I wasn’t sure if it was the drugs or my head playing fucking mind games with me but as I walked towards her, unbuttoning my jeans and freeing my throbbing cock, my eyes locked with hers and the pain faded from those dark eyes and was replaced with desire.
I reached for her hips, pulling her to the edge of the desk and positioned myself between her legs. My head spun, my conscience resurrected as I wrapped my hand around my cock and peered at her through the hair that covered my eyes.
What the fuck was I doing?
Committing suicide.
She lifted her hand to my face, brushing my hair away from my eyes and forced me to look at her.
“Leather and Lace,” she whispered, covering my hand with her own.
The thread of control I was grasping, finally frayed, and I grabbed her hands, pinning them to her sides as I closed my eyes and drove my dick deep inside of her. She screamed out, her head falling onto my shoulder as she remained perfectly still. I couldn’t move either; her fucking pussy was so tight. I turned my head just as she did and saw the tears in her eyes.
Shit.
I removed my hands that kept hers flat against the desk and started to pull out when she lifted her arms around my neck and held me close.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.
I slowly pulled out and more carefully charged back in, repeatedly until I stretched her enough that I could slide in and out without killing us both. She arched her hips, and that was all the encouragement I needed to drive home, still, I restrained myself from all I wanted to do to her. I could fuck her until the sun rose, every which way, with my mouth, my cock and my fingers.
Never stop fucking her.
Because I was an addict, and I realized, balls deep in the sweetest, tightest pussy, I ever had wrapped around my dick, Lacey was my new drug.
I’d never get enough.
I wanted to stay high on her all the time.
Until I fucking died.
Bury me, girl.
End me.
I lost it. I fucking lost my mind and my control as I gripped her hips and pumped her harder and harder with each stroke until she was gasping for breath and I was coming. I heard the moan escape my lips as her pussy milked every drop from my dick.
I fought for control, for breath, and for clarity. I felt her hands travel up my back to my neck and toy with the ends of my hair.
Clarity came first.
I had just fucked the girl I always tried to protect, to shelter from the darkness and now I was her darkness. I crossed a line in my quest to end my pain and took something I had no business having. I told myself I did it because I was searching for the end, the end of my life, the end of the suffering I liked to inflict upon myself. But, this, having her, taking her, it was just the beginning.
I lifted my hands and pulled hers away from me.
Breathe.
I took a deep breath and pulled out of her and looked down at my cock, covered in my release and her blood, her fucking innocence.
I lifted my eyes to her as she stared at my dick before meeting my gaze.
“Blackie,” she started.
The control never came.
She didn’t have to say the words, the evidence was on me and reflected in her eyes.
“You need to get the fuck out of here,” I growled, angry with her for not telling me, livid that I didn’t realize it first, disgusted by the realization I polluted the purest thing I had ever known.
“It’s okay,” she struggled, as I backed away from her and she hopped off the desk. “I wanted that to happen. Blackie, don’t do that, don’t shut me out,” she begged as she reached for me.
“Get dressed,” I ordered.
“But—,” she argued.
“GET DRESSED!”
I turned my back to her, bending down to pick up my shirt and wipe the evidence of her and me from my cock before pulling up my pants. I didn’t turn around and look at her. I heard her sniffle, and shuffle around the room collecting her shit as I walked to my nightstand and grabbed a vile of heroin and a syringe I kept tucked away in my drawer.
I filled the syringe before knotting the band around my arm and searched for a vein.
“Blackie, please look at me,” she pleaded.
“I’m done looking at you, Lace,” I said stabbing the tip of the needle into my arm before I glanced over my shoulder. “Get out!”
I let the heroin drain from the needle into my veins as the door closed. I pulled the empty syringe from my arm and flicked it onto the nightstand before untying the band and covered my face with my hands, waiting for the numbness to inebriate me.
Leather and Lace.
Opposites.
But the same torture lived inside.
The door opened again, and I lifted my head, prepared to drag her out by her hair if I had to but came face to face with Riggs.
“Get out,” I seethed.
“You the reason Lacey just ran out of here crying?” The newly patched Knight questioned me.
“What’s it to you?”
I rose to my feet, stumbling as the drugs swarmed my system, and crossed my arms against my chest as I struggled to glare at him.
He stepped closer, his eyes zeroed in on my arms before he lifted them to my face.
“You’re using?”