𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

23

MY HEART HAMMERED INSIDE MY CHEST so painfully that I felt as thought it might burst, an inner explosion that will kill me in an instant. For a second, I imagined the gore inside my chest. The torn organ seeping blood everywhere, as though a balloon burst by a child.

But my heart was no balloon, and Colson Baker, standing tall and menacing in front of me, was no child.

"Colson," I spoke, his name a plea on my lips as I shook my head, wondering how many tears it would take for me to run dry. Wondering how much terror it would take for me to blackout.

Slowly but surely, Colson bent down, crouching low to meet my level, my form sprawled on the cold marble floor as my side throbbed and bled.

His light irises were fixed on mine, his platinum hair messy as it fell over his forehead, only slightly shadowing his sight.

"I don't want to hurt you," He murmured, his brows slightly twitching, his face of steel. 

An inner battle waged inside of him that I could only see hints of. The whites of his eyes were lined with red veins. 

"Then don't," I let out, still pleading.

What was I doing? Begging for my life? How had I gotten here? Could Colson well and truly hurt me more than he already has?

God, how could I have gotten here?

"I don't," His eyes fell to my quivering lips. "But I manage to do it just the same."

I swallowed as an urge to touch him swelled through me. To touch the skin on his cheek, to hold him close and make him look at me.

His hands twitched, as he lifted his right one and ran it through his hair, sighing in frustration.

So I acted on my urge. I dragged myself a little closer and rose to my knees, the effort making my shot side throb like wild. I winced, but still neared him. He watched me intently, curious, confused, the previous menacing intimidation in his form having vanished into the air like nail polish remover.

I touched his cheek, and his lips parted slowly at the contact.

"Colson," I spoke his name softly again, and something akin to tension coursed through him.

Instantly, he grabbed my face roughly and crashed his lips onto mine. The warmth of him flooded me like a rush of adrenaline. He set my weak lips apart and his tongue met mine, forcefully, desperately.

Our breaths mingled, and the contact of our tongues sent sparks coursing down my spine. Something in the pit of my stomach throbbed, and my legs shook. He tasted like cigarettes, moon water and like the cologne he wore— that musky, sharp and smoky scent that filled the air whenever he walked in. 

Then, before I could fathom anything else, I was picked up like a rag doll and plopped down on the cold metal table I had woken up on. Colson's big hands were supporting under my thighs, his grip on them tightening by the second sending shivers escalating throughout my body. The pain in my side was tearing at me, it was overshadowing this ecstasy my desire was pulsing for. My hands shook with the pain, but I held onto Colson, an arm around his neck and a different hand gripping his hair. 

I broke away, tipping my head back for air, but Colson only went deeper. His lips left mine as he trailed them down my jaw and into my neck. I gasped as he sucked on my neck, a strong hand leaving my thigh and slowly riding my dress up. 

The shoulder strap of my dress dropped, and Colson's lips trailed on my chest hungrily. He sucked the top of my breasts above my light bra. His hands fumbling over my body, palms running over every curve and inch like he wanted to memorize me.