The Truths we Burn (The Hollow Boys Book 2) Page 29

  Now, she just feels like a sin.

  The sin.

  Primal, hot, and immoral.

  This is the one thing I’ve been depriving my body of for a year now. Refusing the temptation, punishing myself for what’s directly in front of me now. And I don’t know how I’m going to stay in control.

  “I never lied to you, Rook. Not in the way you think.” She gasps for air against my grip. “I wanted you to keep—”

  “The lowest, blackest, and farthest from Heaven,” I interrupt her, tightening my fingers so she’ll shut up. “That’s where traitors go. Did you know that? That’s where I’m going to fucking send you.”

  I don’t want to hear her excuses. I don’t want to hear any more lies.

  It’s my turn to make her hurt. It’s her turn to be punished.

  “Traitorous sluts like you deserve to be punished,” I snarl, my hand moving up to her face, forcing her lips to pucker as my fingers dig into her cheeks.

  “You sound awfully fucking sanctimonious for a man they call Lucifer. Aren’t you supposed to reward sin?” she quips, her voice thick and sticky like cough syrup, leaving me bitter.

  Fighting me just like I want her to.

  I don’t want her to already be broken. I want her to be a fucking fighter so that it feels even better when I make a mess of her.

  My belt digs into the soft flesh of her stomach as I take my free hand, palming her ass, causing that short, short denim skirt to rise up. My fingers inch in between her legs, hovering over her pussy just above her panties.

  The heat that radiates between her legs makes my knees fucking weak.

  “No, Sage, this is my hell. My kingdom. My fucking rules. I reward good little whores only.”

  Just like I knew she would, she pants, opening her mouth. I spit directly on her pink tongue, using my hand on her face to close her jaw shut so she is forced to swallow it.

  My lips crash with hers, desire pooling in my gut. It’s all teeth and tongue. Her venom tastes sweet, too fucking sweet. She pushes against me, moving her mouth against my own, meeting my feral hunger.

  I pour all my loathing into it, curing her with my tongue, damning her with my mouth. I bite down hard on her bottom lip, pulling it out barely as I bring my hand up from between her thighs, showering her with the juices that stick to my skin.

  “Fucking pathetic. Look how wet you are. How long have you been thinking about this? About me?”

  Her face heats up, cheeks bright with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.

  I drop my hand from her face to the front of her low-cut shirt, grabbing a hold of the material and yanking it down. The tearing of fabric echoes in the air, and I’m left staring at her milky tits that are spilling over her black bra.

  My head falls, and I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with her smell. I trail one long, slow lick from the valley of her breasts to the scar that runs along her collarbone. The matching one on my body starts to throb.

  One year of depriving myself of this, and now the forbidden fruit is melting in my hands. All I can think about is feasting. My self-control is nonexistent at this point.

  I rotate her body, spinning her around and pinning her front against the confessional. She reaches up and grabs the wooden bars that separate the two booths. I use both of my hands to lift her skirt, shoving it up her waist until her entire backside is visible.

  “Rook…” she breathes.

  “This is confessional, Sage. That’s not how this starts,” I hiss, running one hand up her spine and gathering a handful of her short hair in my hand. jerking it back so she arches her ass into my cock. “Or have you fallen so far from grace you don’t remember?”

  I knead my palm into her ass, giving her only a few moments to reply before I pull my hand back, slapping her flesh. My hand stings from the impact, and I look down to see the blood already rushing to the surface of her pale skin.

  She squeals in surprise, the little noise shooting straight to my groin, making me grind into her harder.

  “Answer me.”

  “Go to hell. It doesn’t matter what I say, you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” she grits out, even though I know what she wants.

  I grin, even though she can’t see it.

  She wants me so badly she can’t even see straight, but she never gives in that easy. Which is why it’s more fun.

  I know her body, what makes it tick, what makes it explode. The ins and outs of her pussy. She can front all she wants, that’s fine with me. It’ll only make the end result that much better.

  “I live in hell, TG. Remember?” I hum. “You helped send me there.”

  I pull my hand back again, sending another harsh smack across her skin, making her jump. I feel her try to pull away from the pain, but I root her in place by her hair, not letting her move.

  She will feel this ache. She will feel it for as long as I tell her to.

  I’ve spent a year punishing myself for her, and now it’s her turn.

  “Don’t fucking move unless I say.”

  Smack.

  Smack.

  Smack.

  Three more blunt strikes to her sensitive skin, leave her quivering in my hold. My mouth waters at the sight of her plump ass all swollen and throbbing. I raise my hand back to deliver another blow, but I hear her sweet voice, sugary and erratic.

  “I—” she stutters. “Forgive me, for I have sinned.”

  I roll my hand over the sore skin, rubbing gently in slow circles. “Mmmm, that’s a good little whore.”

  Snaking my fingers to her center, I find that she’s soaked through her underwear completely. Dripping for release, dripping for me. I shove the material to the side, using the pads of my fingers to massage her clit.

  She moans loudly, grinding her hips against my hand. I move them back, slipping two fingers inside of her tight channel smoothly. My fingers pump in and out of her, curling as they disappear inside of her pussy, brushing that spot so deep inside of her no one else will ever be able to touch it like I do.

