Page 24 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

That seems to be all she needs. She arches as much as she can with her body nearly folded in half, crying out as she shakes and trembles beneath me.

Her pussy has my cock in a vise, squeezing like she doesn’t want to let go as her orgasm rocks through her, and that’s enough to send me crashing over the edge as well.

My body jerks as my release tears through me, and I pump my cock deeper into Quinn’s body, finishing deep inside her.

I collapse on top of her for a moment, both of us catching our breaths and coming down from the rush. My cock pulses a few more times inside her, and after a long moment I pull out slowly, smirking when I see the way my cum looks leaking out of her pink pussy.

Quinn follows my gaze, gazing down her body at where the evidence of what we just did is undeniable. Her forehead furrows a bit, a little line appearing between her eyebrows.

“What?” I ask.

She makes a slight face. “Nothing. I’ve just… never had a guy come inside me without a condom before. It’s messy.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’s the point.”

She rolls her eyes, then gives me a pointed look. “Are you going to get a rag so I can clean up the mess?”

“Now why would I do that?” I ask her with a grin. “When you look so damned good dripping my cum?”

I can hear the low, almost possessive sound of my voice when I say it, and maybe she was right earlier about me being an animal. The sight of her looking so deeply claimed stirs something primal in me that burns with approval.

This marriage is a means to an end, nothing more.

A way for us to both get what we want, but also for me to protect my people and further my own interests.

But at the same time… I can’t deny that being this close to Quinn has an appeal.

She’s a spitfire, and Atlas wasn’t wrong about her being vicious.

She doesn’t pull her punches, and she doesn’t hold back, which makes it even fucking hotter to have her the way I just did.

My cock stirs a little, but after all of that, there’s no way it’s getting up again so soon.

Quinn shivers in response and starts to shift, like she’s going to move or get up to clean herself up.

Before she can, I put a hand on her thigh, clamping down to keep her in place.

She goes still, watching me with hooded eyes as I reach down and scoop up the cum that’s spilled out of her before shoving it back into her pussy.

She hisses, clearly oversensitive, and I only tease her a little, pumping my fingers in and out once or twice before letting her go.

I flop down on the bed next to her, worn out and exhausted.

The knife is still sticking up from the bed between us where I impaled it beside her head, and I yank it out and hand it to her, watching her face as I do.

She snorts and takes it, glancing down at the red line that she left when she cut me during our fight.

It’s not bleeding anymore, but her eyes narrow as she examines it.

For a brief second, I almost think I see concern on her face, like she wants to make sure she didn’t hurt me—but if I did, it’s gone just as quickly.

“All things considered,” I murmur. “Not the worst way I’ve ever woken up.”

Quinn huffs a breath at that, inspecting the blade like she’s expecting it to still be stained with my blood.

Silence stretches between us for a few minutes, and I’m surprised that it’s almost comfortable. It’s probably the longest stretch of time we’ve ever been quiet around each other, usually falling into the familiar pattern of bantering or fighting, trying to get the better of each other.

It’s not terrible, just lying here in the darkness with her. But eventually, the urge to break the silence takes over.

“Why do you have such a fucking big house?” I ask. I did wonder about that when Atlas, Killian, and I showed up here. “Seems like a lot of space when it’s just you, and you probably spend most of your time at your tattoo parlor anyway.”

Quinn is quiet for a second, and I think at first that she’s not going to answer. But then she says, “It was my dad’s house. I got it after he died.”

She doesn’t elaborate more, but I guess she doesn’t really need to. The rest of it is pretty self-explanatory. Her dad died and she kept his house, even if it’s impractical for the life she lives now, because it was his and that’s what matters about it.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “About your father.”

She slants a skeptical look at me, and I turn my head so I can see her more clearly.

“I am. Yeah, Enigma and Carnage were enemies once, but now we’re not.” I pause for a second and then add, “And even if we were, I’d feel sorry for the loss of a parent. Losing a parent you love is fucking rough, and it’s pretty clear you and your dad were close.”

Quinn turns onto her side, frowning at me, and in a flash, I realize I spoke too honestly and gave too much away.

This isn’t the same as the loaded banter and veiled threats that we usually exchange.

This is something different. Something… deeper.

Something a hell of a lot closer to who we truly are as people, without all the posturing and years of rivalry in the way.

It’s uncharted territory.

“What do you know about losing a parent?” Quinn asks, her voice low but clearly curious.

“Who says I know anything about it?” I answer, brushing her off.

Her frown just deepens. “You said it like you know from experience. Like it’s something you’ve been through. It’s different from how other people say it, like they’re sorry for my loss, but they don’t really get it.”

And yeah, I know about that too. The empty sympathy that people always show when they feel like they have to.

Because it’s the socially acceptable thing to do, or because they don’t know what else to say.

Sometimes they even really mean it, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s not their burden, and they usually don’t know what it feels like.

