by James, Gemma
“He made me come.”
“You got off when he raped you?” I wasn’t surprised, not if the way she’d responded to me was any indication.
“Yes.” She blinked several times but the flood had started and wouldn’t stop. Her chest heaved with rising sobs. She didn’t even try to pull away. She fucking sat in my lap, her chin trapped in my grip, and let me witness her shame. “He’s been fucking me for years. I’m not as innocent as you think.”
Her deviant nature pulled at me like a habit I couldn’t quit. I took her mouth with greed, forcing her lips apart and thrusting my tongue inside. No build up, no closed-mouthed kisses to ease us into it. We plummeted into a full-on mouth fuck. With a deep moan, she pushed her tongue against mine, and I sucked her deeper, tasting her flavor and her tears.
Her needy fingers sifted through my hair and yanked, and I thought I’d die if I didn’t taste more of her. Her perky tits with nipples partially obscured from the sheet, her belly button where I ached to dip my tongue. Her drenched pussy. I wanted to work her body until she begged, then push her further, making her scream and writhe with the need to come. I held her by the nape, placed my bloodied hand at the small of her back, and locked her in my kiss.
The issues between us didn’t matter. Nothing mattered so long as she surrendered her soul to my demon and let him devour her. That single thought was powerful enough to make me pull away. I wouldn’t let him finish her off. She’d been used and abused by her own brother, no one around to protect her. I’d be damned if I destroyed her too.
I pushed her from my lap. “This isn’t happening.” I rose to my feet, silently cursing as she folded the sheet around herself in shame, and adjusted my pants.
“W-what are you doing?” she asked as I headed toward the loft. Her bare feet scampered after me.
“Getting you some clothes.” Until Jax and I figured out what to do with her, I wasn’t going to tempt myself with her naked body. I climbed the steps and marched to my dresser, where I’d stashed a couple of outfits in her size. I pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans and tossed them at her.
“Rafe…please.” Her voice cracked on a sob. “Don’t push me away. I need you.”
“I’m the last person you need.” I stumbled toward the bathroom without looking at her, my heart in my throat, and prepared myself for a long, cold shower and sex with my own fucking hand.
19. AGONY
Alex
“What’d you do to him?” Jax asked. He sat across the table from me, working on his second beer, his plate from dinner empty in front of him. Rafe had inhaled his food before returning outside to work in the yard some more. He’d found “things” to do all day, the type of mundane tasks that kept him away from me.
“Nothing,” I said, my shoulders slumping.
“So you sitting here, fully clothed, I might add, while he’s out there attacking the shrubbery is a normal everyday occurrence? I won’t even go into how no one said a word over dinner. I know him, and I know when something’s off.”
My gaze fell to the sweatpants and T-shirt I’d slept in. Rafe had taken the couch, leaving his bed to me. I glanced through the window. The late afternoon sun beat down on him, and his naked torso glistened in the heat. I wiped sweat from my brow. Today had been a hot one. I followed the lines of his tattoos with my gaze, and he caught me staring. His mere glance made my panties damp. I’d brought myself to orgasm last night, surrounded by his sheets and smell, but the release had been empty and anti-climatic, only serving to make me want him more. I’d ached to have him next to me, inside me, his body indiscernible from mine. I wanted him to make me come, craved it, because as long as he withheld that gift, he withheld his forgiveness.
Jax rose with a sigh. He exited through the back door, leaving it open, and hopped down the stairs of the patio to where Rafe was indeed abusing the shrubbery. He dropped the clippers as Jax approached, and though I couldn’t hear what they said, it looked as if they were arguing. Jax gestured toward me, his lips tight, and Rafe shook his head. They exchanged words for a few minutes, then Jax stomped into the kitchen with Rafe on his heels.
“This is gonna blow up in our faces and you know it,” Jax said. “She’ll go straight to the cops, man. Never trust a woman, especially that one. I thought you’d figured that out by now, or did she castrate you?”
“You think I want him to go back to jail?” I interrupted, clenching my teeth and matching his glare.
