Outcasts (Badlands 3)

“Fuck,” he cursed, tensing in my arms. I pressed down, making sure I felt every twitch of his dick and as much of his come spurting inside me as I could. I held him close, never wanting to let go.

Chapter Twelve

I wasn’t sorry about what I’d done, but I didn’t expect Grimm to feel the same way.

I admit I was confused when I dared look him in the eye again and saw his signature dark stare—the one that gave nothin away.

I’d been expecting to see anger, at the very least. I mean, I’d just trapped his swimmers inside me, and he didn’t know I was on a contraceptive.

Feelin something wet under my fingertips, I drew my hands around, letting out a soft gasp when I saw blood.

“I’m sorry, Grimm, I wasn’t tryna hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Brat, if that’s your definition of hurting me, by all means, fuck me up,” he laughed softly.

“That might scar.” I pointed out with more than a hint of concern, tryna turn him around so I could see the damage.

Grabbing my hand, he captured my bloody fingertips on his soft lips. Keeping eye contact, he sucked them into his mouth, right down to the knuckle, cleaning them with his tongue.

“You’re so dirty,” I laughed.

“Babygirl, this is me being clean.” He gave me a lil smirk and stepped back, taking his semi-hard cock with him.

“I want you to scar me, make me bleed. Use me anytime y

ou want. I’ll be doing the same to you soon enough.”

I wanted him to do that right that second, even as I sat there with burnin skin, an achin, swollen pussy, and his come drippin between my wide open legs.

But I knew there was too much we hadn’t discussed. Actually, we hadn’t spoken about a damn thing aside from cementin in the fact that I was his and he was mine. Not that it was much of a discussion, considerin I’d been his from the very day he put me in a chokehold upon our first meeting.

“We should probably…discuss all the stuff that needs discussing,” I said. “Like me bein on birth control, not that you seem to concerned. Should I be worried about that? Is this a typical thing you do? Cause you sure won’t be anymore, so if there’s some pretty lil thing waitin for you at home with her heart on her sleeve, let me know. I’ll make sure she and I have a clear understandin of who the hell you belong to.”

Not givin me an immediate response, Grimm grabbed the duffel bag we’d knocked on the floor and sat it on the bed.

“You’ve been my main priority since you went missing. If you want me to say that I didn’t shove my dick down someone’s throat, I’d be lying to you. But none of those bitches are around anymore, and you know what happened to them.”

He went back to being quiet after that, but I could tell he had more to say. I let him work it out in his head, not pushin. He’d been so open with me, I couldn’t be upset. Grimm wasn’t a talkative man. I would accept this for the simple fact that there wasn’t a single thing about him I wanted to change.

I took the small bundle of fresh clothes Cobra had had the foresight to bring, and watched him tear open a packet of wet wipes.

He shook one out and stepped between my legs, gently wiping my face clean.

The thin piece of cotton was cool and smelled like lavender. I shut my eyes, letting him work, keeping them closed when he began to speak.

“You make me feel shit I’ve never felt before, want things I didn’t think I’d want. I fucking hated that when I first met you.

Why do you think I tossed your ass right back to the cannibal who was chasing you?” He began rubbing down my arms next.

“You were right. Maybe you ain’t so good at this,” I quipped, opening my eyes. “You also helped hold a damn machete on top of my head, but we can just sweep that under the rug.”

“I was ready to kill you to prevent this. Look at us now, though, destined to be epically fucked up,” he joked, laughing beneath his breath.

“I’m gonna have to shut you down, because I’m one hundred percent sound of mind,” I deadpanned.

He tossed another wipe down and gave me a serious look.

“I’m not a poet, Brat. I can’t give you long, drawn out exclamations drenched in honey. Words always fade away, and eventually mean nothing. I let my actions speak for me.”