Quinn’s loss is still mostly fresh too—her dad only died a year ago. So she’s probably seen a lot of that false sympathy shit.

“You’re right. I’ve lost a parent too,” I admit eventually. “My mom died when I was young.”

“Oh.” She’s quiet for a second, then says, “I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “It’s been a long time since then.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it still probably hurt.” She frowns. “People say time heals all wounds, but so far, it doesn’t feel like that to me. What was she like?”

“She was Italian, first generation. Both of my parents were. And my mom was… warm. Open. Sweet. Kind. She loved to feed people and would talk your ear off about anything she was excited about.”

“She sounds great,” Quinn murmurs.

“She was.”

Silence falls again, but this time Quinn breaks it. “What about your dad? What was he like, other than Italian?”

Just mentioning him makes me go tense, but I don’t let anything show on my face. I can feel Quinn watching me, gauging my reaction.

“My father is a different story,” I tell her shortly.

I can see curiosity still glinting in her eyes. It’s interesting, the way she seems to feel so fucking much. Everything from her anger to her determination to her arousal seems to sit just behind those clear gray eyes, like they truly are windows into her soul.

She wants to know more, that’s clear.

But I never meant to tell her even this much. I’m here to learn about her and what she might be hiding, not to give up my own secrets.

Before she can ask anything else, I roll away from her on the bed, getting up.

“I don’t know about you, but that kind of sex always leaves me fucking starving.” I pull my pants back on and grab a shirt from the open box at the foot of the bed. I haven’t unpacked all the shit my men brought over yet. “I need something to eat… if you even have any food in this house.”

“Fuck off,” she snaps, and just like that, we’re back in familiar territory. “I didn’t plan on having to feed you and your two shadows, okay? If it bothers you so much, you’re welcome to go grocery shopping like a good little husband.”

“From the way that fridge looks, you clearly didn’t plan on having to feed yourself either,” I shoot back with a smirk.

She shoots me glare and gets up as well, pulling her own clothes back on. “Freeloaders don’t get to complain. Or judge me.”

“We’re married now,” I say. “If you live off takeout or starve to death, that reflects poorly on me.”

“Good.”

I step out of the bedroom and head downstairs, with Quinn close at my heels. I can’t tell if she’s following because she’s hungry too, or if she just doesn’t want me running loose in her kitchen in the middle of the night.

Killian and Atlas are both up when we enter the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the brown leather couch with the TV on. Some old school action movie plays on the screen, but both of them look away when we walk in.

“I see they’ve just made themselves at home,” Quinn mutters under her breath.

No one points out the obvious: that for the duration of our marriage, this is their home.

I raise an eyebrow at Atlas, who gives me a flat look back.

“It was getting a little hard to sleep upstairs,” he comments.

I chuckle. Judging from the way he’s looking at me, he and Killian heard everything.

“It’s not like you’re not used to hearing me have a good night,” I tell them both, because it’s true.

Atlas doesn’t seem amused by my words, which isn’t surprising. He’s been tense as fuck ever since I laid out this plan to him and Killian, and although I know he’s got my back like always, I also know that he thinks this is dangerous.

He’s not wrong. It is dangerous.

I’m taking a calculated risk for the good of my crew. But sleeping with Quinn doesn’t make it any riskier, so I don’t see any good reason not to. It’s not like there are feelings involved.

“Remind me to get some fucking earplugs, Killian,” Atlas drawls. “It’s the only way I’m gonna get any fucking sleep around here.”

Killian doesn’t respond, just snorts softly.

They both look over at Quinn, and a pink flush creeps up her neck. Even wearing clothes, she looks thoroughly fucked. Her lips are still kiss bruised, and her teal hair is a wild mess from rolling around on the bed. Anyone who saw her now would know what we were doing.

Her muscles tense, like she’s tempted to turn back around and go upstairs to get away from Atlas’s and Killian’s intent gazes, but she stands her ground instead.

“What?” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you have something to say to me, then fucking say it.”

Atlas opens his mouth like he does have something to say, but then closes it again, turning his head and staring hard at the TV.

“You shouldn’t worry about them seeing you like this,” I tell her.

“Any other man? Well, now that I know how good you taste and how perfectly you fall apart, I think I’d be inclined to stab his eyes out for looking at you like this.

But these two are basically my blood, closer than brothers.

We don’t hold anything back from each other. ”

Quinn glances sharply at me, like she’s trying to decipher exactly what I mean by that. I’m not sure what’s going through her mind as her gaze darts between me and my two best friends, but I suddenly find that I want to.

In fact, I want to know so much more about her.

Good thing that’s why we’re here then , I tell myself, although I know that’s not what this alliance is truly supposed to be about.

When I speak again, the Italian flows easily off my tongue. “ Sarà molto interessante essere sposati con te, mia piccola e bellissima nemica .”