Reining Devotion: A Chaotic Rein novel Read online

  Trusting people isn’t something I care to find comfort in. Now or in the future. Placing your trust in others only levels you up for your own downfall. No matter their intention, people will let you down. I’ve learned the hard way that, purposefully or not, it still burns in the same way.

  My openness with Camryn shocks her. She no doubt pinned me as a closed book. She saw the stone wall I’ve built around me and didn’t for a second consider it’d be see-through. But I’m not a liar, and I’m only truthful to people who I respect enough to offer any part of my psyche to. The rest are undeserving of my truth and lies are too much work to maintain. Their assumptions are good enough for them, they’re good enough for me too.

  My respect for Camryn continues to grow with every one of our interactions. She hates me. Rightfully so. What’s important is that she doesn’t hide her despise, and why should she? She’s openly honest and I appreciate the hell out of that.

  I’m truthful with her because I want the level of hate she feels toward me, to remain. I want her to understand that her feelings toward me are both right and justified. I want her to believe deep within herself that I’m the monster she knows exists. It’s safer that way. Because when I disappoint this family, like I continually have my own, at least I won’t have to be painted in her guilt like I will be Dominic and Codi’s.

  “I’m starved. Come on,” she invites, shaking off the melancholy of our conversation. “I’ve kept this light charade up for long enough. Let’s go eat.”

  My brow furrows. “How hospitable of you... you caught a fever out here?” I joke.

  Her eyes roll dramatically. “I can hate you in civility. Even prisoners need to be fed.”

  “No need for that.” I laugh. “I’m gonna head home tonight.”

  She doesn’t look surprised. More than aware of how uncomfortable I’ve been holed up in Rein’s house on the verge of death. The very people who could have taken advantage of my weakened state and sought a justified revenge, turned out to be my saviors. And that very significant detail makes me uncomfortable as fuck.

  “I’m no longer on the precipice of death. The infection has subsided. Thinking I’ll be able to hobble around my own loft while this scratch heals.”

  Sniffing against the cold, she nods her head in agreement.

  “Let’s also not kid ourselves,” I continue. “Guessin’ I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

  Her head tips side-to-side. “Only according to me.”

  “Well then.” I smirk. “Let’s say their welcome has outstayed me.”

  She stands, brushing the back of her jeans. She doesn’t attempt to help me stand, only watching on as I slowly find my way up.

  “I’ll pack you some supplies to keep the wound clean.”

  “Appreciate it.” I follow her inside, hating myself for thinking that Camryn Rein isn’t such bad company.

  She pauses at the door, hand against the handle. Steeling a breath, she whirls on me. “About the other night—”

  I shake my head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I ease the worry dancing in her eyes.

  Her stare locks intently onto mine, for seconds longer than it should be acceptable, the dark blue flecks searching for the lie in my statement. Swallowing thickly when she realizes it’s not there to find, her eyes close in relief.

  Not speaking another word, she steps through the door, the ice of her usual demeanor fixing back into place, the slice of vulnerability she didn’t care to show me locked firmly away.

  Chapter Nine

  Camryn

  Hate. A form of emotional revulsion. One that often moves hand in hand with a bitterness that is never even remotely sweet.

  Yet, here I am. Bent over my childhood bed, the man I despise more than anything in this world, powering inside of me in the sweetest form of torture.

  I don’t even know how we got here. One moment we were arguing, shouting at one another, insult after insult, trying to outdo one another in provocation.

  And then we were naked.

  Lips clashing, fighting for dominance.

  Bodies pressed together, wanting, needing more.

  “You’re such a bitch,” he groans behind me, his generous length pulling from me almost completely before slamming back inside.

  He’ll leave bruises. Blue and purple marks of frustration and lust. Fingerprints to remind me of how deep our loathing goes.

  I whimper. “I hate you.”

  He laughs, the sound lost to the growl in his throat when I push myself back as hard as he thrusts forward. “Feeling’s mutual, beauty.”

