This kind of anger had always been dangerous for me. It reminded me of a time when I’d lose control and lash out without consequence. The result had never been pretty.
I was utterly confused at the arrival of my tears, but it took very little time to remember why.
I’d tried to trust another man with just a small part of myself, and the same thing happened that always happened. I got fucked, lied to, and made to feel unimportant. But I couldn’t entirely blame Daniello. No, this was a sickness I’d started a long time ago with Laz.
I’d always wanted to believe and trust in the wrong type of man.
I heard the bathroom door open and saw Daniello sweep up the glass from my shattered clock before stripping bare and joining me uninvited in the shower. I hid my tear-streaked face under the showerhead, avoiding his eyes.
“Just leave,” I said, defeated. “I don’t trust you, either, and I don’t want to.”
I ignored the large build looming over me, perfectly cut, and completely viral. Nothing about Daniello was subtle. “Those tears are for me, Taylor,” he said, holding my face with one hand while he pushed me gently against the tile.
“My tears are for my stupid
ity, you unbelievable asshole.” He leaned in, his grip tightening as I tried to resist his kiss.
“I will be taking my pussy tonight, Taylor. You fight me, and I will take it anyway. It has been a…rough day,” he admitted, using my words, “and I just need my woman’s legs around me.”
“I’m not yours.” I resisted as he cupped my face, pulling me close. “I’m not your woman.”
“You know that is a lie,” he countered, forcing my eyes to his. “That changed today.”
“We fucked. You got no such confession from me. If you think a good fuck negates my intelligence, think again,” I said tearfully as they continued to fall. Daniello sighed as he released me and dropped to his knees, burying his forehead in my stomach. I froze as his hands began to mold my body with his touch. I gripped his hair hard in an attempt to yank him away from me as he held onto me tight as his touch roamed, tested, teased. Angry at my body, my mind, and the sudden erratic beating of my heart, I protested.
“Stop!” I screamed in anger as weakness seared through me.
“No,” he said simply, lifting me to straddle him as he pulled me out of the shower. I clawed his shoulders, and he completely ignored me.
“CAVE MAN!” Soaking wet and fighting, I screamed as he pushed me on the bed beneath him and held me, wrapping my legs around his waist. He leaned in, taking my lips. I bit his hard, tasting metal.
Pulling back with a roar, he commanded my eyes and made his declaration. “Everything I tell you is for you! Everything I do and do not do is for you! Goddamn it, woman, you have moved me, and I cannot fucking stay away from you! Stop fighting me! I am giving you everything I can give you!”
I stopped my struggle to stare up at him, all fight in me vanishing with the heavy hit of each of his words. Without hesitation, he placed himself at my entrance and pushed inside. Crying out his name as both a curse and prayer, my back arched at the feeling of fullness around his solid cock. My thighs trembled along with the rumble of emotion in my chest as his eyes tore through me and his body slid along mine, powerful, consuming, intoxicating, each stroke a hard hit to my resolve. Gripping his hair, our mouths collided, insatiable with need. With his next thrust, I came so hard I buckled completely beneath him.
Deeper and deeper he consumed me as my freed hands pulled him close and my body tilted, meeting each movement of his hips.
With one last powerful push, he lifted my hips as if to prove his point and poured his hot release inside of me, holding us tightly together. Powerless and so full, I stared up at him as he slowly lowered himself to hover above me.
“When you leave…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the rest. As bad for me as he was, as infuriating and as wrong as the situation had gone, I wanted him. And if our arrangement led me to being just another women whose bedside he left without explanation, then I was asking for warning. My legs still holding him to me, he hovered, his eyes seeing right through me.
“You want to know.”
I nodded.
He pulled away, lying on his back next to me, and lifting my leg by the knee, bringing it over his torso to stroke it.
“Then I will tell you, but you have to tell me something in return.”
Turning my head, I met his eyes as we faced each other on our pillows.
“Why do you feel the need for so much protection?”
A shallow laugh escaped me. “Kind of a ridiculous question coming from a man with blood stains on his shoes and who just threatened my life.”
He didn’t respond as he waited for a worthy answer.
With a sigh, I turned to face him. “I shot my first gun at age nine. I stole it from my father’s bedside and spent an entire summer practicing. And I don’t miss. A gun for me is like lipstick in the purse for any other woman. I can’t explain it any better.”