Page 27 of Shades of Ruin (Sharp Edges Duet #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

GREYSON

I pull back, trying to pick up the rubble of the wall that used to stand between us and build it up higher than ever—a fortress to protect her just as much as me.

But she doesn’t even let me lay the foundation of that boundary before she steps forward and stomps it all into the dust. Her hands are on my shoulders, so fragile and fearless as she drags my body against hers.

I can’t even push her away by the time her mouth is on mine, her lips tasting like citrus and spice and blood.

Her tongue isn’t shy or inexperienced as it presses against the seam of my lips and splits them open, delving into my mouth like it has every goddamn right to be inside me.

And maybe it fucking does. I allow her five seconds of control before taking the lead.

I wrap one hand around her throat and slide the other under her leg, hitching her thigh over my hip so she can rub that sweet, bare pussy against me. She’s still not close enough.

Without breaking our kiss, I reach down and grab her underneath both thighs, hoisting her off the ground.

I hear the echoing crash of glass in the distance, but I don’t pay any attention as she wraps her naked thighs around my waist and presses her body against me.

Her hands fist my hair, clinging to me like she’s desperate to avoid tumbling to the floor, but she doesn’t know that I would never, ever let her fall.

I splay my fingers across her back, holding her tightly so she knows she’s safe as long as she’s mine.

And then I kiss her like I’ve never kissed anyone else, every girl who came before her obliterated to dust and shadow with the smallest touch of her lips.

I kiss her until my lungs are begging for air.

I kiss her until my chest aches. I kiss her like she’s the home I’ve waited my whole goddamn life to find.

And after so many years spent empty and hollow, I feel so whole that the fullness is excruciating—fucking splitting me open from the inside like an internal hemorrhage that won’t motherfucking stop.

I’ve never been a masochist, but this is torture I’d happily die from.

“Fuck me,” she pleads, her voice low and harsh as she continues to grind her body against me. “Fuck me, please.”

“I love to hear you beg, angel,” I growl, holding her tight in my arms while I spin us around.

I kneel down and lower her to the floor on her back, her legs still wrapped around me as I hover over her.

I slam my hands on either side of her head, trapping her beneath me.

“Fuck,” I hiss when my palms land on thin shards of glass.

Blood starts to flow before I have a chance to pull away.

“Shit, you’re lying on glass,” I gasp when I realize I’ve thrown her down into a minefield of sharp-edged pieces.

Her back is pressed against the shattered crystal, the orangey-red of her spilled cocktail seeping into her dress.

I try to pull her up, but she catches my face in her hands and drags me back down to meet her lips, my weight forcing her even harder into the glass.

“Keep going,” she breathes between searing kisses. Her hands slide down my abdomen and stroke the steel length between my thighs .

“It’ll cut you,” I argue in spite of wanting to fuck the shit out of her right now. I ignore my primal instincts and try to lift her up again.

“I don’t care. Keep going.” Before I can stop her, she has my belt unbuckled and my zipper down. And when her hand slips beneath my boxers and fists my aching cock, I can’t suppress the rumbling groan that leaves my throat.

“Angel,” I warn, my voice strained with the effort it takes to hold back.

A flash of deep red catches my attention, and I notice that juice isn’t the only thing tainting the soft white of her dress—she’s bleeding, the glass cutting through the thin fabric at her sides and piercing her skin.

“You’re already bleeding,” I hiss, anger leaching into my tone at the fact that her skin dared to break without my permission.

“I’m happy to bleed as long as you keep fucking going ,” she moans, her fingers smearing the wetness of my pre-cum over my shaft and stroking up and down.

Fuck me, I don’t think I’m strong enough to resist. I claw my hands down her shoulders, tearing at her dress until her heavy tits spill out.

The dark caramel buds of her nipples are so hard I want to bite into them like they’re the perfect little hors d’oeuvre before the main course.

I bend down and take one into my mouth, tearing at it with my teeth until she releases the sweetest little whimper.

I suck and nibble and bite until she’s writhing beneath me before moving over to torment the other nipple. When I pull back, she’s got red blotches and crescent indents scattered across both tits. She looked pretty when I picked her up, but now she looks perfect with my mouth marking her as mine.

“You sure you want me to fuck you right here on the floor, angel?” I rest my full weight on her, letting her feel each sharp piece of glass as it digs under her skin. She releases a small, breathless cry, but she doesn’t push me away. “I can’t be gentle right now.”

Taking what’s left of her dress in my hands, I rip it in half, my mouth watering at the sight of all that gorgeous, golden skin ready to be devoured.

I slam my palm into the center of her chest, clawing my fingers down the middle of her body until I reach her wet folds.

My own blood leaves behind a trail of red from her tits to her cunt, the sight of it gruesome and beautiful at the same time.

“It’ll hurt,” I warn right before smacking my hand against her pussy, clipping her swollen little clit with my fingertips.

She shrieks, the sound desperate and tortured and euphoric all at the same time.

Her tits bounce as her lungs heave with mounting adrenaline.

Locking her eyes on me, she reaches out blindly, brushing her fingers over bits of glass until she lands on the jagged stem of the cocktail glass.

Grasping it in her fist, she raises her bleeding hand and presses the makeshift weapon into my chest. “Make sure it hurts.”

Goddamn . Desire hot as the flames of hell courses through my bloodstream.

I take the stem from her, the edge so sharp you could lacerate an essential artery in an instant.

She’s a brave girl to place such a dangerous tool in the hands of a professed murderer—brave or very, very stupid.

I put the broken stem to her throat, watching as blood trickles from the point where the tip meets her skin.

