Page 47 of Shades of Ruin (Sharp Edges Duet #2)

Chapter Thirty-Three

GREYSON

I don’t like the sullen silence that hangs in the air as I march Angélica down the hall toward my private playroom at the club. “Whatever you’re sulking over, just spit it out,” I sigh.

I make quick work of the lock and tug Angélica into the room before slamming the door shut behind us. Finally some fucking privacy.

“Care to explain what happened between you and Kara?”

“I was under the impression I already did,” I retort before sliding off my mask and tossing it on the bed. “She’s like a sister to me.”

“Right,” Angélica seethes, pinning me with an accusing glare. She rips off her own mask and throws it beside mine. The charged gesture is brimming with violence, like yanking a sharpened knife from the safety of its sheath.

“Okay, maybe more of a cousin that you’d get to second base with if you got drunk enough. It’s complicated.”

She glowers at me. “Female brain composition is built for complicated male bullshit, so start talking before I decide to take hits at every vulnerable spot on your body. ”

“I shoved my tongue down her throat when she and Lord Ashford were taking a break. Neither of us enjoyed it. It happened once, and it’ll never happen again.”

“I know there was more to it than that, Greyson. I saw you two at the restaurant. You ordered cinnamon oil. And I learned enough from my experience with the ginger to guess where you put it. You like seeing women burn for you, don’t you?”

Angélica reaches back and yanks off her wings, shucking them to the floor like she wants to be nothing less than angelic right now.

“ Jesus Christ ,” I mutter under my breath. I’d wanted to make her jealous that night with Kara, but I hadn’t expected she’d be paying such close attention. I’m even more surprised she knew I’d use the cinnamon oil for pain.

“I didn’t touch her.” I slide my jacket off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “Kara did it all herself. I had no involvement.”

“Really?” Angélica asks with an arched brow. “And you didn’t sit there getting off on her pain?” Angélica reaches down and unties the ankle laces of her heels before kicking them off.

“Maybe I did,” I taunt, my voice slipping low. My hands find the buttons on my shirt, and I undo them one by one until my chest and abs are left bare. “Why? Are you jealous?” Angélica’s teeth sink into her bottom lip as her brown eyes trace my tattoos with a ravenous sort of reverence.

“Yes,” she breathes. Her chest heaves with arousal, her pretty new nipple piercings sparkling in the dim light of the room. I desperately want to see what they feel like against my tongue.

“Did you wish it was you?” I drop my shirt and stalk toward her. She stumbles back a few steps, something other than fear in her eyes.

“Yes,” she answers without the slightest tremor in her voice, even though she’s wearing nothing but a thin scrap of silk to protect herself from me.

“Well, I’d be more than happy to recreate the memory for you,” I purr.

I slip my fingers underneath the transparent gold material on her shoulders, and with one sharp tear, leave her stunning dress in ruins on the floor.

She shivers in spite of the warm flames from the large fireplace beside us caressing her skin.

“How?” she sighs.

Her eyelids flutter shut as I claw my fingers down her gold-flecked skin.

I use my nails to etch pink lines into her tits, circling her tender nipples until they pebble with need.

She moans at the ache of her new holes clenching around the piercings I gave her.

It takes everything in me not to give her hurt nipples a little bite with my teeth just to watch her scream.

I wrap my fingers around Angélica’s throat and push her back until she falls against the bed with a screech of surprise.

I tug the little gold thong down her legs and let it puddle at her feet.

Then I slot my knee between her thighs, spreading her wide and watching her wet cunt drip on my pants.

She’s so needy for me already, and I’ve not even begun to torture her.

“I have a bottle of cinnamon oil in that drawer over there,” I tell her, rubbing the thick bulge of my cock against her bare pussy. “I could show you exactly how she felt when I told her to stroke her poor clit with the oil until she cried. But you won’t cry for me, will you, angel?”

I dip my fingers into her soaking folds and find the swollen bundle of nerves that’s been aching for my touch. I pinch her clit between my fingers, digging my nails into the hardened nub until she’s writhing with pain. “You’ll be my brave girl and take it, won’t you?”

“Yes, Master Greyson,” she mumbles, and I feel my cock grow impossibly harder .

