Fighting to Forget

Sixteen

Battles rage in the war for my soul
What if I stop fighting?
If I finally let go?
--Ataxia

Rex
Nothing in my life, at least the parts I can remember, has ever felt as good as holding Mac. She took every piece of shit I slung at her and didn’t seem affected at all. I started to wonder if she’d even heard me, but when she broke down, I knew she did.
She cried.
For me.
Not because she was disgusted by a man who’d vomit after sex. Not because she couldn’t figure out a way to kick me out fast enough. She curled up in my lap, sobbing as if it was the best and only place she’d ever want to be.
I’ve never been needed like that. Never been someone’s comfort.
I like it. Shit, I like being that for her.
Blake’s flip out at the gym today, Jonah’s willingness to walk away from everything he’s worked for . . .
F*ck me, but I totally get it now.
The urgent need to protect her, keep her safe from any and every thing is there, but there’s something else too: an egotistical drive to possess and claim her, willing to f*ck-up anyone who tries to take her away.
Her balled-up body shivers against mine.
“You cold?”
“No.” She sniffs, and traces the pattern of tattoos on my forearm. “I don’t think I’ve cried that hard since I was ten-years-old.”
“What was that like?”
“About the same.”
“No, I meant what was being ten like?”
She tilts her head back and glares. “That’s not funny.”
She’s right. It’s a shitty joke, but I’m trying to lighten the mood.
I kiss her head, smiling. “Yeah it was.”
“Wasn’t.” She shakes her head and curls deeper into me. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, but should we move to the couch or something?”
“Eww.” She cringes. “Not the couch.”
“Why? What’s wrong with the couch?”
Finally her body shakes with laughter; the sound relieves the tension in my muscles. “You don’t want to know.”
“So it’s straight to your room.” A ghost of nausea rolls through my gut, the familiar feeling of wanting something that makes me sick.
A long sigh falls from her lips and her body relaxes. “Yeah.”
I should be home trying to get some shut-eye, but I know I’ll only lie there and think about her. Holding her in my arms will probably buy me more sleep than I’ve had in weeks.
“Have you eaten?” I say against the top of her head.
“Soup.”
“You ready for bed?”
She tilts her head back to look at me, her eyebrows pinched together. “Are you spending the night? I mean, can you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before, but like all my other firsts, I’d like to try it with you.” I’m trying like hell to be honest, but f*ck I feel like a p-ssy. She deserves the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it is to give it to her.
“I’d like that too.” She moves off my lap, and it’s nearly impossible to let her go. I grab her hand, and she leads me into her house and through the living room.
“Let me grab some shit from my truck.” I curl down and place a soft kiss against her lips, stepping away before things get out of control like they did when I showed up. “I’ll be right back.”
Releasing her hand, I’m stuck staring at the gentle sway of her hips as she walks into the kitchen. In baggy sweats and a tank top, she’s more attractive than any woman I’ve ever seen.
My body responds, and I’m thankful for the extra give that my track pants provide. I head out to the truck and take deep breaths of the cool night air. But as hard as I try to calm my nerves, I can’t clear my head of her. Warmth flares at my forearm where she touched me, and my chest is still wet from her tears.
Tonight I’ll be in a bed with her, kissing and touching, and shockingly nothing about that makes me sick.
If anything, I may be on the road to a cure.
After getting my gym bag from the truck, I head back toward Mac’s house and find her waiting for me at the door. Her arms are crossed over her chest, accentuating her full breasts and giving me a perfect view of milky white cleavage above the V-neck of her top. Her shoulders are hunched. Not good. I stop in front of her and watch as she tugs her lower lip. Yeah, she definitely seems uncomfortable.
“Too fast?” I’m pushing her too hard. From years of getting nowhere in my therapy to days of going somewhere, I don’t want to put on the brakes. But I won’t force anything she’s not okay with. It’ll suck if she wants me to leave, but I’ll respect it.
Her eyes go wide and find mine. “No. Not too fast.” She blinks and narrows her eyes. “If anything . . . too slow.”
Okay, read that wrong.
Pulling her into my arms, I hug her tight, easing up a bit to avoid crushing her with the strength of all I’m feeling. How does she do it? She always manages to say the right thing when I’m starting to doubt myself. Doubt us.
I have no idea how relationships work outside of the ones I’ve made in the octagon, and we beat the shit out of each other on a regular basis.