“Why not? You sent him there once, didn’t you? What’s to stop you from doing it again?”
“Fuck,” Rafe said. “I’m just trying to do the right thing. She doesn’t belong here.”
I sat up straight, my mouth dropping open, and I was about to protest when Jax spoke.
“What changed? Is she a rotten lay?”
Rafe’s fist shot out and caught Jax in the nose. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“What the hell, man! We’re really doing this over a chick?” Jax grabbed a paper towel from the counter and staunched the blood.
“We’re doing this because you’re not listening! Things have changed. She’s gotta go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, and they both stopped and stared. I stood, gathered the dishes, and moved to the sink with as much calm as I could manage. “I’ve got nowhere to go, Rafe.” What I didn’t say was how I’d rather eat glass than leave him.
Jax sighed heavily, blowing his shaggy hair from his eyes. “I’m not sticking around to argue about it. If it’s gonna blow, it’s gonna blow. I’m not staying around for the explosion.” He pointed a finger at Rafe. “Just think about it. If you let her go, we can kiss our freedom goodbye. I don’t give a shit what she says otherwise.” He tossed the soiled towel into the trash, spit out a mouthful of blood, and grabbed another paper towel on his way to the door. “Besides, you’re never getting her outta your system. You took her, so deal with it. She’s yours.”
“Jax, wait—”
The door slammed on his exit, and the echo made the silence between Rafe and me that much louder. I was frozen, afraid to turn around and look at him. A chair scraped across the hardwood, and I heard him settle into it. Not knowing what else to do, I loaded the dishwasher as questions roared in my head, feuding with each other until one finally broke free.
“Did you tell him about Zach?”
“No, but I should have. He has a right to be pissed. His ass is on the line too. If I let you go—”
I spun around. “I don’t want you to let me go!”
He jumped to his feet and knocked over the chair. “Have I not made you suffer enough? Fuck, Alex…” His voice cracked, with guilt and regret. I didn’t deserve either.
With a growl, I hurtled a dish through the air and jumped when glass rained to the floor in a grating symphony of fury. “We already went over this. I got off on it! While you were in prison, being raped”—I choked on the word—“he was fucking me.” I sank to the hardwood, knees to my chest, and hid my face behind my palms. “You should hate me. I hate me.”
His footsteps thundered across the hardwood, and he yanked me up by the hair. “You don’t get it,” he snarled. “I want you off this damn island, far away from me, because I don’t hate you.” His fist clenched my strands, and he lifted until I stood on my toes. “Seeing your mouth twisted in pain, watching you battle the need to fight me, it fucking turns me on.”
My lips parted, breaths coming in soft pants. I widened my stance, wincing again when the pull of his grip became unbearable. I slid a hand beneath the waistband of my sweats and dipped into slick heat. “All you have to do is glance at me, and it makes me wet.” I lifted my fingers and pressed them to the hard line of his mouth, bathing his lips with the evidence of my arousal. “But when you’re rough like this”—I gasped as he jerked my head back and sucked my fingers into his mouth—“I swear I’m gonna break if you don’t fuck me.”
His eyes met mine, holding me prisoner as his tongue darted between middle and forefinger. He
bit down, watched my reaction, and when I didn’t recoil, he let my fingers slip from his mouth.
“I’m giving you one chance to walk away.” He let go of my hair and retreated. “You’ll never hear from me again, never see me again.”
I followed his backward motion. “How can you think I want that? I want you, Rafe.” To make my point, I cupped his erection through his jeans.
He clamped his fingers around my wrist. “You’re pushing it.”
“What are you gonna do? Strip me naked? Lock me in the cellar again? Paddle me?”
“No,” he said with a scowl, “but I can choke you, or better yet, I can drag your ass into the tub and make you suck me off.”
I fought against his hold and stumbled, my heart pounding an erratic tune. “You wouldn’t.”
He tugged me close until our chests smashed together. “You know I would. No delusions, sweetheart. It’s decision time. Stay or go?”
