Page 21 of Beyond Hate (Beyond #3)

Otto

R eturn the favor.

London had just been attacked—again—by the same asshole I’d seen put bruises on his face more than once. He’d been covered in blood and soaked with rain… and somehow his response was that he could return the favor .

I couldn’t understand him.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to try as he took my hand and quietly led me back into the house.

He avoided the room where I’d left Hudson’s body, his eyes flicking to the door for just a moment like he had to acknowledge what was there before he could keep moving.

He wanted to erase the scars, to overwrite the trauma of watching someone else die, the trauma of what had almost happened to him…

He wanted to overwrite it with me.

I could have told him it wasn’t a healthy response—he’d nearly been assaulted. Cuffing the man who’d kidnapped you and having sex probably wasn’t the best way to cope with that, but… maybe I was tired of running too.

I was tired of wanting, and needing, and imagining what London felt like.

I wanted him, and if this was the only way I could have him, I was going to take it.

I pushed him into the guest bathroom so he could clean himself up.

“I’ll be in the guest room.” I pressed close to him, murmuring the promise against his jawline as I carefully removed the cuffs still dangling from his wrists.

He nodded, swallowing hard enough I could feel it where I pressed against his skin, but he didn’t try to leave when he stepped away from me.

He went into the bathroom, and after a few minutes, I heard the shower turn on.

He really wanted to do this.

And I was realizing there wasn’t a world where I could ever have told him no.

I made quick work of rolling up Hudson’s body in the comforter, but I’d have to worry about dumping it later.

Instead, I slipped into the bathroom and scrubbed myself clean of blood.

At least on the surface, I looked innocent enough.

On the surface, we could both pretend that our pasts weren’t stained so crimson that nothing like hot water would ever really be able to wash it off.

I was already settling into the guest bedroom by the time London finally came out of the shower.

His footsteps were soft, hesitant. They still carried him to the doorway, and when I lifted my eyes, his arms were wrapped around his waist. His entire upper body was on display, wet with droplets of water…

He looked shell-shocked and a little overwhelmed, but he still stepped across the room and picked up the handcuffs I’d used on him from the bedside table. When he fiddled with the metal without saying anything, I tried to take them from him.

“We can just sleep, London. You probably need to rest after…”

“Get on the bed, please?” He murmured in response.

It wasn’t a demand—it wasn’t an order. It wasn’t commanding, the way Nikki had been once upon a time.

The question came on the wings of a trembling tone and a soft desperation that moved me more than any order could have.

London had me tied up in threads made of soft sunlight, and I was unwilling to struggle against them and risk snapping the strands.

I was pretty sure if I did, all of his light would fade away once and for all.

I’d already lived in a world full of darkness once. I didn’t want to do it again.

Which meant I lay back on the bed and watched him with curious eyes as he crawled in beside me with the handcuffs still held in his shaking fingers. He looked half out of it, half terrified.

London looked like this moment was something that was going to change him forever.

“Are you sure you want to do this? London, I…” I wasn’t really one to ask permission like this.

When I’d had him locked away at the facility, I’d done everything I could to torment him.

I’d never asked to crawl in beside him. When I’d gone into his apartment, I hadn’t really bothered getting some firm green light before I put my cock down his throat.

But now…

He answered me by clicking one cuff into place. The scenario played in my head, violent and a little vicious—I’d been tied down when I’d been tortured… left strapped to a bed…

And I kept waiting for that to roar through me, to turn me into some kind of monster that figured out a way to get loose so I could throw him off as he crawled across me to click the other cuff into place, leaving me chained down and at his mercy.

I kept waiting for my past to flash behind my eyes and prove that he needed to have me cuffed down if we were going to do this.

But all I saw was London, soft and sweet, with bruises fading on his skin as he threw his towel to the side and crawled between my legs.

I didn’t see my past in the man who smoothed his hands softly up the length of my thighs and took a trembling breath as he studied my nude body. I saw my future. I saw…

Redemption.