Her arms go around my waist, and I feel her relax into the embrace. She exhales heavily and squeezes me tighter. “Feels as if I’ve waited forever for you.”
There she goes again. Shit, this woman is perfect.
“Think how I feel. You’ve been right under my nose, and I’m only getting around to knowing you.” I run my hand up her back to the warm spot at her nape and hold her to me. “All that time wasted.”
“I say we stop talking about what we missed.” She puts her chin on my chest to look up at me. Her eyes—damn, those eyes—light caramel like nothing I’ve ever seen. “Move on to what we have.”
I drop a light kiss on her forehead, and when I pull back, her eyes are closed as if she’s savoring the touch.
My touch.
Her sweet island scent swirls up from her head in the light breeze. I breathe it in, sucking it up like a greedy kid who doesn’t like to share. The pounding of my heart reacts to her body being pressed to mine.
“Got a big day tomorrow, baby.” I grip a handful of her ass and pull her up to touch my lips to hers. She startles. I drag my lip ring along the seam of her mouth, and she turns to dead weight with a moan. “Yeah. Bed time.”
Her forehead pressed against mine, she nods. I grab her hand and lead her into the house. I stop at the mouth of the hallway, and she takes over, leading me down the darkened passage. We pass a couple closed doors—my guess is one belongs to Trix and the other a bathroom—until we stop at the last door.
I’m already feeling confined. The oppressive narrow hallway and lack of windows does nothing for my fear of closed-off spaces. I breathe and pray like hell when Mac opens the door it won’t be to some airless tiny-ass room. I wipe a light sheen of sweat from my forehead, and she opens the door a couple inches before slamming it shut.
What the hell?
“Oh shit.” She whirls around, faces me, eyes wide. “Can you just, uh . . . give me a second?”
I play with my lip ring to keep from smiling. “Dirty room?”
“Ha.” She dips her chin. “Yeah. I’d feel better about this if I had a second to tidy up.”
“Sure.” I step back and she moves fast, disappearing behind the door.
Makes sense. She probably thinks after seeing my place that I can’t handle a little mess. I want tonight to run as smoothly as possible, and if tidying her room helps make that happen, I’ll wait in this rat cage of a hallway.
I lean against the wall across from her door; only a few seconds later she’s done.
“Okay, we’re good.” She steps aside and swings the door wide.
Not at all what I expected, Mac’s room is immaculate and plain. No decorations except for a set of sea foam green table lamps and an old chair that looks as if it’s made from a quilt. There are no pictures on the walls or bookshelves, only a dresser. Her bed is big, perfectly made and covered in a multi-colored comforter with lots of bright pillows. My gaze moves around the room and there’s no clutter.
Something else we have in common.
I set my bag on the chair. “Your room isn’t what I expected.”
“Expected? You thought about what my room looked like?” She tilts her head, waiting for my answer.
I move toward her, hooking her hair between my fingers. Soft as silk. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what a lot of things look like.” I run my hands down the length of her hair, allowing my knuckles to drag along her nipple.
A shiver wracks her body, and standing so close, I’d swear the damn thing’s contagious. “What did you expect?
“Black lights, posters of metal bands and motorcycles.” I hold her tightly by the waist, letting her know I’m in control and want her to stay where she is. “You like bright colors. Who knew?”
A soft pink kisses her cheeks. “Oh, yeah, where I lived, um, before here, it had no color. Everything was white or some variation of white.”
I slide my hand from her hip to her ass and up her back. “It suits you.”
Our eyes lock for seconds, minutes; we stare at each other as silent intentions pass between us. Heat flares in my gut and my heart pounds. She’s breathing harder and her hands fist into my shirt.
She steps back, and I allow her to put distance between us. Never breaking eye contact, with no alluring smile, not a hint of a tease, she hooks the hem of her shirt. With little effort, she pulls it over her head and drops it to the carpet at her feet.
I blink and stare at her made-in-heaven perfect breasts. My stomach clenches, but it’s manageable. Her arms lie at her sides, and she makes no move to touch me, giving me time to take in her nakedness. I swallow hard and breathe heavily through the wave of contradicting feelings that threaten to wash me away.
I’m capable of more than I think.
I was last night; tonight is no different.
My fingertips burn to run over her creamy skin, to feel the velvety flesh against my hand as I take the time to memorize every inch, touching, exploring, and learning every curve and valley.