  It’s here, while she’s bent over a confessional inside the remnants of a singed church, that I realize she had never been Eve.

  I hadn’t slithered into the Garden of Eden and stolen her, coerced her with the fruit. No, that would have been too easy.

  She had always been my Lilith.

  The reason I fell from grace, tumbling through the clouds and thrown into the pits of hell. Damned to live an eternity in the flames because of her.

  “Confess,” I grunt, my hand working to undo my belt and zipper. “Tell me what I already know. That you love being my dirty, fucking slut.”

  “Rook, please. I need—”

  “I know. I know what you need. But you’re going to give me what I need first.”

  I slow the pace of my fingers, teasing her, giving her just enough to feel pleasure but not nearly enough to really enjoy the sensation.

  Pulling my cock from my jeans, I use my free hand to stroke myself as I put her through deliberate torture. Pre-come drips from my throbbing tip, falling onto her ass.

  “I love being your dirty slut,” she whimpers. “I want you to fuck me, break me, use me.”

  There’s no more holding back for me.

  I replace my fingers with my shaft, drilling into her with no warning. We both groan when I enter her, sliding all the way inside her silky walls until I can’t go any farther. She pulses around me, sucking me in like a vise.

  “Your cunt takes me so fucking good.”

  Her back bows, spine stretching as she pushes into me farther.

  So tight and so warm.

  I start to hasten the tempo, grunting as I do. Violent smacks fill the stuffy air inside as my cock glides so easily in and out. My rough hands reach around to clutch onto both of her arms, holding my own out straight, using this new grip to drill into her with more force.

  Her mewls and whimpers are fuel to the fire. I watch as her ass jiggles with the power of my thrusts. Every single time
I slip inside of her feels like another injection of her into my veins. Straight shots of adrenaline into my system.

  She is so fucking intoxicating.

  “Rook, I—” she moans, trying to form words, but I already know what she wants to say.

  This angle has my cold jewelry tickling her G-spot over and over again.

  “I know. Come all over my cock. Be a good whore for me and come.”

  She snaps, falling apart on me. Her cunt is snug around me, clamping down and refusing to let me go. Sage drenches my dick, soaking my length in her juices.

  I keep forcing my way into her body, even though she’s shaking in my arms, whimpering from the overload of pleasure. Sweat falls from my forehead, my body chasing that high.

  My own release tears through my body, hitting me like a wave.

  I groan loudly as static zips through me, racking my bones while I pour myself into her heat, filling her to the brim with me, so much that I’m leaking out of her body.

  Sage’s body falls slack in my arms, twitching from the surge of her climax. I breathe heavily, catching my breath for a moment before stepping back from her body. I slip out of her, sliding her panties back into place to catch my come that’s started to drip from her tender hole.

  I feel my cock start to stiffen again just thinking of her walking around with my come staining her underwear.

  I’m buckling my belt before I notice she’s turned around to face me, her body relaxing against the confessional, blistering blue eyes seared towards me.

  She waits for me to say something, waits for me to explain what just happened between the two of us.

  “What?” I snap.

  There is a snap of pain that flicks across her face, but she hides it quickly. Nodding her head, she takes her bottom lip between her teeth. She fixes her shirt the best she can, pulling her skirt down back where it belongs.

  “So you can fuck me, but you won’t trust me?”

  “Well, your cunt doesn’t lie to me. Your mouth does.”

  Silence falls within the space. Our adrenaline is falling, our tension leaving.

  I reach into my pocket, grabbing my cigarettes, then place one on my lips and light it.

  “You’re right. I did lie to you,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears, exposing her flushed cheeks.

  “Save it—”

  “No, it’s my turn to talk,” she interrupts me. “I did lie. The day in the theatre when I told you Easton and I were perfect for each other. When I told you that I was only using you. All of that was a lie.”

  This had been what I wanted when it happened. These words had been what I hoped for when I first heard about their engagement.

  Now, I couldn’t give a fuck less. It wouldn’t change anything now. All that damage had been dealt.

  Sage steps closer to me, “The engagement was for my father’s benefit. Stephen Sinclair was giving him money, and in order to continue getting it, Stephen wanted a marriage between me and Easton. I assume because he wanted to be in control of everything. When I started to fall for you, I swear on my sister that I was going to leave all of this shit behind after graduation and be with you.”

  A thin stream of water lines the bottom of her eyes as she holds on to the last pieces of her pride.

  “I wanted to be with you so bad, Rook.” The first few tears fall, her voice cracking. “But Easton found out about us. He found out and made it very clear that if I didn’t follow through with the marriage, they would force it on Rosie, and I couldn’t do that to her.”

  She tries to wipe her cheeks, but they’re falling too fast, there really is no point.

  “I had already been ruined. Cain had already broken me in. Made me accustomed to what happens in that kind of life. Rosemary wasn’t—she was free and happy. There was no reason for me to ruin that because I wanted to be selfish. I’d done that enough. I was just trying to protect her. Trying to protect you.”

  I’m doubting everything. My gut, my heart, my brain.