  We’ve been possessed. The adrenaline pumping through our veins in conflict morphing into an arousal neither one of us could resist.

  The sex isn’t just rough, it’s brutal. A battle of wills. Power no longer a point to prove, but a victory that neither one of us is willing to give away.

  The thick line of his cock stretches me in a way I can’t remember feeling. Broad enough to cause just the right amount of pain. Painful enough to have me begging for more.

  A palm powers down to slap the meaty globe of my ass. His thick fingers grab hold, squeezing me savagely. “Too bad your pussy doesn’t hate me.” His free hand slides over my stomach, slapping my clit and making me shudder. “On the contrary, she’s quite the greedy little whore. Swallowing my cock the way she is.”

  My pussy spasms at the vulgarity in his words.

  “Camryn Rein,” he muses. “My dirty, little beauty.”

  Something this toxic can’t be healthy. The intensity is all-consuming. So addictive, I’d give him my all if he demanded it.

  My distaste for him is being pushed aside, overcome with passion. I’m not gonna lie, it’s so destructively satisfying… I want to do it again.

  And again.

  And again.

  “Harder,” I command.

  “Baby, I fuck you any harder and the tip of my dick is gonna come outta your mouth.”

  The visual convulses in my cunt, my walls closing in on him tight enough he groans in exquisite agony.

  Pulling out, he flips me without issue, his body climbing over mine, cock slamming inside of me before I’ve taken a full breath.

  My neck arches, head thrown back into the mattress.

  He lifts my leg, palm braced along the back of my knee, pushing it toward my chest.

  I cry out.

  “So deep,” he grinds.

  “So deep,” I echo, ignoring the sting in my muscles.

  Our not-so-silent loathing for one another is no longer enough. We’ve managed to channel every negative emotion we feel for one another into the most violently profound sex I’ve ever experienced.

  “Tell me why you hate me.”

  Lip caught between my teeth, I moan when he undulates his hips. The strong line of his pelvic bone massaging my clit. “You are a reprehensible human being.”

  “You’re conceited,” he rebukes.

  A bark of laughter leaves me, a needy whimper following it hungrily. “You’re a Neanderthal.”

  “A fucking snob.”

  “Psychotic.”

  Large hands to my hips, he lifts them, thundering forward. “So fucking beautiful.”

  “Sinful and untouchable.”

  He pinches my clit softly, plucking at it with his thumb and forefinger.

  The beginning of an orgasm, so severe, starts at my toes. My breathing stops.

  He takes advantage, weight dropping on top of me to fuse his mouth to mine. Tongue plundering inside, the kiss we share is anything if not barbaric. His teeth bite into my lips, pulling at them savagely. I offer him the same. Our tongues, no longer restricted to the confines of our mouths, lick out, our intermingled taste as addictive as it is destructive.

  I hate myself for finding him so stupidly sexually attractive. I may hate him, but my body is yet to read the memo. Our attraction to one another is based solely on a foundation of contempt, and I’m intelligent enough to know this, what we’re doing right n
ow, is so far down a path of self-destruction, I’ll be lucky to find my way back. But… consequences be damned, the immediacy of it all is just so fucking good.

  “Pussy’s about to cry for me, Rein.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I can feel her,” he snarls. “Throbbing. She wants to come. Should I let her?” he whispers against the hard point of my nipple.

  “Fuck you, Shay.”

  He bites down on my nipple viciously enough to leave an imprint. I grip his shoulders, fingernails piercing his skin.

  “Wrong answer.”

  “Got to hell.”

  He pays the same courtesy to my other nipple and my entire body shudders. “Say please, Cami, or I’ll pull out right now, decorate your stomach with my cum and leave you to put yourself out of your own misery.”

  “I’d get the job done quicker.” I lift my hips, searching for more.

  “Wouldn’t be the same though, would it? Without my dick,” he mocks me. “Come on, baby, say please.”

