by Robinson, M.
Pain and pleasure, they went hand in hand for me.
I growled, shooting my seed to the back of her throat, and she didn’t hesitate in swallowing every last drop of my come.
“Good girl.”
Smiling, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “We’re not finished.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded.
“I’m taking orders from you now?”
“Maybe. How does it feel?”
“Terrifying. Better hurry, pet. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to play this game with you.”
“Yes, Donovan.” She stood with my help. Grabbing my hand, she led me to the bed on the other side of the room.
Juliet’s eyes peered at the blood on the floor, but she quickly averted her stare back in front of her. She wanted to ask, but I wouldn’t tell.
At least, not right now.
We arrived at the bed, and she awkwardly looked over at my face. “Can I undress you, Master?”
“Master, is it now? What happened to Donovan?” I tested her, peering at her wide-eyed expression, needing her more than air and hating that I was desperate for more.
“Do you want me to call you Donovan?”
“This is your punishment, pet. What would be worse for you?”
She bit her lower lip, shrugging. “Neither or.”
Unable to identify what I felt about that, I changed the subject. “You can undress me, Juliet.”
“Pet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I like it when you call me pet.” Her voice lowered while her eyes lifted, meeting my expression like an equal. My cock stirred. Damn it, she was perfect. Everything I needed, wanted, craved.
“Noted. Now undress me.”
She did as she was told and placed her hands on my chest, trying to get me to sit on the edge of the mattress.
I did.
The little minx spread her legs over my lap and slowly sat on my dick, taking every last inch of me.
She let out a small gasp once I was fully inside of her, getting used to the size of my cock like she always had. Clearly determined, she wrapped her arms around my neck and began riding. This was the first time we ever had sex like this, and again, I didn’t know if it would be the last.
And as she continued to ride me, I realized it couldn’t be.
I wouldn’t let it be.
This wasn’t the last.
This was the last of many firsts.
And our forever.
She just didn’t know it yet.
Juliet
I softly pecked his lips, kissing him in a way I never had before. Teasing him with the tip of my tongue, I outlined his mouth. My tongue sought out his, and he kept my speed. Allowing me to set the pace, it turned passionate, needy, heady. Taking what the other needed. There was something agonizing about the way we devoured each other’s mouths.
Burning with fire.
In his flames, I found myself scorching in a blaze of glory. Deeper and deeper, we seared together. Further and further, we burned alive. Each of us pushing the other further until we were consumed by the hot flames as they licked across our sweaty skin.
I couldn’t get enough of him, wanting more. Wanting everything. Trying to become one person, I kissed him as if our lives depended on it. My fingers glided across his face, his chest, his back. My greedy hands seemed to find a million different reasons to continue to touch, grab.
He didn’t touch me, and I didn’t understand why until I realized he was waiting for me to tell him he could. It was the funniest feeling to finally get what I thought I’d wanted for so long.
I was wrong.
I wanted his caress.
His rough, demanding hands.
His brutal assault.
His wicked words and commands.
I wanted to make love, and it was only then that I truly understood that we had. All this time, all those thrusts, all those orders…
We were making love.
In our own way.
It was fucked up.
But it was ours.
“Please, Donovan… Please touch me. Take me like you want.” Not just like he wanted—like I needed. Like a person starved for one more caress, one more taste. I’d drink my fill until I was sick and overflowing with everything Donavon had.
“Is that the punishment you think you deserve, pet? My hands on you?”
“No,” I coaxed in between kissing him.
Long.
Hard.
Insistent.
“Your touch is never a punishment, not even when you’re making me bleed for you. I’m yours. Do what you please. Break me just to fix me. Please…”
Asking to be broken.
Fixed.
Only to be broken again.
I wanted this insane necessary shattering between us, and I was going crazy with it. Repeatedly the carousel spun, and I never wanted off the ride. He didn’t have to be told twice. Harshly, he fondled my breasts, grazing around my nipples, cupping and kneading them in the palm of his hand.
“Master,” I moaned in a low voice I didn’t recognize.
I was flipped over, suddenly beneath him as he hovered above my body. In one forceful thrust, he propelled my body almost to the headboard until the wall shook like the pictures were about ready to fall from the force of our bodies joining.
Grabbing my chin, he claimed my mouth. His movements became erratic as he pounded into my core.
Over and over.
Again and again.
My eyes widened in pleasure, my back arching off the bed, letting him lap at my neck and breasts, nipping, sucking, licking. Leaving marks and bruises in his wake. I didn’t want to move, enjoying the sensation of his everything as both pleasure and pain washed over me in a wave of ecstasy.
“You feel me inside you?” he groaned, reading my mind and making his way back up to my mouth.
“Yes…” I breathed out.
My arms reached around, pressing him flush against my body, wanting to feel his entire weight on top of me. His warmth consumed me as he hit all the right spots. His back muscles flexed with every thrust. Every push and pull. I couldn’t get enough of him.
