Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

“No, Mia. You want me to be a fucking asshole? I’ll be a fucking asshole.”

“No, that’s not what I want. I’m sorry. Please, Vince, I’m begging you—”

“Go ahead and fucking beg me, Mia. Beg me like you beg him. I don’t give a single fuck. Whether you want to be here or not, whether you want to be mine or not, you are. So you might as well fucking accept it and stop being such a bitch.”

I can tell he’s done talking to me now. I can tell there’s no point asking him not to, because this isn’t lust anymore—it’s punishment. My only shot at stopping him is to calm him down, and I don’t have enough time.

I still try one more time as he wrenches my thighs apart and plants himself between them. “Vince, please don’t be this guy. You don’t want to be this guy.”

He looks into my eyes, but his are glacial. “Fuck you, Mia.”

Then he pushes forward, burying himself inside my body with one long, forceful thrust. I cry out with a mixture of frustration and anger, slamming my fist into his shoulder. “Goddammit, Vince!”

He grabs my arms and pushes them down at my sides, watching my face as he moves inside my body. “This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.” He doesn’t sound the least bit remorseful—he’s still pissed. He’s just telling me, like a fucking afterthought.

“Well, I hope it’s worth it.” My breath hitches as he moves deep. “Because you’re going to fucking die for this.”

Nodding like he already knows that, he pumps into me again, a little more brutally this time. “Better get my money’s worth then, huh?”

I loathe that even now, with him still inside me, wanting to punish me, to hurt me, I want to protect this asshole. But I do.

“Please stop, Vince. I don’t want you to die and I can’t lie to him.”

“Oh, I’m not stopping, Mia. I’m going to fuck you until I’m good and done, and I’m going to finish inside you just like he did when he fucked you in my goddamn bed. I’m going to keep doing it every fucking night, and every fucking morning. Maybe you’d rather let him kill you than spend your life with me, but guess what, baby? You don’t get to choose this time.”

—

I’m still half-asleep when he starts stroking my pussy. A jolt of pleasure bleeds into my half-dream, half-awake state and I move my legs instinctively to give him better access. He doesn’t reward me though. Usually he rewards me, nudging his thumb against my clit, or moving his amazing body on top of mine so I can watch his handsome face while he finger fucks me before we get to the real deal. I want him to roll me over, grab a fistful of hair, and kiss me like the hours of sleep that kept us from each other have made him ravenous. Whatever this is, it’s wrong. He’s not touching me like he normally does. This doesn’t feel right.

It seems too bright outside, too. My eyes are still closed but Mateo starts his day early; ordinarily when he gives me my morning fuck, it’s still dark outside. When he finishes with me and heads to the shower or the gym, I get to roll back over on my sheets that smell like him and go back to sleep.

But it’s bright. It shouldn’t be so bright.

My eyes open, a cloud of dread already hanging over me. Then I see the foreign sight of Vince’s bedroom at his dad’s house and I realize why. I realize being awake sucks, because being awake means the fingers currently fondling me do not belong to the man I love, but my fucking ex-boyfriend.

“Vince, stop.” I reach down to shove his hand away, but now that he knows I’m awake, he only moves closer. My words fall on deaf ears, but I try anyway. “Please stop touching me.”

Without a word, he turns me from my side onto my stomach and wrenches my legs apart.

“Vince, please, not again.” He never used to be much for morning sex. I can count on one hand how many times we had it when we were together, and I was sort of hoping last night would be a one-time thing. Maybe since I had begged him not to do it, he would feel guilty today.

That does not seem to be the case. I’m too tired for this shit. Instead of accepting the inevitability of Vince fucking me again, I twist around, pull up my feet, and attempt to kick him away from me. He neatly catches my ankles, holding them apart and planting himself firmly between my legs. He didn’t bother to put his boxers back on last night, but I’m still wearing my bra and panties. Once he finished with me last night I locked myself in the bathroom. I expected him to care a little bit, but the asshole stayed in bed and ignored me. I thought he fell asleep and I was tired of sitting in the bathroom floor so I eventually crept out and went to his closet to steal one of his t-shirts, thinking maybe I could sneak out while he slept. Without rolling over, he told me to get my ass back in bed.