean glass from the cabinet beside his chair. "Time heals everything," he agreed.

Even me.

She'd crept out of a lot of men's beds over the years. Now Six was trying to creep into one.

Not that there was any creeping with Bren. His door was locked, forcing her to wait, barefoot and nervous, praying none of the other doors in the hallway would pop open before he answered her hesitant knock.

The door opened a crack before swinging wide. "Six?"

Her boots usually made her taller. Without them, she was left staring straight at his bare chest, not to mention those damn shoulders she couldn't stop lusting after. For once, she didn't resent the butterflies in her stomach or the quickening of her pulse as she lifted her gaze to his. "My turn."

He stilled, and he exhaled on a slow hiss. "Is that so?"

"Yeah." She inched forward, close enough for her breath to skate across his skin, close enough to feel his warmth even through her tank top. Her survival instincts kicked in, warning her to back away, to meet him on neutral territory. But she'd ignored that warning already, the moment she'd rolled from her sleepless bed prompted by nothing more than vague yearning.

She didn't know why she was here or what the hell she was doing, but she was tired of resisting temptation. So she leaned in, pressed her lips to one of his beautifully formed shoulders, and silently begged him to drag her into his domain.

Bren groaned and lifted her closer with one hand on her ass. Then he stepped back, taking her with him, and kicked the door shut.

Sweet darkness enclosed them both. She moaned and wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging as she kissed the parts of him she could reach--his throat, his neck, the stubbled line of his jaw.

It was safe to be desperate in the darkness, because no one could see how weak her desire had left her. "Let me," she whispered, and God, she was practically begging. She hated herself for it, even as she used the leverage of her legs around his body to rub her hips against his. "Let me get you off."

Her back hit the wall, and Bren lowered her feet to the floor. "With your hands or your mouth?"

His voice was rough already. She wanted it raw, and she knew the power of giving a man his dirty fantasy. That was the reason she slid to her knees--not because she could almost taste him on her tongue. "Both."

Bren leaned forward with a growl. Just enough light filtered under the closed door for her to admire the flex of his arms and shoulders as he braced his hands against the wall. "Do it."

His loose pants rode low on his hips. She traced her fingertips above the waistband, reveling in the way his muscles tensed under her touch. This had to be the way the O'Kane women felt when they were on their knees, smug and drunk on the power of watching big tough men pretend they were issuing orders instead of begging.

She wouldn't make him beg. Holding her breath, she hooked her fingers over the top edge of his pants and eased them down just far enough to free his erection. He was hard enough to make her heart pound, but metal glinting in the dim light caught her attention. She wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and, ignoring his sharp breath, traced her other up until her fingers reached the crown.

Bren had his cock pierced. Twice.

He laid his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers even tighter around his shaft. "Watch your teeth," he whispered. "Some people don't like how the metal feels on them."

She couldn't help herself. She touched the smooth, curved surface of one barbell and glanced up at him. "Do they like how it feels other places?"

His chest rumbled. "You mean will it make you come harder when I fuck you?"

The jewelry was warm from his skin, but it still felt cool on her tongue as she traced the shape of it, teasing them both. "Will it? Dicks aren't the part of fucking that makes me come."

"We'll see, won't we?"

Nothing ambiguous there. Brendan Donnelly was going to fuck her. He'd probably take his sweet time about it, but the dick straining under her hand would be inside her, filling her more than his fingers ever could, and she was starting to think she'd like it way too much.

Hell, she already did. She liked tasting him like this, circling the crown of his cock in unhurried licks, indulging herself by exploring the intriguing contours the piercing added. She knew how to suck a guy off hard and fast, but as badly as she wanted to see him come, there was something to be said for watching his muscles jump as he groaned and leaned his head against the wall above her.

Then he slipped his fingers into her hair, holding her head still, captive, as he flexed his hips and thrust into her mouth.

Six stiffened before she could stop herself, caught between a dizzying rush of arousal and the instinct to fight his grip on her hair. But it was all so
gentle
, his hands warm and firm, caging without hurting, and the glide of his shaft between her lips, over her tongue... God, it was twisted, perverse, the way Bren could make her helpless and still make it hot.

He soothed her trembling with a soft noise. "Only what you want, sweetness. I swear it."

She believed him. Believed him enough to relax and let her hand fall away from his shaft. The least trusting part of her braced for him to shove deep enough to choke, but he pulled back instead, then slowly thrust forward again.

That was as much as he gave her. Shallow thrusts in and out, with pauses to let her suck, pauses to let her tongue his piercings. She almost made him beg for it, but there was something intoxicating about granting his silent demands. Something desperately illicit, too, about kneeling in the darkness, the only sounds their heavy breathing and his rasping groans punctuated by the lewd music of his cock working in and out of her mouth.

Another thrust, one he held for longer before retreating. "Harder. Show me what you want."

She didn't even know anymore. She'd envisioned pushing him back on the bed and straddling his legs, working him with her hands and mouth until he couldn't help but come. Easy and quick, with her in control, but maybe that had only been the lie she told herself to get out the door.

This was just as good. This was
better
.

He was poised with the blunt tip of his erection brushing her lips, turning every one of her whispered words into a caress. "I want to know what happens next."

