Savage Little Lies: Chapter 24

Sloane

I stopped by the house to get some clothes the next morning and a few things for Bruno too. He wanted his handheld video game and something to cover himself with, something that wasn’t a backless hospital gown.

I planned to reject the latter request but did tell him I’d bring him his video game. We didn’t know how long he’d be in the hospital, but we might as well prepare for however long it took.

As far as school, I didn’t know about that either. Hell, I didn’t know about it for me. We were off on a holiday today, but I went ahead and had Callum call me in for the rest of the week. I didn’t plan to leave the hospital.

I thought Ares might give me a harder time about that. We obviously hadn’t worked on the project since before the weekend, but he hadn’t mentioned it once yesterday when he came by. He’d been cool, and in any sense, school and his project were the last things on my mind anyway. I was still stressing out about my brother.

Amongst other things.

I kept that all out of my mind as I pulled up toward the house. Upon rolling up the hill, I was mulling over the list of items I wanted to grab, but it all fell out of my head when I realized a car was parked outside of the gate.

I recognized it.

Dorian Prinze had his arm out of the window, his head angled in my direction when I came up. He had sunglasses on, the morning light flickering across his sun-spun locks.

Wetting his lips, he pulled them off his eyes, squinting like the sun bothered him. His mouth pulled into a tight line, and I thought he was about to get out of his car.

Which had been why I pulled on.

I had no idea why he was here, but I didn’t fucking care. My window was still broken from him and his crazier-than-fuck rage.

I cruised on and believed he’d get the hint.

He didn’t.

Right away, the growl of his Audi hit the air, the sports car following behind me. I let him get as far as my garage before I hopped out of the car.

He did too, the thing snapping shut when he came around. He’d returned his glasses to his face, but he tugged them off when I stalked toward him.

He looked like a wreck, and completely different than when I’d seen him yesterday. For starters, he had bags under his eyes, his hair messed about on one side. He worked his shoulder as he strode toward me, and I wondered how long he’d been in his car.

I wondered how long he’d been outside my house.

This begged the question why, and his split knuckles definitely gave me pause when I saw them. They hadn’t been like that yesterday either.

But then again, Ares’s face hadn’t looked that way until I’d seen him the second time. Dorian’s hand was obviously the source of this.

“We need to talk.” He didn’t acknowledge his hand, and his eyes were red too. In fact, they were bloodshot. His throat worked. “We’re going to talk.”

He stated this to me as if it were a command.

The audacity.

He wanted to talk. Now, he wanted to talk, and I was apparently supposed to listen. I cocked my head. “What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

His growl sounded low, deep and predatory. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not playing a game with you, Noa,” he said, the only one who ever called me Noa. Like ever. He forced a breath through his lips. “So as much as you love your fucking sass, I don’t need it right now.”

Why would I care about what he needed? I shook my head. “Go to hell.”

I whipped around, but he was fast.

He cut me off before I even hit the garage and had hands on me even quicker.

“Stop,” I gritted, his hands too hot through my shirt, his gaze too pointed on me. Dark and ignited, his smoky irises pinned me in place. “Let me go, Dorian.”

He ignored the warning in my voice, the plea to stop this. Every moment with him tore at my insides.

I felt cut to ribbons.

I swallowed it all back as my breath hiked and he homed in.

“Tell me the truth.” Harsh breaths heated my face, his nostrils flaring. “I’ll know if you’re lying. I’ll know if you’re fucking lying, so don’t lie to me, Noa.”

His words were anything but steady.

His hold on me matched.

He was visibly shaking above me, on me. His jaw shifted. “Did something happen between you and Ares?”

“What?”

His eyes closed in that moment. Like it was taking everything inside him not to level the world as it stood. He gripped my arms. “Did something happen between you and him?”

Out of all the things he could ask me…

I didn’t think it’d be that.

I thought he’d come at me about anything else. I was the liar to him. The traitor, but that wasn’t what he asked about.

I shoved him off me, and I think he only let go due to pure shock. He hadn’t been anticipating it. “There is no me and Ares, you stupid fucker.”

His eyes flashed, mine too actually. The words exploded out of me, and I felt like I too would level the world in this second.

I gasped. “I was worried about you.” I blinked, my eyes fucking cloudy for some reason. “Before you left, I was freaking out about you and your family. What you all had to be going through after that video came out…”

His mouth parted, his eyes narrowing. It was like he couldn’t compute, and I couldn’t either.

My jaw moved. “And what’s worse is, I still did that.” I nodded. “You still crossed my mind, even though you called me a liar.” I lifted and dropped my hands. “I can’t see past you, and I hate myself for it.”

He was wrapped in my head, a fucking tether I couldn’t even use a machete to hack through.

Dorian distanced slightly, his chest rising with breath. He probably saw me as pathetic, another groupie Court bitch who was falling all over herself for him. I mean, what other girl still thought about someone when they did that to them?

I cringed. “There’s no me and anyone else. There’s no Ares and me because even after you left, left me, you’re still in my fucking head.”

He’d once called me the head-fuck, but he had played the worst game of all. He’d etched himself into my brain, and I couldn’t escape him.

I cared about him.

Shunning away from it, I raised my hands. “You stay away from me, Dorian Prinze.” My throat jumped. “You get away from me.”

He twitched, the words he’d said repeated back to him. I’d done it on purpose. I wanted to cut him. I wanted to hurt him as bad as he’d hurt me, and it might have worked had I actually believed what I said. I would have been able to make him believe. I would have been able to lie.

But I was such a bad liar.

His hand braced behind my neck, and when he swiveled me around, he collided our mouths. I gasped.

