Sparrow (31 page)

I dragged my eyes up to meet his. “Am I scared? No,” I said serenely. “Because I know you would never hurt me. Am I happy about what you’ve done? I’m disappointed. Playing God is immoral. Not to mention dangerous.”

His expression relaxed when he scanned my face, looking for a hint of fear or disgust. There was none. He was a monster, but he was
my
monster.

“A little bird told me my ex-fiancée paid you a visit a couple of days ago.” His lips were still parted. “Sparrow—”

He was going to say something more, but I didn’t want him to think that I was angry. Especially when I knew in my heart he wasn’t seeing her anymore.

“I don’t care.” I gave him a wicked smile. “As I said, this is just an arrangement, remember? Are you keeping your side of the deal? Is your dick inside your pants when you’re out of the house?”

The softness in his eyes turned dark and cold. “It is. Is your pussy still mine?”

“You bet,” I whispered.

“You’re a little fucked up, Sparrow. I like that.” He moved his hand up my arm and thrust me lightly toward the walk-in shower.

I stumbled back until my back hit the glass door, pushing it ajar. I stilled, staring at my husband, waiting to see what he’d do. He ducked his head down to meet my throat, biting and then sucking the pain away. His hot lips dove lower to my cleavage, but I dodged another bite by moving deeper into the shower until my back was flattened against the black ceramic tile.

“Nice try, pal, but I’m still disgusted with your confession.” My heart hammered against my chest like a woodpecker on speed.

“I’m not your pal.” He flashed his teeth, leaning forward and turning on the water behind me in one go. The showerhead sprayed cold water over my clothes, soaking me, and I gasped. “I’m your husband, and I’m going to do very marital things to you right now.”

There was no point resisting, and who the hell was dumb enough to say no to this anyway? He attacked my mouth again with his warm tongue, his suit-clad body pressing into mine. I got lost in his passionate kisses, found myself again in his little teasing bites and, at some point, despite the chill of the water, got hot on every stroke of his big hands. Troy groaned into my mouth, taking both of my wrists in one of his hands and placing them against the towel warmer above my head. He jerked loose his tie, and tied me to one of its bars, tight enough to stop me from breaking free but not so tight that it hurt.

“Jesus.” I dropped my head, watching the soft lighting from the ceiling blur out of focus and the cold water drops raining all over my body. My clothes were getting heavy and soggy, but I didn’t care. We were both fully clothed and dripping. “Daisy was right.”

“I bet she was.” He yanked my jeans down violently, but didn’t take the bait.

My underwear followed just as fast, leaving me bare and ready for him. Intoxicated with want. “She said the rumor is you like it kinky.”

His warm breath traveled between my breasts, and I trembled as his tongue brushed the valley between them.

“I like it interesting…” He dropped to his knees, his face disappearing between my thighs. He grabbed one of my knees and draped my leg over his broad shoulder. “I like it delicious…” he murmured into my pussy, his tongue, so incredibly warm in contrast to the freezing water, swirling in circles, hard and hungry.

Shockwaves ran through my veins like hot honey.

“I like it rough…” He grazed his teeth against my clit, up and down, up and down.

I moaned, trying to wriggle free when his tongue danced around my sensitive nerves, but the tie was tight against my wrists. My long hair stuck to my eyes and forehead, and I was barely able to see. I whipped my head sideways, but my hair still streamed in my face. He liked the fact that I couldn’t see shit. He liked me little, small,
hopeless
.

“But most of all, I like it with you…” His mouth continued its relentless motion.

“I’m close,” I panted. I was. And there was nothing I could do to ruin it. I felt the orgasm washing through me. Rocking back and forth, aroused to a point of insanity.

The faucet behind me turned slightly to the right, and the cold water suddenly ran warmer until it got hot. When he moved up to kiss me, I smiled. “I’d like to reciprocate.”

“Oh, you will.” He grabbed one of my thighs, holding my knee in the crook of his elbow.

He slammed into me hard and fast before I knew what was happening, and I gulped air. Shit, it was good. I was so full of Troy I thought I already was going to explode again.

“When did you have time to take off your pants?” I asked, laughing while he fucked me.

It was crazy, but with a few short, powerful thrusts, another orgasm was building inside of me, chasing the first one and threatening to tear me even harder apart. He grabbed one of my breasts through my wet shirt and pinched my nipple hard.

“Baby, oh…” I was moaning in a volume more suited to a heavy-metal concert, so he started swallowing my loud, happy sounds with dirty kisses, muffling my voice, his tongue fucking my mouth, his lips locked on mine. Toothy kisses, filthy kisses, hungry and desperate and wanting kisses. Kisses that were much, much more than kisses.

There was nothing gentle and romantic about it. He was banging the living hell out of me, screwing me so hard I could feel his cock pounding deep inside me. I felt my second orgasm rippling from the inside, rushing through me like a tsunami of warmth, when something sharp sliced the tie in two and my arms fell free without a warning. I almost dropped to the tiled floor, but Troy grabbed me by the elbow at the last minute, my knees just inches from the tile.

“Reciprocate,” I heard his sharp voice ordering, and immediately knew what he wanted me to do.

Bending down, I lowered my head to meet his cock, taking as much of it as I could in my mouth. My gag reflex was impossible to tame, but I held my breath and covered some of his shaft with my lips. I was still self-conscious about my blow-job technique, or lack of, but I didn’t need to be.

Before I had a chance to figure out what to do, he slammed into me, fucking my mouth. “Can I?” he asked.

I nodded, closing my eyes. I’d always thought it would feel degrading to go down on a man, but how could I with him, especially now when my wrists were still hurting after he ate me out and made me feel like I was the most delicious thing in the whole freaking world.

