I cry out as he pumps harder, his fingernails threatening to draw blood, he’s holding onto my hips that hard. There is no longer any tenderness from either of us. We are like two animals in heat, bucking wildly, alive with our elation and despair. With every rough stroke he pulls out of me completely, then slams me down so hard I see stars. I ache inside, and it’s a good ache and a painful ache all at once. Every piece of exposed skin is alive with goose bumps, Dornan’s breath on my neck firing little nerve endings, his hungry lips on my mouth seeking comfort and release.
His expression becomes open, naked, and inside me he goes rock-hard. “Gonna…come,” he manages, his eyes growing heavy.
I grip his chin and bring it up so that our eyes are locked. “Look at me when you do it,” I breathe.
That’s enough to send him off the edge. He moans loudly, pistoning his hips up into me, releasing everything he has into me. It looks intense, this orgasm, and lasts several long thrusts.
“Give it all to me, baby,” I whisper into his mouth, my eyes never leaving his. As I bleed him dry. As I take everything from him, every last drop of sorrow.
Finally, when he is finished, he drops his head to my chest, panting, taking my nipple into his mouth.
When I try to sit back, he tightens his teeth around my nipple, making me jolt at the sudden pinch. I relax back onto him, not daring to move again, waiting for his lead. We sit like that for a long time, maybe fifteen minutes, his cock soft but still inside me.
Eventually, he releases my nipple and sits back in the chair, surveying me with tired, weary eyes.
Jase’s eyes. That thought is devastating, so I push it far, far down with all of my other black secrets.
He traces my eyebrows with his fingers, runs his hands through my loose hair, before settling his grip at my throat. It isn’t tight, but there’s no mistaking what it means—I might be on top, but he is in charge. I am surprised when his gruff voice breaks the silence.
“You look so much like her,” he says, his voice filled with wonder. “How?”
I know exactly who he is talking about, but I shouldn’t. Sammi shouldn’t.
“Who?” I ask innocently.
His grip around my throat tightens. “Mariana,” he says, and inside I smile. Five gold stars to Dr. Lee and his amazing surgical skills.
“Who’s Mariana?” I ask, struggling a little as his grip continues to tighten, his other hand now pulling hard on my hair. His mood has definitely changed, too. The mask is back on and he’s no longer showing any signs of vulnerability. He’s back to being the unpredictable snake, ready to strike at any moment.
I rock my hips slightly as I feel him begin to swell inside me once more. How is he hard again already? The man is a fucking machine, literally. He is clearly torn between wanting me to stop and wanting me to keep going. I rock faster, with more intention, and gasp as he throttles me, cutting off my air supply.
His face contorts into loathing and despair. “Mariana was my mistress. My lover. Ten years she was here with me, until I found out she was ratting me out to the cops.”
My eyes begin to water as he throttles me a little harder, shaking me for effect. I start to see white flecks and my ears hum with the lack of oxygen.
“You know what I did to her?” he asks me. I shake my head minutely, frozen in place, as he begins to lift his hips and thrust into me forcefully, all the while cutting off my windpipe.
“I cut her tongue out for telling tales about me,” he breathes, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.
“I cut her lips off for speaking about my club,” he says, sucking and biting on my hardened nipple.
“I cut her head off for betraying me and express-posted it to her mother,” he finishes, finally releasing his grip on my neck. I immediately begin to choke, my hands at my broken throat, wheezing lungfuls of musky air.
“Uh-uh,” he chides me, taking my wrists and pinning them at my sides as he continues to thrust into me. He smiles darkly, admiring my neck. “I want to see my hand prints on you.”
I continue to wheeze, struggling to take a full breath, still light-headed.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he commands, and I obey, gripping my legs around his waist as he stands. Still inside me, he takes three quick steps, slamming me into the wall, impaling me with his cock as my head connects with concrete and I see stars.
“Look,” he says, pushing my chin so that I am facing his mirror. I see myself, flushed, looking completely out of it, with two angry red handprints on my neck. He smiles, tracing the marks with his fingernail, sending involuntary shudders through me.
“You’d never betray me, would you, Sammi?” he says, planting himself deeper with each shattering stroke, his eyes alight with desire and remembered sins.
“Never,” I lie.
Eight
Afterwards, when Dornan is finally sated, I take a shower. All the soap in the world won’t wash away the feeling of his skin on mine, but I lather up anyway, the water as hot as I can stand it without causing burns, comforting as it bites at my skin.
When I’m done, I re-enter the bedroom to see Dornan dressing. I sit on the edge of the bed, naked save for a towel around me, and watch.
As he pulls his jeans on and closes his belt, he eyes me thoughtfully.
“Damn,” he says, as if the thought has only just occurred to him. “I’ve been pumping you full of juice for weeks, baby girl. You gonna get pregnant on me?”
I smile, propped on my elbows, the thin towel hiding nothing about my naked body. “I’ve taken care of it,” I say, smiling.
“Well, good,” he says. “But then again, damn, you’re so good-looking I might need to knock you up to keep you here.”
The thought of carrying another child related to this family fills me with cold dread, a feeling that seeps into my bones and takes up residence.
“You don’t need to do that,” I say, giggling. “I’ll always be your girl.”
He is apparently thinking about impregnating me quite seriously. “You could use a little extra meat on your bones,” he says, caressing my upper thighs under the towel. He pulls it away, exposing me to the damp night air, and slides one finger along my slit, cupping my pussy with his hand. I writhe a little underneath his touch.
“The boobs,” I say, taking his other hand and cupping it to my breast. “A baby would ruin them.”
He withdraws his hand from between my legs and squeezes both of my breasts in his hands. “I could just buy you some more,” he says.
“Dornan!” I say sharply, breaking him out of his funk. He cannot seriously be thinking of getting me pregnant a mere few weeks after he’s met me.
“Sammi,” he mimics, setting his jaw squarely and grabbing my elbow. Before I can fight him off, he has flipped me onto my stomach, his knee pressed into my back, pinning me in place.
“What?” I ask, before I hear a whack and feel a sharp sting at my ear.
“Be quiet,” he instructs, laying on top of me, crushing me with his weight. “Listen to me. You keep taking your little pills for now, and when I decide I’m ready for another son, you’ll give me those pills and we’ll make a baby. I decide what happens. Understood?”
I nod minutely, pinned and useless. I’d kill him before I ever let him do that to me again. I’d rather die.
Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he releases me, and I sit up, gathering the sheets around me. My next question escapes my lips before I can think.