by K. L. Donn
Seeing her pain as she allows me access to her innermost confidences is nearly my undoing, though I’m sure she doesn’t see it that way. Having her in my arms, I realize what a precious gift she is. For the last twenty years of my forty on this earth, I’ve been searching for this sensation. Completeness. To have something I can truly call my own. She’s it, no questions asked.
When I told her that she had to come to me if she felt the need to cut, that I would do it, I don’t know if I can. Marring her beautiful, creamy skin isn’t what I’d like to do to her. Rather, I’ll set out to make her crave a new kind of liberation…my kind.
Devouring her mouth, her moans, her essence, makes my dick stand at attention. I want this woman with a driving force I’ve never experienced before. She’s the air I breathe, the beat of my heart. She’s everything.
“Bedroom?” I ask, my voice gravelly.
Following her across the hall to her small room, it’s bare. Disgustingly so for a twenty-three-year-old woman. A woman who should be looking forward in life instead of staying in the past.
“Strip,” I tell her for the what feels like the dozenth time. I slowly begin removing my own pants as she stands there, alarm written across her features. “There’s more, isn’t there?” I ask, knowing full well she’s afraid of my anger.
“Yes.” The distress expressed in that one small word makes me step forward. Unhooking her bra, I gently slide it down her arms.
Once off, I skim my own hands up her stomach, past the scars she thinks will define how I feel, over her ribs, cupping her breasts. I massage them smoothly, pulling and twisting her nipples. “I’ll help you,” I coo into her ear.
Leaning down, I kiss each nipple lightly, lingering for just a moment to take in her fresh-bodied scent. She’s pure, lightness, hearth and home all rolled into one. Kneeling before her like the queen she is, I unbutton her slacks, making sure to grip her panties in my fingers at the same time as I slowly glide them down her legs. I’m unprepared for the carnage I see.
A small trail of dried blood runs down the inside of her thigh from a fresh, deep cut, and I fight back the rage I feel rolling through me. There is at least a dozen more just like it on each upper part of her leg, and I can’t help but mourn the loss of her once perfect skin.
Then a thought occurs to me, and I hope by voicing it, she’ll lose some of the embarrassment I can feel emitting from her. “You know,” I begin quietly, sliding her pants the rest of the way off. “Each scar tells its own story.” I lay light kisses on a different wound as I speak. “Each one shows your passion.” Kiss “Your life.” Kiss “Your weakness.” Her breath catches and her body vibrates with emotion. “Your strength.”
Our eyes clash as a lone tear escapes, rolling down her cheek. “This,” I run my fingers across one thigh, “is a shock, cupcake. Not something I expected or wanted for you.”
“I didn’t either,” she responds defeatedly.
I nod, knowing full-well she had to have been in a pretty dark place to even contemplate it.
“I won’t lie to you and say it’s going to be okay because it may not. You have so much more hidden inside of you than even I expected. It’s going to take a lot of work from both of us.”
“I know.” She speaks so quietly, I nearly don’t hear her.
Standing so she’s forced to look up at me, I let all the anger I’m feeling show. “I won’t allow you to hurt yourself again. Don’t think this will go unpunished either.”
A full body shiver runs through her frame. Her nipples tighten, her thighs rub together, and the most wonderful scent in the world emanates from her. I can smell her musky desire.
“On the bed,” I command her softly, my voice heavy with desire.
Crawling up the double-sized mattress, I wonder if it’ll fit both of us or hold up to what I plan to do to her.
“Face down, ass up.” My voice brooks no room for argument.
Removing the rest of my clothes, I kneel behind her. The contrast of her pale ass to my red, angry cock is stunning in its clarity. My hands roam her thighs and ass, gently massaging her muscles, relaxing her.
“Are you ready for me, Ash?” I groan as my fingers meet her heated core. She’s soaking wet with her desire.
“Yes,” she moans, pushing against my hand for more.
“Yes what, cupcake?” I rumble.