I needed.
Wanted.
Loved.
Craved.
Him.
He leaned his forehead against mine, looking deep into my eyes. Our mouths were parted, still touching, both of us panting profusely. With one hand, he snaked around to cup my ass, guiding my hips and angling them, making me take every last inch of his cock. With each devious thrust, he made silent promises.
Safe.
Secure.
Cherished.
He wasn’t fucking me. He was making love to me in his own way. Memorizing my body. My need. My love. How he knew it was what I needed, I had no idea. But the way he looked at me said it all. He knew I loved him, he knew I’d fallen, he knew, and all I could do was continue to take the leap into his arms and pray he continued to catch me when I’d fall.
His heady movements were almost as pained as the glare in his eyes. All I felt was his heart over mine. His kisses deep within the depths of my soul, his strong hands and muscular body consuming me in ways I’d never experienced before. His once cold and icy demeanor was replaced with nothing but heat. It radiated off of him, absorbing into my overstimulated flesh.
He was mine.
I felt it in his breath.
In the beat of his heart.
In every single fiber of his being.
The good and bad.
Heaven and Hell.
Every part of him.
I took what I could get.
Every last ounce of him.
He started to come apart… Clawing. Gripping. Growling. Groaning. I climaxed down his cock. There was no time to recover before he flipped my body onto my stomach. Clutching onto my hair, he yanked and thrust back into me at the same time. Kissing my lips, he relentlessly pounded into my core once again.
&
nbsp; Faster.
Harder.
Deeper.
He took me doggy style.
I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to stay like this until the end of time, with his body on top of mine. His demons. His torment. His fucked up jadedness.
Until there were no more breaths for me to take.
No more tears for me to make.
No more pain for me to feel.
Nothing. I’d be nothing after him. In the end, it didn’t matter. Nothing did when I was with him.
He wasn’t my villain.
He wasn’t my monster.
This wasn’t my happily ever after.
He was my master, and that was good enough for me.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Donovan
I couldn’t stop.
Never wanted to.
I wasn’t sure I could ever quit this woman, especially after feeling her body pulse around my cock, sucking me dry in a way I’d never experienced in my entire life.
I threw my head back like a fucking savage, a roar escaping through my parted lips as my eyes squeezed shut.
When I opened them, I froze.
She wasn’t staring at me anymore.
She was staring at the door.
Face pale.
Lips parted.
Did I hurt her? Was she unhappy?
Panic swelled in my chest until she swallowed and looked back at me in what I could only decipher as a petrifying fear and shame.
Slowly I looked over my shoulder as Troy stood there, hand shoved down his pants, eyes locked onto both of us. “Don’t let me stop you; I was just getting started.”
Juliet scrambled to cover her body as tears filled her eyes.
I jerked a sheet from the bed and pulled it over her. Throwing on my slacks, I charged toward him in a rage that felt so powerful I was actually prepared to kill him, smiling while doing it.
“Get the fuck out!” I shoved him against the wall. “Now!”
He stumbled back. He was fit for his age, but he stood no chance against me. Calmly laughing, he buckled his pants up. “What? You used to like my observations, my corrections, my suggestions.”
“I’m not asking again.” I slammed the wall with my hand. A picture crashed to the floor as drywall flew all around us. The one of me and my mom. “Say another word, and I will kill you.”
His smile was cruel, arrogant, punishing, locking eyes with me. “So you’d add another murder to your record? To this poor room?” He looked past me toward Juliet. “Scary, isn’t he? When he’s not controlled… Know you always have a safe space with me.”
“Troy!” I roared. “Out! Now!”
“Hmm.” He held up his hands in innocence, smile still in place. “It seems she is different… How very…”—his right eyebrow arched—“wonderful for you.”
Bullshit.
I clenched my teeth as he backed away and left the room.
Everything came out of me in a rush, crumbling on top of my head. The memories. The pain.
The fear for her, then for Juliet.
Never for myself.
Troy was out of the room, but I could hear his footsteps and his last words. “Once a murderer, always a murderer…”
And I was gone.
Stuck in a world I’d purposefully forgotten. Stuck in a state of repeating history and needing a desperate escape.
“Donovan.” Juliet was at my side in an instant as I stared at the wall, down at the blood still on the floor, then back at the wall.
It centered me.
Sometimes that was life, right? You had no choice but to subject yourself to memories that threatened to destroy you.
Relive them.
Watch them.
Own them.
Knowing that you would do nothing different in the end, that the outcome would be the same, and hating yourself when you realized that you brought more players into the game when all you wanted was a safe place.
An escape.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Her.
I shook my head.
“Donovan,” she stressed my name again, the same way my mom used to with that same care, that same tenderness—concern. It killed me, burned my soul into fucking flames.
“You killed her!” I screamed. “You fucking killed her!”
