Slate (Breaking the Declan Brothers #2) (9 page)

I don’t think that I got physical last night, but the way Rayna’s looking at me with those sympathetic eyes, I got a sick feeling that something fucked-up transpired. I hope that I didn’t hurt her. I could have gotten rough, grabbed her too hard. It scares me how fucked-up I am. I actually checked her arms and face earlier this morning for any marks. I also could have said something horrible and hurt her feelings. I shouldn’t care because she put me in this vulnerable situation. My vulnerability. It’s mine, and I own it. Still, I’m the only person who should get hurt by it.

Whatever happened, the aggression isn’t gone. I feel it brewing, and I’m trying like hell to keep it under control. If the door to the gym were open, then I could go in there to get rid of some of this shit. I tried to occupy myself by making her breakfast and cleaning up afterward. Now, sitting on the sofa with the TV on, my aggression is getting worse. It wants to come out. I get up and start to the pace the room.

Rayna looks my way, her piercing green eyes following me. “What’s wrong?”

I rub my palm back and forth over my head. “I can’t just sit here.”

“Got any cards? We could play rummy or something.”

I stop and look at her. Does she really think that’ll help? “I need to get high, Rayna, not play fucking cards.”

“What about the PlayStation? We could do that.”

I drop my head to the side. “Really? You play?”

“You could teach me. I’m a fast learner.”

“I can’t stand still. How the fuck am I supposed to have the patience to teach you anything?”

“Okay.” She nods.

I do another circle around the room and stop. “What happened last night?” It’s driving me crazy. I need to know. “Did I...I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, Slate. You hallucinated a little, got the shakes, and threw up, but you didn’t hurt me.”

“Fuck!” I hate that she saw me like that.

“It’s okay, we are going to get through this,” she says, and I see the sincerity in her eyes. She really wants to help me, but I don’t understand why. She’s been gone for six years, and I’ve been nothing but a dick to her since she’s been back.

“Sit down and try to relax,” she softly says.

“I can’t. This is why I fight. When I feel like this, I just want to break something.”

“Well, go ahead. I’ve been waiting for it. Jax warned me that you like to break stuff. And I checked with him, he said there’s nothing more valuable down here than you. So, go for it.” She waves her hand out in the air. “Break anything you want.”

I stare at her. Jax is a hard-ass. He gives me shit all the time, and we never see eye to eye. I get it. I’m his younger brother, and he’s frustrated with the way I’ve been living my life, but he doesn’t understand. He’s strong. He’d never give in to drugs instead of dealing with his shit. All that he’s done for Zeke and me, all that he’s given up, I have nothing but respect for him. The stubborn fucker that I am though, I’d never tell him that. Zeke, he tries to soften the strain between Jax and I and, for the most part, he levels us out. I really do love both of my brothers. Since our parent’s death, all we really have is each other. It’s why I’d never leave the Bayou. Hell, I couldn’t even do it for Rayna. So, I had to let her go.

And here she is, trying to save my sorry ass. Fucking hell, I need to get the fuck out of here. I have to get away from her. My damaged walls are up, but those beat-to-shit barriers are weak, and she may very well succeed in bringing them down. She might just break me. Then what? She walks out of my life again. Fuck that. If she’s going to put me through this hell, then I’m getting something in return. I’ll tear her walls down, too. It’s not the same as breaking shit, but it might resolve some of the rage in me.

“I’m not going to break anything,” I say. “I have another plan in mind to get rid of this aggression.”

“That’s good.” She grins up at me. “I didn’t really want to have to clean up after you anyway. So,” her brow rises, “what do you want to do?”

“Well-” I take a step closer to her, watching her chest rise and fall. I make her nervous. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Think I’m gonna go lie down on that couch over there, unzip my jeans, reach inside, and try to relieve some of this aggression.”

“What?”

“Oh, you heard me.” I take another step toward her.

“What the hell!” Her chest rises and her perfect lush tits stay elevated. “You can’t jerk off in front of me.”

