Page 13 of Requiem Of Him (Of Solace And Sin #1)

He wants me to answer but seeing him look like this when I am the object of his attention makes it hard to form words.

It seems impossible. He’s here in my home, pressed between my legs and waiting for me to let him take me apart piece by piece.

I keep waiting for someone to pinch me or to jerk awake in a cold sweat, gasping for air, but it wasn’t happening.

The other shoe was supposed to drop, and it wasn’t.

No matter how many times I blink, he remains in place.

When I finally seem to be able to pry my tongue from the roof of my mouth to form some kind of response, it comes out in a garbled, embarrassing mess, “Cortland, I...–yes, fuck.”

Like the shithead he is, he just smiles, crooked as ever with the devil gleaming in his eyes like he won some prize. And maybe he did. Fucking Satan in a Sunday hat if you ask me.

Rather than him stripping me bare in the blink of an eye like I expect him to, he slowly inches his hands inside the legs of my shorts until he has two handfuls of my ass and squeezes roughly.

He jerks me forward a bit until my ass is nearly hanging off the couch cushion.

I eye him for a moment, forcing myself to focus on anything other than the fact he’s looking at me like that.

Like his world begins and ends with me when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

He’d gotten it all from what I understood of him since he unknowingly waltzed back in my life, and there was nothing I had that would make a bit of difference to his life.

A slap blisters across my outer thigh, taking me by surprise, and I can’t help but gape at him for a moment before shooting up off the couch and barking in his face, “What the hell, Cort?”

Not a second later my knees crack against the hardwood floor, and my head’s being wrench back so far it makes me gag and cough from the force, his fingers tangling in the mess of curls at the nape of my neck.

Irritation and disappointment rolling off him in tidal waves kept me from complaining, then he opened that sinful mouth of his again.

“When did I ever give you the impression that I would keep lettin’ you run that fuckin’ mouth of yours, peach? ”

I don’t know what shocks me more, the nickname he’s not called me since I came out to him or the smooth swiftness each time he corrected a behavior he didn’t like.

Cortland was quick to make it known when he was dissatisfied by something, but being on the receiving end of his strength when he was less than pleased by me lashing out was something else entirely, and it made me want to push him far enough to see him snap.

I wanted to be on the other end of his leash when he forced me into submission, to heel for him and obey.

I just had no intention of making it easy, and we both knew it.

I can’t help the maniacal laugh spilling out of me as he looks down at me with such a severeness to him that it reminds me of the way someone would look at their friend when they’re making a situation worse.

It’s a look I’m definitely used to, but on him it seems worse.

My laughter ricochets around my living room, seeking refuge in anything willing to absorb the ear-splitting sound I can’t reign in despite myself.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself there.

Are you done?” He says, his voice filled with amusement as he stares down at me where he still holds me in place, refusing to give even the barest amount of slack.

My scalp starts burning under his fingertips, and my knees scream for relief that’s never coming if I keep going on like this, but the sensation skittering along my skin and the low humming in my brain make it hard to see that as a problem when it feels like I might burst into flames at any moment.

“You tell me, cowboy. Am I done?” I taunt, despite knowing he might put me on my ass.

I could see the war and indecision behind his eyes the more I pushed him, but it’s the only indication he gives.

He doesn’t ruffle easily and never has, but as much as he wants to break me—I want to see him shattered.

I want him to be unrecognizable to anyone but me.

As Cortland stands over me fully clothed, not a hair out of place, while I’m on my knees for him panting like a bitch in heat, a sense of calm washes over me. And fuck if I don’t want to be bred by this man.

“Since you want to be a bratty little shit and won’t let me make this better than what you got last time, I’ll give you a choice, very simple.

We wouldn’t want anyone to think I treat you less than gentlemanly now, would we?

” He says, his eyes twinkling with the promises of pain.

He pops on the cheek for good measure, making my nostrils flare before continuing.

“We can keep this nice and sweet like you should’ve gotten, or we can do this my way, and you take what I give you without the attitude. Your choice.”

