The Wild Mustang & The Dancing Fairy (St. Mary’s Rebels 1.5)

I want to say that he shouldn’t curse so much.

That he shouldn’t use such dirty language.

But then I’d be lying because I want him to.

I want him to say these things, I want him to talk to me like that, like he’s the filthiest guy in the world and I’m the most innocent girl who’s never heard these things before, the girl that he wants to corrupt.

“Yes, I know,” I tell him.

“Yeah, you know that I’d become what they call me. That if I catch even a whiff of her scent, I’ll go wild. I’ll become an animal and I’ll snap my teeth and I’ll snarl. And nothing would calm me down except her, except the sight of her, the taste of her. You know I’ll become a villain for your fairy pussy.”

My hands creep up his chest and my fingers cradle his bruised jaw, my thumbs rubbing his stubble. “A gorgeous villain.”

He presses his fingers on my waist, almost picking me up off the ground. “So you were getting her ready. Like the good girl you are. You were warming her up for me.”

I wind my arms around his neck. “Uh-huh.”

“In your bedroom.”

“At night,” I continue.

“And what were your brothers doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“Where?”

“Down the hall.” Something violent passes through his features so I explain, “But it’s okay. Because I’m quiet. I bite on my pillow. When I come.”

His jaw moves back and forth before he somehow open his mouth and grunts, “So they don’t know.”

“No.”

“They don’t know that every night their innocent little sister touches her innocent little pussy for me. For the guy they hate.”

“I don’t want them to hate you,” I confess.

He ignores my words and continues, “They don’t know that she gets down on her knees for him. She rubs her pussy until she drips and then she bites her pillow to keep quiet. So no one ever knows what she does when she locks her door at night. And she does it all to get herself ready for the guy they’ve warned her about. So he could abuse that pussy and make her like it.”

“I would. I would like it,” I tell him as if he doesn’t already know.

He swallows then. “I know you would. Because I’d make it good for you. I’d make it so good that you’d be addicted. You’d become a junkie and you’d beg me for a fix. I told you that, didn’t I? I told you that every girl begs and you will too.”

My spine arches at his tone as if he’s pulling on all my strings and I nod.

“Yes. I will. I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

“You’ll beg me to spread your legs. To use that that tight little fairy hole and stick it to your brothers. You’ll beg me to destroy you in your good girl bedroom while they sleep just down the hall. While I make you moan in your lacy pillow and make you betray your brothers every night. And then, ask me, what will I do?”

My breaths are all but gone right now but I somehow wheeze out, “What?”

“I’ll tell them,” he says with a cold, humorless, half smile. “I’ll tell them how pretty their sister looked when she opened her legs for me last night. I’ll fucking brag about banging their sister under their noses.”

“You wouldn’t.” I shake my head. “I trust you.”

Maybe it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, even stupider than all the things I’ve been saying tonight, but I do.

I do trust him.

He had all the opportunity, didn’t he?

He could’ve told them.

He could’ve used me against Ledger. He could’ve bragged if he wanted to.

But he didn’t.

He kept our secret. Day after day, night after night.

I know he’s trying to scare me away but I’m not going anywhere.

He scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what stupid little girls say before they get into the car with a stranger who takes them away and locks her up in a room for the rest of her life.”

“I –”

“So you need to go home, understand?” he says, letting me go. “You need to leave me alone because as I said, I’m not thinking straight right now.”

“Do it,” I tell him, ignoring his command for the thousandth time. “Make me do things. Everything you said. All of them. Please.”

“Fae –”

“Please. Destroy me, Roman,” I beg like he told me I would, and a shudder passes through him and through me too.

I stretch myself up then, as much as I can, and put my mouth on him.

On his Adam’s apple.

I lick the bulge, his rough stubble, and I would’ve gone on to do more if he hadn’t wrapped my braid around his wrist and pulled my head back.

If he hadn’t made me look at him.

I shiver at the look on his face.

I shake with fear and anticipation.

His eyes have gone all dark like the night around us and his jaw has morphed into a true V. With his angry bruises, he looks so dangerous, so gorgeous that I whisper again, “Please, Roman.”