“Hey, I’m just telling you what I’m going to do. You don’t have to stick around and watch, but if you decide to, then you gotta lose those boxers.”

“You’re unbelievable! Do you really think I’m going to do that?”

“Did you really think that you were going to lock yourself down here with me and somehow come out of this unscathed?”

“I didn’t think you’d ask me to strip and watch you play with yourself!”

“Told you, you ain’t gotta stay. But I need to burn some of this aggression and that’s the only way I can think of doing it without breaking some shit. So, are you stayin’ or goin’?” She bites her bottom lip, taking a slow scan down my body. My cock kicks against my jeans. Damn, I think she’s considering it. “Listen, all I want is for you to take those boxers off. I’m not going to touch you, promise. I’ll do all the heavy lifting.” I grin as her slanted eyes make it back up to mine. “Come on, you’re not as sweet and innocent as you act. Deep down, you want to do this for me, Rayna. You want to help me. I can see it in your eyes. And, babe, admit it. If I were to drop to my knees and pull down them boxers myself, I’d smell it, too. How bad you want me, it’s seeping from that tight little slit between your legs, isn’t it?”

She slaps me across the face. Without flinching, I hold my grin. Hell, I’ve been hit a lot harder than that. “Well, I’m sure I deserved that, but now that you got it out of your system, are you ready to do as you keep preaching? You gonna stay and help, or not?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh-ho, I’m staying.”

No man has ever touched himself in front of me. Ever. When Slate announced that he planned to do just that, my panties became instantly wet. The slap was from the shock and the unexpected excitement I got from it, but mostly it was for the cocky grin on his face. He’s right, though. I do want to stay. I’m not sure about helping, but I definitely want to observe. I know what he has hidden in those jeans. It’s impressive, and I get the chance to see his hand on it, stroking himself. I squeeze my thighs together from the thought, as he gets comfortable on the couch. He places an arm behind his head, turns, and with that grin still leveled across his tempting mouth, he looks up at me from beneath hooded lids.

“If you’re going to stay, then you gotta take those off,” he says, easily pulling off irresistible with his cheek resting on his muscular bicep.

Gazing at his gorgeous body sprawled out before me my hands reach for the waist of the boxers. I stop. First, I need to make something clear. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“No. Not today.” His eyes darken. “Now, do as you’re told and get those damn things off.”

The sexy demand drifts from my ears straight down to my bare feet. Dammit. I think I just go a little wetter, too. I pull the boxers down my thighs, feeling them slide against my calves before kicking them off to the side. I stand back up, the moisture between my thighs intensifying with every move that I make.

“Go sit over there,” he gestures with his chin, “in the chair.”

Okay. I can do that. I’ll be a safe distance away. I walk over and sit down. I go to open my mouth to inquire what’s next, and his finger lifts, stopping me. All righty then, I guess that I’ll just sit back, be quiet, and enjoy the show.

Slate’s sharp assessing eyes stroll over my body, measuring everything from my curled toes to the hand that I have gripping the arm of the chair. The silent, detailed and sexually charged attention turns me right on.

His eyes gradually make their way to mine. “Spread your legs.” Again, I go to open my mouth in protest. He raises an eyebrow. I snap my mouth shut and, what the hell. I sway open my legs just a little. “More,” he says.

And, damn, if his deep command doesn’t get me to spread my legs further apart. My lips down below separate as the wetness from my pussy clings to my thighs. Thankfully, the shirt is long enough to hide the evidence of my arousal. Though my hard, beaded nipples have to be giving me away.

His hand moves from his head down to his jeans. He pops the button open. I lick my lips. Shit! If I hadn’t blown my cover before, then I have now. Holding the button that he just popped, he looks at me. “You want me to undo my zipper now?”

I nod my head. No use in trying to be bashful now. It’s what I want, and the look in his eyes tells me that he’s well aware of it.

