Rafe (Inked Brotherhood 5)

“The hell he is. Tell him no.” Zane’s dark eyes blaze with fury. He pushes me back, and my head hits the wall. “Just tell him no.”

“Get off me.” I shove him back, my heart booming too loud in my ears. “You think I haven’t tried all I could? Fuck you. It’s not up to me, don’t you get it?”

Zane pulls away, his eyes flashing wide. His shoulders stiffen. “You serious? We’re gonna lose Damage?”

I swallow hard and nod. Knowing this has been a knife in my chest, twisting every day. But hell, telling Zane hasn’t made it any easier, hasn’t taken the pain away.

Especially when he kicks at the door and storms out.

Goddammit.

I groan. What a shitstorm. Zane must hate my guts for letting this happen. I don’t know how I could have prevented it, predicted it even, but this is my mess, and now my friends are caught in it.

Always the same shit. Always letting my people down.

I kick back with my heel, smash my fists into the wall, leaving bloody smears. Why can’t I do anything right? Find a solution when it’s needed—save everyone for once?

With a jerk, I push off and head to the lockers. I almost break the key as I unlock mine and grab my stuff to go. My heart thumps so hard I think it’s gonna break out of my chest.

I stand for a moment there, my bag and jacket in my hands, wondering what the hell I should do.

Megan’s face flickers in my mind, the need to see her overwhelming, but I shake my head at myself, heft my bag and get the hell out.

***

Haven’t been to college for days, blowing my classes, unable to concentrate, unable to do a single useful thing. Lost time. Instead, I pace my room as the last light fades outside, fists clenched at my sides, the gauze taped to my torn knuckles wet with blood.

Blood fills my thoughts. I sleep and dream of it. I wake up and remember it. There’s no escape. No forgiveness.

In a moment of clarity—or insanity?—I went and bought sleeping pills. Probably insanity, because once I start on pills again, I’ll get hooked before you can blink and all the damn effort I put into getting rid of the addiction will go down the drain.

All my efforts are heading that way, from the looks of it.

Pacing up and down isn’t helping calm the storm inside me, and exhaustion turns my feet to stone. I sink on my bed and lean back on the pillows, an arm folded behind my head, my mind turning in circles.

Wish the shop were mine. Wish Zane would return my calls. Wish… Wish Megan were here.

Don’t know why the hell I’m so fascinated by her. She’s hot, that’s for sure. Luscious. All that caramel skin and the dark eyes, the roundness of her tits and that ass...

But that’s not all.

Absently I unzip my jeans and reach for my hardening dick that’s trapped painfully inside. No, that’s not all. There’s a cloud in her eyes, a dark undercurrent in her words and bearing that reminds me of myself. Like she’s also trying to outrun the ghosts of her past.

I curl my hand around my cock, tug on the piercings and hiss at the jolt of pain/pleasure that shoots up my spine. I have an Ampallang, a straight barbell going through the head of my dick, and a Frenum, a silver hoop on the underside. They’re supposed to enhance pleasure, but I tug on them hard, the jab of pain grounding me.

I need the pain. I stroke my cock, pumping slowly, always returning to the barbell and hoop when it gets good, stopping the pleasure. Seeking the burn.

However, as I picture her in my mind, the pleasure keeps building. I hiss, dragging my fist up and down my aching length as I imagine her leaning over me. Skin glowing, breasts threatening to spill from her bra, dark hair hanging forward, brushing over my skin.

Oh fuck.

I pull my dick out, hissing at the drag of cloth over the oversensitive skin. My back arches on the mattress as I squeeze harder. She’d be smiling, her eyes gleaming under her lashes, as she reaches up and tugs down the straps of her bra. Her breasts spill out and sway. She bends lower, and her nipples brush over my stomach.

The muscles below my navel contract at the image, and I suck in a sharp breath. I imagine her breath warm on my dick, her fingertips teasing me as they slide down my thighs, and my balls tighten.

Goddammit. No. Not like this. Not without her.

But I can’t fucking have her. She’s with someone else. She doesn’t want a loser like me.