Father threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, son, what else was I supposed to do with a pet I no longer needed? A product that was past its shelf life?”
I couldn’t think.
Couldn’t even speak.
I just saw the cat o’ nine tails and gripped it in my hand, ready to strike. I wasn’t a boy anymore hiding in the closet. I was a nineteen-year-old man, and this was my vengeance.
His smile grew. “Are you going to finally grow a set of fucking balls and hit me? You gonna make me bleed, son?” He held his hands out wide. “Do it.” His nostrils flared. “I dare you.”
“Donovan, where did you go? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Juliet rocked me in her lap.
I recounted the memory to her in a harsh whisper. “It was dinner time.”
“Okay, okay.” She caressed my face with her knuckles, pulling the sheet over my body as I shivered. “What else, baby?”
Baby?
I would have scoffed, but I was frozen.
“It…” I started. “It was … bad. He was different, like her death broke the last sane part of him, even though I watched it. I saw it. It was his fault. She was so pretty.” I kept the tears in. “Her eyes were still open, and he made me close them. I prayed to a god who never saved us. To a family who she said would rescue us and nothing, nothing … because everyone always lets you down, Juliet.”
“Not everyone,” she expressed quickly.
“Yes,” I murmured. “Everyone.”
My head fell back against her lap as I was brought back into the memory like I was right there in the present time.
My body might have been with Juliet.
However, my mind, heart, and soul were with my father.
“Whip me,” he taunted. “Do it, just like I punished your mom. I’m so proud of you, Donovan, finally coming into yourself, the family business… HIT ME!”
So I did.
Again and again.
Enjoying the pleasure.
As I enjoyed inflicting pain.
I reached into the back of my jeans and pulled out a knife. The sickest part? He seemed to enjoy the fact that I was trying to threaten him, that I wanted to kill him; in the end, he was breaking me to become just like him.
Forget hugs.
He wanted blood.
So I would give it to him.
“Kill me. I fucking dare you to even try.”
I counted.
I counted how many times the whip gripped into his skin, how many times it made the slick sound of skin getting churned.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
It was cathartic, counting because then I wasn’t actually hitting him; no, it was his taunt, the numbers, the thought of my mom suffering the same fate almost a decade ago at that point.
A whip in one hand.
A knife in the other.
“You killed her!” I roared again.
“Shhhh.” Juliet’s tears fell against my cheeks. “Who killed who? Your father? Donovan, talk to me. It’s okay; I’m here.”
“And I’m there,” I voiced hoarsely. “I’m still there … one, two, three.” I counted all over again. “It helps, you know … the numbers. It’s easier that way. Makes it less emotional when you count, when you think of it as inventory…” I shuddered in her lap. “He deserved it. Every stab. Every whip.”
“But you didn’t…” She held me tight. “You didn’t deserve to be the witness, the executioner, the juror; you didn’t, Donovan … never—not then, not now.”
“I did.”
“You’re wrong.”
I sat up and stared
her down. “I’m not your savior, Juliet. I couldn’t save her. I refuse to save you.”
She tilted her chin up. “Good, I’ve always believed a girl has to save herself. You aren’t strong enough to save me, Donovan. I’m a woman. I know my worth. I know my strength. Despite the way I’ve been broken, I’m still free. The difference between us is that you aren’t…”
Was she right?
“So…” She pressed a kiss to my mouth, soft, tender, loving, strong. “What happened next?”
I shook my head again, bringing myself back to a time when things were so dark I wondered if the sun even existed. Maybe in the past it simply didn’t.
It was all dark.
All of it.
Ash raining down on my face, I looked into the heavens, smiled, and made my damning choice.
I grabbed the whip and rained holy hell down on my father until he collapsed onto the ground. Blood spewed out of his mouth, creating a river down his neck. I watched for a couple of seconds, consumed with the view in front of me.
Witnessing him bleeding out at my feet, I waited for it for so long, and it was finally upon me. I wanted to remember this moment for as long as I lived, cherish it, and carry it around with me. Gripping onto the knife, I shoved it into his wounded back.
A life for a life.
A kill for a kill.
He stole my mother’s soul, and now I owned his.
His bloody smile was the last thing I saw before he revealed, “She’s not even your mother, you fucking bastard.”
Just like a Phoenix rose above his ashes, the monster created rose up above the river of blood and claimed his crown—his throne, his legacy.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Troy announced from the doorway.
Paralyzed, I couldn’t even turn around. “How much did you see?”
“All of it,” he snapped.
“Is it true?”
“Can you handle it?”
I shot around, staring deep into his beady eyes. “Is it fucking true, Troy?”
He held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “I’m just the messenger, Donovan.”
“Answer my question,” I clenched out, my jaw tight as all hell. “Is. It. True?”
He shrugged. “She was your mother in every way that mattered.”
I jerked back, stunned by his revelation. “Where is she then?”