Newton (Cerberus MC Book 31), page 11
"And I have to say the words?" She shakes her head. "That's too strange for me."
I take this into consideration.
"How about you don't have to say the words, but I need you to tell me to stop."
"I can do that."
"It's important to me that we don't go any further than you want to." I press a finger to her lips when she opens her mouth to argue. "It's about what you want and need. This isn't about me."
"If you don't want to—"
"I want all of it, baby, but you're driving tonight."
She thinks for a moment, considering.
I'm not being exactly truthful. I know how far things will go tonight if she allows it, and even if she wants everything I could possibly give her, I know there are lines I can't cross too soon.
Instead of using words because those seem hard for her, she reaches for the waistband of her leggings.
"Let me," I tell her, shifting my weight so I can pull her sneakers from her feet first.
She pulls her hands back, locking them together and letting them settle on her lower stomach.
"Right here," I tell her, moving her hands until they're both on my skin.
Not only do I crave her touch, but I need to be able to tell when her mood shifts. I trust that she wants to tell me when she's ready for me to stop, but her trauma and the abuse from her past may prevent her from actually doing it. I wouldn't be able to handle it if she woke up tomorrow and regretted what we're doing.
"Jesus, that's pretty," I praise when I tug down her leggings and panties at the same time, revealing that spot of heaven between her legs.
Her swollen clit peeks out, the tip of it glistening with her arousal. I swear my fucking mouth waters for a taste of it.
I keep my eyes locked on the center of her as I pull her clothing free and toss them onto the floor.
I kiss her knee, urging her leg up and to the side.
My tongue traces her inner thigh, but she grips my hair when I'm a few inches from her pussy.
I look up at her. "Need me to stop?"
"I… this… are you going to bite me?"
"Do you want me to bite you?"
She swallows, and I can see the battle within herself. One part of her mind is telling her to look away, but she fights it. Jesus, this woman is amazing and strong. She's a warrior, and that makes me want to be that much closer to her.
"I don't want it to hurt."
A slow smile creeps across my face. "I promise it won't hurt."
Her grip on my hair loosens, but I don't move a muscle until she releases me completely.
"Ready?" I ask, my tongue slipping out to moisten my lips. I become a little more obsessed when her eyes lock on my mouth. "I need you to say it, Brielle."
"I'm ready," she pants.
"You'll tell me if you want me to stop."
"Promise." The word is breathy, and I can tell by the way her fingers dig into my arm that she's done with the talking.
The scent of her meets my nose, and I become ravenous, so hungry for her that I have to take a moment in an attempt to get myself under control.
She's different from every other woman I've had, and I need to keep that in mind. I can't get completely lost in her. It could be detrimental to both of us.
"If you don't want to—oh God."
Her tone changes the second I suck her clit into my mouth, trying to ignore the wave of goosebumps that swim on every inch of my body. My cock aches as I swipe my tongue up the center of her, the sounds she’s making instantly committed to memory.
I press my hips into the mattress, knowing there's a very good chance I'll blow my load in my fucking jeans before this is all said and done.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, but she's pulling me toward her body rather than trying to shove me away.
The tangy sweetness of her coats my tongue, and I swallow it down before diving in for more.
"Beck," she moans, and the sound of my name on her lips while she's feeling so much pleasure has instantly become my favorite sound.
I'm one lucky bastard, I realize, when she begins to chant it over and over and over. She doesn't stop until her muscles lock up and her pussy convulses against my tongue.
I stop when her hand falls lifelessly to the bed at her hip. I look up, the moon highlighting the pink in her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
I crawl up her body, my mouth pressing kisses to every inch of available skin before getting to her throat.
I know I should stop her when her hand runs down the front of my jeans. I have to pull back when she lifts her leg and locks it around the back of my thigh.
"That's not happening tonight."
I groan when she rolls her hips against me, the warmth of her pussy almost right where I need it.
"I want you to feel good," she whispers, but her leg falls away.
"I do feel good," I assure her.
Her lips form a flat line, so I try and kiss her disappointment away.
"Don't pout."
She rolls her eyes, and the levity right now is exactly what we both need.
My resistance cracks a little when she pushes me to my back and reaches for my zipper.
"Did you already come?" she asks, tracing the wetness on my boxer briefs with the tip of one finger.
"Leaking," I pant, rolling my hips up to chase her hand when she pulls it away.
"That's—"
“Embarrassing.”
“Sexy,” she whispers, her hand reaching for me once again.
She pulls down the front of my boxers, my aching cock flexing to reach up at her.
“Je-sus,” I say, in a way that sounds like it's two words when she wraps her hand around me.
"This is impressive," she says, sounding a lot more confident than she did when we first got started.
"You'll make me come," I warn, arching my neck back, head pressed hard into the pillow when she runs her hand down the length of me.
She doesn't say another word or make another sound as she swirls her thumb over the tip of me, collecting my precum. I swear I'll explode if she lifts it to her mouth, but she doesn't. She uses it to coat my cock so the glide of her hand is easier.
"Brielle," I pant, my voice weak and begging.
