“Somethin’ tells me you would’ve anyway.” I pause. “For Codi.”
She doesn’t argue. It’s the truth. Camryn Rein may be as jilted by the world as I am, but she hides it in her generosity, in helping others.
I prefer to use it as my most powerful weapon. I choose to bask in the way I disappoint everyone close to me. That way it’s obvious that I’m not someone they can rely on. It’s best they are comfortable in the knowledge that in the end, I’ll only fail them anyway.
Trusting people isn’t something I care to find comfort in. Now or in the future. Placing your trust in others only levels you up for your own downfall. No matter their intention, people will let you down. I’ve learned the hard way that, purposefully or not, it still burns in the same way.
My openness with Camryn shocks her. She no doubt pinned me as a closed book. She saw the stone wall I’ve built around me and didn’t for a second consider it’d be see-through. But I’m not a liar, and I’m only truthful to people who I respect enough to offer any part of my psyche to. The rest are undeserving of my truth and lies are too much work to maintain. Their assumptions are good enough for them, they’re good enough for me too.
My respect for Camryn continues to grow with every one of our interactions. She hates me. Rightfully so. What’s important is that she doesn’t hide her despise, and why should she? She’s openly honest and I appreciate the hell out of that.
I’m truthful with her because I want the level of hate she feels toward me, to remain. I want her to understand that her feelings toward me are both right and justified. I want her to believe deep within herself that I’m the monster she knows exists. It’s safer that way. Because when I disappoint this family, like I continually have my own, at least I won’t have to be painted in her guilt like I will be Dominic and Codi’s.
“I’m starved. Come on,” she invites, shaking off the melancholy of our conversation. “I’ve kept this light charade up for long enough. Let’s go eat.”
My brow furrows. “How hospitable of you... you caught a fever out here?” I joke.
Her eyes roll dramatically. “I can hate you in civility. Even prisoners need to be fed.”
“No need for that.” I laugh. “I’m gonna head home tonight.”
She doesn’t look surprised. More than aware of how uncomfortable I’ve been holed up in Rein’s house on the verge of death. The very people who could have taken advantage of my weakened state and sought a justified revenge, turned out to be my saviors. And that very significant detail makes me uncomfortable as fuck.
“I’m no longer on the precipice of death. The infection has subsided. Thinking I’ll be able to hobble around my own loft while this scratch heals.”
Sniffing against the cold, she nods her head in agreement.
“Let’s also not kid ourselves,” I continue. “Guessin’ I’ve outstayed my welcome.”
Her head tips side-to-side. “Only according to me.”
“Well then.” I smirk. “Let’s say their welcome has outstayed me.”
She stands, brushing the back of her jeans. She doesn’t attempt to help me stand, only watching on as I slowly find my way up.
“I’ll pack you some supplies to keep the wound clean.”
“Appreciate it.” I follow her inside, hating myself for thinking that Camryn Rein isn’t such bad company.
She pauses at the door, hand against the handle. Steeling a breath, she whirls on me. “About the other night—”
I shake my head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I ease the worry dancing in her eyes.
Her stare locks intently onto mine, for seconds longer than it should be acceptable, the dark blue flecks searching for the lie in my statement. Swallowing thickly when she realizes it’s not there to find, her eyes close in relief.
Not speaking another word, she steps through the door, the ice of her usual demeanor fixing back into place, the slice of vulnerability she didn’t care to show me locked firmly away.
Chapter Nine
Camryn
Hate. A form of emotional revulsion. One that often moves hand in hand with a bitterness that is never even remotely sweet.
Yet, here I am. Bent over my childhood bed, the man I despise more than anything in this world, powering inside of me in the sweetest form of torture.
I don’t even know how we got here. One moment we were arguing, shouting at one another, insult after insult, trying to outdo one another in provocation.
And then we were naked.
Lips clashing, fighting for dominance.
Bodies pressed together, wanting, needing more.
“You’re such a bitch,” he groans behind me, his generous length pulling from me almost completely before slamming back inside.
He’ll leave bruises. Blue and purple marks of frustration and lust. Fingerprints to remind me of how deep our loathing goes.
I whimper. “I hate you.”
He laughs, the sound lost to the growl in his throat when I push myself back as hard as he thrusts forward. “Feeling’s mutual, beauty.”
We’ve been possessed. The adrenaline pumping through our veins in conflict morphing into an arousal neither one of us could resist.
The sex isn’t just rough, it’s brutal. A battle of wills. Power no longer a point to prove, but a victory that neither one of us is willing to give away.
The thick line of his cock stretches me in a way I can’t remember feeling. Broad enough to cause just the right amount of pain. Painful enough to have me begging for more.
A palm powers down to slap the meaty globe of my ass. His thick fingers grab hold, squeezing me savagely. “Too bad your pussy doesn’t hate me.” His free hand slides over my stomach, slapping my clit and making me shudder. “On the contrary, she’s quite the greedy little whore. Swallowing my cock the way she is.”
My pussy spasms at the vulgarity in his words.
“Camryn Rein,” he muses. “My dirty, little beauty.”
Something this toxic can’t be healthy. The intensity is all-consuming. So addictive, I’d give him my all if he demanded it.
My distaste for him is being pushed aside, overcome with passion. I’m not gonna lie, it’s so destructively satisfying… I want to do it again.
And again.
And again.
“Harder,” I command.
“Baby, I fuck you any harder and the tip of my dick is gonna come outta your mouth.”
The visual convulses in my cunt, my walls closing in on him tight enough he groans in exquisite agony.
Pulling out, he flips me without issue, his body climbing over mine, cock slamming inside of me before I’ve taken a full breath.
My neck arches, head thrown back into the mattress.
He lifts my leg, palm braced along the back of my knee, pushing it toward my chest.
I cry out.
“So deep,” he grinds.
“So deep,” I echo, ignoring the sting in my muscles.
Our not-so-silent loathing for one another is no longer enough. We’ve managed to channel every negative emotion we feel for one another into the most violently profound sex I’ve ever experienced.
“Tell me why you hate me.”