Pain & Redemption

by Kat Kenyon

  Her choking sob breaks my heart.

  “I promise, Rayne. I just wanna be with you. I want to take care of you and be the man I was supposed to be the first time. Let me. I swear you’ll never be sorry for it.” My voice cracks, the fear a mountain on my chest.

  I can feel her melt even through my ragged breathing and my blurry sight, her breathing changing before soft fingers find my neck, her face tilting to mine.

  “I…” Her lips find mine. Perfect, pink satin lips, warm and soft, move on mine.

  I pull back. I can’t do this and lose her again. “Only if you really want me.” If she hasn’t forgiven me—“Rayne. I need you back for real.”

  “I need you too. Just, please…don’t—” Nails dig into my neck, releasing the pent-up need from months of want.

  I know what she’s going to say…and she doesn’t need to worry. I crash my lips down on hers. Her cheeks are wet under my hands, her lips are under my tongue.

  “I love you.”

  I pull her closer as she opens, wrapping her hair in my hands as she lets me in.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rayne Mathews

  I don’t know what I’m doing.

  I shouldn’t believe him. But I do. I shouldn’t trust him. But I do. Tegs wasn’t wrong, Dylan wasn’t lying, and Mike isn’t crazy. And what I’ve been doing isn’t working.

  I want him.

  I miss him.

  I love him.

  His hands are on me, but he isn’t close enough.

  “Ty.”

  His kiss is deep, but I run my hands over his shoulders and pull him closer, licking and biting his lower lip. “Give me more.”

  The look of surprise on his face makes me feel powerful, something I haven’t felt in months. Need and desire I’ve buried for too long bubble to the surface.

  “You want more?” Hope, fear, and challenge in equal parts are clear as he heaves.

  “I want more of you.”

  “More of me?” His octave drops. He’s intoxicating and deadly to me.

  Looking into hazel eyes shining with recent tears, I just need to hear it one more time. “Are you mine?”

  “Utterly and completely yours. You have all of me.” His long fingers flex on my neck. “More?”

  There’s enough power directed at me, my breath catches, and when I nod, I find myself on my back in a heartbeat.

  His hand finds mine, lacing them around the backs, sliding my palms down his ripped sides, each rib and oblique obvious, all while staring in my eyes. “Are you sure?” His half-lidded eyes meet mine. “You asked for more, and I need to know you mean it.”

  His lips graze mine, letting me breathe in the mint of his mouthwash. As our hands reach his jeans, he guides my palms down the front of his thighs, and I know what’s coming. More.

  One hand releases and palms my cheek, thumbing my lip. “More, Rayne, is all of me, if you want it.”

  He’s giving me back my heart. “I want it.”

  He guides my hand around the front of his jeans, putting the thickness of his cock into my waiting palm, groaning as if he’s in pain.

  “God, I want you.” Gold spreads across his irises from under long lashes.

  He’s hard and hot through his jeans and I haven’t touched him in so long. Pressing my hand around the thickness behind the denim, I nip at his lower lip, licking the sting away.

  “Give me everything,” I whisper.

  His body shivers before he finally kisses me back hard, pressure and passion driving him.

  Relaxing back, I stroke him through his jeans, my own desire driving a slick, needy response from us both. His groan is music to my ears and my head slips back, exposing my neck; I trust him.

  His weight comes down on me and it feels like coming home. The pressure of his narrow hips between my thighs, the way he blocks out everything but him releases something in us both.

  “Tell me, Rayne. I need to hear it.”

  His pained whisper hurts my heart. He’s burned in hell over the last couple months with me. I bring my hands to his hair and pull his face back, looking him in the eyes. Gorgeous eyes that shift colors with his mood, now look desperate. I can see the fires I suffered through still lingering in his, so I give him what he needs, what I need, letting him see how I feel, what I’ve always felt.

  “Don’t you get it?” I say, scratching my nails through his hair, shaking him subtly. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. I love you. Just please, if you don’t wan—” The hurt and knot builds in my chest again. It feels like I won’t be able to breathe again.

