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Saint
I enjoyed being at the cabin, and it would probably always be special to me now since it was where Brantley and I first had sex, but what good is that when he won’t even touch me in a sexual way anymore. Whatever happened last night has sowed something inside of him.
After we arrive home, I unpack my clothes and sort through what needs to be cleaned, then go through the routine of feeding Medusa, Kore, and Hades. I haven’t received another text from the unknown number since I left the cabin, and there’s a part of me that thinks I need to bring it up with Brantley. It may have a co
Heading into the kitchen, I find it empty. Not even V is in here cooking. I run my fingers over the modern black marble, reaching for the jar of Twizzlers. I take one out and chew on it, leaning against the counter. Sugar hits the tip of my tongue, and I scarf the whole thing down before grabbing another. Turning, I’m biting into the chewy goodness when Brantley stops at the threshold. He’s fully dressed in jeans, a plain black tee that only makes his skin seem paler, and white sneakers.
“I was looking for you,” I say, licking my lips free of the sugar. His eyes follow the movement, his jaw tense.
“What’s wrong?” He diverts his gaze and moves to the fridge, pulling one of the glass doors open and taking out a can of FITAID. Shutting it behind himself, he leans against the door, his eyes never moving from mine as his lips wrap around the bottle and his head tilts back. The veins in his neck swell as he takes gulps, but his eyes don’t leave mine. He strips me raw anytime he looks at me, rips me from the seams until I’m exposed, at his mercy. I don’t have a problem with this. He can tear me open to see what I’m made of, because all that is me has been crafted by him.
I grasp at my neck, my fingers tapping over the delicate font of my Vitiosis tattoo. I never did understand why he made me get this. I assumed it was a family rite of passage, since he has Vitiosis tattooed over his chest. But now that I’ve come to learn more of him, I’m starting to think there’s more of a reason.
He takes the three steps needed to reach me, placing his drink on one side of me while his other hand is pressed against the counter, caging me in. He cocks his head, his focus falling to my neck, where there are bruises still visible from his biting. “What, Dea? Tell me what’s on your mind.” His tone is menacing with a hint of cruelty.
I blow out a steady breath of air. “Did you find out who drugged you all?”
He pushes off the counter and leans against the one opposite me. “We know who it is.”
“Oh.” I gulp, curling my lips under my teeth.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” he asks, cocking his brow in challenge. I’ve become numb to the sight of beauty, but Brantley truly is something else. With features so sharp they had to be cut with a surgical scalpel, and eyes so dark they remind me of angry, stormy nights, he’s constantly demanding to be felt, leaving the remnants of himself on you long after he has left. I wonder how many girls have had their hearts broken by him. I got one night, and it was nowhere near enough.
“Yes, actually,” I say, clearing my throat. Reaching for my phone that’s tucked inside the waistband of my pants, I’m about to open the text message when Tillie’s voice interrupts us.
“Oh thank God, you’re here.”
“I’m never anywhere else,” I say, pressing my phone back to my chest. I don’t miss the way Brantley follows the movement before swinging around, glaring at Tillie.
“Do you not have a house?”
She flips him off. “I do, but since you’re all organizing Bishop’s initiation, I need someone to go shopping with!” She glares at Brantley.
My phone starts ringing in my hand and I swipe it unlocked without seeing who it is. “Hello?”
“Can you talk?”
My eyes fly between Tillie and Brantley.
“You don’t need to. You can listen. I need you now. Can you come?”
I run my tongue over my lips. “Yes.”
“Okay. I will text you the details.”
I hang up my phone, guilt washing over me. How did I become so entangled in such an intricate web of deceit and lies?
“Who was that?” Brantley asks, and it takes me a few seconds to clear my eyes enough to bring them to him. They’re hazy, burning with unshed tears. He’s most likely going to be angry with me. Fuming, really. I can handle Brantley’s wrath, but I can’t take his disappointment, and I think deep down, that’s what I’m most afraid of.
“Bishop,” I lie, and instantly feel more exposed than I ever have. “I’m just going to head upstairs. Feeling a little tired still.” Brantley watches me carefully as I slowly make my way to the other side of the kitchen, past Tillie who is watching me carefully, too. I feel like I’m trying to escape a den of two hungry lions.
Fingers wrap in mine and Brantley pulls me into his chest. He tucks his finger beneath my chin and I stop breathing. The motion is so gentle, but his gaze burns with flames that lick my belly from the inside. I slowly exhale the breath I’m desperately holding, relaxing my lips. Is he going to kiss me? He releases me.
“I’ll be back later tonight.”
My stomach drops from disappointment. I roll my lips between my teeth with my hand still on his chest. Should I just kiss him? God, but I want to.
Tillie looks between us. “I’ll come back a little later…”
“I’ll text you.” Tillie leaves and I take the first step toward the stairs when his hand is in my hair and he’s tugging me backward like a frail doll. It’s not until the front door closes that his other hand is on my lower belly and he’s pulling me into his body.
“I saw the way you looked at me, Dea, with those pleading little eyes…”
I hold my breath as he pushes me forward and my hands fly out in front of me to grip the kitchen counter. “It was nothing,” I say gently, wriggling beneath his grasp.
“Lies,” he says, his palm between my thighs. He rubs circles around me, dipping beneath the waistband of my pants. “You looked at me like you wanted me to kiss you, but guess what?” He spins me around and lifts me onto the counter by my hips, spreading my legs wide and resting between them. He bites down on my lower lip. “Now I’m going to fuck you, and you’re either going to enjoy it or you’re going to run. You game?” He sucks on my lip while his hand is reaching up my front, his thumb pressing over my nipple that’s prodding out from my crop.
I tilt my head to the side and his mouth is over my jugular. “Yes, I’m game.”
He pulls my yoga pants down and I inch up to allow him access, all while he bites down on every bit of my skin. He flings them across the room, his hand on my throat as he shoves me backward on the counter. “Arch your back.”
I do, but as soon as I’m about to lean up again to see what he’s doing and if he’s naked, his mouth is on me. His tongue is on my clit, his grip around the front of my throat tighter. He flicks and sucks on my clit until my stomach pulls and my thighs clench around him. The muscles in my legs relax as an explosion of pleasure shatters the marrow of my bones, oozing through my blood until it’s pounding through my ears at the same rhythm as my heart. I’m catching my breath while internally calming myself down when his hands are on my upper thighs and he’s dragging me down the counter, the only sound his belt buckle landing on the kitchen floor with a resounding thud. One hand is back on my throat as he guides me down until my feet hit the floor.