The Mercenary: Skewed Part 18

I pulled him free and dropped to my knees. X had controlled everything the previous times we'd screwed, but I wanted to take charge this time. I was determined to discover the secret he was hiding. A story lay behind it, and I wanted to know.

I ran the tip of my nose down his shaft and back up again, inhaling the salty musk of him. He was so rawly masculine, and I loved that about him. On my knees, I looked up at him as I parted my lips and took him into my mouth. He stared back down at me, his full lips slack with l.u.s.t, his blue eyes a shade darker with want. I created suction and slid down his shaft as far as I could take him, the head hitting the back of my throat so I fought back a gag.

I bobbed back and forth, feeling him swell in my mouth. His hand on my head made me pause.

"Vee, you got to stop. I'm going to come."

I wanted him, wanted to taste him as he spilled his seed down my throat, but he pulled on my arm, trying to drag me to my feet again. I still wanted to see what lay beneath his shirt, not only because I wanted to learn his secret, but also because I was desperate to feel his skin against mine, to run my hands over the lines and ridges of his muscles. From everything I'd felt about X, he was fit and toned, and I knew the rest of his body would be as beautiful as he was.

I let his c.o.c.k pop from my mouth, and for him to pull me to my feet once more. He kissed me again, our tongues entwining, and the thought that he would be able to taste himself on my mouth sent a thrill through me, condensing in my p.u.s.s.y. My hands went to his shirt again, determined not to let him deter me this time.

I managed to slip a couple of the b.u.t.tons from their holes, but his hands found mine again, dragging them away.

"Vee, stop."

"Please, I want to see you."

He shook his head and stepped away from me. I felt bereft at the air between us, and stood, helpless, as he tucked his c.o.c.k back into his pants.

He turned back to me, his lips pressed together, his blue eyes searching my face. "No, you don't. I would horrify you."

"I thought you knew by now that it takes a lot to horrify me."

He seemed to think for a minute, his gaze casting away before coming back to me. "If you want to know, first of all you have to tell me what happened when you took your first life. Then I'll show you what I'm hiding."

It was a deal I was prepared to make. "Okay, but you show me first."

"It's been ten years since anyone has seen this."

I approached him again, and this time he didn't step away. "Just show me."

My hands went to the b.u.t.tons of his shirt again, and slowly, I undid them. His jaw was ridged with tension, his eyes never leaving my face. When I got to the final b.u.t.ton, I undid it then reached back up and pushed the shirt from his shoulders. The material slipped from his body and hit the floor.

I held in a gasp.

"Oh, X."

I hadn't wanted to have a reaction, had schooled my features into an impa.s.sive expression, yet I hadn't been able to help myself.

His torso was covered in scars.

They weren't just faint, white lines. The scars were thick and ridged, and raised from the surface of his skin. They were lines that crisscrossed each other, circles, and swirls. They decorated almost every inch of his skin.

I'd never seen anything like it before.

"My G.o.d. What happened to you?"

His gaze left mine again, sliding down to the floor. "I didn't exactly have a perfect childhood."

"Your parents did this to you?" I knew I shouldn't be shocked. I hardly had the perfect parenting experience, but the injuries that created that kind of scarring must have been like torture.

But to my surprise, he shook his head.

"I never knew my parents. I was dumped in a bag on a hospital doorstep when I was a couple of weeks old. I was healthy enough, but I guess my mother just decided she couldn't cope with me."

"So what happened to you?"

"I was adopted-something my adoptive parents never failed to remind me of, that I wasn't their real child. Apparently I was supposed to be grateful that they took me, though I think they adopted a child knowing exactly what they were going to do to him or her. I was just the unfortunate soul who got landed with them."

I knew he wouldn't want my sympathy. That wasn't why he had shown me. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, pull his head against my neck, and kiss away the residual pain while I laced my fingers in his hair, but I knew he wouldn't want that. He didn't want to be pitied, any more than I wanted to be pitied about my past. He had shown me because he wanted us to know each other, and because he knew I would understand. I had my own scars from my parent, only mine were less visible.

"How did they make these ones?" I asked, tracing my finger down the crisscross of lines.

"A whip. They'd tie me up and make me count lashes as my punishment. I can't even remember what I did now-spilled a drink, or perhaps was late getting home, or didn't get an A on an a.s.signment. They were never big things."

I touched one of the circles. "And these?"

"Cigarette burns, held against my skin until the b.u.t.t crushed and it burned a hole."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, I think they looked forward to when I would screw up. They took pleasure in it. They were constantly waiting for me to do something wrong so they could punish me."

"What happened to them?"

"When I was fifteen, I killed them both, made it look like a break-in gone wrong. I was away at the time, on a school trip, but I'd sneaked away during the night when the teachers thought I was still asleep in bed, killed them both, and then made it back again with no one knowing. It was the perfect alibi-several teachers all saying I was with them when the murders had been committed. It wasn't as though any of them would ever admit to the possibility that one of their charges could have left the premises unnoticed." He laughed, the sound cold. "My parents' murder was actually the reason I used for wanting to become a police officer in my initial interview-that I'd lost my parents to a criminal and I wanted to be part of the solution to stop anything like that happening to another child. Part of me was laughing inside when I told them that."

