Spent (Wrecked #2) (3 page)

Her hatred sat on his windpipe all hours of the day. The sting of her constant rejection was worse than accidentally brushing the fires of Hell. But the flavor of her skin on his lips—it kept him coming back for more. His tongue shot out, stroking the small of her back. She was an obsession. He was completely dependent upon her for air. A sound came from the back of her throat as if she had bitten back a moan. A roar of triumph rang through his mind. He did it again.

“Lucien.”

The breathless sound of his name falling from her lips caused his eyes to drop closed in pleasure. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “Tell me you want me,” he said against her skin, begging for the words to make him whole.

“I want you to leave.”

It was like getting stabbed in the gut. Lucien pressed his forehead to her back. His hold tightened. Sometimes, he wished she would hit him, throw things, or try chopping off his dick. Anything was better than this indifference laced with pain. He’d never known weakness before her. Since meeting Bailey, he’d known nothing else. Lucien had done things, making him a stranger in his own eyes. Knowing it didn’t stop him. Even though he couldn’t quit her, and Lucien knew he’d be back, there was only so much of her hatred he could tolerate at one time. With one final light kiss to her spine, Lucien inhaled her scent and dissipated, returning to his job. Escorting the dead to their rightful place was comfort in the familiar. For the millionth time, Lucien lectured himself. The night he met Bailey, he should’ve let her die as scheduled. At least then, maybe he would’ve had a small chance in Hell she wouldn’t hate him for eternity.

*

Rarely does devastation come with a great deal of fanfare. Hitting the lowest of lows is frighteningly silent. Most people don’t realize it’s happened until they’re blinking at their surroundings and trying to decide how they ended up on the floor.

Unfortunately, a majority of the time, rock bottom ends up having a sneaky rock-bottom basement that swallows people the moment they decide things can’t get worse. For Bailey, the basement would be a step up. Sometimes, she thought she’d do anything to escape the bleakness of her mind. Throwing on some clothes, Bailey went in search of something—anything—to wipe away the black cloud coating everything inside her. How could she stay in a bed Lucien had just vacated? Every time he left, her mattress transformed into a yawning pit of despair, holding her hostage. Today, she simply didn’t possess the strength.

Working her way toward the river, Bailey found a spot covered in the brightest green grass she’d ever seen. Something about it called to her, making her need to sit. The instant the ground welcomed her, Bailey turned her face toward the sun. With closed eyes, she soaked up the moment. For the first time since arriving in the underworld, she didn’t question if the orb currently heating her face was real or imagined. If this place was an illusion or an alternate universe. In the end, it didn’t matter. She was stuck here, so why not snag any enjoyment she could?

“What are you doing?”

Eyes flying open, Bailey jumped as the man appeared beside her. His eyes were black. Not dark, like a human’s eyes, but completely devoid of color with no discernable whites whatsoever. Her heart slammed against her chest the moment of his arrival. Now, instead of slowing, it sped. Alarm bells were clanging in her head, warning her to run. She couldn’t move. Lucien had tried warning her this place was filled with creatures riding around in human suits. No one really interacted with her other than Lucien, making it impossible for her to know if she’d ever crossed paths with any strange beings before now.

“I’m hiding,” she said, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her. Luckily, it held steady. He sat down beside her. Bailey eyed his profile as he stared at the water, scared to as much as blink. Whatever he was, this man was powerful. She could feel it vibrating off his skin, filling the space between them. The air crackled in his presence. He glanced over, catching her staring. His eyes crinkled in the corners, even though his lips barely moved. Her throat burned. It was such a sweet smile. Innocent. She couldn’t die twice, she reminded herself for the thousandth time. Dead trumped everything.

He held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Sol.” Everything inside Bailey screamed for her not to touch him. She did. His fingers were warm as they engulfed hers. Instead of shaking, he brought her hand to his mouth. His lips were on fire as they touched her skin. Electricity raced through her, starting where his lips met the back of her hand before traveling to her chest and stealing her breath. “Do you not wish for me to know your name?”

“Bailey,” she replied, even though she didn’t understand how her tongue had shaped a single word. It might have been sheer terror holding her in place. Bailey feared it was something else entirely. Even death couldn’t cure stupidity. Power had always been her biggest turn on.

