So who is his anger aimed at? And why?
“I wanna come all over your pretty tits,” he whispers, his other hand grabbing one, sure fingers pinching my nipple until I wince. “I want to mark you with my come. I want you to taste it.”
“Please.” I reach up and circle his thick wrist with my fingers as best I can. My eyes shutter closed and I lose myself to the sensation of his cock moving inside my aching body, his fingers softening around my throat, his other hand twisting my nipple until the heady burn of pain radiates from my skin. My legs ache, my body aches, and I feel like I’m going to collapse.
“I’m a sick, twisted fuck, Violet,” he tells me. “I’m no good. Not good enough for you.”
“I don’t care.” I shake my head and his fingers tighten around my neck once again, making me freeze.
“You should care. You’re a good girl. So pure, so sweet. I’ll fucking wreck you.” He sounds both excited and scared, all at once. He’s speaking the truth. I am a good girl. And he’s bad. Awful.
Yet I want him.
“I want you to wreck me if it’s always going to feel like this.” His cock twitches deep within my body and I lean back, my head on his shoulder, his mouth still at my ear, his breathing harsh. He’s breaking me down and building me back up and God help me, I love it. I want more of it.
“You don’t want to be mine.” His voice is firm.
“I do.”
“You couldn’t handle it.”
“I can.”
“Swear?”
I nod, his curved fingers bumping into my chin since he hasn’t released his grip on my throat. “Make me yours.”
“You want to be mine.” He doesn’t ask, he’s telling me, and my brain grows fuzzy at the constant back-and-forth between us. I’m close to coming. Again. His words, his command, his hands, his cock so deep … I can’t take it. I’m overwhelmed.
“I’m yours,” I whisper. “All yours, Ryder. Use me. Fuck me. Hurt me. I don’t care. Just make me yours. Own me.”
“Fuck.” He lifts his hips again and again, his cock pushing, punishing me as the orgasm builds. Reaching higher, higher, until I whisper his name and he’s coming and I’m coming, our bodies moving together. He growls my name, making it sound like a curse, his hips brutal against my quivering body, his hand still around my neck, his breath hot against my ear. I slump against him as he braces me from behind and he releases his hold on my throat, his arm moving down to settle over my sex, where his cock is still buried inside me.
“Mine,” he whispers possessively, cupping me, his fingers curling around my clit and pinching it.
A shiver moves through me as I nod, turning my face into his so I can nuzzle him. Tears stream down my cheeks, one after the other, but I don’t want to tell him. I had no idea I was crying.
It’s not from sadness. Not really from happiness, either. It’s just … another form of release. One that he commanded from me so effortlessly, I didn’t even realize it was happening. “Yours,” I murmur against his skin, kissing him along his firm jaw. “All yours.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Ryder
I tried my best to break her but she wouldn’t break. She took everything I gave her. I hurt her. I practically choked her. I told her I was worthless and fucked her so deep she cried out in pain. I pinched and twisted her nipples, I gripped her ass until I’m sure bruises in the shape of my fingers will appear on those pretty, pale cheeks by tomorrow morning.
And still she wouldn’t give.
I even made her cry. She said nothing but I felt her tears, tasted them on her lips. Those goddamn tears almost broke me, but I kept it together. Said something filthy that made her pussy quiver around my cock and then I rolled her beneath me and pulled out of her body, tossing the used condom on the bedside table like some sort of inconsiderate asshole. I stroked myself, my cock still hard and full of come like I’d never even had that explosive orgasm in the first place.
She’s lying beneath me now, watching me with those big brown eyes, her skin covered in sweat, her hair damp and matted against her head. Her lips are puffy and swollen from my brutality and there’s a red mark on her left nipple from where I pinched her.
She’s fucking beautiful. And mine. I own her. I won’t give her up.
Pilar can go fuck herself.
