While She Sleeps: The Dirty Heroes Collection Page 9

  “I don’t understand.” I fold my arms across my chest as the chill seeps through my clothes, taking root in the marrow of my bones.

  “It all sounds so far-fetched,” Logan says as he chuckles. “But she said I would always crave darkness. That I was born with it, but only when I turned eighteen would I truly know what it means. My birthday was the day before; she didn’t realize she was warning him a day late.”

  16

  Logan

  I recall every moment of that night. The woman who sounded like a witch sending out a curse into the world for me chilled me to the bone. She was there for a reason, and I never learned who she was. My father never told me about it, and I never asked. I wanted to, but I knew he wouldn’t offer me the truth.

  “What do you mean?” Dad’s voice is cold, filled with ice, and drenched in poison. I’ve heard him angry before, but this is something else. I can’t see his face, but I can certainly picture how it’s screwed up with anger.

  “He is going to find the darkness that resides inside him,” she speaks again. My body is rigid with fear, with a violent cold that’s threaded through my veins. “And when he does, he’ll never find true happiness.”

  “He walked away from her. I couldn’t stop him.” My father’s voice is urgent as if he’s trying to convince himself and her of what I did today.

  Silence greets me, and I’m tempted to push the door open, but I can’t. If I do, he’ll hear me, see me, and then I’ll be in worse trouble than I am right now. I know I should’ve stayed and spoken to the girl. But how can my father expect me to want her?

  “Don’t put this on him,” my father pleads. “If anything, let him go from this stupidity.”

  “This is on you,” the woman says. “He will spend his life alone. Broken. His soul, which was once light and carefree, will be tainted with the darkness that you hold in your bloodline.”

  “No!” The roar of the word rumbles through the walls, and it doesn’t take long for it to hit me right in the chest. “You will not do this to him.”

  “It is done, Oakridge,” she responds quickly “You know I can ruin you with the information I have.”

  “What happened then?” Vera’s soft, innocent tone drags me from the horrid memory, causing me to turn around and finally face her.

  “It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly, with every girl I spent time with, it never worked. I didn’t understand it, but then, when the woman I was last with saw my true desires, that’s when I realized that it’s true—my soul is black, stained with needs nobody could ever cure me of.”

  “But you’re not evil, Logan. You’re not your father, and this—” she waves her hand in the air while shaking her head in disbelief — “curse, is bullshit.”

  “It’s not bullshit,” I bite out. “I’ve lived with it for most of my adult life and . . .” Shaking my head, I turn away from her again, not needing to see how she’s watching me right now. It makes me feel like I can be that man for her, and I know I can’t. “I can’t change who I am.”

  “I’m not asking you to change. I’m asking you to give this a chance.”

  Spinning on my heel, I step up to Vera, looming over her smaller frame. I engulf every part of her. I’m larger, I’m stronger, and I could so easily take her and hide her away. I have, but not the way I’d like. Where she can’t find anything other than me in her life. When I’m the one she needs, the one she craves when she thinks about her darkest desires. I’ve wanted that for two long years, and now that she’s here, my restraint is taut, ready to snap.

  “You want this?” I ask, quirking a brow as I gesture with my chin around the room. “I stole you, Vera. I’m no fucking prince.”

  “No, you’re not royalty, and yes, you kidnapped me, held me in this godforsaken cabin for I don’t know how long, but you’re doing it to keep me safe.” Her words are confident. She’s not lying. I did this to keep her safe from the asshole, who is my dear father. But I also wanted her for myself.

  “You’re as fucked up as I am,” I tell her with a chuckle.

  She shrugs, offering me a smile. “I know.” I expect her to walk away, but she doesn’t. Her eyes lock on mine, and she steps that one inch closer to me, and the air in the room disappears. Every molecule in my body is sparking as if electricity is shooting through me. It feels like I’ve been struck by a fucking lightning bolt. “But that’s what makes us perfect for each other.”

  “I can’t . . . I mean . . .”

