And most of all, I wanted to be free from my past, free from Harmony Hills and its scriptures. Now that someone is leaving Bible verses at the Grand, I know I will never be free. Not only from a man, but from the teachings I thought I’d left behind.
“It’s too late now,” he says, his tone indecipherable.
I look down between my legs, where my hands are still cupped protectively. Too late. “Yes.”
His hand fists his cock, stroking once, twice. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to take it easy on you because of this.”
Fear tightens my throat as I watch him. “It hurt too much. It’s too big.”
“Not too big. Your body was designed to take men. To take me. Now get on the bed.”
I scramble to the bed, skirting him as far as I can, as if his cock might reach out and impale me while I’m not looking.
I’m sore between my legs. It was only a dull throb when I sat on the floor, but when I move, it’s so much worse, fire licking me from inside. It wasn’t just precum from his body that stung my cuts and tears. It’s my own wetness too, because I can’t deny how he makes me feel. Even when I’m hurting, when I’m dying from the pain of him stretching me, breaking me, I want him.
That’s how we are together—depraved and beautiful.
I scramble beneath the covers, hiding my body, the cool sheets a thin barrier.
He studies me, his expression softening a fraction. But if I thought it would make him gentle, I’d be wrong. He grasps the corner of the sheet and pulls. It slinks to the ground, leaving me bare. Cool air washes over me.
One large hand circles my ankle. That’s the only warning I have before he pulls me toward him. Then I’m sprawled on the bed, legs open to his view. “I didn’t prepare you before,” he says, and it’s the closest he will ever come to an apology.
Then he bends his head, and I gasp. “What—”
My voice is choked off when his lips find my clit, a gentle kiss. Pleasure arcs through me, and I twist my body. “No, wait,” I tell him. “Wait.”
He lifts his head only slightly, raising one eyebrow. I can read his expression. He has no intention of stopping because I want him to, but he’s curious about what I’m going to say. I’m curious too, because I don’t even know. I can’t even think. My brain shorted out the second his mouth touched my sex.
“I’m—I’m bleeding,” I tell him. There’s blood on his cock, and it’s mine.
Amusement flits over his face. “You think because there’s blood on your pussy, I can’t lick you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. A flush makes my face hot to hear him say the words, to even think about him tasting me—tasting my arousal, tasting my blood.
His expression hardens. “It’s mine, Candy. Your blood, your body. Your virginity. You belong to me now. You don’t get to tell me no. And if you think I’m not going to fuck you, or lick you, or do anything I damn well please because of a little blood, then you have a lot to learn, little one.”
Then his head dips again, and it’s like electricity zings from the base of my sex up to the top of my clit. He presses his tongue against my hole, soothing the place that he hurt, making it burn even more.
The soft fabric of his suit whispers against the insides of my thighs. Rough fingers play with my folds before they hold me open for his assault. His tongue is wet and hot and knowledgeable as it flicks me, using just the right rhythm. My hips rock up to meet him. Unforgiving hands press my thighs down, forcing me flat on the bed.
He focuses on my clit, merciless as he lashes me again and again.
I clutch the sheets and twist my upper body, my legs held down by him. The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, pushing me under and stealing my breath. I can’t even cry out, can’t beg or scream. I can only jerk my body against the bonds of his hands as the orgasm drags on and on. My lungs burn from lack of air. Even then he doesn’t let up, his tongue dipping into my hole, drinking the juices I make for him.
Only when he pulls back can I finally suck in air—and let it out on a pitiful wail.
My defenses are broken, battered. He tore them down with single-minded intent, and now what’s left of me? I want him to do it again. More than that, I want him to be naked while he does it. I want him to be as vulnerable as I am, as open to me as I am to him.
Clumsy hands push at his suit jacket. “Take it off,” I say brokenly. “Take it—”
Gray eyes narrow. “Stop, Candace.”
He hitches the head of his cock against my pussy. My whole body goes tense, knowing exactly how much it will hurt. “No. Don’t. Please.”
“Excuse me?”
“Take it off.” I’m begging, pleading. I don’t really want him to stop. Even if he splits me in two pieces, I want him to do it. I just want him to be naked when he does it. Naked with me. Intimate. “At least the suit jacket. Please.”