“I want to taste you,” Violet says, reaching out to touch my dick, her fingers colliding with mine. I slow my pace, watch in fascination as she props herself up on her elbows and I feed my cock to her parted lips. They close over me, tight and warm, and my eyes shutter closed for the briefest moment as I let myself go and enjoy the sensation of her hot mouth surrounding my hard cock. And when she starts sucking and pulling, her fingers curling around the base, I’m done for.
Fucking done for.
I open my eyes and shove at her shoulder so she releases me from her mouth with a pop. “Lie down,” I demand, and she does as I say, always a good girl.
But now she’s my good girl.
Her eyes widen in fascination as she watches me bring myself to orgasm with my hand. My pace is rapid, my grip tight, and my focus zeroed in on her pretty tits, those puffy pink nipples hard and calling to me. I’m going to decorate them with my come; I’m going to mark her and make her mine in the most primitive way.
I can’t wait.
Pleasure races down my spine and settles in my balls. Building up almost painfully, making me wince, making me moan her name as the first spurt flies from the tip of my cock and lands on her chest. Long streams of semen splatter her skin, her breasts, her nipples, and when the last bit of come is wrung out of me I smear my finger through it and bring it up to Violet’s mouth.
“Taste me,” I tell her and she does, drawing my finger into her mouth eagerly, her eyes closing as she whimpers and sucks. The girl is fucking dirty.
Filthy.
And all mine.
She rubs my come into her skin, licks it from her fingers, and all I can do is watch. I wonder if Lawrence ever did this to her.
I doubt it.
I wonder if any man has ever marked her like this. Fucked her like this. Maybe somehow I’m special. Or maybe I’m a game to her. A chance for the uptown heiress to fuck the tattooed bad boy who’s pretending to have his shit together.
The thought alone just about kills me.
Hoping for a distraction, I climb out of bed and walk into the connecting bathroom, hitting the light since the sun has started to go down and it’s getting dark. I catch my reflection in the mirror. I look like hell. What she sees in me I have no idea, but I shut my brain off so I won’t get all fucked up over it. I spot a stack of perfectly folded white washcloths on a shelf and I grab one, turning on the water so I can wait for it to warm. Once it does, I run the washcloth under the water and then turn it off, squeezing out the water so the cloth is damp but not soaked.
I stare at my reflection again even though I don’t mean to. I usually don’t like what I see because all I notice are my mistakes. The stains of my past cover me and I can hardly face myself.
I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Taking care of a girl. Of course, I’ve never fucked a girl like I just fucked Violet. I hope I don’t mess it up.
“Don’t mess it up,” I tell myself before I hit the lights and go back into the bedroom.
“Are you all right?” I ask her, my voice soft, my thoughts everywhere. If she says no I’ll have to leave. And I don’t want to.
She nods and shivers, pulling the covers up over her naked body. “Will you close the windows, please?”
I do as she asks, moving about her bedroom and closing the windows one by one. I finally crawl into her bed and lie next to her, pulling the comforter down gently. Taking the cloth, I rest it on her belly, making her jump.
“Are you sore?” I ask, moving the cloth lower.
She doesn’t say a word but spreads her legs for me and I wash her there, rubbing her gently with the cloth, wiping away the sticky come that still
covers her.
A sigh escapes her. “That feels nice,” she whispers.
My dick twitches in response, though I tell myself to calm down.
I can’t help it, though. I want her. Always.
I refold the washcloth and wipe it across her breasts, trying to pick up any last traces of semen I left on her chest. Her nipples are hard and she flinches when I touch the one that has the bright red mark on it. I lean in, dropping a tender kiss on the distended flesh.
Another sigh escapes her, this one deeper, and I draw her nipple into my mouth, sucking her, circling it with my tongue. Her hands sink into my hair, holding me to her as I lavish my attention on her tender nipple. “What are you doing to me?” she says, her voice distant.
I know the question isn’t directed at me specifically. She’s confused. So am I. I came here tonight to savor her and destroy her all at once.