“Come here, Rex.” She holds out her hand, and I take it, swearing that I’d follow her wherever she leads if it means just a few more minutes breathing her air.
She leads me to the bed and sirens fire between my ears. Danger. Loss of control. The urge to punish her, make her weak and helpless, desperate and begging for a relief that only I can give overwhelms me. I cringe at hideous visions of domination that flash before my eyes and the resulting arousal they bring. Shame curls around my ribs, squeezing, suffocating.
I tug back from her hold, but not hard enough to break free.
She jerks her head toward me, worry playing across her gorgeous face. “Trust me.”
My eyes find hers, and I see nothing but tenderness there, but it’s me I don’t trust. I’ve laid it all out, bared my secrets, and exposed insecurities. And yet she’s looking at me as if I’m valuable. Valued.
It doesn’t make sense.
How could anyone care about, much less want to be with, a guy like me? Unwilling to dwell on the whys, especially with my girlfriend—girlfriend?—a slow trickle of warmth expands behind my ribs, making me stand taller just to accommodate it.
Girlfriend.
Yeah.
I bring my eyes to hers and cup her jaw. “I trust you.”
With a slow nod, she presses her cheek into my hold. Her eyes slide closed. I stare in awe of her beauty, the dark silken strands of her hair that play against her skin, framing the face of an angel.
She trails her fingers from my hand that’s at her cheek to my wrist and continues to my forearm in a slow drag. My heart speeds, and the whisper of panic pricks at the back of my neck. Before I can pull away from her touch, she drops her hand and opens her eyes, almost as if she sensed the threatening anxiety. As much as I need her to submit to my control, I miss her hand.
I force myself to hold her eyes even. She flashes a quick, reassuring smile, then steps back, putting distance between us. I bolt my feet to the floor to keep from chasing her down.
She turns, puts a knee on the bed, and crawls toward the middle. Once there, she drops to her back and takes a shaky breath. She doesn’t speak, but lies quietly, peaceful and beyond any beauty I’ve ever seen. I’m mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, lulling me into hypnosis. I drag my gaze along the downy skin of her feminine belly. The gentle thump of her pulse calls for me to savor, touch, and feast on the delicate skin.
Watching her there, eyes closed, breath steady, completely submitting to me, I have to put my hands on her for no other reason than to convince myself she’s real.
I sit at the edge of the bed, my gaze tethered to her. My weight shifts the mattress enough to alert her to my presence, but she doesn’t move. F*cking beautiful. I never knew how badly I needed this, needed her, until right now.
I flex my fists, wanting so badly to ravage her, force myself on her, tie her up, and make her scream. My urge to protect her wars against the images, pushing them back and locking them away.
She deserves a better man, one who can stare at her lying topless without fighting off a million different visions of debasement. What would I do to be that man? Tackle my issues, work on freeing myself of them? I can do that. I think.
With a deep breath, I refocus on her. A gothic halo of black hair is splayed around her face, and cherry-red lips part with the strength of her breathing. A pale pink flush colors her neck. Her legs shift, rubbing together like she’s putting out a fire between them.
F*ck, I haven’t even touched her, and she’s turned on. Submitting to me, lying in offering like this, she likes it.
Infused with a new kind of power, I brave a touch and reach out to trace the circle of her belly button. A whispered gasp of pleasure falls from her lips. I run my fingertip around and around in teasing circles; her skin so soft it feels as if I’m caressing air.
Her hips lift from the bed, searching for more contact.
I pull back my hand. “No.”
A defeated sigh pours from her lips, and she relaxes back to the bed.
“That’s good.” I return my fingers to her skin, this time at the underside of her breasts to reward her obedience. “You like me touching you.”
“Yes.” Her one word shakes with impatience and tension, cranking up my arousal.
Taking a deep breath and trying to stay in the moment, I move my finger, eating up her sweet flesh inch by inch until I’m between her breasts. Entranced, I trace around them in circles, one before the other. She responds to even the most innocent touch, and her chest rises and falls faster. I bite back a smug grin. The power is intoxicating.
Freeing.
Addicting.
Moving from the side of her breast, I drag my finger to her nipple and circle there, just as I did with her belly button. Her back arches off the bed, and she groans with such need and so wantonly that my dick presses painfully against my zipper.
A few more passes and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and groans. I inch closer, leaning over her so that my mouth is just a breath away from hers.