  “I don’t want normal, I want . . .” She looks up at me, smiling, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling me I don’t need to worry. Her demons that seem to hide under the innocent exterior look like they want to play with mine. “You.”

  I can’t take it anymore. I crash my mouth to hers, our lips molding together. The heat of her makes me shudder with need. I grasp her face in my hands, holding her at an angle so my tongue can dip into her mouth.

  The flavor of her is like nothing I’ve ever tasted. No other woman that I’ve ever kissed has made my body react the way she does. Our kiss deepens, as my hands trail down over her shoulders toward her hips, and I grip her, tugging her closer to me until there’s no longer space between us.

  Nothing in this world exists except us and this moment. I lose myself to it. My eyes are closed, but it’s like I can see her expression. She’s emblazoned in my mind. Burnt in my heart since the day I realized I made a mistake by walking away from her.

  Vera whimpers and I steal it with that kiss until I feel dizzy from it. She’s intoxicating, more so than any drug, any alcohol I’ve ever tasted. When I finally pull away from her, I watch her lashes flutter, and then I’m met with those mirror-like eyes. I can see myself in her gaze, but it’s not the person I always see when I look in the mirror. This time, I’m different. I’m good.

  “I want you on the bed,” I tell her. “Lie back, close your eyes, and just don’t move.”

  She looks at me, her eyes wide with wonder, and I can’t imagine what scenarios are going through her mind. With a nod, she moves toward the bed, and I watch her slip onto the mattress, her body languid and calm.

  Her obedience makes my body shiver. My cock isn’t completely hard, but the stirrings of desire are there. It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt that familiar ache while watching a woman move. It shocks me.

  Once Vera is on her back, her eyes close, and she looks like she’s sleeping. I’ve never done this with someone before, and my stomach is tight with anxiety. It coils in my gut, swirling around like a snake ready for the attack.

  I take a few tentative steps, and when I finally reach the bed, I stop. I can’t bring myself to move. But Vera is so obedient. She doesn’t open her eyes, doesn’t speak, and at times, I wonder if she’s even breathing.

  My jeans get tighter. The way she’s just lying there, helpless, unsure of my next move, it makes my dick hard. The throb is familiar, and I can’t help but touch myself through the material.

  She’s so beautiful.

  My Sleeping Beauty.

  I reach for her. My fingertips tentatively touching the smoothness of her arm. The silkiness of her skin is enough to send me into blind need. But I need to be careful. She’s not only fragile, she’s someone who’s accepting this, accepting me.

  Gently, I trail my touch down to her wrist, where I feel the thrumming of her heartbeat. The only thing, other than her breathing that tells me she’s alive. My cock is harder than steel, attempting to fight its way from my jeans, but I don’t make a move to take it out to stroke myself.

  Instead, I revel in her body, noticing how her nipples harden and pebble against the material of her tank top. A slight whimper falls free from her plump lips, but I don’t stop. I continue my ministrations, tweaking the buds gently. Vera’s sounds come more frequently. A moan, a mewl, but I can’t stop. I’m lost to the pleasure I’m bestowing on her body.

  “Please don’t,” I plead with her when I notice she’s going to open her eyes. I want this so badly that
I’m trying not to lose all my control. She doesn’t look at me, and I smile down at her. Like a puppet for me to toy with, I reach the apex of her creamy thighs and gently press against her mound, feeling her warmth.

  My fingers dance along her body, all the way up, and all the way back down until her hips are moving of their own volition. Even though I know she’s not really sleeping, she’s playing the part well.

  More moans fall free from her lips, and I lean in to press my mouth to hers. The heat, the contact sizzles, and soon enough, I’m licking into her warmth, tasting her once more and like a drug. My body prickles from head to toe, wanting another hit, and another.

  Her eyes snap open when I pull away, my hand leaving her body, my mouth unlocking from hers. Those beautiful eyes that shimmer like jewels in the sunshine meet mine. For a long moment, I’m sure she’s about to tell me to let her go, to leave her the fuck alone because I’m a perverse psychopath, but she doesn’t. Instead, she whispers, “I want more.”

