“What happened to your mom?”
“I don’t know.” I don’t think I want to know. My dad described her as a useless slut who only wanted money.
“And your dad?”
“He’s dead.” He died when I was sixteen. Overdose. Found in a motel room. One that was notorious for being used by hookers.
Classy way to go.
“I’m sorry,” she offers, and I laugh.
“I’m not. He was a prick.” Most of the time, I think I’m just like him. The only difference is that I found success, while he never climbed out of the hell he made for himself.
She remains quiet, her fingers stroking over my chest and playing with the rings in my nipples. Her touch feels good. Having her next to me feels amazing, and I don’t ever want to let her go.
“After he died, I got kicked out of the shit hole he rented, and so I was homeless,” I explain. “I had nowhere to go, so I would crash on random couches. Or sleep outside.”
“Outside?” She sounds concerned. Sad. Like she cares. Has anyone ever really cared? Pilar claims she did and she helped me, but it was advantageous for her. “Like where?”
“Park benches. Alleys. Wherever I could sleep for a few hours and not worry about getting jumped.”
“That sounds awful.” Her voice is small.
“It was.” I’m not going to lie. My life was shit.
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.” Young and stupid, and selling drugs was my only source of income. Letting dudes fresh out of prison practice their tattoo artistry on my skin. Getting high. Fucking stupid girls that were younger than me and letting all of it swallow me up and eat me whole.
“Ryder.” She kisses my shoulder, her warm lips lingering on my skin. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I say, vaguely uncomfortable. “It is what it is.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
I love that she sounds like she wants to fight for me, even though there’s nothing she can do. What’s done is done.
“What made you change your life?” she asks. “What turned it around?”
I exhale loudly, unsure of how to tell her. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do,” she says firmly. “Tell me.”
“It was Pilar. She found me at a Starbucks and took me back to her place, and …” Saved me. Fucked me. Fed me. Cleaned me up. Helped me get my GED and fucked me some more.
Violet remains quiet for so long I grow uncomfortable. Restless. I shift so I can roll on top of her. I need to see her face, look into her eyes, when I ask her this question. “Does that bother you?”
She nods, her gaze skittering away from mine. “A little.”
I grab hold of her chin and force her to look at me. “She rescued me then, when I needed it. She helped me, and I repaid my debt to her. I owe her nothing.”
“I-I’m glad she rescued you.” She reaches up and touches me, her fingers on my jaw. “Thankful.”
Jesus. The woman is trying to straight-up kill me with kindness, I swear. “You rescued me, too, Violet.” Her gaze softens and I stroke the side of her face, lean into her, and kiss her gently. “I don’t want this to end,” I murmur against her lips.
“I don’t either,” she admits.
Her confession fuels me. Makes me feel invincible. We can defy Pilar. We can defy everyone. Fuck them all. If we stand strong beside each other, we can have the world at our feet. I need nothing else but Violet.
Nothing.
I kiss her, then flip over so I’m on my back and she’s on top of me. My already hard cock nudges against her ass. “I want you,” I whisper.
She rolls her eyes before she admonishes me. “Again?”
“Again.” I run my hands over her ass, loving the feel of her soft, plump skin, careful of her bruises. “It’s all about you this time, Violet.”
“Hmm,” she hums, and that sound sends an electric current through my veins, making my dick harder.
I’m starting to think I have a serious problem.
“Come here.” I adjust her to my liking, making her move up my body until her hands are gripping the headboard and my head is propped on her pillows, her pussy right above my face. Fuck, she’s pretty, all pink and glistening. I can’t wait to taste her.
“I don’t know about this,” she says uneasily.
“You’re going to love it,” I reassure her, my hands going to her hips as I lower her to my mouth. I dart out my tongue, licking her clit, and she jumps in pleasure or pain, I can’t tell which.
I’m starting to realize that with us, the line is hard to discern.
I lick her pussy from front to back and everywhere in between. She moves with me, her hips grinding, back and forth against my face as I tongue her, my hands memorizing the smooth skin of her belly and hips and waist. I search her folds with my tongue, teasing her clit, and she reaches out, adjusts my head so I can lick her exactly where she wants it.
Dirty fucking girl. The contradiction of Violet Fowler turns me on like no other woman I’ve ever been with.
Fucking her deep with my fingers, I suck her clit, lash it with my tongue, gripping her hips tight so she can’t move, and I press her pussy directly on my face. Until she’s crying out, writhing and coming all over me, her entire body trembling with the force of her orgasm. My name falls from her lips, her fingers wrapped so tight around the railing headboard I’m afraid she’ll put a dent in the damn metal.