“Do you still want to hurt me?” he whispered, as he dropped forward and skimmed his nose along the curve of my hip, ghosting a featherlight touch across my skin that seemed hellbent on erasing a dozen memories of times I’d been cut, burned, beaten.

That soft touch drew them out like poison from a wound, cleansing me.

Making me feel alive.

Making me honest.

“Yes.”

His eyes flicked up the length of my body, and he pressed a kiss to my hip before drifting his mouth in a soft burst of exhalation across my stomach until he hovered over my cock. I was hard, talking about hurting him. Hard because I’d killed someone for him.

I was hard because he was touching me.

I was hard because it seemed like no matter what dark parts of me he saw, London still wanted me.

“Everything in my life has always hurt… I think it’s time for both of us to realize that it can feel good too.”

I wanted to tell him I’d thought that way once, but he stole the words from my chest when he parted his lips and took me into his mouth in one smooth motion that left me buried in the back of his throat.

It wasn’t graceful or smooth, it wasn’t seductive.

It held a sweet burst of desperation that made it feel even better, because London wrapped his lips around me and sucked my cock like it was the only thing he could do to anchor himself to the world, like it was the only thing he could do that would make him feel whole.

I groaned, my hips flexing up in need, chasing the heat of his mouth and the convulsions of his throat when he swallowed around me.

“Your mouth feels amazing, rabbit. All hot and needy. You take me so good.” His eyes rolled up to meet mine at the praise, and the sight of them wet and wide made me groan. “Fuck, I’d kill the entire world if it meant I got to see you looking at me like that forever.”

London whined around me, sucking hard enough I felt the slightest edge of his teeth, before he pulled off with a wet pop that left my cock slapping back against my bare stomach.

He licked his swollen lips as he stared up at me, and I wondered if this was the first time anyone had actually praised him for what he was doing.

It made my stomach clench, and I got to watch him stare in fascination at the muscles of my abdomen contracting.

“Do you know what I’d really like, London?

” The second I said it, his eyes widened, and I felt his body flex against the bed.

As much as he was taking control to make me feel comfortable with the situation, it was obvious that it wasn’t what he really wanted.

“I want you to crawl up here and fuck my mouth.”

His pupils blew wide at the suggestion, and watching the way his body leaned into me from the demand alone told me how beautiful he’d be beneath me if the roles were reversed…

but no. If I had the chance to get my hands on him right now, with the urges still running through my body…

if I ever had the chance to get my hands on him when he was soft and vulnerable…

Fuck, I wanted him, and I didn’t trust myself to have him in all the ways my body craved.

For now, this would have to do.

Almost as though he was unsure of himself, London slowly crawled along the length of my body—the movement reminded me of the times I’d watched him on stage. He seemed to sway to some inner music I couldn’t hear. It was beautiful.

He was beautiful.

“Are you sure you want… I mean, I could…” He trailed off as he glanced down at me, his bleached hair falling into his gaze. Somewhere beneath the uncertainty, I could see the ghosts of what had happened still drifting behind his eyes, trying to make their way to the surface.

I wanted to kill Hudson all over again for ever making him look that way, but for now, I’d settle on this.

“Show me how much you need me, rabbit.” The words came out in a low, rumbly demand, and London nodded once before shifting to straddle my shoulders.

His cock was hard, standing pink and dripping precum just from having me in his mouth.

The way he wanted was just as innocent as the rest of him, and I was greedy when I parted my lips and took him to the back of my throat in a smooth motion that left me groaning.

This was good—this was something I could get addicted to. The feel of him gliding past my lips made me want to shut my eyes and give myself over to the feel of it, even though my cock was aching to be touched again… but I couldn’t.

I couldn’t because I was enraptured by the expression on his face.

His eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back.

He thrust into my mouth with one hand in his hair and the other roaming across his body like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

His nails scratched red marks across his chest, his fingers pinched at his nipples until he shivered.

He drifted his arm up and tickled against his throat and jawline, then tangled the digits in his hair and pulled.

God, it was like he craved violence, like he needed everything I wanted to give him.