  17

  Vera

  He stares at me.

  He doesn’t move. I’m sure he’s not even breathing as he watches me. I can’t believe how wet I am. I’m turned on, more than I’ve ever been before. No matter the strangeness of the situation, I crave it—what he has to offer.

  He slowly moves closer, and I know this is new to him, being with someone while they’re awake, but I take it upon myself to reach for him. My hand grazes over the thick denim material, feeling his rigidness behind the zipper.

  “I can’t, Vera,” he tells me, his voice taut with emotion. There’s a strain in his expression, creasing his ruggedly handsome face. “I just can’t. Not yet.” Not yet. That’s all I needed to know. And the more I touch him, the softer he gets, and I realize it’s because my eyes are on him. As if he’s worried about me seeing him like that, in a state of pleasure.

  “Have you ever touched yourself for a girl?” I ask the question that’s suddenly burst into my mind. I don’t know why I think it, but for some reason, I think he’s convinced himself that if he was with someone, naked, he’d be vulnerable. And the fear of that has taken hold of him.

  Not some stupid curse.

  But his own mindset.

  “No,” he grits out as I continue trailing my fingers over his body. Every hard ridge of muscle on his stomach, the way his hips taper from the broadness of his shoulders makes me want to explore him.

  “I want to try something,” I tell him. “Will you allow me to?” He nods slowly, his dark gaze locked on mine. He doesn’t look at my hands moving over him, and I slowly unbutton his plaid shirt, pushing it over his shoulders. The material falls to the floor, and he’s now bared to me. The ink that adorns his chest is a colorful canvas of artwork which I tentatively touch.

  The smoothness of his skin under my fingers causes sparks to shoot through me. He doesn’t make a move to stop me, so I lean in farther and plant a kiss to his left pectoral muscle, then the right. My mouth flutters over his torso down toward his stomach, where I do what I’ve been dying to. I trace the dips of his abs with my tongue.

  A growl vibrates through him at the cool wetness of me. When I reach the waistband of his jeans, I move quickly to undo the belt buckle, then the button and zipper before pushing the material down. His boxer briefs are dark blue, and I tug at them until they’re at his thick thighs.

  I don’t look at him when I take his heavy cock in my hand and slowly stroke it. I close my eyes, focusing on the task at hand, and I lie so still, holding my breath, which seems to work because I feel the twitch in his shaft and the smooth, velvety flesh slowly hardens in my palm.

  “Vera,” Logan growls, low and demanding. I ignore him and continue taunting him, seducing him. I’m new to this, unsure of what I’m doing, but I know I’m having the desired effect on him because seconds later, Logan’s fingers tangle in my hair as he tugs my head back. “I’m going to hurt you.” His pained words fall around me, surrounding me in the darkness, he’s promising.

  Logan pushes me back onto the bed, and in a flash of movement, he’s hovering over me. His body taut with unrestrained desire. His cock nudges my core, causing me to whimper at the thought of him inside me.

  “Do you want that?” he growls over my lips, his mouth brushing along mine, and the heat of his breath wafts over me. He’s all darkness and sin, and I drink him in, the broken man that’s mine. I realize in that moment Logan Oakridge is mine.

  I nod.

  I nod with all I have and all that I am because I do want it.

  His large hand wraps around the slender column of my neck, and he squeezes. The way his fingers dig into the sides of my neck cuts off my breathing. My lungs work hard, but they can’t pull in much-needed air.

  Dark eyes burn into me. Stars dot my vision. My lips part and Logan steals them, kissing me hard and furious. His tongue licks along my lower lip before he pulls it into his mouth and bites down hard on the plump flesh.