I stared at him. Perhaps the idea of him killing his adoptive parents at fifteen should have freaked me out, but it didn't. I couldn't imagine the torture they must have put him through-actually, yes, I could. It was written all over his body. I was pleased he'd gotten his revenge, anger and adrenaline rising up inside me at what he'd suffered. They'd made him what he was and they'd suffered the consequences. No, I didn't blame him for it at all, and I certainly wasn't one to judge.

"Sometimes," I said, "I think we're so alike it scares me."

"Two coldhearted killers together. What could possibly go wrong?"

We locked gazes, both of us holding back smiles.

"Now, you promised you would tell me what happened the first time you took a life."

I nodded and began, my heartrate increasing as the words left my lips. "Nicole was fourteen when she was raped-a c.o.c.ky nineteen-year-old a.s.shole who thought women and even girls were only alive to give him what he wanted. Nickie had been flattered by his attention at first, had been excited about an older boy showing her some interest, but then things had started getting serious, and she'd wanted to cool things off. He'd called her a p.r.i.c.k tease and spread rumors that she was a s.l.u.t and was sleeping with half of her school, which was the absolute opposite of the truth. She didn't want our father finding out 'cause she was worried he'd believe this kid, and then he'd say she had shamed the family. Our pops has a big thing about shaming the family-seems to me that it's the main thing that causes him to make the decisions he does. Anyway, we didn't say anything, and then one night this guy followed her home after she'd been at the mall with friends, and he took her down an alley, shoved her up against a wall, and raped her." My voice tightened as I recounted the events. "It was her first time. That memory will be with her forever. She managed to make it home, and I heard her crying in the bathroom. She'd already gotten into the shower, so she'd washed off all the evidence. You and I both know how these things go. I couldn't have her dragged through the courts, having every little part of her life dissected. He'd already been spreading the word that she was easy, and her saying he'd raped her would have just been seen as revenge. There was no proof. Plus, we knew how our father would react. He wouldn't even be able to look at her. He'd put her on such a high pedestal, I couldn't stand to see what would happen when she fell. But I was furious-blind with anger. I couldn't believe what this f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d-a grown man-had done to her. She was fourteen, for f.u.c.k's sake. She was a kid, and he took that from her. I would have died before I'd let him get away with it."

X watched me, only curiosity on his face. "What did you do?"

I gave a cold smile at the memory. "The thing was, he was the kind of guy who thought everyone wanted him. I bet he believed Nicole secretly wanted him, even while she was telling him no and fighting him off. So, I did what I could, and used my femininity to lure him somewhere I knew no one else would be. I think he thought I was a bit too tough for him at first, but I flashed my naked a.s.s at him, no panties under my skirt, and that soon got him moving. It was like luring a f.u.c.king dog with its tongue hanging out. I took him down a back alley on the outskirts of town, and as soon as I was sure no one else was around, I shot him in the face. It was brutal, and made one h.e.l.l of a mess, but I'd been careful to wear gloves, and I burned the clothes I'd been wearing afterward.

"No one ever suspected me. Why would they? Other than a bit of gossip around Nicole's school, I had no motive. No one else knew about the rape except Nickie and me. She knew what I'd done. I could see it in her eyes when we heard about his death, the way she looked at me, as though asking me the question without wanting to hear the answer out loud. We never spoke about it, and I haven't regretted killing him for a single second."

"And other than your mother, he was the only other person you've killed?"

I nodded. "My mom was different, though. I'd never wanted that to happen. I'd never wanted for Nicole to be raped and for me to have to kill the guy who did it either, but I'd taken some satisfaction in the act. It was different with my mom, and I don't think I'll ever get over it."

"That's completely understandable, you know."

"Sometimes," I admitted, "there are days where I will sit for hours and stare at my own hands, seeing in my mind the awful act they committed, over and over again. I imagine getting a knife and pressing it into my wrist, and cutting and cutting, not because I want to slice my wrists, but because I just can't stand the thought of my hands being attached to me anymore."

"You wouldn't do that to yourself, would you?"

I shook my head and glanced down, embarra.s.sed and ashamed of what I had admitted. "I'm not insane." I gave a small laugh. "Well, not on that front, anyway."

"I can't stand the thought of you wanting to hurt yourself, Vee."

"I can't stand the thought of ever being in a position where I would have forgiven myself enough not to want to."

His voice softened. "Why don't you want to forgive yourself?"

"Because I don't think I'm worth forgiving."

Chapter Twenty-six.

X.

Did it make me a total narcissist if the reason I thought I was falling for Vee was because the more I got to know her, the more I felt like she was a female version of me?

Maybe it did, but I didn't care.

She didn't judge. She knew me, even though we'd only met a couple of days ago, and that hadn't exactly been in the best of circ.u.mstances. I understood her, and I thought she might understand me, too.

I had never believed in soul mates until I met her.