  His hand behind my neck tightens while the other pushes up my body, dragging the bad energy away with it. Long, rough fingers cup my jaw, holding me firm. I’m encompassed and pressed down by his weight, his thumb stroking my lips gently as he holds me tight.

  “I’ll never let you go. I wasn’t even sure you’d open the door, but you did. I can’t give you up. Not again.” A soft kiss. “I won’t lose you.” A gentle nip, lick. “You said yes, that means you’re mine.” A harder kiss. “I won’t fuck up.” His tongue sweeps in, tasting of mint. Gold eyes meet mine finally, demanding what he needs. “Tell me.”

  Pulling on his hair hard, I watch his eyes dilate. “I forgive you, Tyler.” His eyes blink twice, tears dropping on my face. “I love you,” I whisper.

  Light breaks out on his face, it almost blinds me before his lips and tongue part mine, tasting me. A soft roll of his hips against mine, makes me want more of him. Pulling at his shirt, hot skin slips under my fingertips, twitching as I go.

  His lips don’t leave me for more than the moment it takes to get it off, and I am in heaven. He feels like heated satin over steel, perfected line after perfected line. Too many months trying to avoid looking at him, causing a crash of need to see every inch of him.

  I push at him and he rolls back for me, giving me my way.

  Tyler Blackman is a machine. Unreal. Thick, ropey muscles, lean from hard work, he’s built for power and speed. He’s lost weight, but he’s still perfect. And he writhes under my fingers…because of me, eyes fluttering as I stroke his skin. His breathing becomes harsh, causing his lips to part, seeking air as he tries to control his responses.

  I’m going to blow that control apart.

  “Tate’s gone.” I give him a meaningful smirk.

  “Ahhh…What?”

  He meets my eyes even as his body gently pushes up to get pressure, and his confusion makes me smile. Trailing my hands down his jumping abs, I scratch, stopping just before bare skin disappears under fabric.

  “Ninety percent of my floor is home for the holidays. Including Tate. We’re alone.”

  Before he can register what that means, I scramble down and have his jeans open and my mouth pressed to the hard length inside, trapped beneath thin black cotton.

  “Oh God, baby, please.” His whole body shakes.

  His hands tangle in my hair, and my nails scrape his skin, pulling down his jeans. His hips lift, practically levitating off the bed even as he tells me I don’t have to. But, I do. For him. For me. I need this.

  If I’m going to free fall this time, then I want to jump.

  My lips close over the cotton at the tip of his cock.

  “Fuck me!” he groans, huge hamstrings and glutes flexing, pushing up at me, hands twisting into my comforter. Pressing the tip of my tongue hard through his briefs, I trace his length, earthquakes passing through his body as I go.

  I whip off my over-sized shirt and drop my mouth back down, scraping my teeth across the fabric protecting him, nails scratching down his abs. I want him to lose it, and I know how to make him.

  Pulling on the waistband of his tight black briefs, I pull them down around him and suck at the tip, hot and wet in my mouth.

  A growl comes from deep in his chest, and without warning he lifts me, throwing me against the wall behind my bed, his hands under my ass, pressing us both with hunger and a growing wildness.

  This version of
Tyler isn’t apologizing.

  Golden eyes burn into me right before full lips plunder my mouth. Licking and kissing, his body presses against me, grinding his hard dick into me, abs flexing, arms rubbing me up and down him.

  It only takes a moment and I’m down to lace boy shorts and a tiny triangle bra, that he starts kneading through with one big hand, never breaking the rhythm of his hips.

  Almost as a warning, he asks, “You know what you’re doing?”

  I know why he’s asking and I want it. “Are you mine?”

  “Completely,” he answers hoarsely, his body never stopping.

  Stroking his face back to the short hairs on the side of his head, I release what little was holding me back. “Then, show me who we are. Remind me.”

  I need to feel him. Not the sorry version, but the Tyler who showed me how to feel powerful, how to run the line from passion to crazy. The one who burned his way into my cells, which welcomed the sensation.

