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I loosened my grip on her hair, easing my cock out of her mouth, loving the way it glistened with her spit. Her lips were swollen. Her chest heaved with every breath she took as she filled her lungs back with air after choking on my dick. She looked up at me with dark blue eyes, and a possessive rage surged through me. I never wanted those eyes looking up at any other man like this, never wanted that pretty little mouth on another cock. The way I felt right now, I would slice a motherfucker from his belly button to his chin just for looking at her.
I bent down, reached in my pocket, and pulled out two bags, tossing one on the nightstand and opening the other. Then I coated the palm of my hand in white powder. Lyric’s eyes widened as some of it spilled on her tits and all over the floor. I would lick that off in a minute—her tits, not the floor.
“Lincoln…”
I knew she wanted no part of this. She never had. Drugs were one habit she vowed to stay far, far away from. I should have respected that.
I didn’t.
Then again, I never claimed to be a gentleman.
Until now, I’d limited it to Percs and weed around her. But I was pissed off with a point to prove. I was done with the jealous games.
“Sshh,” I ran the pad of my thumb over her lips, then brought my hand to my dick. The powder on my palm mixed with her saliva as I stroked back and forth. Fuuuuck. My eyes met hers. “I got you.” I licked my lips. “Trust me.”
“I’m not sucking coke off your dick.”
That was my girl. Always feisty. Always fighting me.
Too bad, I always won.
I tipped my chin toward the bed. “Lay down.”
She climbed on the bed, settling her head on the pillow. Her blonde hair spread around her like a halo, but we both knew she was no angel.
I settled between her legs. “Wider.”
Her knees fell to the side, giving me a front-row view of exactly how wet I’d made her. Jesus.
The coke was working. I felt hard as a rock and invincible.
Lyric shot up, shoving her hands on my shoulders when I held the bag over her bare pussy. I was bigger, stronger, harder. Her little push didn’t even make me budge.
“I said I got you, Songbird.” I covered her cunt from front to back in coke, using my fingers to line it up along her seam. Then I dropped the nearly empty bag next to the other one on the nightstand.
I licked my lips and moved back between her legs. She fell back onto the pillow, relaxing the second my mouth met her clit. The bitter powder coated my tongue, but all I wanted was more. More of that sweetness underneath. More of her. It was a high like no other, seeing her tits and pussy covered in coke, knowing she’d let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to her perfect little body, proving to both of us that she was mine. I’d never been so fucking turned on in my life.
Thunderous shouts filled the empty penthouse, jarring me back to the present. The two guards from downstairs stormed into Lyric’s bedroom, arms in front of them, guns pointed right at me.
There were moments in life when you could practically hear the seconds ticking by.Tick. Tick. Tick.Everything seemed to still, and you knew that at that moment, as soon as the next second ticked, nothing would ever be the same. I was trapped at that moment, frozen between theticks.
“Where is she?” I shouted back.
“Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head!”
“Where the fuck is she?” This time I roared.
“Your little girlfriend OD’d, and you’re fucking up the evidence,” the guard I’d brought to his knees said. “Now get on the goddamn ground.”
My chest caved in on itself, crushing what little bit of a heart I had left. The rest happened in slow motion. Something solid smashed against the side of my head, the butt of a gun maybe. Maybe it was the same baton I crushed his balls with. I wasn’t sure. The cut on my face exploded in a mess of blood. Pain, paralyzing and razor-sharp shot through my bones, making me vomit all over the wool rug that spread out from under her bed. And then I was on my stomach, face smashed against the ground with the scent of my puke burning my nostrils. A heavy boot stomped on my back, pinning me in place. My skull was throbbing, my vision blurred, and my stomach churning. The pressure on my back felt as though it would snap my spine in two.
But none of that mattered.
She was gone.
And I’d been too fucked up to clearly remember the last words I’d said to her.
The guard buried the steel muzzle of his gun in the crook of my neck, right where my skull met my spine.
I reared my head back, pressing the gun harder against my skin. “Do it.” Spit flew from my mouth as the first trail of tears stained my cheeks. “You think I’m afraid to die?” I had nothing left to live for. “I said, do it, you chickenshit.” It would be easy to put an end to it all—welcome, even.
Lyric was dead because of me, and all I wanted to do was roll over, grab the burly motherfucker’s gun that was pointed at the back of my head and make sure I died right along with her.