The hand in her hair clenched tight. "Then stand up."

She did, lifting her arms when his hands slid under her shirt and shoved it up. She was so turned on she was panting, gasping for air as he tore the cotton over her head.

He stared down at her, cupping her breasts with a satisfied growl. "I want you like this. Ready for my mouth."

Looking down gave her the dizzy visual of her breasts penned by his large hands, as if the feel of work-roughened fingertips against sensitive flesh wasn't intense enough.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut off her words with a twist of his wrist, catching one nipple between his fingers and pinching it hard enough to drive her shoulders back against the wall as pain and pleasure smashed into one another.

He soothed her nipple with a slow lick, the warmth of it weakening her knees. Fighting the urge to melt, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. "This is cheating. It's my turn to get you off."

He laughed, hot breath against wet skin. "You will."

Yeah--when he was good and ready to let her. "You're a controlling bastard, you know that?"

"Don't ever doubt it." He looked up at her, his gaze serious. "I like pain, not submission. I'm in charge, sweetness, or it won't work."

Just like that, all of the things they hadn't said were
real
, taking up the space between them until the air felt heavy. "I know," she whispered, but that wasn't enough. She licked her lips and let her hands relax on his shoulders. "I'm not as careful with my body as I should be, maybe, but it's hard to let it matter when you can't control what people do to it."

"Yes, it is."

No judgment, and that helped. "It means it's not my fault, you know? It's not my fault if they hurt my body. Not my fault I couldn't stop them."

He tipped her face up with his fingers under her chin. "You're safe here. With me."

If she hadn't known that in her bones, she never would have come to his door. There was probably a seductive way to say what she really meant, something suggestive and sexy that'd make his dick harder, but she didn't like the word
submission
and didn't know another one.

So she blurted out the truth, awkward and raw. "You can have my body. You'll take better care of it than I ever have."

He nodded and lowered his mouth to her breasts again. This time, he didn't stop with licking her nipples, but drew his tongue in long, wet paths over her skin. Each one tugged low in her belly, but that wasn't what had her moaning in confused relief.

Her limbs were light. Her body was floating. A weight she hadn't recognized she'd been carrying was gone, banished by his silent acceptance.

For one night, she didn't have to fight or fail. She could just feel.

And they were moving. She realized it when he urged her down with one hand on her shoulder, and she wound up sitting on the edge of his bed, with him standing in front of her. She'd only have to dip her head to draw his cock between her lips again, but she didn't move. She barely breathed.

And then she couldn't, because he shifted that half-step closer, cupped her breasts, and thrust his cock between them.

She choked back a startled noise and clutched at the rumpled blankets, but her body knew what it wanted. She was arching her back before she realized it, pressing up into his touch, offering herself to him like she only wanted to be used.

"Tilt your head up." His voice had gone harsh. "Your mouth--"

The rasp in his voice did her in. It wasn't the lazy boredom of a jackass who wanted a warm place to stick his dick. It was edgy. Personal. She parted her lips and positioned them, and she didn't feel used at all when he fucked up between her breasts and pushed into her mouth.

He shuddered and did it again, faster this time. "What part of this do you like?"

"I like the way--" He cut her off with another thrust, the slippery head of his cock gliding over her tongue. So she answered without words, wrapping her lips tight and sucking while she licked the underside of his crown, and
like
wasn't strong enough for how she felt when he groaned and slipped one hand up to cup the back of her head.

"Harder." His fingers clenched in her hair. "Suck it harder."

She'd suck him all night if it meant listening to careful, perfectly controlled Brendan Donnelly rasp out crude commands that made his voice shake. Each groan gave her power, even as it hollowed her out. She was wet and aching, half hoping he'd put his fingers in her and get her off.

It'd give her an excuse to come back tomorrow night and get on her knees again.

He watched her, his breathing quick and unsteady. "If I come on your tongue, will you come on mine? Let me taste you?"

She didn't know if she'd be able to get off with his head between her thighs. She'd be exposed, so helplessly on display that even the thought kindled nervous fear.

But she hadn't thought she'd come from his fingers, either. So she held his gaze and nodded, the movement sliding her lips up and down his shaft.

He plunged deep then--deep enough to choke her--but drew back immediately, as if he hadn't meant to do it at all. A crack in his precise control, and she slipped into it, tried to coax it wider by chasing his cock, struggling against his grip in her hair to take more of him.

Bren gave in, driving into her mouth, far enough to bump the back of her throat but not choke her. Over and over, until his hands were shaking and a sheen of sweat covered his chest, his forehead.

So close, but still restrained. She freed one hand from the tangle of bed sheets and slid it up his hip, over tense muscles. He liked pain, so she gave him a taste of it, raking her nails down his chest with almost enough pressure to break the skin.

"
Fuck
, yes." He covered her hand with his, forcing her nails harder against his flesh. His eyes lost focus, and his hips jerked. "Hurt me."

She did, even if
hurt
seemed like the wrong word for something that dragged a groan of pleasure from him. Just like
pain
was the wrong word for the sensation of his fingers tightening in her hair, pulling until her eyes watered. His other hand pressed tight over hers, urging her to pierce his skin.