  I close my eyes tighter, ignoring his demand.

  He retreats and I cry out. “Please.”

  I beg. I fucking plead.

  “Good girl,” he praises. “Now let that pussy cry for me, beauty. Soak your sheets.”

  I come.

  Loud.

  Chaotically.

  “Ryn!”

  My eyes flash open, my father’s lounge room coming into focus.

  “Are you okay?” Codi asks.

  “What?” I blink away my confusion.

  Parker chuckles to the side. “Baby, she was fine. I told you to leave her.”

  I swallow down my humiliation.

  “You were having a nightmare… I think.”

  “That was no nightmare, Sugar.” Parker struggles to hold on to his laughter and my cheeks shade on their own accord.

  “Fuck off, Parker,” I grumble, moving to sit up.

  “You fell asleep on the couch last night. We didn’t want to wake you.”

  Palms to my eyes, I rub at them.

  “Merry Christmas, Ryn.”

  Christmas.

  Fuck.

  “Go up and freshen up. I’m about to start lunch prep. Rocco should be here soon.”

  Rocco.

  Seriously, Merry fucking Christmas to me.

  Santa, all I want is for the ground to open up and swallow me. Please and thank you very much.

  * * *

  I watch him through the curtain, a neatly wrapped present held tightly in his hands. He reaches the door but doesn’t knock. Instead, he turns on his heel, walking back toward his car.

  Stopping at the hood, he shakes his head, cracking his neck side-to-side. Not the Rocco from my dream last night. This one seems almost unsure. Not the dominating asshole that made me come harder than I ever have done before. In. My. Sleep. In front of my sister and her fiancé. Embarrassment level, one jillion.

  When he turns back around, there’s a fierceness in his features that looks both uncertain and aggressive. Stride purposeful, he moves quickly. Three heavy knocks, all evenly spaced are loud enough to be heard through the entire house.

  I stay at the window, only the line of his back in view.

  “Ryn?” Codi wanders into the room, feet moving toward the door.

  She’s wearing a stupid Santa apron, attempting to save her white shirt from the damage of her cooking. Thank fuck Dad is in there overseeing the disaster that is Codi cooking Christmas lunch.

  “Hmm?”

  “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

  Ah, let me see, because he’ll read through my bitch act and know he gave me the orgasm of my life last night. Only he wasn’t actually here.

  I shrug, letting the curtain drop away. “He’s not my guest.”

  She lets out a sigh of irritation. “It’s Christmas Day. It’d be nice if you could be civil.”

  I stare at her blankly as she opens the door, her face split open in a wide grin as she wishes Rocco a Merry Christmas. Poor guy looks as uncomfortable as I feel, a tight smile forced onto his face as if someone had pulled it up with a pair of pliers. His discomfort pleases me more than it should.

  His chin dips down briefly at Codi’s overly enthusiastic greeting.

  “Tree is over there if you want to pop that down.” She gestures to the gift, but he doesn’t move, only holds onto the box tighter.

  “Rocco.” I pull him from his misery. “How lovely of you to join us on this festive day.” I throw in a curtsy for good measure. “We’ve all been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Please, do make yourself at home.”

  The side of his mouth twitches in amusement, but he doesn’t let his grin take hold.

  “Oh my God,” Codi grumbles. “You’re impossible.”

  I turn my attention to her. “Just being civil, dear sister, as per your Christmas request. Now, please excuse me as I do a quick knife count, I must make sure one doesn’t find itself lodged in my back throughout the day.” I feign a laugh walking toward the kitchen before Codi demands I apologize.

  I hear her mumble an apology on my behalf, which only incenses me further.

  “Rocco here?” Parker asks as I step into the kitchen.

  He’s plastered his ass to a kitchen stool, looking frightened at the mess before him.

  “Hmm.” I nod. “I’m going upstairs.”

  To die of my self-infused embarrassment I don’t add.