“Give it to me.” I drag my piercing along the seam of her mouth and a tiny gasp releases her lip. So f*cking hot. “It’s mine.” I nip at her lip that’s now a deeper shade of red from her biting it. “Let me explore you.”
Her body convulses in a shiver that throws off more sexual energy than anything I’ve ever experienced. “Please.”
I drop my lips to hers and groan into her welcoming mouth. F*ck, I love when she begs. The voice in my head says I’m sick for enjoying her weakness, but I ignore it. With the heavy weight of her breast in my hand, I slide my tongue into her mouth. The honeyed taste of her pushes me deeper, searching for more. I suck her tongue, nip at her lips, and take everything I can. Her head tilts to accommodate my pillage, and I take everything she offers with gluttonous satisfaction.
The thunderous crack of my heart behind my ribs rockets adrenaline through my veins. Everything about this is new, and my mind races to keep up. I pull my torso over hers at an angle, resting my weight on my elbow while my free hand memorizes the feel of her curves. I push my hand lower, from the dip of her belly to the flare of her hips.
A whimper rolls from her throat. I pull back and notice she’s white-knuckling the comforter.
“Open your eyes.”
She does and I have to hold back my reaction at seeing the war waging behind them. What’s she thinking?
“Talk to me.”
“I want to touch you.”
I check her hands again, still gripped tight to the bed cover. “Yeah? Does it hurt?”
“Yes.” Her voice cracks.
I’m rock hard with power. Knowing that I’m torturing her in some way feels so good it makes me light-headed. Her wanting to touch me so badly that it’s causing her discomfort is turning me on and making me forget. But her hurting with a need so deep that she’d deny herself the relief in order to please me? She’s giving me ultimate supremacy, and f*ck if that doesn’t make me want to give her everything.
My head spins with the weight of it all. I beat back the confusion and give myself permission to feel, to live in the moment and suck all the good I can from it before I lose it.
Pushing myself up, I throw a leg over her tiny body, straddling her at the hips. Her eyes flare. Towering over her, she looks so small, helpless, and absolutely stunning.
I reach back and tug my shirt over my head, tossing it to the ground beside the bed. Her arms jerk, but she doesn’t release her hands.
“Good girl.” I take a moment, noticing that the pale skin of her chest is now pink; her breasts jump with every hiccupped breath. But even through all this, she obeys and stays still. “Thank you for giving me this.”
She nods with a few quick bounces of her head, but her eyes don’t meet mine. They’re on my chest, moving between my piercings before dropping down to my abs. I watch her eyes as they devour my body, and a frantic desire blazes beneath my skin.
I need to feel her on me. All over me.
“Give me your hand.” I hold my hand just inches from her fist, giving her the choice to obey.
She places it in mine, and the moisture on her palm is the evidence of her suffering. I smile and bring it to my lips, placing a kiss against her clammy skin. Unable to deny myself her taste for a second longer, I drag my tongue from the heel of her palm to her middle finger and up the pads before slipping the tip into my mouth. My eyes fight to stay open against the salty taste that floods my senses. She groans and circles her hips, grinding into my ass. F*ck, but her writhing body below me, held down by my weight, is so damn hot.
Kissing the pad of her finger, I pull her hand down, controlling the slow pace of her touch against my neck, my clavicle, and finally my chest over the crashing throb of my heart. I release her hand to give her back control.
She studies my expression, asking for permission. I nod, suck in a deep breath, and hold it. Waiting.
Finally, after what seems like forever, she moves. Her touch glides along my pecs, alternating between tracing the pattern of my tattoos and marking her own path. Some passes are gentle and others she allows her nails to drag, raising goose bumps on my arms. Her fingers close around the barbell of my nipple and tug. I groan and drop my head. She tugs again.
Harder. Make it hurt.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but in an effort to keep things a few steps shy of perverted, I lock them down. We’ve come so far, and telling her that I want her to hurt me will destroy the progress we’ve made.
Once she’s thoroughly explored my chest, she lays her hand back down on the bed as if she’s waiting for the next command.
Hope flares in my chest. She’s making this so easy. For the first time I feel . . . normal. I could get used to this.
I push up on my knees and shimmy down her body. “Don’t forget to speak up.” She nods, understanding from last time that if I’m going beyond her comfort zone she needs to let me know.
I hook the elastic waistband of her pants and pull them down. She lifts her ass and holds up one leg at a time until she’s lying in nothing but a pair of lace panties.