“Good girl.” I smack my palm against her pussy before pulling away. “Don’t move,” I command.

Striding toward my cabinet filled with all sorts of torments, I pluck out the vial of cinnamon oil.

I don’t use it often because chemical play can be excruciating in ways that straightforward implements like a whip or a paddle can’t touch.

The pain of the oil doesn’t stop when you’re no longer rubbing it into your skin.

It lingers, a steady, searing heat that can take hours to fade on its own.

I could offer her a pair of gloves for the application, but I’m not that kind. We won’t be diluting or masking the harsh burn of the oil—I want her to experience the full effects of the delicious sting.

Angélica’s perfect, naked body is sprawled out on the bed exactly where I left her, the paint on her skin leaving streaks of gold across the black sheets.

“You sure you want to do this?” I demand, holding up the unassuming brown bottle for her to see. “It would hurt less if I whipped your back, ass, and thighs with my belt before shoving my cock inside you, but the choice is yours. I’ll make sure you come screaming my name either way.”

She clenches her jaw in determination. “If Kara can handle it, I can handle it.”

“It’s not a competition, angel. And if it was, you’re already the victor. You’re mine, remember? And poor Kara is stuck with Lord Cuntford for the rest of her life, just like she wants to be.”

Angélica sits up on her elbows and glares at me. “Maybe keep her name out of your mouth if you don’t want me to use your balls as a pincushion while you sleep.”

“Understood,” I retort with a laugh. I uncap the bottle and tilt it over her stomach, loving the small flare of fear that flickers in her eyes. “Where do you want it? ”

“Anywhere,” she answers with a gulp.

Her gaze is fixed on the bottle of liquid torment rather than on me, and I can’t have that. I use my other hand to slap her lightly against the cheek, drawing her attention back to me where it belongs. “Eyes on me, little ruin.”

Her skin is flushed, warmed with humiliation and arousal as her dark eyes land on mine. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she demands, the words sharpened with defiance.

She’s always been the most intoxicating cocktail of bravery and peril. And I can’t wait to devour every inch of her.

Without warning, I tip the bottle and pour a steady stream of drops over the slit of her swollen cunt. She flinches at the contact of the liquid, but she doesn’t make a sound of protest. That is—until the oil starts to heat.

“ Santa puta madre de Cristo ,” she gasps, clenching her fists and thrashing on the bed like she’s in need of an exorcism. “That’s much fucking worse than the ginger.”

“Yes, it is,” I agree with a grin.

“It feels like fire is scorching my skin,” she whimpers.

“Good. Use your fingers to swirl it around your clit.”

She moans as she obeys, splitting open her folds with her fingers and rubbing the cinnamon oil into her little nub.

While she’s distracted with her clit, I pour another streak of oil across her stomach.

She bucks her hips, and the oil trickles down into the divot of her navel, glistening against her double-studded piercing.

Her naked body trembles when the burn of the oil spreads.

The air is filled with the sweet scent of cinnamon mingled with the spicy scent of her arousal. It makes me want to fall on my knees and feast on her pretty pussy. “How does it feel, angel?”

“Like a double-edged sword of pain and pleasure is flaying my skin.”

“Do you like it?” I glance up from her pussy to see her eyes have closed in spite of my earlier command. I slap her again, a little harder this time. “Look at me when you tell me how much you want this. How much you need this. Because you’re just as twisted and fucked up as I am, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes .” The words are chanted prayers falling from her swollen lips as she parts them in ecstasy.

I paint glistening slashes of cinnamon oil across her upper thighs, her hips, the tops of her tits. I’ve never used this much—and I probably shouldn’t—but I can’t resist the temptation to douse my angel’s whole body in fire.

Angélica continues to rub her clit, occasionally dipping her fingers into her gaping hole, fucking herself with burning oil seared into her fingertips. She’s even braver than I thought.

With my eyes latched onto my pretty little victim, I reach down and tug my belt free from my pants and yank down my zipper. My cock is thick and heavy in my hand, my piercings so warm from the heat in my blood that they almost scorch my fingers as I drag them up and down my throbbing shaft.

Pre-cum drips from my slit and falls on my thigh in a sticky stream. I’m ready to explode just watching my angel hurt herself to please me.