“Stop,” I cried, my words saying one thing but my mouth another. He deepened our kiss, and I kissed right back. “I can’t.”

I couldn’t do this anymore, the head trip.

“Don’t fight me,” he gritted, my lip pinched between his teeth. He bit down. “Don’t. I need this. Please… I need this.”

He released my lip, his mouth closing down on mine. He drank me in, and I did cry.

Our faces were wet between us.

Where the emotion flowed from, my tears, I didn’t know. Maybe because I knew I’d regret it the minute I let him kiss me. I knew this was wrong, and that I’d both hate myself and him even more after it was over.

But that didn’t stop me from letting him into my house.

It didn’t stop me from letting him in my bed. We shed clothes along the way, toeing off shoes, socks. I jumped, and he caught me, falling down on the bed with me.

The springs labored under his weight, Dorian down to his jeans. He kissed me hard into the sheets, his bulky arms crowding around me.

“Tell me you’re not fucking with me,” he rasped, shaking above me. He pulled my lips apart. “Tell me I’m not an idiot.”

He was an idiot, and I was too. We were both so toxic to each other. We were this mass of chaos, sex, and anger…

But if he thought I was lying, lying about his arrest and anything else, that wasn’t true.

“I’m not fucking with you.” And God did I wish I was. I wanted to play him. I wanted to be the bad guy after what he’d done to me. That would have made all this easier.

It would have made these feelings go away.

I would have deserved everything that happened, but I didn’t.

A noise rumbled from Dorian’s chest, his mouth chasing a line to my navel. He had me down to my bra and panties, his teeth nipping small bites to my inner thighs.

“Open your legs for me,” he gritted, his hair tangled in my fingers. “I need your fucking taste.”

I called out as his tongue lapped through my underwear. He got a handful of my ass before he shoved two fingers past my panties.

I bucked on his digits, grinding against his face. I touched my breast, and he blew heat over my panty-covered sex.

“Be my dirty girl, Noa,” he stated, pulling his fingers out of me. He outlined my lips before pushing past them. I sucked them hard, and his eyes flared. “Fuck. Why are you so fucking good at this?”

As if he needed a taste, he kissed me after, his tongue hot and greedy. He got a handful of my underwear before tugging them off me so hard they ripped.

“These are mine,” he growled, shoving them in his pocket. I didn’t know what he’d do with them, but he was obviously taking them. He gripped my face. “No one else gets to taste you.”

I let him think that, almost believing it when he disappeared between my legs. He wrapped my legs behind his neck, then proceeded to suck my lower lips into his mouth.

“Dorian,” I ground out, my sex aching. He had the nerve to chuckle over me.

“No one else makes you feel this way, Noa,” he said, his tongue shoving into my heat. “No one else can do this for you.”

It was as if he was telling himself that as much as me, and how I wanted him to be wrong. I needed him to be wrong. Dorian Prinze wasn’t good for me. I didn’t want him.

But the way my body sang for him.

I didn’t need to say a word, my body responding to every lick and flick of his tongue. His laughter, deep and gravelly, only egged it on. He knew exactly what he was doing both to me and for me. He had full control over my body.

But that didn’t mean he owned it.

It didn’t mean he owned me, his fingers pulling through blond strands when he came up. He unstrapped my bra, freeing my breasts. He bit me with a wet mouth, sucking my nipples and coating them with my own juices. His tongue swirled, and I nearly came on his leg.

He forced my sex away.

“Taste me,” he commanded, his tongue flicking my nipple. “I want to feel your mouth on me.”

It wasn’t a request, his fingers curling in my hair. Dorian never asked for anything. He took, and I hated that I wanted to give him exactly what he wanted. I couldn’t stand that I wanted to taste him, that I missed him. I wet my lips, and he grinned.

“Let me feel your throat,” he coached, his fly open and his jeans sagging low on his hips. He shoved them down, his dick tenting his boxers. “Noa…”

I rubbed him, his growl heavy, feral. He probed into my hand, steel in my palm. I pulled him out, and he angled toward my face.

A tight, “Fuck,” fell from his lips as he pushed past my lips. I hadn’t sucked him off in a while. “Fuck, yes, Noa.”

His taste affected me more than I liked, my head bobbing. I moaned, and the moment he stiffened, I thought he’d come down my throat.

He didn’t, angling off me. He kissed me again, pinching my nipples, and I cursed.

“Oh my God,” I panted, his hand pushing between my legs. He gripped my sex, and I grabbed his biceps. “Dorian.”

“Don’t talk. Just scream.” He bit my mouth, hard and my eyes rolled back so far I thought I’d see the inside of my skull.

My hips bucked against his hand, his other one forming around my neck.

He leaned me back while he took the seconds required to sheath himself. He kicked his jeans off, then didn’t ask permission before he angled himself inside.

He cursed with every thrust, stabbing me, and I bit his shoulder, my attempt not to scream and do once again what he said. He had me under his command so well.

It didn’t work in the end, his name falling from my lips. In fact, I screamed so loud when I came I had ringing in my ears.

“You didn’t wait for me,” he said, smiling before taking my lips. He squeezed my neck, fucking me harder and harder until he too was shaking.

Until we both collapsed.

He slowed as he milked my sex and didn’t stop kissing me even after his hips stopped. He just kept saying one word again and again.

“Mine,” he said, biting, tonguing my mouth. “Mine.”

He was disillusioned enough to think it. All of his words obviously that. Dorian Prinze was reminding me of his claim on my body.

And I let him because, in that moment, I was disillusioned enough to believe it too.