Outcasts (Badlands 3)

“You want me to fuck you bloody? Remember you asked for this.”

He added pressure to the blade. I moaned as it bit into my skin, the burn increasing the pressure in my lower stomach.

I felt the blood begin to trickle a split second before he pulled the knife away. Immediately, he had the blade pressing into the flesh of my shoulder, diggin in hard enough to make me flinch.

He was quick and efficient with whatever he was doin. In less than ten seconds, he had the blade tossed to the side and was shoving me further into the ground as he lifted my hips.

Cupping some of the blood running down my neck, he leaned back slightly to reposition himself and spread my left cheek open. Using his bloody fingers, he pressed into my ass.

I tensed, my breath catchin in my throat. No one had touched me there since that night.

I remembered the tearing and the pain, suddenly wanting to feel it from him. I knew he’d make it better. He repeated the same process as before, this time taking the sticky crimson from my shoulder.

“Next time, I’ll carve the R,” he flippantly said.

I didn’t understand what he’d meant right away, realizing he’d carved the first letter of his name into my skin a second too late.

He had the head of his cock lined up at the rim, and was shoving the fingers he’d just used to lube me in my mouth.

“You’re going to scream. Bite down,” he commanded, fully burying himself inside my ass.

It wasn’t an option not to do as he said.

My jaw slammed together as he viciously plunged in and out of the sensitive hole. I screamed, feelin my legs tremble. The pain and pleasure had unfettered tears streaming down my face.

He battered me completely. I couldn’t take it.

My body was a live wire one minute and a ragin inferno of pure bliss the next. I cried out, the pleasure shredding me apart as I hit a peak I’d never climbed before and hurtled over the edge.

He rode my body for what felt like hours, leavin me a boneless pile of mush by time he climaxed. I was barely aware I was even breathin when he smeared his excess semen and my come into my bloody skin before bringing them back to my mouth. I sucked them clean like they were coated in an elixir.

Suddenly, he grinned and looked over his shoulder. “You enjoy the show you sick fuck?”

Oh, lawd. I pulled my mouth from his fingers and hid my face.

“Personally, Grimmy, I would have added a bit more rhythm, but I’ll give you a solid eight out of nine!” Cobra yelled from the other side of the clearing, following it with a laugh.

I shook my head, fighting my own grin. I hadn’t even realized the damn peepin Tom was watchin u

s.

Grimm maneuvered me so I was on my side and he could press himself into my back.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Brat,” he murmured, running his hand over my hip, both of us fell silent, spent, lying in the dirt.

I didn’t care I had leaves all in my hair, my skin was stinging where he’d cut me open, or that I probably wouldn’t be able to walk come sunrise.

.I was addicted to the way he numbed the hurt in my brain by givin me a different kind of pain. He made my worn heart ache in the best way possible.

Grimm had never been the cure; he’d always been the disease. My fucked up remedy, a poison I would willingly ingest until my dying day.

“Knowing or not knowing what you do now, do you ever miss your old life?” he asked me, toying with a strand of my hair.

We were still lying on the ground, but clothed again, his hoodie a blanket. I was certain my body was nothin more than a stiff piece of cardboard at the moment.

We’d only been awake maybe thirty minutes, but I was ready to get this conversation over with now.

I looked up at his bearded face. Naturally, I could’ve just told him no, but it was somewhat of a lie.