My pussy clenched in delicious anticipation. We were so close to having what we wanted. All of him. He worked one finger into me slowly, and then another. Unhurried at first, so slow as he got my inner muscles used to being full. I’d never been with a man who had a cock as large as Brando’s. I appreciated that he warmed me up. That he could see through his lust and still worried about me. It was heady, to be cared for and wanted in the same moment. They hardly ever went hand in hand for me.
He stroked my aching inner muscles as his tongue tortured me. When my thighs tightened in preparation for my orgasm, he pulled his fingers out. He braced his hands on either side of my head and looked down into my eyes. His shimmered, alight with lust and hunger. He looked so beautiful to me in that moment. So alive. I wanted him to be that alive all the time.
The tip of his cock eased between my slick folds and pressed against my opening. His tip alone was much wider than most, and I moaned, so ready for him to take me to that beautiful chaotic edge of pain and pleasure. He eased in more; I grabbed hold of his biceps. And then he kissed me, long and deep, before he thrusted into me fully.
My mouth opened in a gasp. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. My lower belly clenched and my blood flooded with madness. It felt like he’d touched parts of me no other man had touched. Parts of me that were only meant for him. He rocked into me in the most perfect way, rolling his hips as he kissed the bottom out of me. My pussy clenched around him, senseless from the sensations coming from his cock.
I’d never felt anything this good, this damaging.
My demons prepared for battle, but I didn’t care. I danced around them, reaching down to press my nails into his ass. I wanted it deeper, harder, I wanted the beauty of us to rain down on me. His hips picked up speed, and I succumbed to the good. I moaned unhindered, shoving my face into his neck as the storm outside raged, and the storm inside enveloped us both.
He was so much male. Heavy, hot, his sweat-slicked skin sliding over mine. And the smell. He smelled like everything good I’d ever wanted. Sweat, cologne, and salt—I inhaled him into my lungs and exhaled pleasure. My senses were in a whirlwind. My core quivered around his thick length, so much of him inside of me. His teeth nipped at my throat, shoulder, surely leaving behind marks on my skin. I wanted them. Forever marks. My warm excitement made his cock slick, allowing him to penetrate me deeper than any man had gone before. The grunts of pleasure sounding from his lips were a soundtrack I wanted to play on repeat.
And that was all good.
That was all amazing.
But nothing compared to the feeling of knowing he felt the same. The overwhelming crash of our hips meeting, the pool of heat and filth burning where we were connected. That wasn’t sex.
It wasn’t even love.
That was need. Hot, searing need. I needed him. He needed me. A bolt of pleasure rained down on me, and every time his bristly pubic hair brushed over my sensitive clit, I trembled.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned. I could hear the bewilderment in his voice. He couldn’t believe how perfect it was either. “So tight. So wet.” He breathed through gritted teeth. “So fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Tell me.”
I moaned, on the edge of an orgasm I knew was going to rip me apart. “I’m yours, Brando. I’m so yours.”
“Mine,” he growled, pounding into me. Breaking me.
Putting me back together.
The tingle of my orgasm started right where the crown of his cock stroked. He rubbed against that aching hungry spot in me repeatedly, and the hunger grew, gripping my body in its fist. It got stronger, sending a burst of fire to my core. I heard him cuss when the flood of my excitement drenched him, catapulting me into a sublime state of mind I didn’t even know I possessed.
He fucked me harder. Deeper, biting down on my shoulder so hard I cried out in ecstasy. My eyesight wavered, and light shimmered in the edge of the darkness like a rainbow in the middle of heavy rainfall. It was beautiful and destroying, and it was so incredibly perfect.
I heard the words tumble out of my mouth a second before I came violently. “I love you,” I gasped, arching in his arms. My body seized and pleasure radiated from my pussy, from his cock, from his rough, brutal thrusts, and his hard, strong body. It was the most intense orgasm of my life. Reparative.
Transformative.