  A mewl of pained agony tumbles from my mouth to his, and he swallows it just like he’s taking my breath. He doesn’t release me when he reaches between us and circles my clit with his fingers. The taunting, teasing touch of his fingers graze over me, sending spirals of white-hot pleasure burning through me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

  Pain and pleasure swirl together in the darkness as I feel myself falling into the abyss, but I don’t fight him. I allow him to give me pleasure while taking his own, and just as my eyes fall closed and I no longer see him before me, a wave of pure, unfiltered pleasure shoots through me so violently I shudder and shake beneath him, and the heat of his orgasm splashes against my skin.

  That’s the last thing I feel before I finally pass out.

  * * *

  My eyes open to warmth holding me hostage. It’s only when I attempt to roll over that I realize I can’t. There’s a heavy arm draped over me. A large hand is cupping my breast, holding me against a hard, muscled body.

  “I’m sorry,” Logan whispers. “I lost control. I hurt you, and I’m just so fucking sorry.” His words wash over me as the memory returns. He held me down, he made me come, and I passed out from the orgasm.

  “You didn’t hurt me,” I tell him, but I can’t see his expression because my back is cocooned to his front. “I was just overwhelmed by the orgasm.”

  “Don’t fucking make excuses for me,” he grits out. He’s angry, but it’s all at himself, not me. “I should never have tried this.” There’s so much agony in his voice; it makes my chest tighten painfully.

  “I’m not making excuses, Logan. I asked you for more, and you gave it to me. I wanted it,” I insist. “Nothing you did hurt me.” I force myself to roll over, and I finally come face to face with him. The guilt is written all over his face. He’s looking at me with so much sadness my heart thuds against my ribs.

  “It will never happen again,” he tells me before pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, and then he pushes off the bed and heads for the door.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  He doesn’t turn around. Instead, he grips the door handle and twists it, pulling the door open and walking out into the hallway. “Time for me to finish this so I can send you home, and you can live your life like I knew you should—without me.” And then he shuts the door with a loud bang, and suddenly I’m all alone.

  My eyes fill with tears when I realize he’s going to leave me. For one short moment, I thought we could do this, be together, perhaps find happiness with each other. Our desires run alongside each other so well. What I crave, he can deliver, but what he needs is something he doesn’t believe I can give him. And because of that, he thinks that walking away from me is the best option.

  I’m not sure what he means by finishing something, but I have the distinct feeling he’s about to start a war with his father. That doesn’t bode well for either of us.

  Herbert Oakridge is two things—dangerous and connected—which will only ensure he makes an example of me and his son.


  Sighing, I push off the bed and pad over to the door to find it locked. He’s keeping me captive once more. After all the progress I made with him, we’re back to square one. I should never have done what I did, but I don’t regret it.

  I can’t lose Logan. I’m not sure why I’m so invested in him. Perhaps it’s because he understands me. Nobody ever has. All my life was lived with the acceptance that I was a good girl who behaved, but deep down, there was always another layer to my personality. A darker version of me. And now that Logan has brought it out of me, I can’t hide her any longer.

  “Logan,” I call to him, but I don’t hear his movements on the other side. He may be downstairs, but I don’t stop my speech. “I know you’re angry with yourself for what happened, but I’m not. Don’t I get a say in what happens in my life? I thought you were different from your father, but the way you’re acting, you’re turning into him.”

  I wait, but he still doesn’t make me aware of where he is or if he’s even listening to me. My heart pounds against my chest, and I fist my hands and bang them against the wooden door.

  “You’re not him. Please don’t do this, Logan! You’re nothing like him. Our journey may not be a perfect fairy tale, but you can change our story.” My voice is lower now, hope slowly ebbing away from me. I can’t get through to him if he’s not allowing me to talk to him, if he’s not listening.

  I close my eyes and breathe deeply. The guilt of what I did, how I pushed him, is at the forefront of my mind. Even though I craved what he did, aching for his violence, I should’ve taken it slower. But pleasure had taken hold of me, and I didn’t want to stop because I believed he could handle it.

  I was wrong.

  So damn wrong.

  “Logan don’t send me away,” I plead this time. I’m not screaming, I’m not shouting. My voice is low, a pained plea, hoping he can hear me from wherever he is in the house.