Page 23 of Sanctuary (Deviant Hearts #0.5)

"Does that hurt your ego?"

"Yes. Very much." He says it with such a serious look on his face that I almost believe him, but the spark in his gaze at the last moment gives away his bullshitting.

"You’re messing with me, aren’t you?" I tighten my fingers into a fist and shove it playfully against his chest.

"Ouch, woman." He presses his palm to the spot my knuckles just touched and rolls his eyes dramatically.

I can’t with him. He’s too cute. I had no idea making out could be this fun.

With Jett, it’s always intense, as if he’s preparing to run a marathon.

Like his dick is grave business. But, in the end, asshole never gets me to the finish line.

With Cruz, I don’t want to cross the finish line, though.

I want to be here, twisted up in the front seat of a foreign car, and giggle at random stuff he says, kissing him in between.

"Is that painful?" I ask, gesturing at Cruz’s chest.

"Very."

"Want me to make it go away?"

"Please," he drawls.

I lean forward and put my mouth on the spot. He’s still wearing his T-shirt, so I take charge and start removing his jacket, then lift his arms to remove the tee. The car is too small. Not enough room to really stretch out anywhere. But we make do.

"Why am I the only one getting naked?" he husks out.

"Stop complaining," I say. "I’ve only just started." He has an impressive body, toned and muscled and with plenty of ink, and I take a moment to trace my finger over some of the tattoos on his arms and chest.

His eyes search mine as if he's trying to decipher the meaning behind my words, and it feels like he’s looking right into me, right into the depth of my tattered, lost soul.

I wonder if he sees all the nasty shit there, all the anger outbursts of my father, all the broken bones of my mother, all the desolation of my teenage years.

I wonder if he cares or thinks girls like me are trash, damaged goods.

I wonder, but I don’t voice my fear. Don’t ask it.

"Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?" Cruz suddenly says, returning his palm to my cheek. His thumb grazes my chin, touching my bottom lip.

"No."

"Shame."

"You can tell me right now."

"You are beautiful," he whispers, accentuating each word.

"Orange hair not a turnoff?"

"Turnoff?" He frowns. "That’s the best part. A girl daring the world to notice her is the kind of girl you’d want by your side."

A knot forms in my throat. I swallow past it. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. And I guess it’s the truth. I do want the word to see me. To see me as an individual, not as my parents’ daughter. Because in their eyes, I’ll always be good for nothing.

"Ride or die kinda girl?" I ask gingerly.

Cruz shakes his head. "Fuck no. I’m talking about the kind of girl who’d walk through fire and come out on the other side screaming ‘Is that all you got?’ No fucking dying here."

I try to hide my smile. "Sounds exhausting."

"It is," he admits. "But it’s also the best feeling in the world. With great risk comes great reward, right?"

Then he leans in, the space between our mouths shrinking, and I brace myself for another kiss.

And when it comes, it’s pure bliss. A combination of soft and firm. His hands are all over me, mapping my curves, and I arch into his touch. I run my fingers over his body, memorizing the contours of his abs, the tattoos on his skin, the swell of his biceps.

It’s not enough, I realize. This teasing is not enough to satisfy my craving.

Breathing heavily, I pull away from him and instruct him to lower the back of the seat. He does it without questioning my intention.

I lift myself up and hurl myself across the console to straddle him.

"Oh…okay," he rasps out, and his large, warm hand cups my ass through my tee.

"This will give us some strategic advantages," I explain.

"Strategic advantages, huh?" He smirks. "To do what?"

"What do you think?"

"Beats me."

I grab his chin with one hand, tilting his face up.

"But this is a one-time-only deal." I’m being reckless. I know it. I should have told Jett last night that we’re over.

Only, he paid for my goddamn ticket. So I’ll do it in LA.

In my heart, we’re not together anymore.

I deserve to have fun. But somehow, the guilt is still there, in the back of my mind.

And I know I won’t be able to look at Cruz after this.

Won’t be able to look at him and not think about my stabbing Jett in the back.

