A Gorgeous Villain (St. Mary's Rebels 2)

Turns out though, I’m not that much of a good girl and he’s not all villainous.

Right in front of my eyes, Reed comes down on his knees.

His knees hit the ground, his bones crunching the leaves into the earth, and the sound of it echoes in my body.

In my heart.

Then he presses his open mouth on my swollen belly, the belly he gave me and where his baby is sleeping now that he’s here. He presses his lips onto it and, closing his eyes, he simply breathes.

Slowly and methodically, as if calming himself.

As if breathing like this, gulping air with his open mouth on my pregnant belly, is the only way he’ll live.

And I let him do that.

I let him do whatever he wants, whatever he needs to relax. I rake my fingers through his thick, dark hair. I rub his back, his shoulders. I caress his jaw. I let him be.

I love him with my fingers as he gets his breath back.

My gorgeous villain.

A few moments later, he lifts his head, his eyes burning. “You know I’ll do anything to protect you, don’t you? To protect her.”

I nod my head. “I know. I already know that.”

“I’ll turn this world upside down, Fae. I’ll destroy anything, anyone, I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.”

I put my forehead against his, smiling slightly. “I know you will. But you don’t have to. Because we’re safe.”

Something emerges in his gaze again, that panic that I saw, but it’s not as dominant now that he’s touching me and our baby. Now that he’s studying my face from this close, his body so tall that he’s right there, up to my eye level.

“I made you dance for me,” he says in a low voice. “Here, for the first time.”

My heart flutters. “You did.”

“And you called me a villain.”

I caress his face again. “That’s because you were acting like one.”

“I was, yeah.”

“And the song you chose was offensive.”

It was.

About a ballerina who dances for him like a stripper. It reeked of sex.

His kind of sex, all dirty and filthy and oh so good.

A puff of air escapes him as he chuckles. “I know.”

“So you did it on purpose, then?”

He licks his lips. “Fuck yeah. I’d been dreaming about you spinning on your toes for me to that song.”

“You’d been dreaming about me?”

“Yes, Fae. I’d see you spinning at Blue Madonna, pink cheeks and heaving chest. In your frilly tutus, looking all pretty and fairy-like. And I’d go home and jerk off to making that fairy dance dirty for me.”

God.

God.

One day I’m going to find out all his secrets. All the things that he hides from me.

All the things that make me fall in love with him more and more.

Things that are both my salvation and damnation.

“I loved it,” I whisper, curling my ballerina toes in my flats. “That song.”

“Yeah, you loved dancing dirty for me?”

My hands have come down to his shoulders and I fist his hoodie. “Yes.”

A puff of air escapes him again as he chuckles slightly, his eyes intense. “God, Fae, you kill me, you know that?”

“Is that why you brought me here?” I whisper breathily. “Because I danced for you in this place?”

“Tell me what else happened here,” he rasps instead of answering me.

I don’t even have to think about all the things that happened in these woods. They are written in my soul, in the chambers of my heart.

I see them in my dreams.

“You kissed me in the rain,” I reply.

“Yeah, for the first time.”

“And you let me go after.”

His eyes glint then. “I did. I let you escape my evil clutches unscathed.”

Goosebumps wake upon my skin as I say, “You’re not going to this time, are you?”

He slowly shakes his head. “No.”

A current goes through my channel. A thick, pulsing current.

A current that makes me needy and makes me clench my thighs when he continues, “Tell me what’s going to happen to you now. Here.”

Somehow he’s grown even closer or maybe I’m losing my mind, I don’t know.

But I feel his words on my chest, on the lacy neck of my summer dress showing a slight cleavage. My swollen breasts and my nipples perk up.

“You’re going to fuck me.”

A flush of arousal appears on his features. “Yeah. Tell me where.”

I don’t know how it’s possible for him to look so large and looming and inevitable like fate when he’s on his knees, but he does look like that.

He does look like my destiny.

He does look unstoppable, written in the stars, and I bite my lip for a second before saying, “In my pussy.”

His fingers twist my dress. “Yeah, in your tight little pregnant pussy. But tell me, Fae. Tell me if you think I’ll stop there.”

The lust in his eyes makes me squirm and somehow I know the answer. “You won’t.”