“Why are you here, Bailey?”

Since he still hadn’t released her hand, Bailey’s brain couldn’t function. “The view is breathtaking.” At her answer, a full-blown smile exploded across his face. Her nipples hardened. Well. Fuck. If eyes were the windows to the soul, his was black, and her body obviously liked that sort of thing.

“It is, isn’t it?” Funny. She didn’t think they were talking about the scenery any longer. “But that’s not what I meant,” he added, saving her from having to dredge up a response. He dropped her hand and returned to watching the water carry dying leaves down the river. “I meant, why are you here, in this place? People like you don’t come here unless there’s a good reason.”

“I’m dead,” Bailey said, making a bid for top dumbass comment. In her defense, his presence was making her head fuzzy. It was as if his influence somehow interfered with the natural order, throwing off the pattern of her brain waves. He was lightning while watching satellite. She couldn’t get a good reception.

“No one ever really dies, Bailey.” Every time he said her name, his presence weighed heavier on her chest. “But everyone relocates,” he added with a smile. Bailey couldn’t stop staring at his profile. In part, she was too scared. If she looked away, he might rip her to shreds. Mostly, she was fascinated. His blond hair, muscular jaw, and blinding smile belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine. None of those things mattered to Bailey. Power like his couldn’t be ignored. She imagined she’d feel the same staring at a tornado racing toward her. Even though she was in awe, she knew there was nowhere to run. There was no escaping him. It was too late.

“My mom used to bring me here, to this part of New Orleans,” she explained. “When I was a kid, we came here every time she left my dad. It was the only place I felt safe.” Bailey had no clue why she’d confessed as much, but there it was. Sol didn’t respond right away. Instead, he switched his attention to the sky. For a moment, Bailey’s mind cleared and she could focus on him with perfect clarity. She looked away. His intensity was blinding.

“It’s better at night,” he said, snapping his fingers. The world plunged into darkness a half-second before the stars fired to life, littering the sky. Bailey gasped. Each ball of fire in the heavens shone brighter than she’d ever seen before. The river became a shimmering mirror, reflecting the sky until only the water’s ripple distinguished the two.

“How did you do that?”

“This is my world.” His gaze met hers. “It obeys me. You are tired. Sleep.”

Before Bailey had time to register his demand, her body went limp, crumpling. The cool grass welcomed her, easing her to the ground.

He sat closer than usual. Bailey heart soared as their thighs pressed against each other. Several times, she’d caught him staring at her in a way that warmed her skin. Bailey hadn’t allowed herself to truly hope before now. The hand resting on his leg looked capable. Strong fingers. Thick veins. She wanted to touch it. Mimicking his pose, Bailey set her hand on her thigh near his. Triumph surged through her as his hand inched closer. Holding her breath, Bailey slid her hand toward his. Their skin brushed. His pinky moved, capturing hers. Bailey bit her bottom lip, trying as hard as possible to hold in a smile. It was ridiculous how having one finger linked with his could change everything between them, but it had. She could feel the shift in their relationship in her chest.

Silk brushed her inner thighs, pulling Bailey from the memories that still haunted her sleep. Wet heat licked at her pussy, plunging Bailey into fiery need. No matter how hard she tried to pry her eyes open, it wasn’t happening. Her hips moved of their own accord. Cool air skittered across her bare skin, hardening her nipples. Bailey’s fingers found the soft cords restraining her hands above her head. She tugged. They didn’t budge and neither did her eyelids. Her nether lips parted. The pressure on her clit increased. Bailey tried moving her knee. Even she wasn’t sure if she wanted to close her legs against her unknown lover or open them wider. The pleasure was overwhelming. Her legs wouldn’t move. Concentrating on rotating her ankles, she realized something similar to what bound her wrists also bound her feet.

Warm lips closed around her clit, sucking. Her body betrayed her. Bailey writhed against the mouth eating her. There was no fear, only decadence. She wanted it. A moan rose in her throat. Her channel gave way for the tongue fucking her. A sliver of light appeared as Bailey pried her eyes open a hair. With a mental push, the room came into focus. It was her apartment. Yet it wasn’t. The walls were the same and most of the furnishings. Her bed was different. It was equipped for their type of play.