So the only way I can do this is if it won’t turn into more.

"Well, I’m not a hit-it-and-quit-it type of guy," Cruz starts.

"Today, with me, you are."

He thinks for a long time, as if I’ve given him a math problem, then says, "Okay. If that’s what you want."

I nod, leaning in, and whisper in his ear, "Let’s fuck, then."

Cruz groans, his hips buck up, and I can feel how hard he’s gotten.

From here on, it’s intense. No words. Just the language of two starved-for-release bodies. My tee stays on, but he slips one hand beneath it and cups my breast through my bra. His touch is like an electric charge everywhere his skin comes in contact with mine.

"I’ve been dying to do this all night," he groans.

"I thought you said this wasn’t your intention."

"Intention and wanting are two different things."

"True. You and me both then." I reach for his belt and undo it. His fly is next. "No second thoughts?"

"No second thoughts," he says between heated kisses while I cup his cock through his boxers.

"I want you so bad."

"I know," he says with so much cockiness in his voice that it makes me laugh.

"Arrogant prick." I plunge my tongue into his mouth as my hand continues to fondle him.

Holy shit, this is so wrong , I think as my hips start to grind against him. I need friction. Need something to take the edge off before I blow up.

He groans and curses, his teeth clenched, his fingers digging into my back.

I love how I can make him lose control like this. I’ve only ever seen him this unhinged on stage.

I want to explore every inch of his body.

To see if he tastes the same everywhere.

I wish the weather was nicer and we could just do it outside on the grass, stretch out on a blanket and do all the things to each other that we’ve never dared to try with anyone else.

But the rain has intensified, and we’re stuck here, in the front seat of this rental, with the steering wheel bumping against my back. Still, it’s no less exciting.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, almost shyly pulling on my fishnets with his thumb and index finger.

"Okay," I breathe out, hiking my tee up a bit to give him access to everything he wants.

I have to change my position briefly, and he doesn’t waste any time rolling my tights down my hips. We rearrange our limbs and fumble with our clothes for a few minutes giggling and cursing excessively because there’s not enough room to do what we really want.

But we make it work.

Yes. A miracle happens and I eventually find myself back on top of him with my tee on but my tights and my panties on the back seat.

His jeans are half down his thighs, and we’re just there, rutting against each other with his cock pressed up to my pussy as if letting me get used to the size of him.

He cups my ass and lifts me up slightly, positioning himself at my entrance.

"Ready?" he asks.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Just have to make sure."

"Oh shut up. Let’s fuck, you considerate asshole." I slap his cheek playfully, preparing for the pain that I know will come the moment he enters me, because he’s not small at all.

But there is none. Just a pleasant stretching sensation as he buries himself balls deep inside me.

"Jesus Christ." I release a loud exhale, my eyes fluttering shut. "I wasn’t expecting you to be so…"

"Big?" he finishes for me. His voice is tense as he seems to restrain himself from moving any more. "There ain’t an award for it."

"There should be." A moan lingers right on the tip of my tongue, but I wait a heartbeat, wait until he starts moving to let it out. It feels liberating.

"Is this okay?" he asks. Even now, he’s a fucking gentleman. Like there’s a polite way to have wild sex in a car.

"It will be if you slap my ass."

He does as I say. A thousand tiny sparks shoot up through my body at the contact.

"Oh, baby," he mumbles against my ear, and one hand reaches up to tangle in my hair as our hips start to match each other’s movements. "You feel so good."

My head is thrown back. He feels so good too. So incredibly good. He’s hitting the perfect spot as he keeps drilling into me. The car rocks while the rain pummels the roof above us.

"Jesus Christ." I moan again, but this time, it’s louder, more desperate.

Deep down, I know this is wrong. It defies everything about me. Ruins who I am. Ruins the fact that I’m not a cheater, the fact that I’m loyal. It almost feels like a revenge fuck on some molecular level. Only, it’s not. It’s two people enjoying each other. No strings attached.

Works for me and, apparently, works for him too.

"Can’t hold it anymore," he mutters against my neck.