“Black. My favorite color.” I run my knuckles up the inside of her thigh and allow my fingers to rest between her legs. “As pretty as these are, baby.”—I pass my knuckles up, down, and up again—“I’m thinking what’s underneath is much prettier.”
She bites her lip and presses against my hand.
“Good girl.” I tug her panties down her thighs and get my first full visual of her completely naked. The air rushes out of my lungs, and I blink against the assaulting wave of arousal that hits me hard. “F*ckin’ look at you.”
Her bare pale skin beckons my touch. I run my hands from her ankles to her thighs, reading her resulting goose bumps like Braille. I record to memory the places I touch that make her tense and the others that make her melt into the bed.
My mouth waters, a familiar feeling when I hook up with a chick, but this time it’s not the nausea-accompanied saliva that rushes to my mouth. This is hunger, pure, simple, animalistic starvation.
I pull her leg up and rest it against my shoulder, exposing her completely. She moans drops her head to the side. A low rolling growl rumbles in my chest, and I lick my lips. Everything about her from the tips of her hair to her toes is so damn gorgeous. “I was right. Beautiful.”
Her breath catches in her throat. “Thank you,” she says in a reverent and sincere whisper.
I kiss the inside of her calf once, twice, and then move to her inner thigh. She squirms and arches her back off the bed.
“Easy, baby.” My fingers dig in to the flesh of her hip holding her down.
She groans, seeming frustrated, but nods, again, suffering for my pleasure. It makes me wonder what else she’d do for me, what lengths she’d go to if she knew it’d make me happy.
My mind whirls with visions, our bodies slamming together, violent crashes of skin on skin. I pinch my eyes closed, pushing back the thoughts and pulling in the peace. I won’t do that to her. I’m in control. I’m in total control.
I open my eyes to find her staring up at me, waiting.
“You good?”
“Yeah.” I continue to caress her skin and move further down until my shoulders lie between her thighs. “More than good.”
Hooking her other leg over my shoulder, I dip down and run my mouth back and forth against her. Her heels dig into my back and she lifts herself to me in offering.
I push her hips back down onto the bed. “Still.”
She relaxes and her legs fall open. I dip forward, take the first taste and groan in satisfaction.
Her legs clamp tight around my shoulders. “Oh my . . .”
“Shhhh . . .” My breath against her smooth, wet flesh makes her shiver. I smile and use the flat part of my tongue to put pressure where she needs it most.
I devour her, making sure to feel her against my lips, raking my piercing against her sensitive skin, and enjoying the soft sounds that fall from her lips. More, deeper, I lift her hips to angle her body just right.
A surge of desire rockets through my veins. My eyes drop closed, and I imagine the warm silk on my tongue wrapped around my dick as I plunge into her body. I use my lip ring again, over and over against her until she’s writhing.
She moans and her stomach muscles contract. I’m in control, and yet it’s me who’s being tortured. So close, but not nearly close enough.
Her body reacts to every flick of my tongue and her chest jumps with rushed breath, every response driving away my demons. One more kiss to her aroused flesh and I pull back. She whimpers her protest. I pull a condom from my back pocket and pop the button on my pants.
She moans and throws her forearm over her eyes.
“Mac, baby, look at me.”
She drops her arm and meets my stare.
“I want you to watch.” It’s sick, controlling, and pushy, but I need to feel her eyes on me and stay locked in the hunger. I drown in her anticipation, the longing, desire; it keeps me focused on us and not on the shit that I’m fighting to keep in the dark.
I unzip my pants and push them down low enough to expose what she does to me. Keeping my eyes on her, I rip open the condom wrapper with my teeth and slowly sheath myself. Inch by inch I watch in fascination at Mac’s eyes on me. Want turns to need, and need turns to desperation.
With my dick in my hand, I stroke and she licks her lips. “Turn over.”
Her eyes dart from my hips to my face and her eyebrows pinch together. “But I want to see you.”
I’ve never done it face to face. I’m sure I could, eventually, but things are going so well I’m nervous to try something new. “Mac . . .”
“Please. I . . . it’s important to me.” She slides back and pushes up to her knees so that her position matches mine only a foot away. “I’ll keep my hands to myself or not talk, whatever you want, just . . . give me this?”
I’d give you anything.
“I’ll try.” My voice lacks the confidence it had earlier and she has to hear it. I run my hand down the side of her face, forking my fingers into her hair. “Come here.”