But now I was starting to wonder.

Her story didn't frighten me, and my own tale of my childhood hadn't changed the way she looked at me. My scars didn't repulse her. Instead, she seemed almost curious about them, running her hands over my skin, tracing the lines with her fingertips.

I reached up and caught her narrow wrists in my fists to stop her, not because I wanted her to stop touching me, but because I figured it was my turn. She'd convinced me out of my clothing, now I wanted her out of hers.

"Enough talking," I said, and she nodded in agreement.

My b.a.l.l.s still throbbed with a low ache from the b.l.o.w.j.o.b she'd given me, and all I could think about now was spreading her thighs and sinking my d.i.c.k into the molten heat between them.

I dragged her t-shirt over her head, and then quickly worked on her jeans. She reached for my pants, so we undressed each other in a sudden flurry of hands and frantic kisses.

Together, we fell to the bed.

Naked.

I'd never been naked with another person. All these years, I'd managed to get away with f.u.c.king a woman while keeping my shirt on, had never gotten close enough to one to have her request anything more of me. If they'd tried to undress me, I'd simply flipped them over and taken them from behind, or tied their hands to a bedpost to remove the temptation of trying to touch me. Now I didn't need to do that with Vee, and as we lay together, face to face, I marveled at the sensation of Vee's soft skin against mine. The feel of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against my chest was like heaven, our stomachs pressing together, the hard length of my erection caught between us. She'd woken something in me-emotions I hadn't believed I was capable of. And strangely, I didn't want to run. Quite the opposite. I wanted to hold her closer and explore this new territory of myself, like a lizard peeling off a layer of skin, or a bird cracking open the sh.e.l.l it had grown inside to finally enter the real world.

I kissed her lips, my tongue pushing past hers and exploring every inch of her mouth. I wanted to know her, every single inch of her, and with the hunger she kissed me back with, I thought she felt the same way.

Perhaps I was being selfish, but all I wanted was to feel her tight p.u.s.s.y wrapped around my d.i.c.k. I was desperate for her, the b.l.o.w.j.o.b she'd given me had taken me to the edge and, even with all the talking, I hadn't found my way down from that high yet. Her legs wrapped around the backs of my thighs and her hips ground against me, letting me know she wanted me, too. It took only the slightest shift in my position and my c.o.c.k pressed against the soft wetness of her p.u.s.s.y. She moaned against my mouth and squirmed against me, just as I thrust my hips to meet her. My c.o.c.k breached her p.u.s.s.y, and my mind swam with the pure perfection of how she felt, and then I gave a groan and thrust deep. Vee gasped and clung tighter to me, and we began to move together, slow and deep at first, but our movements growing more frantic, until I shoved her to her back and settled myself between her thighs. I grabbed her hands and held them over her head, hard against the mattress. The position had brought me onto my knees, and her feet traveled higher, until they hooked over my shoulders. She was so exposed to me in this position, so I could look down and see my c.o.c.k, thick and rigid, pumping in and out of her hole. Her c.l.i.t stood, red and engorged right above her slit, as if begging to be touched. It was the s.e.xiest thing I'd ever seen.

I let go of her wrists with one of my hands and reached to touch her there. The result was instantaneous, and she arched her back, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s on full display, and gave a cry. Her inner muscles tightened around me and I knew I was close.

"Oh, G.o.d, X. Yes ... more, more."

In the haze of my almost coming, I made a mental note to tell her my full name. For the first time, I wanted to hear my name on a woman's lips.

She bucked at me again, and I felt myself swell inside her, and then the surge as my o.r.g.a.s.m took over.

I came inside her, like every synapse in my body was focused on that single sensation of release and euphoria. I was both helpless and in total control, giving every part of who I was to this woman. I'd never experienced it before, the feeling of an emotional connection while I came inside a woman. The vulnerability of giving myself to another person.

My mind was a haze for a moment after the final spurts of c.u.m erupted inside her, and then everything cleared. We held each other and kissed again, smiling down at one another. I touched my nose to hers, forehead to forehead, as we breathed each other in.

People always said you knew when you'd found the one.

And, right at that moment, I knew.

Chapter Twenty-seven.

V.

I woke the next morning with dread heavy on my heart. The time had come to go and see my father, and the thought made me sick. I had no choice, though. It was my only chance of finding out where Nickie might be being held. I hadn't heard anything else from Tony since his last call. Did he hope I'd follow him to New York and ask the wrong questions of the wrong people, and would turn up dead somewhere? I struggled to imagine that he would simply forget about me.

We went to meet X's contact, who gave us the paperwork I needed to be able to visit my father. I dressed conservatively, keeping my tattoos hidden beneath a jacket, my long hair tied back into a bun at the nape of my neck. We bought what we needed using the cash I'd brought with me, not wanting X to use the card he had more than necessary in case someone used it to track him down.

X's contact didn't even speak to us. He just handed X an envelope, and X gave him cash in return. We received a nod, and a quick flick of his eyes across us, and then he turned and walked away, disappearing down an alley.