“Stay.” The alternative of never seeing him again, of never experiencing his kiss or the possessive way his body claimed mine, that was something I wasn’t willing to give up. If taking the pain he needed to inflict would grant me freedom from the burden of my guilt, would grant him relief from his own pain, then I’d take whatever he dished out.
He hefted me into his arms and strode to the stepladder. I slid to my feet, shuffling them with impatience as he brought the stairs down. As soon as we reached the loft, he pulled me against him, my back to his front.
“I’m gonna make you beg for it, gonna make you cry until you can’t breathe for wanting me.”
“Too late.”
“Do you understand why you reached orgasm with him?”
I bit my lip, nodding, my mouth trembling as the memories surfaced. “Because I’m fucked up.”
“So am I, and we’re gonna be fucked up together, but I want you to answer something first.”
I peeked at him over my shoulder. “What is it?”
“Did you crave him the way you crave me?” He grabbed my thigh and lifted, urging my foot around his calf. “Did your body ache and throb for him”—he slid a hand inside my sweats, fingers dipping into the inferno raging inside me—“the way it does for me?
“Never,” I groaned, pushing into his palm.
“Then drop the guilt and shame. He exploited the way you’re wired, used it against you. I’m gonna make you fucking embrace it.”
He moved around and jerked my pants down my legs. My panties went next. He fisted the collar of my tee in both hands and pulled until it split in two, right down to my navel. I stared at him in wonder, mouth hanging open.
“Rafe—”
“Don’t talk. Just feel.”
I felt, all right. He pushed the tattered shirt from my shoulders and slid my bra straps down my arms. He lowered the satin cups, and somehow, leaving the garment on made the act more forbidden. I felt the weight of his gaze on me, his tongue darting between lips I craved, and I would have given anything to have his tongue on my skin, but he didn’t taste, didn’t touch. He only looked, and looked some more until I thought I’d explode from his stare alone.
“Get on the bed.”
I stumbled back, legs too shaky to do anything else, and fell onto the mattress. I reached behind me to unclasp the bra, but his growl stilled my hands.
“Don’t do anything unless I tell you to, understand?”
I nodded.
“Stand on your knees, hands behind your back.”
I obeyed without hesitation, barely containing the excitement bubbling in my stomach. He closed the distance slowly, a predator with prey in his sights, and peeled the clothing from his body as he went. Jeans, gone, on the floor. A step later, boxers flew into parts unknown. He climbed onto the bed behind me, and I gasped when he splayed a tattooed hand on my abdomen, fingers reaching past my navel toward the crevice of pulsing arousal. He yanked my head back, until my eyes aligned with his chin, and lowered his head. His lips opened over my collarbone, feverish and hungry, teeth scraping tender skin. My nipples hardened into two tight buds, and my skin broke out in goose bumps from head to toe. I’d never been so worked up, so ready to fly apart from touch alone.
He teased upward, across my cheek to the edge of my mouth, his stubble leaving a rough path in his wake. His fingers slid inside me. I moaned, a second away from begging for his kiss.
“You’re so wet. Drenched and hot.” He let go of my hair and gripped my throat, holding me prisoner against his body. His gaze fell on my mouth, and he couldn’t hide it—the need to kiss me.
This man brought out so many emotions, but above all else, intense yearning. I’d rip myself apart to get to him. “I need you, Rafe,” I whispered, eyes threatening to spill so much more than tears. He saw everything, laid bare before him just as my body was. I gave him my submission, opening my thighs wider to his touch, arching into his possession of my throat, my breasts jutting forward, unabashedly on display. “I need you so much.”
“Tell me something,” he said, his fingers sliding in and out of my pussy in slow ecstasy.
“Anything.”
“Have you been with anyone else?”
“Just you.” I wouldn’t mention Zach. He didn’t count, and from the hard glint in Rafe’s eyes, I’d said the right thing.
“Good.” He groaned, then his mouth was on mine, parting my lips with desperate urgency, tongue thrusting inside as his fingers fucked me. His mouth tasted of the strawberries he’d eaten earlier.