Her breath stutters as I probe her opening, two fingers slipping through her folds to embed themselves in her depths.
“Yes, daddy.” I can practically feel her purr her with pleasure as my thumb strokes across her clit just grazing the hard button.
“That’s right, baby.” My body drapes over hers as my cock begins the slow slide into her body. She’s so tight I need to force my in. Her walls simultaneously sucking me in while trying to push me out.
“Oh God, you’re huge,” she pants.
Placing my hands on either shoulder, my grip is so tight that she’s forced to lay her chest flat as I plunge the rest of the way inside her silky heat. Her scream of mixed pleasure and pain only egg me on. I’m eager to see how far I can push her. How much she’ll take before crying uncle.
“Fuck, this pussy is golden. So hot, so tight. I could die a happy man right now.” My eyes close in bliss. Inside her, I’m home.
“You don’t fit,” she grinds out, her body tense. “You’re too big. I’ve never–.” My hand shoots to her neck, pulling up, so she’s flush with my chest. “Don’t,” I snarl in her ear, one hand slipping down to pinch her clit painfully, while the other moves to the front of her throat, tightening. “Ever think of another fucking man again.”
My hold is so tight she can barely make out the words. “I was thinking of a woman.” I pause, unsure of how I feel about her with another woman. Of her with anyone but me.
“No,” I snap. “No one but me.”
“Yes, daddy.” I can hear the fucking smirk in her voice.
Deciding enough is enough, I start moving my hips, forcing my cock in and out of her body. Her slick walls allow me the rapid movement I want.
“God, you feel good,” I groan. Closing my eyes, I savor the sensation of finally being inside of her. She’s tight, warm, willing. Fucking perfection.
“Declan,” she whines as I hold myself as deep inside her as I can.
Music to my fucking ears.
Ashley
He’s huge! I can’t believe he fits inside me, and yet, it’s the sweetest pain I’ve ever felt. The flex of his hips as he slams his way into my depths has stars exploding before my eyes. I’m on the precipice of something magical, though just beyond my reach.
“Declan,” I whine, hoping he’ll alleviate this torture he’s sprung upon my body. His hand runs from my hip, up my spine, and to my hair just before gently forcing my upper body to lay flat on the bed. The action is reassuring, peaceful.
I can feel his hot breath in my ear just before he whispers, “Brace yourself, cupcake. I’m gonna fuck you into submission.”
I barely have time to breathe as he pulls both hands behind my back, holding them in one of his as he wraps the other around my throat from the front.
I should be scared of submitting to him. Giving myself to him completely. Yet the way he holds me isn’t rough. While his grip is immovable, I feel empowered to let go of all my fears and reservations. With him mastering my body, he’s freed me of all restrictions.
Only seconds pass as he morphs my body into the mold he wants before he begins stroking in and out of my body. I’m so sensitized to every touch of his hips as he pumps in and out that it’s decadently painful.
His strong hands controlling how or if I move is a huge turn on, making my pulse pound harder. The grip he has on my delicate throat is suffocating, enhancing my pleasure. I wish he would squeeze a tad bit harder. My voice seems to have fled, and I can’t beg for what I know he wants to give. I can feel the restraint in each pound of his hips.
A loud keening sound permeates the air, and I realize after he gr
oans that it’s emenating from me. The hunger racing through my body is coming to a head, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it. I can feel the muscles in my limbs constricting, my pussy walls are squeezing his cock so hard I don’t know how he’s still pounding inside of me.
It’s happening, gratification unlike anything I’ve felt before, boiling under the surface of my skin. My blood is racing so fast I feel it flow through my veins. The impression it leaves is similar to the slicing of a piece of my flesh—the rush, the release, it’s the same only better. Magnified tenfold and I can no longer contain it.
A scream rips from my throat as the most glorious feelings stream throughout my frame. My senses open in a way they never have before as I tingle in each erogenous zone I have.
