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“Mine.”
???
21.
Rogue
When I get up the next morning, Bellamy is still asleep soundly next to me. She’s got to be exhausted.
I woke her up twice during the night to take her roughly, riding her mercilessly until she screamed my name.
She made a mistake letting me fuck her. I thought once I did, it would have scratched the metaphorical itch and my weird fascination with her would be over.
Somehow, it’s having the reverse effect.
We’ve only fucked three times, but my insatiable hunger for her grows with every time I slide in to her tight heat. The way she mewls and whines as she adjusts around me is fucking addictive, those sounds leaving her sweet lips and shooting straight to my dick.
I know she’s going to be sore today, but I couldn’t stop myself or the way I attacked her. Not after she covered up the proof of my possession and especially not after I caught her in a dark hallway with Jeremy’s hands all over her.
My fists clench as I think back to that moment and the poisonous feeling that’d exploded in my chest at the sight.
It was like witnessing someone coveting and attempting to steal something that very much belonged to me.
My teeth grind together so hard at the thought, I’m afraid I’ll snap my jaw. That asshole had a lucky escape from his fate last night.
I’m pulling on a pair of trousers when I hear Bellamy moan softly next to me. She’s on her stomach, the side of her face buried in the pillow as she sleeps like the dead. Her hair is splayed around her, her lips parted slightly as she breathes softly.
Swift possessiveness grabs me as I take her in. She looks so innocent and vulnerable when she sleeps, like she trusts that nothing can hurt her if I’m right there. As if the most dangerous predator isn’t the one who’s been sleeping curled around her.
I want you to show me every side of you.
Fuck, those words had done something indescribable to me. I’d unleashed myself on her and as promised, she’d taken it all.
I fucking love knowing I was her first. The beast inside me pounds its chest in shameless victory as I remember the feeling of breaching her walls.
I need to leave before I fuck her again.
I jog down to the kitchen and am shirtless, pouring myself a glass of juice in the kitchen when Nera, Sixtine, and Thayer come thundering in.
“If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, Muhammad will come to the mountain. Or however that goes.” Thayer announces with a careless shrug of her shoulder as she takes me in. “Hello shirtless.”
“It’s the opposite. Why are you here, barging in like you own the place?”
“That’s what I like to call my best friend privilege. If you weren’t keeping Bellamy here against her will, I wouldn’t have to resort to such extreme measures.” She says, jabbing a finger in my direction. “But as it is, we want to spend time with her since she Irish exited last night – which I’m sure you had something to do with – so, we brought breakfast.”
“She looks like she’s really suffering here.” I say, looking past Thayer with a smirk.
All three girls turn around to see Bellamy standing in the entryway, wearing one of my t-shirts and nothing else. I can’t help the self-satisfied look on my face when I see her.
She looks well fucked.
She’s covered in love bites, her lips are swollen and red, her hair mussed like hands spent hours weaving in and out of her thick strands.
They did.
Bellamy rubs her eyes, sleepily. She looks so fucking adorable standing there, so vulnerable and untarnished that I actually feel something move in the general area where a heart should be.
It’s a single, strong, emphatic beat. Just the one, but it’s so foreign to me, it rings like a shotgun in an empty cathedral to my ears.