"Good," I grind down harder, searching for that elusive release I want— no, need —so badly.

I feel his finger on my clit, rubbing in circles, sending me over the edge. He’s the first man I’ve met who knows female anatomy this well. Just a few skillful flicks and I’m flying.

My walls clench around him, and I scream into the crook of his neck. Then it all comes crashing down. His cock throbs inside me, jets of cum spurting into me as I cry out in ecstasy.

I don’t know why I didn’t think about condoms. I didn’t really plan on having sex with him when I left the festival grounds this morning.

Good thing I’m smart enough to be on the pill.

But these are just afterthoughts. My body is buzzing and I’m suspended too high in this blissful white bubble to care about consequences.

We both collapse into the seat, our chests heaving as we try to catch our breath. My face is buried in his hair, and I just stay still for a while, inhaling him.

When I draw back a little to look at him, he’s all sweat and sparkly eyes.

He’s gorgeous when he’s undone.

"That was—" he starts.

"Fun," I finish his sentence.

"Well, fun isn’t the word I was going to use, but that too."

"What word were you going to use?"

"Terrific."

I kiss him instead of speaking. Kiss him because I know my time’s up. After this, I’m done with the guys in the bands. Too much drama. Could be my New Year’s resolution. It’s summer, but I’m just making it in advance.

"Did you like it?" he suddenly asks, sounding shy. "Did I make you…you know?"

"You couldn’t tell," I say teasingly.

"I could, but I hear women like to act it out a lot."

"I wasn’t."

"I’m glad."

"Why? You think your reputation will be ruined and the guys will kick you out of the band for not being good enough in the sack?"

He laughs. "That’s some wild imagination."

I grin at him, shimmying a little in his lap. "It’s probably safe that we disengage now." I point down at where our hips meet. His cock is soft and spent, and I’m dripping a little. It’s a mess.

"Yeah. Best to clean up before it sticks to the seats permanently," he mutters, reaching out for the central console with his free hand to fumble around for some napkins.

After we put ourselves back together and I return to my seat, we simply sit there, looking at the rain pelting the windshield and the blurry surface of the lake further down.

The song playing on the radio ends and another one starts, and after the intro hits, I realize it’s one of The Deviant’s latest singles that was released this spring.

"Hey, is it weird?" I ask quietly. "Hearing your music like this? Just popping up everywhere?"

Cruz takes a second to think, staring wistfully at the downpour outside.

"Not anymore," he admits. "It was at the beginning. I mean, we’d make an event out of it every time we got radio play. Eventually, it all just became a backdrop. Not any different from being an accountant. Every night you punch in, do your work, punch out, go home, be yourself. In the morning, you gotta put on a mask and be that other version of yourself because that’s what your fans expect of you. "

"Did you always want to be a musician?"

"For as long as I can remember. I wasn’t very good in school. There was no future for me in college. I actually wanted to play a guitar, but my fingers are butterfingers for the precision you need to play an electric. So I went with the next best thing. Bass."

"I don’t think I can even imagine you as a student."

"Too late for that now anyway. I mean, the whole point of college is to have a successful career to support yourself and your family. But I think I’ve got it figured out without it."

"You sure do." I’m quiet for a few heartbeats, my hands resting casually in my lap as I’m wondering if I’ll get to reach my own goals when I’m his age.

"Can I get your number?" he asks.

"This one-time ride is all that’s on the agenda," I reply.

"Right," he says with a sad smile on his face. "I forgot."

"Sorry." I pause, wait a few seconds, then go on, "I don’t know if I’d feel right about this. About us, continuing as if nothing happened. You understand?" I look at him.

He looks back at me an nods once.

"I do."

"I still live with Jett. It’s already too complicated. I’ll need to figure out how to end it cleanly, and I’m just not ready for anything more than this." My hand bounces between us.

"I get it."

"We should probably head back."

"Yeah." He starts the car but remains still in his seat for a while.

We listen to the hum of the engine as our words fade to an echo. We’ve said all there is to say.