  His eyes flare for a moment before his clothes hit the floor.

  Crowding me back into the wall, his lips float softly over my face while his fingers run up my arms. The pads of his fingertips are ghostly as they brush the top of my breasts, making me whimper and bang my head against the wall from frustration, reaching for his hands.

  “Behave,” he whispers in my ear, as he pinches my nipple.

  The hard tweak sends pleasure to every part of me. Looking up at him, I know he can tell. He answers with dilated eyes full of sexual promise and two palms inside my bra.

  “Please, Tyler!”

  Heaving into his hands, my head drops back hard against the wall. I want his hands everywhere. He pops my nipples out of my bra, and the lace pushes them higher as he takes each between his lips, his teeth, one after another, rolling the nubs while licking and sucking on me.

  “You have no idea what that does to me,” he says, his fired-up eyes burning into me.

  “Yes, I do,” I whisper. His intense attention makes me achy and needy. A moan slips out without permission and I pound my head against the wall in sexual agony.

  Right when I’ve had too much, he slips a finger down to my clit, my pelvis pressing into his hand.

  “That’s it. That’s what I want,” he hums against my skin.

  “For me to spontaneously combust?”

  When our eyes connect, I see it. His pupils are nearly blown.

  “Yes.” His voice drops and turns rough as his hands reach inside my bra and rip open the front clasp. His eyes never leave mine as his huge hands slide around the outside of my waist and sink into the lace at my hips. “And I’m going with you.” His mouth closes over mine, lace shredding as his arms flex, tearing the delicate material from my body. “You’re mine. Every fucking inch of you is mine.” Our eyes meet and a wave of heat passes between us. “Please tell me you’re still on the pill. I haven’t been with a soul Rayne, and I need inside you.”

  I don’t hesitate before I nod.

  Ragged breath saws in and out of him, rough growls escaping on each exhale. Hands run down my thighs, around the back, then he lifts, wrapping my legs around him before he gently drops me to the bed, his presence overwhelming me.

  The length of his cock slides between my legs until his tip is against my entrance and I wait for his thrust, which doesn’t come until I look him in the eye.

  “I’m in love with you, Rayne. If you aren’t ready, if you aren’t sure, we stop.” He looks heartbroken…but he waits.

  “I love you, Tyler.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tyler Blackman

  “I love you, Tyler.” I never thought I’d hear that.

  “Tyler…” Her breathy demand for more is everything, and I’ll give her whatever she wants because she owns me.

  Kissing her deeply, I feel her soften as I sink in. She’s tight and the sensation of wet heat makes my eyes roll in the back of my head, quick bursts of light firing behind my lids. She’s my first and last love and I want to feel every inch of her. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been in someone unwrapped, and I’ll never be inside anyone else. She’s it for me.

  She’s my home. She’s everything and I’m going to make this as good as I can for her, but it feels so fucking good that for a moment I lose myself. It’s hard to focus on anything but wanting to mark her inside and out. And she isn’t making it any easier, my girl never does.

  My girl.

  Her nails dig into my flesh so hard that small twinges of pain lick up my spine, and I know she’s purposely pushing me. She knows my kinks and what to do to make me react, and she’s doing it. Her hips pulse against mine in a ragged rhythm and her pleas to move are music driving me harder, faster.

  “Baby, I’m trying to be good.” I graze my teeth past her ear, biting the soft skin behind it as I start a slow rhythm.

  I want this to last, but I find out what she wants when her hands split. One digs nails into my ass, causing my glutes to flex from the pressure and pain, and the other pulls my hair hard.

  “Tyler…” she hums, her teeth digging deep into my collarbone. I feel a surge of adrenaline and instinct.

  Pin her. Fuck her. Claim her.

  “…don’t be good. Be mine.” Crystal blues give me permission, removing the last restraint.

  Be mine.

  I kiss her hard for the first time knowing I intend to own her, keep her. Something I’ve wanted to do for two months. Sucking her lip hard, I drive into her, claiming her with my mouth and cock.

  “Mine,” I whisper.