He cried out as the flood of his end filled me. His body tightened and he lost control of his mouth too. “Stay with me.”
My mind disintegrated. I was aware of nothing, but the life in my heart and the aftershocks as his cock twitched inside of me.
I tried to find them—they were always there—but I couldn’t hear them.
My demons were quiet for the first time in my entire life.
And my fears lay in shambles, much like me.
My body ached in the morning.
The rain outside our room was in direct contrast to the sticky, muggy heat. I wore nothing, wrapped in his arms and sprawled across his tattooed, wounded chest. I kissed one wound, barely a soft scar, and another, and another. I continued down, trailing my tongue over his ink and tasting his story. I tasted each ridge in his abdomen, savoring his six-pack. Beneath me, he hummed.
I rubbed my cheek against his happy trail, mewling like a cat at the salty taste of his coarse hairs. His cock was hard when I got down his pelvic bones. His hands were bunched into fists in the sheets, and his eyes were closed. It was a strange picture of peace. At least for him.
I started on his balls first, spending a long time loving them. I took them one at a time into my mouth and sucked them between my lips, twirling my tongue around his soft hairy sack. My tongue skated between them and up to the base of his shaft. I massaged his balls as I licked there, nipping at him with my teeth.
He jerked. “Shit, Cat.”
“Your cock tastes so good,” I purred, licking up his shaft like it was the best damn lollipop in the world. “Don’t come in my mouth,” I warned, trying to keep it lighthearted. “Deal?”
“Deal,” he breathed, reaching down to cup my cheek. “Look at me,” he begged softly. My eyes fluttered up to meet his. “We’ll never do anything you don’t want to do. If it ever makes you uncomfortable, please tell me. Got it?” I nodded mechanically, stuck on the tenderness in his eyes. “Good,” he said gruffly. “Now put my cock back in your mouth.”
I did, taking him into the back of my throat. He hissed and his hand curled into a fist around my hair. I loved the pull of pain on my scalp and the knowledge that I was taking him to the edge of the cliff and throwing him over. Only thing was, I’d follow. I sucked the tip of his cock into my mouth and sucked. A bead of precum melted against my tongue, but I let it slide, finding the taste to be rich and tangy. I hated semen. But in that moment, I almost wondered what it would be like to swallow his load. I’d never done it.
“Cat, baby. I’m going to come.” He tugged on my hair, driving himself deeper into my throat with two more thrusts before he pulled me off him and grabbed for his cock.
I knocked his hands away. “I’ll take care of you.” I wrapped my hands around his shaft and pumped.
I’d never seen him lose his mind. His writhing, tattooed body contorted in the sheets. He looked beautiful, mouth agape in agony, eyes barely open. Fists bunched on his thighs. He shouted out my name as his orgasm gripped his body and his end shot across my breasts. I hated how much I hated it, I hated that no matter what I did, that even in the middle of such beauty, there was memories I didn’t want. But I forged through. Brando made things safe. Brando made me sure that he would replace that horrible memory with something special.
“You’re amazing.” His body sagged.
I grabbed my wet shirt off the floor and wiped my chest and hands off. Then I crawled over his body and straddled him. It was like he was ready for me. His lips met mine and his hands encircled me. And we kissed, we kissed until he was hard again, until my fears were replaced with love. He positioned his cock at the head of
my opening. I sank down onto him slowly, inch by inch. He was so thick in this position, and though I tried to take him all, the burning tightness was too much to take on my own.
I planted my hands on his chest and met his eyes, circling my hips. He put his hands behind his head and watched me intently, letting me create my own pleasure with his body. I appreciated the control he gave me. I bit back the tears, but they were hard to ignore.
I fucking loved him.
There was no more fighting it. No more fearing it.
There was only fearing me.
I came all over his cock, the slickness of my orgasm making it easier to take him. I fell across his chest and panted.
“Things will be hard, Cat. But they’re not as hard when we’re together.” He kissed my hair. “I can’t breathe, honey.”
