Broken Hearts (Hearts 2)

“That was really good,” she said. I tossed the washcloth on the floor in the corner and kept my silence. “Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, princess,” I told her. “We fuck pretty well.”

“But we don’t actually fuck.” I went to stand, but she grabbed my hand. “Why don’t you have sex with me? Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?”

I could have thrown off her hand. I could have said something cruel and withering—yes, it’s you and your innocence and your fucking wide eyes and the lie that you think is me—and maybe that would have been the best call. But I didn’t do any of that.

I sat back down and pulled the covers up to her neck, keeping her hands underneath so she couldn’t touch me. “You were a virgin on your wedding night.” It wasn’t a question and her face above the blankets went as white as the sheets.

“So?”

“It was part of the reason he wanted you,” I said. “A girl your age who looked like you and still a virgin—you don’t grow on trees.”

“Why are we talking about him?” she asked, trembling and angry.

“All you’ve known from sex is the senator’s rape and my . . . fucking filth.”

“I like your filth.”

“You and me, Poppy. We weren’t right from the start and you’re going to have a normal life, away from the senator and away from me. You’ll marry some good guy—”

“I’m never getting married again.”

Her venom surprised me, and I looked down at her. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” She was stone cold in my arms. Absolutely resolute. “No one has that much control over me again. No one requires me to sacrifice and compromise until there’s nothing left of the person I am.”

“I don’t think all marriages are like what you had with the senator.”

“Right. You have such an understanding of marriage?”

It was a direct hit and a vicious one. She was changing right under my eyes; the sweet girl was gone, replaced by this fierce woman.

“You’re not any better than the senator, thinking you know what’s best for me and making decisions like my opinion doesn’t matter,” she said. “So, you’re right. I am going to go have a different life far away from you and I’m going to find a man. A good man. Who is decent and kind and who says nice things to me and thinks I’m wonderful and I’m going to let him fuck me so hard and so often—”

I put my hand over her mouth and she tried to bite me.

I think you’re wonderful. I think you’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen and that you let me put my blood-soaked hands on your beautiful skin is more than I can take.

“Stop,” I said as she tried to kick at me with her legs.

“Get the fuck off me,” she yelled through my fingers.

“I will. When you stop.”

Finally, she held herself still, but I could feel the shake in her muscles. Anger and patience. She wasn’t done fighting; she was just waiting for her chance.

Good girl. That’s how it’s done.

I didn’t know why I said what I did next, maybe because I’d had two brain-rocking orgasms on no sleep, but I opened my mouth and the truth I rarely ever acknowledged in my head came out.

“My da never talked about my ma.” That trembling in her went still. “Not a word. I asked once, and he said that she died giving birth. Some kind of aneurysm or blood clot. I was a kid, and I didn’t understand. But it was real clear he’d loved her about as much as he loved me—which was not much. And where I grew up, boys were getting girls pregnant all the fucking time. I don’t know if it was the church’s fault trying to teach abstinence to a bunch of horny teenagers, or that we were broke and bored, but it was as if no one had ever heard of a condom, like. And some of the boys married the girls and they did it looking like my da, you know. Angry at the wedding. Just a shite way to start a life. To raise a family. And I imagined my poor ma was a girl like that. Saddled to some fucker who took advantage or worse because my da was that type, you know. The type to force the issue. And then she died having me. And that was the end of her story. I didn’t know her, but she sure as feck deserved more than that.”

Somehow, Poppy got a hand up from under the blankets and touched my face. I flinched away and she stopped.

“I’ll die a bad death, princess. There’s no question. Men like me, tools like me, we have short expiration dates. So, I don’t have sex without protection. Because my bloodline doesn’t need to be carried on. And no woman should be made to make a painful choice about having a baby she might not want because I didn’t protect her. It’s the rule I don’t break. Not ever. And I broke a lot of rules with you, but I made sure I never had protection around you. Because you deserve better than being fucked by me.”