“First,” he glances at my naked thighs, “lift your shirt up.”

“No.” I know where this is going.

“Come on, just a little,” he says in a tone that pulls more of those warm juices from deep inside of me down to the opening of my pussy.

Seeing the hard bulge in his jeans, the blatant evidence of his arousal, forces my hand to slide down to my thigh. I curl my fingers under the soft material and drag it up, halting just before my damp needy place is in full view. “More. I want to see that sweet pussy of yours.” He lowers his voice, and sternly says, “Show it to me, now.”

God! That demanding tone of his. I’ve never heard it before, but shit. It’s as if his every wish is my freaking command. My fingers betray me as I give Slate exactly what he wants. I expose myself completely to him. The low growl that rumbles from him when I do hurts my pussy. No, not my pussy, that sweet ache moves upward deep inside my womb.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says in a shallow breath, and then he looks up at me with hunger in his eyes. “You want me to show you mine now, don’t you?”

I nod my head, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. He pulls the zipper down and slips his hand inside his jeans. The muscles in his forearm roll. His jaw clenches tight. He releases a harsh breath. Tilting his head back, his eyes close. I can only imagine that he’s got his hand wrapped around his firm flesh and my insides tighten from the thought. I need to see him. His wrist turns and he pulls himself free from his jeans. I take a loud, sharp breath, watching his fingers tighten around the base of his shaft. I want to put my mouth on his bulging head. I want to crawl on top of him and settle down upon his perfect flesh. I want to fit myself to him.

He turns to me, eyes burning at the juncture between my open legs. “Let me see how wet you are.”

“How do you know,” I swallow down, noting the desire in his eyes, “that I’m even wet?”

“Oh, you’re wet.” He grins. His dark lashes sweep up, revealing those seductive eyes. “So, put your hands between your legs, spread those pretty lips, and show me.”

Unable to back down from the challenge, I do as he asks, rightfully rewarded by another low growl. The sound tickles my insides. His hand starts to stroke his thick hard flesh. The sight turns my vagina walls into a pump, swelling and releasing. And, with my pussy pulled open wide I’m aware that if I wasn’t glistening with wetness before, I am now.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps.

I shake my head.

“What?” His eyebrow raises a fraction. “Is my little monkey shy?”

In no way am I shy, but the curious, sexy expression on his face makes me want to act as though I am. The relentless control in his voice makes me want to be shy. I want to see where he’ll take this next if I allow him to hold the reins.

“Okay, my shy little monkey, come over here.” He signals with the slight movement of his head. I stare at him, lost to his dark and daring eyes. I don’t even realize that I’m holding my breath until he says, “Come on over, and let me touch you then.” That’s when I let go of the air in my lungs. “You want that don’t you?”

I nod my head. Oh, how I want that!

“Then come to me, Rayna.”

I kind of like this not speaking thing where he’s saying it all. With his persuasive, soft, and measured voice, he lifts me to my feet and pulls me to him. I find myself standing before him.

I watch as he switches hands, placing his scarred fingers around his cock. “No, don’t,” he says, drawing me back up to his face. “You look right here, and you keep looking right here, got it?” I nod, fully getting it. He’s ashamed of his scars. He doesn’t want me touching or looking at them. My heart aches a little from it. “Take that shirt off,” he says.

Feeling a tad cheated, I’m reluctant to obey. I want to see him naked, too. Still, I know that’s a battle for another day. I will not be tackling the issues of Slate’s insecurities about his scars down in this den. Someday, maybe he’ll come to see that there’s more to him than wounded flesh.

I resign to surrendering to him and his request. I reach down, pull the shirt from my body, and drop it to the floor. He growls again, and just as each time before, that beasty sound feels like a pinch to my pulsating clitoris. “Yes,” he says, sliding his hand between my legs, past my thighs to the wet heat of me. “Oh, yeah,” he grunts, shoving a thick finger through the sheath of my moisture, pushing it deep inside.