I knew my answer before he finished, but he wanted certainty, assurance. “I’ll take what you give me.”

“Get up.” The demand startles me slightly, making me hesitate long enough that he yanks me to my feet and my eye line is filled by his full dusky pink lips.

There’s an asymmetry to them that I’ve always loved, his lower lip a smidge larger than his top lip and the neatly trimmed dark blonde beard that he’d had for as long as I could remember making them look even fuller, decadent like chocolate cake—so rich and sweet it’ll rot your teeth if you’re not careful.

With Cortland, I know I need to use caution for once in my life. He’s a walking heartbreak waiting like a snake in the grass, striking when you least expect it then slithering away like it never happened.

He pulls me down the hallway until we stop in front of my bedroom and the sight before me makes me nauseous.

Sheets still rumpled and very obviously stained by a unique cocktail of mine and Thiago’s sweat and cum, my clothes from the night before strewn across the floor and boots thrown in opposite directions—all of it really painting a masterpiece of what happened when we got back after being at a meet last night.

There is no hiding it, although Cortland I’m sure had already drawn whatever conclusions from seeing us together when he showed up unannounced, and he wouldn’t be wrong.

“You aren’t getting out of this. I would still fuck you if his cum was still dripping from your cunt, peach.” His lips brush against my ear, making me shiver as he makes it crystal clear he doesn’t give a fuck that he’s about to fuck me in the same bed with the same sheets still on the damn thing.

“I bet you would, you dirty old bastard.” I huff under my breath, rolling my eyes like it doesn’t get my dick hard thinking about him using someone else’s nut as lube. I almost wish I hadn’t already showered just to see how far I could push him.

Cortland doesn’t miss it though. “You wanna repeat that, boy?” He asks as he pushes me through the doorway and walks past me with too much ease in his gait. My jaw tics as I stare down at the filthy black satin sheets in front of me, and for a split second, I regret what I did the night before.

“I didn’t realize you’d started losing your hearing already in your old age. Should I invest in some hearing aids for you?” I quip, but I keep my back to him to prevent him seeing I might be crumbling whether I want to or not.

There’s a beat of silence followed by a noise I can’t decipher, and I lift my gaze to look over my shoulder to find him unbuckling his belt and letting the tail of it, along with the platinum buckle he’d gotten from his first championship, dangles from the belt loops of his beat-to-hell blue jeans.

He’s a fucking sight. His hand moves to the button of his jeans, and I track the movement like a starved predator waiting for the opportune moment to pounce, sinking my teeth into his flesh and consuming him until there’s no trace of him left behind.

Cortland studies me for a moment, his gaze trained on my throat before meeting my eyes, “What’d I say about the attitude, huh? When are you gonna learn that that mouth of yours is just gonna land you in a world of hurt with me?”

I slowly turn to face him before speaking slowly so he’ll get the picture, “I don’t know, Cortland.

When are you going to give me what I asked for and stop pussyfooting around?

” The false bravado while I’m shaking in my boots is only going to get me so far, but I can’t stop myself from plucking his nerves.

“So intent on making this something cheap when I made it clear we would be anything but. Why? Is it because that’s all you’re good for now?

” He muses with a tinge of unmistakable judgement lacing its way through his voice.

Not taking a step forward but also not backing away to leave, he leans against the chest of drawers lining the wall facing the bed and crosses his arms over his wide chest.

When I don’t jump at the chance to defend myself, one dark blonde brow arches up as if to prompt me.

Any other time with any other person, I would have told them to get out because it was no one’s business what made me like this—cold and heartless.

But the reason was standing right in front of me.

Willingly . I’d never wanted to cut a man off at the knees more than I did in this moment, and all my logic seems to have clocked out for the day.

I almost feel bad for him, and I haven’t even opened my mouth yet.

Momma always said, “Don’t stoop to their level, baby. Raise above.” I could take her advice. I could let him get on with it. I could let him make assumptions. I also could ignore it if I were a better person—I’m not.