Instead, I’m the one who’s destroyed.
Pulling away from her, I study her pretty face, her sexy body. There are marks all over her normally unblemished flesh, all of them made by me. Bruises are already forming on her hips, her thighs. I should feel terrible. I did that to her.
But I don’t.
I roll her over so she’s lying on her stomach and I see the bruises on her ass, the red mark where I spanked her. I take the washcloth and wipe it across her cheeks, between her thighs. She spreads her legs, turning her head to the side so our gazes meet, and I stare at her, running my finger along her crack until I dip it in her pussy.
Her lids flutter closed, her lips part, as I continue to touch her there. Tracing her entrance with my index finger, teasing it, teasing her until she’s lifting up on her knees, offering herself to me.
“I shouldn’t,” I say, my voice full of agony even though I don’t mean it. I’m dying to fuck her again. “You’re sore.”
“Please,” she whispers. “I want it.”
“What do you want?” My voice firms and I discard the washcloth, leaving it on the edge of the mattress as I scoot closer to her. “My fingers or my cock?”
She shudders. “Your cock.”
I grab a condom and roll it on, then position myself behind her, my hands at her hips, my cock poised at her entrance. I enter her slowly, keeping my thrusts shallow so I don’t hurt her, but she pushes me by begging for it.
“Harder,” she demands, and I give her what she wants.
“Faster,” she cries, and I increase my pace.
“Deeper,” she whispers, and I can’t take it anymore. I need to look at her and really see her. I need the connection, and fucking Violet from behind feels cold.
Reminds me of how I used to fuck Pilar.
I pull out of her and turn her around so she’s facing me. She’s breathless and shaking, her skin damp. I never gave much cred to the missionary position before. I usually found it boring. But fucking Violet this way is … perfect. I can look into her eyes, see her responsive face, feel her as she wraps herself around me. I can shift down and kiss her tits, press my mouth to her neck, hold her close to me all while pumping my cock deep inside her.
It’s fucking perfect.
She comes quickly and so do I. She falls first, her body tightening around mine, a little “oh” falling from her lips, and I chase after her, pumping my hips until I burst, clinging to her tightly. Probably too tightly. I might be hurting her, but I don’t care.
And she never protests.
I withdraw from her body reluctantly, pulling the condom off and wrapping it in the washcloth before I toss them on the bedside table. She scolds me about warping the wood, asking if I’d throw it on the ground instead because she doesn’t want to me to leave this bed yet. Neither do I. So I do what she asks.
It’s all so normal, so regular, so unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. After fucking Pilar I always felt weird, especially when I still lived with her. Like I could never escape her, which I couldn’t. Fucking other women was so casual, so meaningless, I was running out the door the minute I got the condom off and in the trash.
Not with Violet, though. I want to comfort her and ensure she still needs me. I gather her in my arms and hold her close, noticing how perfectly her head fits in the crook of my shoulder. Her hair brushes against my face and I push it out of the way, dropping a chaste kiss on her forehead that makes her sigh and wiggle against me.
Wiggling doesn’t help my cock whatsoever, but I try to ignore it. I can’t fuck her again. Not after what I just did to her. She’s gotta be sore.
“Tell me about you,” she says quietly. “I want to know.”
I stiffen, my voice cautious when I speak. “It’s not pleasant.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’ll probably shock you.”
She props herself on one elbow and peers up at me. “I don’t think you can shock me after what just happened between us.”
I kiss her because I can’t resist and pull her back into my arms, her head on my chest. I need strength to get through this conversation. “My childhood was … rough. I practically grew up on the streets.”
“What happened to your mom?”
“I don’t know.” I don’t think I want to know. My dad described her as a useless slut who only wanted money.
“And your dad?”
“He’s dead.” He died when I was sixteen. Overdose. Found in a motel room. One that was notorious for being used by hookers.