  “Call me when we’re exchanging gifts.”

  I kiss my dad’s cheek as I walk past him, legging it up the stairs to avoid as much human contact as I can.

  I pause on the threshold of my old room, the present that was held tightly in Rocco’s hands now sitting on my bed.

  I stare at it, trying to understand why Rocco Shay would feel the need to buy me a gift.

  “Won’t bite.” His voice tickles my ear and I jump forward on a yelp.

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  Hands held up in surrender, he takes a large step backward, giving me space.

  I eye him cautiously. “If there is a head or a sawn-off limb in that box, I’ll kill you myself.”

  He laughs. “No idea what you think I get up to in my spare time, Rein. But it ain’t carving up bodies, I can promise you that.”

  “Why would you even get me a gift? I don’t like you, remember?” I dig, toying with the bow decorating the box.

  Unless you’re giving me orgasms in my sleep, seems I’m impartial to that version of you.

  Leaning against the door frame, he lifts his right shoulder. “Look, I’m all healed up. No need to scar your delicate morals by being in my presence longer than necessary.” He ignores my statement. “Just open it.”

  I scowl in his direction. And he does it back.

  Sighing, I rip at the bow, pulling it off with little finesse. Tearing the carefully folded paper, a plain brown box mocks me. Opening it, I half expect it to be empty.

  It isn’t, and I stare down at the bright red boxing gloves in titillation. A small card lays atop and picking it up, my eyes fall over Rocco’s severe and heavy scrawl.

  Easier to chase away those monsters when you know how to fight.

  Merry whatever

  The Grinch

  I smile in spite of myself.

  “Than—” I turn back to the door, but he’s gone, the empty space heavy without his presence.

  Dropping the card to the bed, I reach for the gloves, feeling the leather beneath my fingers. Lifting them to my face, I inhale their smell. The rich, earthy smell is both addictive and overwhelming. White laces fall along the inside wrists and dropping one back into the box, I slid my hand inside the other.

  I clench my fist, listening to the crackle of the glove at my silent instruction. I force my fingers from their fist, stretching them out to feel the inner padding.

  I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t the one with my hand buried in the leather, but even touching the glove like this, I feel a sense of power filter into my veins. Like the glove
has melded to my hand as an added layer of protection against the world. A shield; one I never knew I wanted, never considered I needed, now present. Gifted to me by someone I had decided was lacking a functioning heart.

  I hadn’t considered the possibility that Rocco Shay had felt the odd camaraderie that had settled between us. Similarities that scared the fuck out of me, just as confusing for him. An unexpected kinship that has forced us out of the neat, structured lines of our individual lives.

  He doesn’t want to understand me, he doesn’t want to feel a connection because we’re both damaged.

  And neither do I.

  Yet, here we are.

  The sides of our boxes have fallen down, leaving us both exposed. And neither one of us knows what to do with that reality.

  I could give the gift back.

  Tell him I’d rather saw off my own arm before accepting anything from him.

  He’d respect that.

  I think.

  I could grow the fuck up, walk downstairs and thank him for his gift.

  But that’d just make us both awkward.

  I could just ignore it. Pretend he didn’t give them to me and accept them as a gift from… Santa.

  That’s a little too cunty for even me.

  I yank my cell from my back pocket.

  Camryn: Thank you

  He responds almost immediately.

  Rocco: For what?

  I grin. He would’ve accepted me being extra cunty.

  Figures.

  A soft knock sounds at my door pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Nice gloves,” my dad greets, leaning against my doorway in a similar way Rocco was only moments before.

  I nod, not exactly sure what to say.

  “From?” he prods.

  Tucking them back into their box, I let my shoulders lift slightly. “The Grinch.”

  I don’t let myself read into the smirk pulling at the side of my dad’s mouth.

  “Seems you’ve already started opening your gifts, but Codi has now granted us permission to the goodies under the tree.”