In the next breath, my cock kicks in her hand, cum erupting from the tip. If it didn't feel so fucking good, I might be embarrassed with how quickly she took me over the edge.
She strokes me through it, a small smile playing on her lips.
Chapter 20
Brielle
He made me come, and although it wasn't the first time it's happened, it was different from the other times.
Orgasms had been used against me more times than I could count. Not once in my entire life have I ever wanted that. I've lived with shame for a very long time, for my body convincing Nathan and Xan that I liked what they were doing even though it was something I desperately fought against.
I trade places with Beck, going into the bathroom to clean up after he comes out.
We don't speak as I carry the clothes I gathered while he was busy into the bathroom and close the door.
My hand trembles over the lock. I shouldn't even have the urge to lock the door. I don't think I'm afraid of the man. He had me incredibly vulnerable earlier, and I felt nothing but safe with him.
I turn the lock, waiting for him to bang on the door and demand I unlock it, but that doesn't happen.
I climb into the shower, the walls already wet from the quick one he just took to get the cum off his skin.
I wash my body, leaving my hair alone. I can wash it tomorrow when my legs are a little steadier.
I towel off quickly, wondering if he's going to say something about me putting clothes on. It was never allowed back in Ohio, and I think that was to keep me scared and vulnerable.
I eye the closet when I step out of the bathroom, unsure of what the expectations are now that his body isn't all wound up and wanting me.
"Can I hold you?" he whispers from the bed. The desperation and need in his voice almost have the power to make me cry.
I know I can't get lost in this man. It doesn't matter how gentle and comforting he was. It doesn't matter that he told me he'd stop at any point. I know from experience that once a man gets to a certain point, there's no turning back, no matter how much someone begs them to quit. He could've taken anything he wanted from me, and I would've been powerless to stop him.
It's a tough pill to swallow to admit, even to myself, that there's very little chance I would've even opened my mouth to request he pause, and not because I was afraid he'd get angry. I wanted him. I wanted his body covering mine. I wanted him pushing inside of me while his hot breath warmed my neck.
I give the closet one last look before walking slowly toward the bed.
I'm surprised to see him dressed in a t-shirt and sweats when he pulls the blankets back so I can join him. I know he's worn clothes every night since I arrived here, but I figured now that he's had a part of me, he'd stay naked after his shower.
I ignore the disappointment pooling inside of me as I awkwardly press into his side.
Instead of letting me lie there being all weird, he moves me until I'm practically lying on top of him, my leg between his with his arm around my back, fingers teasing slowly up and down my spine.
He doesn't speak, doesn't ruin this moment by telling me we made a mistake. He doesn't vow to keep his hands to himself. There are no apologies on his lips.
Xan used to apologize after hurting me. He'd make promises, telling me that he'd control his urges better next time.
Nathan, on the other hand, wouldn't whisper an apology if his life depended on it.
I freeze, hating that my mind is urging me to consider Beck's silence to be the same as I'd get from Nathan.
My stomach turns because I know they're worlds apart.
It makes me consider that maybe Beck would've stopped had I requested him to.
"I was eight the first time Nathan forced Xan to touch me," I whisper, hating the way he freezes under me, but I don't stop. "He was crying the whole time, telling me he was sorry for hurting me when the tears pooled in my eyes."
When his arm tightens around me, I take comfort in his strength. I've never said these things out loud to anyone, despite the urging of the prosecutor's office in Ohio and, again, by the therapist who made frequent visits to the women's shelter.
"I can remember the sounds he made while sitting in the corner, instructing his son on what to do with his fingers. I didn't know it then but I know now he was touching himself." I swallow against the bile threatening its way up my throat. "When Xan stopped and refused to go any further, Nathan beat him until he was unconscious. He pitted the two of us against each other for years until something snapped in Xan. He was sixteen the first time he hurt me without his father's urging. I was proud of him for lasting so long. I don't know if I could've taken the abuse as long as he did before giving in to it."
Beck's arm tightens even further, and I let my eyes flutter closed, tears leaking from them and dampening his shirt.
"When I started to just lie there and let it happen, Nathan would get so angry. He wanted the tears and the begging for it to stop. He always confused me. He'd growl and tell me I needed to be stronger, that I needed to be tough to survive in their world. He made me sit and watch while he commanded Xan to hurt the nanny. She was the only person I had in my life who I cared for after my mother died, and I had to sit there, sobbing, while Xan carved his last name into her flesh with a dull knife."
I pull in a ragged breath, wishing I could find the strength to stop talking, but the floodgates have opened and show no sign of being shored up anytime soon.
"I begged him to stop. Begged Xan to put the knife down. Pleaded with Nathan to stop making his son hurt her. I saw nothing but evil in his eyes when he turned to me and told me to take her place if I truly wanted Xan to stop. I remember opening my mouth, but it's like I had forgotten how to speak. Xan didn't stop cutting into her flesh until she passed out. I never saw her again after that night, but I'm certain she's dead."
"Xan should've been stronger or been willing to die before hurting you," he says, as if it's that simple, but his words make me reflect.
