Part 18 (1/2)
I pulled him free and dropped to my knees. X had controlled everything the previous times we'd screwed, but I wanted to take charge this time. I was determined to discover the secret he was hiding. A story lay behind it, and I wanted to know.
I ran the tip of my nose down his shaft and back up again, inhaling the salty musk of him. He was so rawly masculine, and I loved that about him. On my knees, I looked up at him as I parted my lips and took him into my mouth. He stared back down at me, his full lips slack with l.u.s.t, his blue eyes a shade darker with want. I created suction and slid down his shaft as far as I could take him, the head hitting the back of my throat so I fought back a gag.
I bobbed back and forth, feeling him swell in my mouth. His hand on my head made me pause.
”Vee, you got to stop. I'm going to come.”
I wanted him, wanted to taste him as he spilled his seed down my throat, but he pulled on my arm, trying to drag me to my feet again. I still wanted to see what lay beneath his s.h.i.+rt, not only because I wanted to learn his secret, but also because I was desperate to feel his skin against mine, to run my hands over the lines and ridges of his muscles. From everything I'd felt about X, he was fit and toned, and I knew the rest of his body would be as beautiful as he was.
I let his c.o.c.k pop from my mouth, and for him to pull me to my feet once more. He kissed me again, our tongues entwining, and the thought that he would be able to taste himself on my mouth sent a thrill through me, condensing in my p.u.s.s.y. My hands went to his s.h.i.+rt again, determined not to let him deter me this time.
I managed to slip a couple of the b.u.t.tons from their holes, but his hands found mine again, dragging them away.
”Vee, stop.”
”Please, I want to see you.”
He shook his head and stepped away from me. I felt bereft at the air between us, and stood, helpless, as he tucked his c.o.c.k back into his pants.
He turned back to me, his lips pressed together, his blue eyes searching my face. ”No, you don't. I would horrify you.”
”I thought you knew by now that it takes a lot to horrify me.”
He seemed to think for a minute, his gaze casting away before coming back to me. ”If you want to know, first of all you have to tell me what happened when you took your first life. Then I'll show you what I'm hiding.”
It was a deal I was prepared to make. ”Okay, but you show me first.”
”It's been ten years since anyone has seen this.”
I approached him again, and this time he didn't step away. ”Just show me.”
My hands went to the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt again, and slowly, I undid them. His jaw was ridged with tension, his eyes never leaving my face. When I got to the final b.u.t.ton, I undid it then reached back up and pushed the s.h.i.+rt from his shoulders. The material slipped from his body and hit the floor.
I held in a gasp.
”Oh, X.”
I hadn't wanted to have a reaction, had schooled my features into an impa.s.sive expression, yet I hadn't been able to help myself.
His torso was covered in scars.
They weren't just faint, white lines. The scars were thick and ridged, and raised from the surface of his skin. They were lines that crisscrossed each other, circles, and swirls. They decorated almost every inch of his skin.
I'd never seen anything like it before.
”My G.o.d. What happened to you?”
His gaze left mine again, sliding down to the floor. ”I didn't exactly have a perfect childhood.”
”Your parents did this to you?” I knew I shouldn't be shocked. I hardly had the perfect parenting experience, but the injuries that created that kind of scarring must have been like torture.
But to my surprise, he shook his head.
”I never knew my parents. I was dumped in a bag on a hospital doorstep when I was a couple of weeks old. I was healthy enough, but I guess my mother just decided she couldn't cope with me.”
”So what happened to you?”
”I was adopted-something my adoptive parents never failed to remind me of, that I wasn't their real child. Apparently I was supposed to be grateful that they took me, though I think they adopted a child knowing exactly what they were going to do to him or her. I was just the unfortunate soul who got landed with them.”
I knew he wouldn't want my sympathy. That wasn't why he had shown me. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, pull his head against my neck, and kiss away the residual pain while I laced my fingers in his hair, but I knew he wouldn't want that. He didn't want to be pitied, any more than I wanted to be pitied about my past. He had shown me because he wanted us to know each other, and because he knew I would understand. I had my own scars from my parent, only mine were less visible.
”How did they make these ones?” I asked, tracing my finger down the crisscross of lines.
”A whip. They'd tie me up and make me count lashes as my punishment. I can't even remember what I did now-spilled a drink, or perhaps was late getting home, or didn't get an A on an a.s.signment. They were never big things.”
I touched one of the circles. ”And these?”
”Cigarette burns, held against my skin until the b.u.t.t crushed and it burned a hole.”
”Jesus.”
”Yeah, I think they looked forward to when I would screw up. They took pleasure in it. They were constantly waiting for me to do something wrong so they could punish me.”
”What happened to them?”
”When I was fifteen, I killed them both, made it look like a break-in gone wrong. I was away at the time, on a school trip, but I'd sneaked away during the night when the teachers thought I was still asleep in bed, killed them both, and then made it back again with no one knowing. It was the perfect alibi-several teachers all saying I was with them when the murders had been committed. It wasn't as though any of them would ever admit to the possibility that one of their charges could have left the premises unnoticed.” He laughed, the sound cold. ”My parents' murder was actually the reason I used for wanting to become a police officer in my initial interview-that I'd lost my parents to a criminal and I wanted to be part of the solution to stop anything like that happening to another child. Part of me was laughing inside when I told them that.”
I stared at him. Perhaps the idea of him killing his adoptive parents at fifteen should have freaked me out, but it didn't. I couldn't imagine the torture they must have put him through-actually, yes, I could. It was written all over his body. I was pleased he'd gotten his revenge, anger and adrenaline rising up inside me at what he'd suffered. They'd made him what he was and they'd suffered the consequences. No, I didn't blame him for it at all, and I certainly wasn't one to judge.
”Sometimes,” I said, ”I think we're so alike it scares me.”
”Two coldhearted killers together. What could possibly go wrong?”
We locked gazes, both of us holding back smiles.
”Now, you promised you would tell me what happened the first time you took a life.”
I nodded and began, my heartrate increasing as the words left my lips. ”Nicole was fourteen when she was raped-a c.o.c.ky nineteen-year-old a.s.shole who thought women and even girls were only alive to give him what he wanted. Nickie had been flattered by his attention at first, had been excited about an older boy showing her some interest, but then things had started getting serious, and she'd wanted to cool things off. He'd called her a p.r.i.c.k tease and spread rumors that she was a s.l.u.t and was sleeping with half of her school, which was the absolute opposite of the truth. She didn't want our father finding out 'cause she was worried he'd believe this kid, and then he'd say she had shamed the family. Our pops has a big thing about shaming the family-seems to me that it's the main thing that causes him to make the decisions he does. Anyway, we didn't say anything, and then one night this guy followed her home after she'd been at the mall with friends, and he took her down an alley, shoved her up against a wall, and raped her.” My voice tightened as I recounted the events. ”It was her first time. That memory will be with her forever. She managed to make it home, and I heard her crying in the bathroom. She'd already gotten into the shower, so she'd washed off all the evidence. You and I both know how these things go. I couldn't have her dragged through the courts, having every little part of her life dissected. He'd already been spreading the word that she was easy, and her saying he'd raped her would have just been seen as revenge. There was no proof. Plus, we knew how our father would react. He wouldn't even be able to look at her. He'd put her on such a high pedestal, I couldn't stand to see what would happen when she fell. But I was furious-blind with anger. I couldn't believe what this f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d-a grown man-had done to her. She was fourteen, for f.u.c.k's sake. She was a kid, and he took that from her. I would have died before I'd let him get away with it.”