I felt him tense, spasm, and then the thick, warm liquid filled my mouth. I swallowed hard, a small shiver running through my body. Looking up, I saw the smile on his face when his head dropped back, his black hair dripping water on my face.

He stroked my hair twice with the hand that wasn’t holding his cock and sighed with pleasure. “Fuck,” he said.

Fuck, indeed.

Despite everything, Troy Brennan was human. And he was the worst kind, too—enchanting enough to get away with anything.
Even murder
.

We ate cold Chinese food and drank buckets of alcohol in front of the TV while I forced him to watch
10 Things I Hate About You
with me. Well, he wasn’t really watching. More like answering emails on his phone, twirling my hair around his finger and occasionally rolling his eyes whenever Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles shared a romantic moment, but it was more domestic bliss than I’d had in my whole life combined. We lay on the carpet, him taking another sip of his Guinness, when I rolled into his chest, seeking his warmth.

“You don’t have to be so anti-love. You can learn a thing or two from rom-coms,” I said.

“I’m not anti-love.” He dove down to kiss my lips, his hot tongue flicking my lower lip sensually. “I’m anti-bullshit. I bet you good money that if a real life chick had a guy jumping on the bleachers, singing a love song for her in front of a bunch of pimply high school kids, she’d pretty much kill him.”

I laughed. “Wrong. I would love to hear you sing for me in front of high school kids.”

“I would love for you to come back from your shift tomorrow completely naked, with nothing to hide your lady parts but a rare steak.”

“That would never happen.”

“Neither would me singing you a song in front of snarky teenagers.”

He was normal. And fun. Worst of all, he showed me another part to love. A new layer in his complex personality no one else had access to. A layer tucked so deep under layers and layers of apathy, brutality and abrasiveness, showing it to me was almost like learning how to walk again.

He hated that part of him. The softer, kinder part.

And the fact that he shared it with me made me feel special. Special to have Troy, the guy you watched chick flicks with, and not Troy, the kill-a-priest and fuck-your-brains-out guy. That old, tired version he gave to everyone else. With me, he was still rough around the edges, but he wasn’t all bad either.

“You’re impossible to deal with,” I said, pouting, but hell, I was enjoying this ping-pong.

“And you love it.” He planted another kiss, this time on my forehead, as he scooped me into his arms. “I’m myself. I make no apologies for who I am, and you like it, because you’re so much like me. You’re the girl who teased the son of a dead mobster, The Fixer, on your wedding day. You own your shit, consequences be damned. Have you ever wondered why your parents called you Sparrow?”

“Uhm, let’s see. Maybe because my dad was a drunk and my mom was a hippie, and together, they came up with really stupid name ideas?” I tried disguising my embarrassment with laughter.

Inside, though, my stomach twisted in tight knots. Everyone around me called me Birdie, with Troy calling me Red. No one called me Sparrow for a reason. It was an awkward name and I hated it. I tossed my hair back, faking boredom. “Anyway, I wonder about the bigger stuff, like why the hell my mom left me, not why she saddled me with a name that’s basically an invitation for bullying.”

“You hate your name,” he said.

I twisted out of his embrace, feeling my face heating. Peeling off layers was hard. Not only for Troy, but for me, too.

“Aren’t you clever.” I took a long sip of my drink.

He scooped me into a bear hug again, locking me in his arms. His lips grinned against my skin.

Did he find me adorable?

“You shouldn’t hate it, it’s perfect for you. It symbolizes freedom and independence. You’re both.”

“I’m not free,” I reminded him.

He rolled on top of me, straddling me with his muscular thighs. I lay beneath him, admiring his strong body and knowing, deep down, that I’d gotten comfortable in my cage.

“No, not from me,” he agreed. “But trust me, lovebird. Even if I let you out of this cage, you’d be flying back in no time.”

It was true, but that was exactly what worried me.

We spent more time making out on the carpet like two teenagers, before he got to his feet and disappeared into his office. He came back with a small box. Simple, light green. The kind you can get at the dollar store. He kneeled down to where I sat on the carpet and placed it in my hand.

“I’ve been studying you for a while now,” he said. “Every day is a class day, each conversation is homework, and I think I know by now what I would have picked if we had known each other before we got married.”

My heart fluttered in my chest, my pulse picking up speed. It was a moment of true, raw happiness, and it scared me beyond repair. I knew a long time, maybe even forever, would pass before I’d have this kind of moment again.

I opened the box, a part of me still scared I’d find something offensive. Last time he gave me a gift, on our wedding day, I almost threw up yesterday’s lunch on his lap. In the box sat a ring. It was very different from my engagement ring—monstrous, attention-seeking bling. No. This was a simple red ruby. It looked like a drop of fresh blood. Basic, beautiful, special and original. More than anything, it was very, very red.

It dawned on me that the ring was exactly how he saw me. This was Troy’s version of trying, and he was doing it for me. This was him being thoughtful. I looked up, a mischievous grin on my face.

“My original engagement ring has a diamond the size of the moon. Some would call this a downgrade.”

“Trust me, it’s an upgrade.” He took the ring and slid it on my finger, brushing his thumb over it. “Besides, the diamond in your first one ain’t real.”

My grin collapsed into a startled
oh
.

He laughed. “I’m kidding, kiddo.”

When the evening rolled into night, we took things to bed, and I writhed beneath him, screamed his name, just like he told me I would on our wedding night. Arcade Fire’s “Rebellion”
played from the stereo, and the irony wasn’t lost on me.

I was in love with a murderer who didn’t love me back, who never explained why he took me for his wife. It wasn’t fine, wasn’t okay, but it was the ugly, embarrassing, uncomfortable truth.

Considering how fucked up my truth was, I began to understand why Troy gave me something far more convenient and beautiful.

He gave me lies, and I ate them from the palm of his hand.

He gave me lies, and for him, I closed my eyes.