I whimper as I twist my hand and flick my thumb over the metal ring pierced through the tip of my cock.

Shudders of pleasure ripple down my spine.

Squeezing hard, I dig my fingers into the underside of my shaft, sliding over the six titanium barbells that line me from the head of my cock to my balls.

I spit in my hand and get my cock nice and slick as I start to pump my fist faster.

“ Fuck ,” I breathe, watching as two of Angélica’s fingers disappear inside her cunt.

She’s got me right at the edge already. “Fuck that sweet little hole, angel,” I growl as I jerk my aching cock so hard that there’s an edge of pain to the pleasure.

“I’m going to cum all over that pretty pussy while I watch you play with yourself like a good whore. ”

I feel my balls tighten and swell a moment before I’m spurting thick, creamy ribbons of cum over her stomach, cunt, and thighs.

“Ughh,” I groan as I milk my shaft hard, draining every last drop.

My thighs quiver when I finally finish, and my cock is still fucking hard even though I just emptied about a quart of cum all over my girl.

Angélica cries out in desperation, still chasing an orgasm that she can’t seem to find on her own. She rubs frantic circles over her clit, her fingers mixing my warm cum with the cinnamon oil. She continues to fuck herself with her other hand, but it’s still not enough.

With a groan of desire, I kneel between Angélica’s spread thighs, a devout disciple worshiping at the altar of his goddess.

And when my tongue laps at her sweet, cinnamon-laced cum mixing with mine, I feel every drop of blood in my veins surge toward my cock in adulation, preparing for the holy rite of tongue-fucking her goddamn soul from her body.

“Grey,” she whimpers, her fingers slipping into my hair to hold my mouth against her.

She doesn’t call me master, but I let it pass because she looks so angelic when she’s lost to the pleasure of my mouth on her. “Hold your cunt open for me. I want to taste all of you. I want to fuck your pretty holes with my tongue until you’re begging for me.”

She obeys in an instant, her fingers tugging at her pussy lips and laying everything bare for me to see and touch and taste.

My lips and tongue tingle with the faint burn of cinnamon, but that doesn’t stop me from burying my face in her beautiful cunt.

She thrusts her hips, fucking my mouth with reckless abandon, and I’m more than happy to let her take her fill .

Digging my fingers into her ass, I hold her down and suck on her clit, loving the high-pitched whimpers and cries that fall from her parted lips.

She’s getting close. I can feel her back arching beneath me as she rises to meet her orgasm.

A gush of liquid trickles down my chin as she comes with my tongue stroking the inner walls of her cunt, and I devour her like she’s the last meal I’ll ever eat.

“ Grey ,” she gasps, surrendering to my touch and letting me take her exactly where she needs to go.

“I love feeling you inside me,” she murmurs.

“I love coming for you.” She tugs on my hair and sends goosebumps racing down my neck.

“I love hurting for you.” She strokes her fingers over my cheek as I continue to lap at her cunt.

“And I love how sweet you taste with cinnamon oil rubbed into your pretty pussy,” I murmur against her soft folds. I kiss my way across her thighs, run my tongue over the curve of her ass, sink my teeth into the sharp angle of her hip bone—etching sonnets of love into her soft body with my mouth.

Finally on my feet, I lean over her bare, glistening body and press my lips against hers, letting her taste the sweetness of her arousal.

She moans into my mouth, and I deepen the kiss, resting my full weight against her and tangling my fingers in her curls.

She still wears a crown of golden feathers in her hair, and she’s never looked so ethereal as she does right now while she whimpers and moans beneath me.

“How do you feel, angel?” I ask, pulling away enough that she can breathe for a moment.

“Everything burns. But I like it so much more than I should.”

“So perfect,” I sigh, twisting my hands in her hair and tugging hard. “Do you want to feel the burn deeper? Do you want it to spear you all the way to your core?”

“ Yes ,” she moans. “How?”

I slide the head of my cock through her swollen folds before lining it up with her slick hole. “I can fuck you. It will spread the oil deeper inside you. The cinnamon oil on your pussy will hurt me too, but I don’t mind taking a little pain for you. Would you like that?”

She opens her legs wider for me. “Yes, please.”

So brave. So perfect. So mine .

“Brace yourself, little ruin. This is going to hurt like hell.”