Classy way to go.
“I’m sorry,” she offers, and I laugh.
“I’m not. He was a prick.” Most of the time, I think I’m just like him. The only difference is that I found success, while he never climbed out of the hell he made for himself.
She remains quiet, her fingers stroking over my chest and playing with the rings in my nipples. Her touch feels good. Having her next to me feels amazing, and I don’t ever want to let her go.
“After he died, I got kicked out of the shit hole he rented, and so I was homeless,” I explain. “I had nowhere to go, so I would crash on random couches. Or sleep outside.”
“Outside?” She sounds concerned. Sad. Like she cares. Has anyone ever really cared? Pilar claims she did and she helped me, but it was advantageous for her. “Like where?”
“Park benches. Alleys. Wherever I could sleep for a few hours and not worry about getting jumped.”
“That sounds awful.” Her voice is small.
“It was.” I’m not going to lie. My life was shit.
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.” Young and stupid, and selling drugs was my only source of income. Letting dudes fresh out of prison practice their tattoo artistry on my skin. Getting high. Fucking stupid girls that were younger than me and letting all of it swallow me up and eat me whole.
“Ryder.” She kisses my shoulder, her warm lips lingering on my skin. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I say, vaguely uncomfortable. “It is what it is.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
I love that she sounds like she wants to fight for me, even though there’s nothing she can do. What’s done is done.
“What made you change your life?” she asks. “What turned it around?”
I exhale loudly, unsure of how to tell her. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do,” she says firmly. “Tell me.”
“It was Pilar. She found me at a Starbucks and took me back to her place, and …” Saved me. Fucked me. Fed me. Cleaned me up. Helped me get my GED and fucked me some more.
Violet remains quiet for so long I grow uncomfortable. Restless. I shift so I can roll on top of her. I need to see her face, look into her eyes, when I ask her this question. “Does that bother you?”
She nods, her gaze skittering away from mine. “A little.”
I grab hold of her chin and force her to look at me. “She rescued me then, when I needed it. She helped me, and I repaid my debt to her. I owe her nothing.”
“I-I’m glad she rescued you.” She
reaches up and touches me, her fingers on my jaw. “Thankful.”
Jesus. The woman is trying to straight-up kill me with kindness, I swear. “You rescued me too, Violet.” Her gaze softens and I stroke the side of her face, lean into her, and kiss her gently. “I don’t want this to end,” I murmur against her lips.
“I don’t either,” she admits.
Her confession fuels me. Makes me feel invincible. We can defy Pilar. We can defy everyone. Fuck them all. If we stand strong beside each other, we can have the world at our feet. I need nothing else but Violet.
Nothing.
I kiss her, then flip over so I’m on my back and she’s on top of me. My already hard cock nudges against her ass. “I want you,” I whisper.
She rolls her eyes before she admonishes me. “Again?”
“Again.” I run my hands over her ass, loving the feel of her soft, plump skin, careful of her bruises. “It’s all about you this time, Violet.”
“Hmm,” she hums, and that sound sends an electric current through my veins, making my dick harder.
I’m starting to think I have a serious problem.
“Come here.” I adjust her to my liking, making her move up my body until her hands are gripping the headboard and my head is propped on her pillows, her pussy right above my face. Fuck, she’s pretty, all pink and glistening. I can’t wait to taste her.
“I don’t know about this,” she says uneasily.
“You’re going to love it,” I reassure her, my hands going to her hips as I lower her to my mouth. I dart out my tongue, licking her clit, and she jumps in pleasure or pain, I can’t tell which.
I’m starting to realize that with us, the line is hard to discern.
I lick her pussy from front to back and everywhere in between. She moves with me, her hips grinding, back and forth against my face as I tongue her, my hands memorizing the smooth skin of her belly and hips and waist. I search her folds with my tongue, teasing her clit, and she reaches out, adjusts my head so I can lick her exactly where she wants it.