  “Yes, yours. And you’re mine.” Her smile is sensuous. A promise.

  Promise accepted and returned.

  “Yes, all fucking yours,” I say, curling my hips, trying to touch every part of her.

  Her sudden, hard bite on my pec sends me over the edge. I stop trying to be anything but what I am…what we are.

  Grabbing her hands, I pin her to the bed and bite her neck, sucking on the soft skin to mark her, and she doesn’t stop me.

  Thrusting deeper, I hear her groan in satisfaction, her strong legs tight around me.

  Grasping both her wrists in one hand, I slide a hand under her ass, stretching her out under me as her pussy flutters around me. She’s heaven and exactly what I want. What I need.

  “Tyler!”

  Too fast, her pussy contracts and I feel her come, squeezing my dick so hard it almost hurts, but it’s not enough.

  “Again,” I tell her the moment she begins to loosen her legs, looking sated.

  I grin at her. We aren’t done yet.

  Fuck that!

  I thumb her clit, lightly pinching, as I keep drilling us into the mattress, again and again, through her fading orgasm, watching her eyes awaken when another climax builds.

  “Give it to me again.” My voice is hoarse with want.

  “You feel so—”

  I’m in fucking ecstasy when she clamps down on me again, a soft keening ripped from her lips, followed by her kiss, deep and demanding.

  We could sleep. I could cuddle her. And I will. I’ll hold her from now on, but for tonight, I pull out and rise up onto my knees, seeing the sheen of her last orgasm on my cock. She’s so beautiful, hair splayed out, with her legs stretched around me.

  We’ve both cried. We’ve both crashed together. My hands drift, just feeling the soft silk of her skin. She’s hot and she’s got that tinge of moisture that comes with getting fucked hard. When she bites her lip and cocks her head, I know she’s thinking. Too deep.

  “We’re good,” I assure her. “I’m just thinking how lucky I am. How fucking grateful I am.”

  Her smile glows and my dick kicks. Grabbing her hips, I sink into her again, slowly. Her eyes watch as I look down at where our bodies meet.

  I am going to cuddle her. Hold her close from now till forever. But first, I’m going to make love to her until neither one of us can walk.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rayne Mathews

  The feel of his hand st
roking my back brings me awake.

  It feels like any movement will end the magic of being wrapped in his arms again. I can’t bear the thought of that, so I freeze, hoping it’ll never end. I’m finally awake after being dead for so long.

  “I know you’re awake.”

  His voice is soft, and he’s calm…I can always tell.

  There was always a tension in him when he was freaking out, but there’s none of that now. He’s peaceful in a way I’ve never felt him before.

  I’m lying over half of him, and the feel of his skin on mine brings last night to mind, each hard and soft orgasm crystal clear in the light of day. I press my lips together; the fear bubbling up.

  I’m so afraid.

  He tightens his arms around me as he stretches, pulling me with him, our bodies fitting regardless of the size difference.

  Please don’t hurt me.

  “Hey.” His fingers tip my chin to look at him.

  I open my lips to speak, but my throat locks and no sound comes out.

  He said everything I wanted to hear and so much more last night. No one could have said it better. But, the cloudy, rainy day outside allows a shadow of doubt to overwhelm me. My fear that there’s no light in my future, that he’ll take it away. That I’m dreaming.

  I’m waiting for him to tell me it’s over.

  “Baby,” he whispers gently and pulls me in tight. “I can always tell when you’re thinking too hard. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

  He sounds strong, happy. His conviction hits me in the gut, pulling tears and making me feel like I don’t have to be afraid.

  “At least tell me those are happy tears.” His brow furrows as he watches me.

  I’ve cried more in the last two months than I have in the last nine years, but if he’s staying, it’s worth it.

  Too many tears later, I pull myself up on his chest and look into his eyes.

  They aren’t sleepy. He’s wide awake. His hair is tousled and hangs in his eyes and in the light, it’s clear how much weight he’s lost. Like me, more bones and angles show than should, but he doesn’t look hollow anymore. He looks bright, content in a way he wasn’t before.