I couldn’t be contained. I had to touch him, or I’d combust. I shoved my fingers into his hair and clutched him as if I’d never let go, urging his tongue deeper into my mouth. Kissing him from this upside down angle unraveled me, destroyed me, and I never wanted to be whole again. Not if coming unglued in his arms meant feeling this way for even a second longer. I was his, every frayed thread of my aching soul.
“Fuck, Alex,” he said, wrenching his mouth from mine. His erection jabbed my ass.
“I need you. Please.”
“I’ll fuck you when I’m ready. Put your hands behind your back.”
“Ahhh!” I screamed, fists tightening in his hair.
He flipped me to my back and forced my hands to the mattress. His body towered above, trapped me with his dangerous masculinity, and I was a willing prisoner. I freely turned over the key to the metaphorical chains that bound me to him.
Rafe’s dark head dipped to my breasts, and I cried out, unprepared for the hard bite on my nipple. Sharp pain radiated through me, gathering strength until it coiled low in my belly. I arched my spine, muscles taut when he moved to my other breast and clamped his teeth into tender flesh.
I hissed in a breath to keep from howling, writhed beneath the punishing attention of his mouth, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Mercy was his to give, his to withhold. I’d given up my one and only chance at freedom.
His fingers became painful vises around my wrists, holding me down and rendering my struggle useless. He wedged my legs apart and settled his cock at my entrance, pushed in the tiniest bit, then withdrew.
“Please…” I was going to die. If it was possible to drop dead from being teased and tortured so excruciatingly, to be in a constant state of arousal, only heightened by the pain he kept unleashing on my body, then I was a goner. “Rafe, for God’s sake, fuck me.”
“You’re gonna give me everything.” He raised his head and looked at me. “I’m gonna choke you. Still wanna stay?”
I bit my lip to keep it from quivering. “Do I have a choice?” I only asked to test him, to see how far I could push. If he was still willing to let me go, then I’d know some part of him still battled with his former self. That guy would always give a choice, always do the right thing, even when he was being fucked in the process.
He let go of my wrists and wrapped his hands around my neck. “Your chance for freedom has passed. Hold onto the bars. If you let go, I won’t let you come.”
I grasped cold, hard metal and held on tight. “Why do you
need this?” I asked, the question guttural because my airway felt so narrow under the weight of his hands.
“Choking your beautiful neck gets me harder than fuck.” He leaned down with a barely contained groan, and our faces lingered inches from each other. “Nothing else gets me off so good.” He paused for a beat, tilting his head. “But it’s about trust too, about you knowing your place. Your pleasure comes with a price. I want every piece of you, every time.”
He pushed his cock in slowly and trembled. “I mean it. Let go of those bars, and I’ll make you suffer for a week.”
I gripped them with all I had, determined to obey him, to prove I could be what he wanted, what he needed, but my heart drummed too loudly. If not for the sensual rhythm he set, shallow thrusts that teased, barely pushing into the wetness dripping onto the sheets, I would have panicked as the pressure on my throat increased.
His sensuality came as a surprise, and I surrendered to it. Through the haze, I saw his face tighten in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and I realized being face-to-face like this, with our bodies coming together in tender agony—something about it hurt him on a deep level. I saw it in the way his hooded eyes drew me in and demanded I bear some of the anguish. Mine drifted shut, because watching him watch me, specks of the past shining in his gaze, tore me to shreds.
“Don’t hide from me. I want your eyes.”
“It hurts to see you like this.” It was easier to face what I’d done when he was angry, righteous, contemptuous. Not while he bared the part of himself he kept hidden. My heart grieved because he was loving my body while showing how I’d destroyed every facet of his being.
“Open your fucking eyes.”
I lifted my lids and the connection between us was unbreakable. Neither of us looked away as he pushed to the hilt. He slid in and out, his movements still tender, yet his hands were unrelenting. They tightened further, constricting my airway as an orgasm built, as his neared the brimming point.