Just as I think I’ve reached my final crest of pleasure, Declan pulls me up so I’m kneeling in front of him and his chest is solid against my back, his hardness pushes further into me, and I swear I feel him in my womb. Both of his masculine hands slide up and under my arms, travelling along my torso at a rapid pace to finally wrap around my throat. My head is thrown back into the crook of his shoulder as he asks, “Does it feel better?”
My air flow is restricted from his hold, and my pulse pounds in my nipples and clit as I breathe out, “Yesss.”
One of his hands lets go as he sits still inside me, his cock pressed tightly to my cervix. “You’ll never feel this carnality by cutting yourself open.” His fingernail scores down my stomach, mimicking the slice of a blade.
When I attempt to speak, not even knowing what to say, his hold on my neck tightens, and I struggle for a moment to breathe. “Through your nose,” he rumbles in my ear.
I do as he says as he begins pounding into me again. My pussy feels bruised, my neck is straining, my womb is tightening, readying for another climax. I explode right at the moment he lets loose a string of curses as I feel his warm essence splashing its rivulets in my greedy channel.
“Fucking take my life inside you, greedy girl,” he croons, his breath hot on my cheek.
At last, he lets me go, and we crumble onto my bed in a heap of sweat, pleasure, and pain. Our breaths come hot and heavy as he rubs his talented fingertips in circles around my back. His hard cock still pulsing inside of me, I can feel cum leaking down my thighs with each movement.
Pulling from my body, he flips me over to my back like a rag doll, my body unable to comply even if he had asked. The look I see in his eyes, it both scares and exhilarates me. There’s confusion clouded with want and lust. It’s what I see in their depths that has me smiling up at him—acceptance and maybe love. It’s too soon for that strong of an emotion, though. At least, I’m trying to convince my own heart of that because what I feel for him is certainly akin to it.
“When?” he question, his weighted gaze stroking my body, my markings.
I don’t pretend to misunderstand him. “About a month after I was sent away.”
“Why?” There’s no judgment in his tone, simply him wanting to understand the choice I made.
“I was scared. I was weak. I had these emotions overtaking me for what felt like the first time ever. It was the perfect storm for a turbulent hurricane that left me with no other outlet.”
“I want to understand everything, Ash. I read about you for a week. I studied you like a bug under a microscope, so I knew every facet there was to you. And yet, when you confronted me, I was even more confused about who you were. You’re not some spoiled rich bitch looking for a free ride. You’re taking the punishment for your actions better than anyone I’ve seen. Why?”
How to answer that without sounding like a moron? I haven’t spoken about the day I hurt Cecilia to anyone since it happened. Taking a deep breath, I give it my best shot.
“When I saw the way Landon behaved with Cec from the moment he spotted her, I was seething inside. I had a boyfriend, and not once had he ever looked at me like that. He never tried to track me down the way my brother had her. I was so jealous and angry. To know that someone was that desperate for me? I’d have fought like hell to be perfect just for them. I would have done anything to feel half of what my brother did.”
“Why’d you stay with him then?” The angry snarl in his voice would have been funny if I couldn’t tell that he was pissed about me talking about another man.
“He was safe? Maybe. I don’t know honestly. Breaking up with him would have meant being alone, and I was so tired of being alone.”
“Didn’t you have friends?”
What a fucking joke. “I had girls I hung out with. I would never call any of them a friend. I can’t remember the last time I had one. Those girls stuck around because I had money at my fingertips. I could party until I passed out, and no one was ever the wiser. I was nothing more than a cash cow, and it took me a long time to realize that. I finally understood why Landon hated me so much. I used him the same way they used me.” A sad smile forms on my lips thinking of the damage I’ve caused.
“You were a selfish fucking brat.” His words sting. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve to be loved by the people who should have recognized what you needed for a long fucking time.”