“Oh!” I rolled off his chest and curled up on his side, giving him a sleepy, apologetic smile. “Want me to get your pills?”
He tried to hide his pain with a smile, but I saw it on the edge of his eyes. He’d endured it for me. “Please?”
I kneeled naked and sifted through his bag. When he tried to get up, I shoved him back down. “We aren’t done. We’re far from done.”
He quirked a brow at me. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” I curled up on his side and kissed the side of his face all over. His temple, his earlobe, his jaw. I kissed every inch of his scar. “What’s the scar from, Brando?”
His entire body sagged. I felt one of his walls crumble when his muscles relaxed into me. “Retaliation.”
“For what?”
He looked away. “My father was a bad man, Cat. He did bad things. Bad things found him in return. Only those bad things tried to kill my entire family. I was the only one who survived.”
Horror burst through our love bubble. “Wait, what? Someone tried to kill your entire family?”
“Not tried. They did.”
I shook my head. That didn’t make sense. But didn’t it? He had no family. No one at the hospital. No one in his life. “What happened?”
His eyes, which had been so alive with love a moment ago, had gone cold. “You don’t want this shit in your head, trust me.”
“If it’s in your head, I want it in mine too.” I cupped his cheek. “Please tell me. Tell me so you’re not alone.”
“Telling you won’t change anything. Telling you will only taint you.” His eyes pled with mine. “You’re so good. You’re the only good I have. I don’t want to taint you.”
He hadn’t been trying to protect me. He’d been trying to preserve me. He knew I’d ask these questions one day. He knew the truth would catch up and find him. He knew that I would know and knowing meant he had to admit he still knew it too.
I could feel the darkness in him. It was too dark to fix in that moment, too large for a single conversation. I let it go for fear I’d lose him to the pain. “Okay,” I soothed. “Okay. Forget I asked. But I want you to know this. You can’t taint me, Brando. You revive me.”
His eyes closed in misery and he gave me a sad smile. “Tell me again.”
“Tell you what?”
“That you love me.”
I kissed his sad smile, giving him one of my own. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Instantly. From the moment I met you, I knew you would be the poison in our twisted love story. I knew you’d knock me down on my ass. I knew you’d feed my demons. I knew you’d make me happy. I knew you’d break me. I knew you’d be the only one for me. Maybe that’s why I fought it. Because there was no fighting something that huge.”
He crushed his lips to mine. That kiss wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t passionate. It was rough, brutal—it was real. What we both needed right then.
“I almost got raped again the other night,” I revealed in a heartbroken string of mumbled words.
He pulled back sharply, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “What are you talking about?”
I told him about the other night, and I wished I hadn’t. He fought my hold and pulled on his boxers. Then he found his phone and left out the back door, making calls that would bring hellfire down on the man who attacked me.
I sighed, falling back to the bed. When he returned, he glared at me. “Why didn’t you tell me before we left?”
“Because you’d kill him,” I said simply.
He didn’t even deny it. He glared. His mussed hair was doing things to me. I stretched my naked body out on the bed, hungry for him once more. “You know the interesting thing about birth control?”
His eyes followed my movements. Dark lust swirled in his eyes. “What?”
“You can have sex over and over again.”
“That is interesting. It would be even more interesting if you got on your hands and knees and gave me your pussy.”
Heat pooled between my legs. He wouldn’t be nice about this next round. He looked like a beast, bad and angry. I knew he’d take his fear and anger out on my body. And I couldn’t wait. I pushed to my hands and knees and backed up to the edge of the bed, giving him my pussy from behind.
He grabbed hold of my hips and dragged me back roughly against him. He didn’t warm me up. Didn’t ease me into it. He plunged into me from behind, and then he systematically fucked my brains out, screwing me like he’d never see me again, like I wasn’t going to stick around, like I’d been attacked and he hadn’t been there to protect me. His strong hands on my hips were comforting. I came all over his cock, screaming and slobbering, a mess of dark and sated.