“You want this to hurt, angel?” I reach down to rip my cock out, blood lubricating the length of it, and slot it against her soaked entrance. “Then scream for me like a good girl.”

I thrust inside her and drive the glass into her skin, the combination of the two tearing the sweetest scream from her lips as her back arches off the ground.

“Fuck, angel, just like that,” I groan when her cunt starts to clench around me already.

Similar to our first time together, sharpness and pain drag her right to the edge. “You take it so fucking well.”

I want to feel her against me like I did at Pandemonium, but this time there won’t be any masks or blindfolds—no hiding .

The idea of baring myself just as much as she is sends a jolt of terror through me.

I steady one hand on her hip and fuck her slowly while reaching up to undo my buttons and slip my shirt off my shoulders.

She gasps when the material falls to the floor, instinctively reaching up to brush her fingertips over my chest and feel me beneath her hands.

“They’re beautiful,” she muses, running her fingers along my tattoos and following them down my arms.

“They’re just well-hidden scars, angel.”

“That makes them even prettier. That means you hurt. That means you bled. That means you’re damaged just enough to be human.” Her eyes fall to the piece of broken glass I still have pressed into the soft skin of her hip. “I don’t trust perfect things.”

“No risk of perfection here.” I pull back and slam into her, making sure to drag the glass over her skin at the same time. “I’m as broken as they come.”

“Good,” she half-moans, her eyelids fluttering shut when I drive into her as hard as I can. “Show me.”

I flip us around, rotating so that she’s straddling my hips with my naked back pressed into the glass instead of hers.

And fuck it hurts, but there’s something so sweet about sharing the pain with her rather than letting her suffer alone.

“Ride me, angel,” I rasp, biting down on my lip with the effort it takes not to come already.

“Let me watch that pretty cunt swallow my whole cock like it was made for it.”

She’s quick to obey, swirling her hips in a figure eight and sliding herself up and down my cock until I fucking see stars.

I’m not going to last long. I splay my hands on her stomach, feeling the protrusion of my cock each time I slide inside her.

Taking the sharp-edged cocktail stem, I press it into her hand, offering her a chance for a bit of payback. “Hurt me, angel. Make me bleed too.”

“I can’t,” she protests, her fingers trembling around the glass.

“Yes, you can.” I hold her down and buck my hips in long, harsh thrusts. I know she likes to feel pain, but something tells me she likes to give it every now and then too. “Think of every time I bullied you in the kitchen just to make you cry.”

She glares at me, her hold on the stem growing tighter. “I never cried.”

“Fine, think of every time I tried .” I’ve never stopped trying.

Before I can catch her movement, I feel the sudden press of glass at my throat. “Why so obsessed with my tears, chef?” she demands, pushing the edge right into the spot where my carotid artery is thumping in my neck.

“Because you told me once that I would never earn them.” I lift my chin so she can get a clear shot if she wants it. “And I’ve always loved a challenge.”

This satisfies her enough that her hips start rocking again, dragging me to the edge and pulling me back with every movement.

“Angélica,” I groan when I realize she’s doing it on purpose.

I dig my fingers into her hips and try to drag her down where I want her, but she pushes up on her knees and stays out of reach. “You’re teasing me.”

She bends at the waist and lays her naked chest against mine, making sure to keep my cock from getting what it really wants.

Trailing the glass up and down my throat, she presses her lips against my ear.

“Thinking about all those times you humiliated me in the kitchen makes me want to drag this out a bit longer.” I feel a sting like a paper cut when she flicks the glass over my skin hard enough to break it.

“Fuck,” I gasp, bracing for her next swipe. “What do you want—an apology? ”

“I’d love one, actually.” She cuts me again at the same time she finally slams down on my cock, and my nerves light up with the dual sensations twisted together.

“Fine,” I grit. “I’m sorry.” I’m not . I would torment her a hundred times over and enjoy each and every one.

“I don’t believe you.” Another slash. “Try harder.” She nicks my nipple, and this time I really whimper.

“I’m sorry,” I heave. “I’m sorry you’re such a perfect little painslut who likes to be tormented. I’m sorry I give you what you need . And I’m sorry you love it so much you think you need to run from it.”

She stabs the cocktail stem hard into my chest and twists. “ Jesus Christ ,” I hiss, the pain sharp and searing as the glass cuts deep.

“You going to cry for me, chef?” There’s a wicked gleam in her eye as she throws my own words back at me.

“I’d give you every tear I have if you asked for them. You want me to cry, angel?”

She stills for a moment, considering how much I should pay for the way I’ve treated her. The sadistic sparkle in her eyes tells me she’s flipping through different tortures the way someone sane would flick through a menu. “No,” she decides at last. “I want you to come.”

Goddamnit, I think I love her. “Then move those pretty hips and show me how much your pussy owns me.”

She slams down onto my cock, the force of it brutal and punishing.

She’s fucking me , not the other way around, and I’m more than happy to let her.

“Yes, make me feel it,” I whimper. I slip my fingers between her folds and rub at her swollen nub, the thrusts of her hips grinding my hand against her.

“Show me all that rage you’ve kept bottled inside.

” Her pace quickens, the room filling with her breathless moans every time I stroke her right where she needs it .

We’re both so fucking close. “Wreck me, pretty little ruin. Fucking destroy me like you were made for it because we both know you were.”

“W-what did you call me?” she gasps as her body starts to tremble with the first spurts of her climax.

I reach up and twist my fingers into her curls, dragging her down toward me. “You fucking heard me,” I growl against her ear. “Now come for your demon, my sweet fallen angel.”