Maybe Beck is the type of man who would die before hurting me, but I seriously doubt it. My luck never turns that way. Hell, if Nathan ever found out that I willingly gave any part of myself to the man, he'd make sure to be the one to stand over Beck while he took his last breath.
I'm not doubting Beck's integrity. I really think he believes what he's saying, but facing the devil and standing tall isn't the reality. We all like to think we're heroes until we're put to the test. Some last longer than others. I think Xan did his best fighting against the monster his father created in him for years and it’s commendable.
"I think you need to tell these things to the people back in Ohio."
"I'll go to prison," I whisper.
"Doing things under duress and doing them because it's your idea aren't the same thing, baby."
His voice is calm, and although I don't detect judgment in his tone, I know it has to be there. I loved Sonia. I looked at her as a mother and, honestly, she was much more attentive to me than my real mother had been, yet I did nothing to protect her. I wasn't brave enough to step up and take that punishment. I've always been a coward, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.
"There isn't a jury around that would ever fault someone for doing what they had to do to stay alive."
I know he believes what he's saying is true, but my reality is different. If Nathan couldn't get to me himself, he has ways of getting to me no matter where he's at. I can't even trust everyone under this roof because everyone has their price. It's possible that Nathan could even get to Beck. Beck may fight long and hard against hurting me under the threat of his own death, but being offered money is a much different game.
The thought of the man I'm lying against being the one to slit my throat makes me weep even more. He might want to protect me now, but money always talks. It opens every single door, and Nathan wouldn't bat an eye at handing over a couple of million dollars to ensure I don't testify against him in court. If my own guilt lands me on the opposite side of the law, he'd pay a jury to convict me as quickly as he'd pay someone in prison to kill me.
Beck doesn't understand the man the way I do. There's no escaping his wrath. All of his enemies fall at his feet. The only difference with me is that he wants to do it himself. He'd only outsource the job if it becomes a hundred percent impossible for him.
My safety at any place isn't guaranteed, and that's something I'll have to live with.
I know my time is limited, and it's up to me to do with it as much as I can.
I feel like a fraud challenging Beck and his willingness to protect me when I know just how weak I am. I can't confess the things I've seen because I'm trying to save myself, trying to last in this world as long as I can, despite the numerous attempts I've made to end it. I have a strong will to live and, unfortunately, that comes at others' expenses.
"He terrifies me," I whisper.
"You're safe here," he vows.
If only I could trust his words.
Chapter 21
Newton
I feel like a coward, leaving her alone in the bed before the sun even came up, but her fear of Nathan Adair had the power to bring up all sorts of shit from my childhood.
I know her struggle. I lived some of the same things. I know what it's like to regret being a coward, to watch someone get hurt and do nothing to stop it.
The coffee running down the back of my throat tastes like battery acid and the second it hits my stomach, it threatens to make a reappearance.
"You're looking like me right now," Hemlock growls when he walks into the dark kitchen.
I don't acknowledge the man. He isn't speaking to me because he wants to have a conversation, and I'm not foolish enough to think he's concerned about my mental health.
"Nothing to say?" he snaps as his ass hits the chair he always occupies in the morning.
"Do you really give a shit?" I snap back, my eyes trained in his direction.
He shakes his head as he lifts his cup to his mouth. I've sat here for ten minutes, waiting for my coffee to cool down enough to drink, and this psycho motherfucker just guzzles it like it’s cold water.
“No,” he spits, chuckling when I look away.
I know what the man is capable of, but I also know that he’s here for a reason. Still, it’s hard to trust Kincaid’s judgment when I’ve seen this man operate. He’s soulless, eyes empty and void of any feelings at all. It makes me second-guess his commitment to the entire reason why Cerberus exists.
We don’t speak to each other again, but before long, others come into the kitchen, and the mood begins to shift from dark and dreary to anticipatory.
We have a meeting scheduled this morning, and although it hasn't been confirmed, I think it may be a new mission we're scheduled to go out on.
A week ago, I would've probably lied about my wrist still hurting in order to stay back at the clubhouse. After Brielle's confessions and the memories they brought back to life, I don't know if I can stay here with her much longer.
I feel weak, like a child afraid of the dark, with just the thought of going back in there with her, but I also know so many parts of me want to be there to comfort her. I don't want anyone delving into my past, but I'm willing to step up and help with hers.
I pull in a ragged breath, knowing that I better not get into the habit of lying to myself because I bolted out of my bedroom the second I got the chance. And to think I thought I'd worked through all of this shit in therapy. I guess some people never heal.
"Meeting in ten," Shadow says from the kitchen door.
I feel like a complete asshole for not taking Brielle something to eat, but these meetings usually don't last very long. We go over the dossier for the case and then we're given assignments.
I have no idea what the woman would do if I'm sent off on this mission, and dread sinks inside of me as I walk toward the conference room. I can't make up my mind. I need some distance from her, but just thinking about not being here with her makes my head spin. The woman is really fucking me up but knowing it doesn't stop my eyes from darting down the hallway toward the room. It sure as hell doesn't stop the pull to her I feel in my chest.