She sits up, pushes to her knees, and walks them closer until my dick presses against the softness of her belly. The heat, although muted through the condom, gives me a taste of what’s to come. I groan and flex my hips, eager to be inside her sweet body.
Tugging her to me, I tilt my head and cover her lips with mine. The combination of her taste still on my tongue and the wet of her mouth makes my stomach flip with the urge to f*ck her raw, to pound into her until she cries out and begs me to stop.
No. F*ck!
I break the kiss and run my hand down to her breast to cup it before lowering my lips to it. She drops her head back and sighs, the sound so sweet I’m voracious for more. I’d steal for it, fight for it, and kill for it. I suck her nipple deep into my mouth and she gasps loudly. I squeeze my eyes closed.
I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t.
I won’t.
Back and forth between her breasts, I use my tongue, teeth, lip ring, and everything my mouth has to offer, against the tight pink tips. She leans back, her hands flying to my shoulders to stay upright. Her fingers bite into my flesh, holding on.
Holding me still.
Holding . . .
The back of my throat aches and my stomach lurches. I flinch, but mange to keep myself from shoving her away.
The evil pushes at the threshold of my mind, wanting to take this from me, destroy the good, and steal any chance I have at happiness.
I’m capable of more than I think.
I have to be, because the alternative isn’t good enough anymore.
Dragging my mouth from her breast, I hook the back of her neck and pull her up to support her own weight. Her eyes are hooded and her lips parted, midnight hair falls over her shoulders, veiling her milky white skin.
“Are you okay?” The concern in her whispered words brings the warmth of familiarity.
It makes no sense but feels so right. I smile and nod. “Nothing’s going to be the same after this.”
“God, Rex . . .” Her hand glides from my shoulder to my jaw and the fog of arousal clears from her eyes. She runs her thumb along my cheek with a look I’ve never gotten from another human being. “I hope you’re right.”
What is that look? I’ve seen it, the one Jonah gives Raven when she’s not looking and has her hand resting on the bump of their unborn baby. I’ve seen it on Layla when Blake’s dealing with Axelle, giving her advice or just shooting the shit. It’s not love; it’s more concrete. Tangible. Protected. Nothing in the world can touch it.
And having that communicated through the woman before me, naked, needy, willing to do whatever I want, I’m not only capable, I’m ready.
I slide my hand around her neck. The possessive hold makes her pulse race against my palm and my dick throb between my legs. Her hand drops from my face and she takes a deep breath.
I pull her to me and place a soft kiss on her lips. “Walk your knees apart.” I keep her collared but run my thumb along her neck in a soothing stroke. “I wish you could see how amazing you look.” I run my free hand down her arm to her hip and trace my fingertips inward to the spot I can still taste on my lips. “I like that there’s nothing here to hide you from my eyes.”
A heavy moan rumbles in her chest and she thrusts her hips.
I chuckle at her eagerness and have no intention of making her wait. “Yeah. I want it too.” Sliding two fingers between her legs I bite my lip at the feel of her readiness. “F*ck, you’re so wet.” I thrust my fingers inside and stop at the gripping pressure.
I slide my thumb up the side of her throat and back down, urging her to relax. When I sense that she’s okay I move my fingers in and out at a leisurely pace, giving her a chance to get used to the intrusion.
Her hips pull back and thrust in opposition to mine. She’s ready for more, and I’m in no position to deny her.
She whines when I pull my hand from the warmth of her body. I grip between my legs and swallow the sour taste pushing up my throat before pulling her in for a kiss. She sucks my bottom lip and bites my lip ring before releasing it. I’m wound up and so damn excited to have gotten this far. The rest is easy.
“Hold on tight, baby,” I say against her lips and then release my hold on her neck and grip her ass. Pressing my knees together, I slide them between hers so that she’s straddled over my thighs.
She barely gets her hands on my shoulders when I slam inside, burying myself in her heat. Her sharp cry echoes off the walls.
“F*ck, I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean to hurt her. I wanted to go slow, but once I felt her taking me I lost it. “Talk to me.”
“I’m okay.” She nods. “Really, I’m fine.”
I give her a second she clearly doesn’t need as her eyes lock on mine and she starts to move. My hands grip her hips, holding her still. She groans in frustration.