I’m not sure how to react to that, so I move back to the reason we are even talking about it. “My cellmate, she was a real bitch, worse than I ever was. Hard to believe, I know.” I try to lighten the moment; he scowls. “She used to pack her socks with soap and beat me awake while I was sleeping. Cracked two ribs doing it once.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Why does no one know that shit?” He explodes with rage.
I place my hands over his as they tighten on my thighs. “Being a rat in prison wasn’t the rep I wanted. I was already the bitchy white girl. I didn’t need rat tagged on the end of it.” Smiling, I try to soften my words.
“Fuck!” He angrily scrubs his face with both hands. “I’m sorry you had to fucking go through that shit.”
“It is what it is. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last eighteen months or so, it’s that everything happens for a reason. Hurting Cecilia that last time, having my parents find out what a disgrace I am, that’s all lead me to…” I bite my lip, unsure of whether to say it or not.
“Lead you to what?” he demands.
“You,” I whisper softly.
“Fucking right it has.” His hands smooth up the tops of my thighs.
“Are you going to tell Zach?” I can’t meet his eyes. I don’t want to know if he’s lying.
“Yes and no,” he responds quietly.
Perplexed, I dart a quick look to see his face. “I don’t understand.”
“I have to give him something. He asked me to get close to you, find out everything.” Before he’s finished, my body scoots up the bed at the thought that he’s used me. “Don’t fucking do that, cupcake,” he snaps.
“Do what?” I lash right back. “You used me!” A tear rolls down my cheek at the mere thought of it. “I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Right? I’m just some poor white rich bitch, only good for a fuck and a game.” Disbelief and anger mar his features. “It’s all right, Declan, you’re not the first to do it, but you’ll damn well be the fucking last.”
Crawling out of bed, I start to grab a discarded shirt from the floor when he snatches my shoulder, spinning me around so fast I nearly lose my balance. If not for his hand driving straight for my throat and pinning me to the wall, I would have hit the floor for sure.
Irate puffs of his breath hit my face as he struggles to say what I see in his eyes. “Stop fucking pushing me away. I’m too old for these damn games, and woman, I won’t put up with your shit. You’re mine, never fucking doubt that. But don’t you ever try and lash out at me like that again. Are we fucking clear?”
I should be frightened. The seething anger pulsing from his solid frame screams out that I should be terrified.
So why aren’t I?
Declan
This fucking hot and cold bullshit is coming to an end. I won’t tolerate her insecur
ities or her pushing me away. I didn’t have all the information when I took this job, but I do now. She’s fucked up in more ways than I could have ever guessed.
Self-mutilation was not what I ever imagined her doing. From all that I’d gathered on her, I assumed she was too self-absorbed to disfigure herself. I realize I’m obligated to tell Zach something; nevertheless, I have no intention of letting anyone in on how messed up in the head she is right now. That’s a secret she’s going to have to reveal when she’s ready. And I’ll be around every step of the way.
“Tell me something.” She nods. “Have I ever allowed you to think I was anything but obsessed with you?” She shakes her head as much as my grip allows. “Then why the fuck are you trying to turn this situation around on me?”
Seeing her demons waging war behind her eyes as she answers, I understand her trying to push me away, but I need to hear her verbalize it.
“I’m panic-stricken,” she whimpers.
“Over what?” My voice is still hard. It seems to be the best route to take with her. When I’m demanding her honesty rather than asking, she snaps to attention, and I’m sadistic enough to admit I like that she’ll do whatever I say.
“Going back.” Her words are barely audible.
My blood boils. Realistically, I know that if she hadn’t gone to jail and faced the consequences, she might have never accepted how selfish she was. How mean. Doesn’t change the fact that I wouldn’t like to beat the fuck out of her brother for forcing it on her. The things she went through, things I am sure I’m not even aware of yet, left her broken in a way I worry she’ll never come back from.
“What will you tell Zach?” Her concern is singular.
“If you were me, if you were obsessed with the woman you’re contracted with to find all of her deepest, darkest mysteries from and you did, what would you do?”