Bailey’s gaze shifted to the woman kneeling between her knees. Her blonde hair fell across Bailey’s thighs, tickling her. Blue eyes, too light to be natural, met hers. The woman boldly dragged her tongue down Bailey’s slit, making her pant. The muscles in her stomach clenched as Bailey tightened her hold on the restraints. Lifting her hips, she ground against the woman’s mouth, seeking relief. Nothing mattered except release. She didn’t question who the woman was or how they’d come to be here. Bailey’s body was on fire. Her breasts ached. The woman’s tongue was magic.

“Carmen has talent.” Bailey’s gaze shot to the opposite wall, seeking the owner of the quietly spoken words. Sol stood with his arms crossed, seemingly relaxed for someone who’d obviously been enjoying the show. Even still, Bailey’s lust didn’t relent. She was too far gone to back down and too close to the edge to care. “I can hear her thoughts,” he added, as if this was an everyday occurrence. His eyes fell closed and his chest expanded as if he was inhaling the woman’s emotions. “She thinks your pussy tastes like a cherry turnover. It’s taking every ounce of her willpower not to finger herself. Your obvious enjoyment has her soaking wet.”

Sol’s voice and claim added fuel to the need clawing at her insides. As if sensing her craze, the tongue flicking across her clit increased in speed. Bailey gasped. It was right there. Her muscles tensed. Sol snapped his fingers. The woman disappeared. A cry of denial tore from Bailey’s throat. She squeezed her eyes closed against the loss. When they reopened, Sol stood over her. She never heard him move. His black eyes watched her, searing her soul.

Bracing one knee on the mattress, he leaned in and captured her lips with his. God help her. She let it happen, incapable of stopping. There was lust and then there was whatever this was. She expected Sol to ravage her mouth, the way his stare promised. Instead, it was achingly sweet, forcing her to be the demanding one. She sucked on his tongue, tasting cinnamon and wanting… everything. His touch. Someone to fuck. The world.

His palm felt like fire when it landed beneath her navel. Like a spring wound too tightly, Bailey came. The orgasm rocked her, ripping at her throat and making her muscles spasm. Sol’s breath hitched. She felt it against her tongue. His teeth sank into her bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. Another wave of ecstasy rolled through her. This time, when his tongue met hers, it was animalistic. The tangy flavor of copper mixed with the spicy heat of cinnamon.

A roar rent the air, shaking the walls with its fury. Sol slowly pulled away as if the apartment wasn’t vibrating around them with the force of an earthquake. Fear might have been late to the game, but once it set in, Bailey couldn’t breathe from its choking hold. Sol appeared even less human than before. His fingers stroked her ribs. The walls shook harder.

“Mine.” The single word filled the air, sounding demonic, and nearly piercing Bailey’s eardrums. Her insides shook. A small smile touched Sol’s lips. Bailey’s lungs seized. The harder she fought to breathe, the darker the room became. A crack formed in the ceiling. “You are mine.”

The world snapped into focus. Everything shifted back to normal. Once again, Bailey was alone. The binds were gone from her wrists with no evidence of having ever existed. Her familiar ceiling hovered above her head, free of any cracks. The clothing she’d donned that morning still covered her body. Bailey shook her head, attempting to get her bearings.

God, she hated it here. It seemed no matter how hard she tried or how long she'd been in this place, she still couldn't tell what was real and what was imagined. The walls no longer pulsed around her, if they ever had. Turning on her side, Bailey stared at the blank white wooden surface that had been shaking only moments earlier, and replayed the entire scene in her head. Her body still burned with the last embers of her explosive orgasm. Her face heated at the memory of her wanton behavior. Pressing her thighs tighter together, she tried beating back the phantom sensation of soft hair tickling her inner thighs and the heat of the other woman's mouth covering her pussy.

Sometimes, Bailey wondered what type of person she truly was on the inside where no one could see. Sol said she didn't belong here. What had he meant? Flopping onto her back, Bailey growled at the empty room. It was possible he didn't exist, and they hadn't met. Therefore, he never said those words at all. If he had, then there was no way he truly knew about the dirty sex fiend living inside her or he never would've claimed she shouldn't be here. Perhaps he'd meant she should've ended up someplace worse. Was there a pervert purgatory? This was all Lucien's fault. She didn't know how, but it was.