“Shh, baby.” I lean in and take her nipple into my mouth. She relaxes and drops her weight onto me. I thrust up; her fingers dive into my hair, holding me to her breast.
One hand on the bed behind me to brace my weight, I use the other to fist a handful of her ass and squeeze hard. I growl against her bare breast, and she arches her hips into mine.
“Yes.” She pulls my hair.
The sting is so sweet, so disgustingly familiar. I fight the shame of enjoying the pain and thrust into her faster. Harder. Every powerful lift of my hips is an attempt to destroy the ugly that won’t back off.
My vision clouds; darkness falls over my eyes. Flashes, visions. Hands touching, violating. The hollow shame of helplessness.
“F*ck!” My hips piston, hands ripping against her flesh. Holding on, pushing away, gripping, hurting.
Dammit!
The ghost of whispered words. Dirty. Bad. Ugly.
“Leave me alone.” I cringe against the weakness I hear in my voice.
Her muscles tense. “Rex?”
No. They don’t get this moment. This is mine.
With a guttural roar, I shove up and throw her back to the bed. I slam into her, smothering her tiny body with mine. “I’m sorry.”
Her legs lock around the back of my knees. “Don’t be. I’m with you. Take it out on me.”
I bury my face into her neck and she holds me there. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, holding me to her while I war with the hideous visions that won’t let up.
My lungs contract. No air. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’d take the pain for you.” Her fingers sift into my hair. “Take what you need from me. I want you to.”
I push up and find fire and determination in her eyes.
“I’m serious, Rex.” She holds my face to hers, gazes locked. “Take it.”
Resolution ignites a need so deep I push up on my hands and stare down at her. She takes a long breath, drops her hands to the bed, and nods.
I roll my lip between my teeth and grind into her. She moans, taunting my inner demons.
My hips drive forward. Once. Twice. Harder. Faster.
She arches her back, shifting her position. The friction sends her head back, digging into the pillow. Her legs fall open wider, allowing me more freedom to move.
I’m overcome. The combination of her willing body submitting to me and the feel of her gripping heat drives me on.
Perfect, amazing.
Her hooded eyes fix on mine. “Rex, I’m . . .”
I drop my forehead and throw my weight behind my hips. My shoulders burn and muscles ache with the intensity of it.
She locks her legs around my hips and cries out my name. Her fingernails dig into my biceps, and she convulses beneath me, around me, so much so I feel it in my damn blood.
Need takes over and I barrel into her. My guts get tight. Nausea rolls through my stomach. I swallow it back and fight the urge to stay in the moment.
Her body falls limp beneath mine. My orgasm threatens and I’m helpless to stop it. My eyes pinch shut and I bite my lip. White flashes behind my eyes. My release explodes from my body. F*ck!
I’m dizzy; a wave of euphoria robs my muscles of the strength to hold up my weight. I drop to her body, heaving against her bare breast. I wait for the surge of vomit, for the urgent rush to purge my body of the ugly. Seconds pass, and nothing.
She holds me tight; her fingers dance a path up and down my spine. “Rex, I . . . Are you good?”
Am I good? I blow out a long breath and do a quick mental check. All systems are go. No vomit on the horizon. “I think I am. You?”
I look up and a slow sated smile curls her lips. “I definitely am.”
“You’re amazing.” I brush her sexy-as-hell sexed-up hair from her face.
She grins wide and covers her face. A giggle bubbles up from behind her hand.
I smile at her lighthearted laugh, still amazed that I’m not getting sick. “’Lotta bad things have happened to me after sex, baby, but being laughed at ain’t one of them.” I bury my face into her neck and absorb the vibration against my lips.
“I’m sorry; it’s not funny. I just”—she sucks in a breath—“I don’t remember the last time I was this happy.”
“Mmm.” I run my lips up and down the side of her neck, taking in her scent.
Still connected, she wraps her legs around my waist and locks her ankles. The move restricts me, clamping me to her, holding me in place. A ghost of panic slides up my spine but fails to take shape. I’m safe. She won’t hurt me. My shoulders relax with the freedom of accomplishment. Battle after battle won in the war for my future. All when I’m with her.
All because of her.
“Rex?” No more laughter in her voice, the breathy way she says my name fires my blood. She rolls her hips, grinding against me.
My body jolts to life, standing at attention and ready to fight another battle. Confident, stronger and more capable than ever before.
I nip her earlobe. “You’re not finished with me.”
“Never.”