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It was such a foreign, uncertain thing that I didn't even recognize it for what it was until we were inside and walking down a hallway of closed doors, spaced too closely to be anything other than bedrooms.
Hell, I hadn't even been nervous on the night I lost my virginity.
We stopped in the middle of the hall, Sugar reaching to push the door open and flick the light on.
"Really?"
Okay, so maybe that was a rude reaction to seeing a man's room for the first time. But, really, it was as bare as a jail cell. I would know. I watched every prison show - both real and fictional - known to mankind. Actually, if possible, it was even more bare than a cell.
There was a bed, queen-sized, pressed up against the wall on one side with a plain gray comforter, white sheets, and a black nightstand with a glass lamp. Across from that was a dresser with a large TV. Beside that was an open door to a very small bathroom with a pedestal sink, a toilet, and a stall shower that was so small that there was no chance of shower funsies in it.
No art.
No personal items.
Not even clothes that missed the hamper.
"What?" he asked, yanking me inside so he could close and lock the door.
"Were you a bad boy?"
His head jerked back at that, brows furrowing. "What?"
"Were you a bad boy? Did daddy Reign take away all your stuff as punishment?"
"I don't have a lot of shit."
"You have no shit," I corrected, moving in, going to his nightstand, pulling drawers open, something he allowed me to do. Most people were touchy about snooping. But aside from a box of condoms and a pocketknife, there was nothing interesting in his top drawer. "Whoa, I stand corrected," I went on as the second drawer revealed to me something I maybe should have expected. Long, silver, lethal. "Do you always keep a gun in your nightstand?"
"Yep."
"Have you ever shot it?"
"That one in particular? No."
"But other guns."
"Yeah."
"Fucking around? Or to maim or kill?"
"All of the above."
He didn't even pause in answering.
About killing someone.
I should have been shocked, appalled, scared.
But, well, that wasn't the life I lived in.
First, because I was a sick fuck with sick tastes in books, movies, and TV. Second, because of my new family. I wasn't naive. I knew the down and dirty stuff Shane especially did, but also all the others, that Eli had nearly beaten a man to death, that Charlie had some bodies in his wake from his early days.
Maybe being accepting of that meant that my moral compass was not pointing quite as north as it should have, but that was just the reality I lived with.
Besides, Sugar was a Henchmen.
You kind of had to assume that he had hurt or killed people. It would have been naive of me to imagine otherwise.
"That night I drove you home, did you have a gun on you?"
"Yeah."
"What about at the library?"
"Couldn't protect Reese without one."
"And tonight?" I asked, resting my hands down behind me on the bed, leaning back in a way that made my tits pop out, making his gaze go there hungrily for a long moment. It drifted back up as he reached up to shrug out of his cut, then pulled his tee off by the back of the neck, the way only guys do. Next, he undid his fly, dropping his pants.
And me, well, I was so distracted by the cock pressing against his tight boxer briefs that I completely forgot we had been having a conversation until he leaned down, reached into something around his ankle, and came back with something a little smaller - but no less intimidating - than the one in his nightstand.
"Yeah, tonight too," he told me, showing me the flat side of it as he moved closer to me, putting it down on the nightstand.
"I've never held one," I admitted as he moved in closer, his legs touching my knees as he towered over me.
"You wanna?"
"Yes."
"You want me to teach you?"
There was no rational reason for it, but those words made my sex clench hard.
"Would you?"
At that, he suddenly reached down, snagging me behind the knees, and yanking hard enough that my arms flew out, and my back hit the mattress as he pulled my knees up around his hips as he pressed down, his cock rubbing against my cleft.
"Teach you anything you want," he promised. "But first..." he trailed off as he finally came fully over me, his lips claiming mine.
There was no more talking then.
Just feeling.
Just his strong, wide hands on my skin, yanking down my shirt and bra so he could suck my nipples into his mouth, trace them with his tongue, bite them until my back arched almost painfully off the mattress.
His body yanked away suddenly, reaching down to discard his boxer briefs, reaching into the nightstand to protect us, then grabbing my hips, and flipping me over onto my stomach.
