Part 9 (1/2)

Almost. He pulled back. ”You have to stop me,” he murmured on her lips. ”I can't stop. You have to do it.”

”I don't want to stop. I want to be with you. I want it so bad.” She looped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the ground, clutching her close. They stood like that on the sidewalk, kissing deeply, Demon thinking of nothing at all anymore except his need, feeling her body touching his all the way to her feet. She felt right there. She fit with him.

She pulled back from their kiss and looked at him, panting, her lips glistening and her eyes sparkling in the streetlights. ”We need to go someplace. Will you ride if I drive?”

He nodded and covered her mouth with his again.

Faith didn't drive far, just about ten minutes, to an empty parking lot on a bluff overlooking the coast. They didn't talk on the way; Demon looked out the pa.s.senger window and watched the pa.s.sing lights, trying to think and make a right choice, but knowing full well that that boat had sailed. He wasn't really drunk anymore. He was just tired of fighting his nature.

She killed the engine and leaned toward him immediately, s.h.i.+fting on the bench seat so that she was on her knees at his side. She took his face in her hands, the way he did when he kissed her. When she bent her head to his, he flinched back a fraction of an inch.

”Stop me. Please stop me.”

”No,” she whispered. ”I don't want to stop. I think I'm in love with you.”

Demon didn't know how that could be true, but he didn't care. Hearing this girl say those words sent a surge of powerful need through his blood, his muscles. He was done running. Taking over the kiss, demanding that it be more, he grabbed her, pulling her onto him. Then he rolled and laid her out on the seat and covered her with his body. Her legs came up and circled his hips, and he could feel her heat grinding against his, heedless of the layers of denim between them.

Groaning, feeling desperate and frantic, and fearful, too, he pushed her sweater up, and her bra, and covered her beautiful breast with his hand. She cried out an encouragement, a plea, and her own hands moved between them and worked the buckle on his belt.

He didn't stop. He couldn't.

You a.s.shole. You b.a.s.t.a.r.d. On the seat of her car. In a parking lot. It was her first time, you piece of s.h.i.+t.

The thoughts and their loathing besieged him while his body still shook with the aftershocks of his finish, while she was staring up at him, her eyes wide and wet, her hands on his shoulders, digging into the hoodie he still wore.

He sat back in a rush and felt the cooling, wet stick of s.e.m.e.n on his belly. He looked at her, still lying on her back, her legs splayed, one bare and the other still in her jeans, and saw the wet on her belly, too, glimmering in the parking lot lights. He'd come all over her. Because he hadn't been able to control himself enough to put a condom on. He'd barely been able to pull out. Jesus. Aw, Jesus h.e.l.l.

She was noticing her sticky belly and looking for something to wipe up with. He yanked his hoodie over his head and handed it to her. It was February and cold for L.A., but his t-s.h.i.+rt would have to do. He deserved to be cold.

”I'm sorry. I'm sorry. G.o.d, G.o.d, I'm sorry.” He opened the door and got the f.u.c.k out of the car, leaving his kutte behind, not even bothering to put his stupid d.i.c.k away.

”Michael! Michael, please! Please!”

At the plaintive sound of her voice, he pulled up short. What-he was going to top off the worst thing he'd ever done by leaving her alone, covered in his sc.u.m? f.u.c.k, he was worthless. Despairing, he raked his hands through his hair and over his face. He could smell her on his fingers. The image that scent evoked made him hurt with need and guilt.

He closed his jeans. Before he could open the door and get back in, though, she was out and running around Dante. She was crying and furious, and his face felt so f.u.c.king hot. Look how he'd hurt her. He couldn't see that, deal with that, so he dropped his eyes and stared at the gravel.

”You're ruining it! You jerk! You p.u.s.s.y! Don't ruin this! f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k you! f.u.c.k!” She shoved at him, sobbing. When he didn't react, she shoved at him again.

Then she just grabbed hold of his t-s.h.i.+rt and shook it.

Not knowing what else to do, and feeling like a wart on the a.s.s of a maggot, he put his arms around her and pulled her close. ”I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, any of it. I'm sorry.”

”Stop it! Shut up!” she cried, her face wetting his chest. ”Don't be sorry. I told you. It ruins everything.”

He was sorry, but he was making it worse by saying so. He thought of something he could say. ”I'm sorry for making you cry.”

She was quiet for a moment, settling down. ”Okay. You can be sorry for that.”

That made him smile, and he kissed the top of her head. ”What we did was okay?”

Her face moved softly on his chest as she nodded. ”I liked it a lot. It was even better than I thought it would be.”

”I didn't hurt you?”

”Uh-uh.” She leaned back. ”I just feel a little...stretched, maybe?”

The relief he felt to know that he hadn't hurt her weakened his knees. But it didn't mean that what they'd done was right. He'd had his patch a matter of hours, and he'd just f.u.c.ked the club SAA's underage daughter. He'd taken her virginity, in fact. There would be a huge price for that. There should be.

”I should get you home.”

She grinned and shook her head. ”I drove, remember? We go when I say so. Right now, I want to sit on the car and watch the ocean.” Her eyes narrowed. ”Please don't puss out.”

He nodded, and they went and sat on the hood of her car. Demon put his arm around her and held her close. It felt good to take care of her, to keep her warm, to tuck her small body next to his as if he could keep her safe.

”Can I ask you something, Michael?” She didn't look at him, just stared out at the black night and water below.

”Yeah.” He watched her profile.

”Why do you run?”

”What?”

”You kiss me like you do. You look at me sometimes like I'm dipped in chocolate. You gave me a cat. We just did what we did, and I felt like you liked it. Like you like me.”

”I did. I do.” More than that, he thought. But he didn't say it.

”Then why do you run?”

”You're just a kid.” It was the best reason he had.

She scoffed. ”Please. Maybe-maybe-that was true when we met. But now I'm seventeen and almost seven months. Connor boinked my friend Bethany a couple of weeks ago, and she turned eighteen last month. n.o.body had palpitations about that. Does some magical fairy come to girls' houses on their eighteenth birthday and make their t.w.a.ts ripe or something?”

Appalled and charmed by her take on the matter, Demon laughed. But his humor didn't last long. ”Your father...he'll-”

”I know, I know.” She heaved a big sigh. ”G.o.d, my life sucks.”

That p.i.s.sed him off, and he took his arm from her shoulders. The life she had-what he would have given to have had even a piece of a life like that. She was surrounded by people who loved her. The way everybody in the clubhouse doted on her-and G.o.d, the way Blue loved her and she loved him? Sometimes, he'd watch them, Faith smiling at her father, her father teasing her gently, calling her kitty cat, and his stomach would cramp. Was it envy he felt? No. There was hostility in envy that Demon didn't feel toward Faith.

What he felt when he saw the way she was loved, and the way she was so comfortable and a.s.sured in that love, was just...lack.

”That's f.u.c.ked up. Your life doesn't suck at all. You have a great life.”

Instead of feeling guilty, she got p.i.s.sed right back. ”What do you know about it?”