  The lines of honesty and deception are blurry, evil and righteousness muddled once again by the grime that leaks from the grounds of Ponderosa Springs. It makes me question if she’d ever really lied to me, if I spent a year of my life hating the only woman who’d sparked my interest and kept it.

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  I—

  “Cain did what?” I snap, furrowing my eyebrows, stepping the rest of the way there. I let my anger take the forefront, shadowing the ache in my chest for now. Not wanting to face what could be the truth. Not right now.

  It’s too much to take in at one time, and I’m not even sure I believe her. I never know what to believe from her.

  “That’s what you—”

  “Sage,” I grunt. “If you ever gave a shit about me, answer the fucking question. What did Cain do to you?”

  There is a numbness that settles on her face. Like she is separating her emotions from her mind in order to say it.

  “The man I told you about at the lake house, the one who touched me as a kid.” She nods her head. “It was Cain.”

  I feel as if hot oil is being poured directly onto my skin, making it sizzle and hiss. My bloodstream runs so fast that I’m starting to get light-headed. The higher my anger climbs, the lower my pain gets, and I need it to go away.

  Because this pain, the one I feel for her, I want it to go away.

  I need it to stop.

  This whole time, I was trying to cut her out of me when in reality, I was just trying to sever the connection I’d created with her. Every single time Thatcher dug that blade into my skin was just me trying not to feel the ache of her.

  Her pain. Her sorrow. Her anger.

  I felt all of it as if it were my own, and to some degree, it was.

  And I hated her for ruining something that powerful. A bond that my heart desperately tried to argue could not be faked. That what we had was real

  And although Sage stands impassive to her trauma, I’m not.

  “Every night from the age of ten to thirteen, when he left for the academy.” She pauses. “But he isn’t what matters. I don’t care anymore.”

  She’s become so jaded to her own trauma that she doesn’t care about what happens to the one who hurt her, only the man who took her sister. She’s succumbed to acceptance, forced to work with a man who took her innocence before she even knew what it was.

  The man who stole her wings.

  I’m unsure of almost everything now, except that I want to wear Cain’s bowels as a necklace.

  “You’re coming with me.”

  “Why? Where are we going?” she asks.

  I find her eyes, seeing a woman who built herself from the last spark of her dying embers.

  A phoenix.

  One that makes no excuses for who she made herself into, no apologies if you get too close to her and find yourself scorched.

  They’d ripped her wings from her back, but she replaced them with ashes and eternal wings made of the hottest blue flame.

  And in order for her to fly, I’m going to cut the chains keeping her rooted to the ground.

  But first…

  “There is a theory I need to test.”

  Rook

  “We need to talk.”

  The door that I shoved open bounces off the wall.

  I look at Thatcher, who is perched on top of his bed, legs crossed and quiet as he lifts an eyebrow over the top of his book.

  “No need to slam doors,” Alistair says as he leans back in his chair, turning from the desk he’d been hunched over before we made our loud entrance. “Why is she here?”

  I look to my side, seeing Sage standing with her arms crossed, a look of frustration and confusion on her face.

  “I’d like to know myself,” she mutters.

  After I’d threatened to slash all four of her tires and drag her here against her will, she agreed to come with me.

  She knows I don’t bluff, and I wasn’t taking no for an
answer.

  I need this.

  I need to see if I’m just immune to her dishonesty or if she was actually telling the truth. I can’t take another risk with her. I wouldn’t survive another betrayal at her hands, not again, and neither would she.

  “Are you alright?” Silas mutters, scanning her face before looking up and down her body. It’s not sexual; he’s just checking to see if she has any injuries, but it irritates me. He takes deliberate steps in her direction, and as if on instinct, I step in front of his path.

  He stops, his shoes touching the tips of my own. Our eyes connect, and there is an unspoken challenge that occurs between the two of us. I wouldn’t fight him, not over something like this, because I know it didn’t come from a place of desire but from longing.

  However, I’m still not going to let him cradle Sage because she reminds him of Rose.

  “She is fine,” I grunt. “Are you taking your meds?” I’m not able to stop myself. I couldn’t ask him at the graveyard—the emotions were too raw, too fresh.

  But this isn’t him.

  He holds my stare, unmoving. “I don’t need a babysitter, Rook.”

  “I’m not going to ask again. Are you taking—”

  “Yes.”

  This is not over. I know it isn’t, and I plan on resisting this as soon as what I came here for is done.

  I look over my shoulder at Sage. “I want you to tell them exactly what you told me about Cain. All of it.”

  “Why should—”

  “Sage,” I whisper her name like some deadly, beautiful hex. A dark and lonely curse. “For once, just do what I say.”

  I know she wants to fight me; it’s what she does best. But she always wants to prove herself, prove to me she’s finally telling the truth. It takes a moment, but she does as I ask.

  I step to the side, and I watch the way her mouth moves. How her tongue flicks when she says words with the letter L in them. Trying to catch a change in her eye color—anything that will show me what I may have missed the first time around.

  I’ve never felt so calm. So calculated. This is not a decision I could act explosively towards. Even though I want to. Even though all I want to do is believe her so I can rip Cain McKay’s heart right from the inside of his chest and eat it raw.