He fell on to my back when he finished inside of me once more. I was full of him. His heavy breath sounded in my ear.
What’s in the safe? I ached to ask. What was more important than you? Instead, I reached blindly behind me and stroked the back of his head.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
I smiled into the sheets. “I love you.”
“I haven’t heard anyone say that to me since I was thirteen,” he revealed, lifting off me and rolling onto his back. “I need food and water.”
I needed him. My heart hurt for him. But it also understood. “The first person to say that to me was Klay and Madi.”
His eyes shot to mine. “You’re kidding.”
“Mmm mmm. Not kidding.” I tucked my hands under my chin.
“Tell me about it?” he asked, eyes soft.
“About my childhood?”
He brushed my hair behind my ear and held the end of my jaw between his thumb and index finger. “Yes.”
“Not much to tell.” I kissed his inner wrist, unable to get enough of him. “It was an empty mansion, pretty dresses I didn’t like, and this pit of emptiness in my little heart that never went away. I went to private school. So I was away for long periods of time, especially in high school.”
“What made you run away? Everything? Or did something happen?”
I swallowed hard and fought to maintain eye contact. “Men suck,” I explained away. “You and Klay are the only two good ones I’ve ever met.”
“What happened, baby?” His thumb continued to stroke me.
“My dad was an investment banker. One of his clients was over one day. I had just turned fourteen. I had my school uniform on and I was heading up to my room to do homework. He cornered me in the hall. He put his hand up my skirt and tried to kiss me. Mr. Wallace. I kneed him in the balls and ran to my bedroom. He got to my father first. Told him a lie that I came on to him. When I told my dad what happened, that he’d tried to touch me, my father slapped me and sent me to my room. He blamed me for being touched. It fucked with my head.” Even after all that time, my anger still burned for my father. “I flipped out. I packed my backpack and took off. I did my best to get by, and I liked it. At first anyway. Things were hard, but it was real, you know? I was hungry, but I felt my hunger. I was alone, but I understood it. I was afraid, but it made sense. I hooked up with boys, soaking up their attention. I drank, got high—I lived the only way I
knew how. And then I met …” I closed my eyes in acute pain. “Daryl. He was older, cooler. He sucked me into his trap. We spent every day together for a couple weeks. I thought I was in love.” I cried through my heartbroken smile. “And then he took me back to his place and we started kissing. The thing was, I was still a virgin. I kissed and maybe I let boys touch me, but I hadn’t had sex yet. I told Daryl no. He kept going. He wouldn’t stop. And when I started begging him to get off me, his eyes met mine and he told me to shut up. His eyes were cold, and I knew, I knew he’d done everything to get me where I was now. On his bed and in his trap. He stuffed a dirty sock on the floor into my mouth and he ripped my jeans and panties off and he raped me. I fought as hard as I could, so he tied my hands together and held them down. I tried using my legs, but the harder I fought, the more he seemed to like it. He raped me four times that night. Then he punched me until I passed out. When I woke up, blood and semen dripped out of me—I hate semen—and I was … broken. I don’t know how else to describe it. I was empty, shattered. I didn’t know what to do. I heard him in the house. I knew that if I didn’t get out, he’d do it again. I put my jeans back on and left out of his window. I tried to survive after that. It was hard, Brando. I was hungry again, but I didn’t like it. I was alone, and I missed my family, but I knew my family didn’t miss me. I was afraid, and there was nothing good about it. I hated myself for running away. I hated my father for putting me in that position. I hated men. I hated everyone. I contemplated doing things that today make me shudder. And when I thought I’d do those things, when I thought I was never going to be anything more but a broken rape victim, I met Klayton, and my world finally came into focus.” I sobbed against Brando, the second man I’d ever trusted in my entire life.
He held me to his chest and wrapped me in his arms. I didn’t need the support now, that wasn’t why it felt so good. It felt good because I knew how beautiful it was to even have the strength to be in a man’s arms.
Hard Love (Guns & Ink Book 2) Page 16