Catching Pretty (Lovely Broken Doll #2)

21. Ava

AVA

T he matted curls of the professor’s sweaty chest hovered over my face as he stole from me.

Inside my frozen body I screamed and threw myself against the bars of my physical prison, my own body turned into a cage.

The weight of him and the sourness of his sweat making bile rise up my throat.

“Eyes on me, Ava.”

Ty’s voice sliced through the suffocating fog, shattering the professor into a blur of tears.

Ty? Where are you? Save me!

I searched the mist for him, my thoughts swirling in panic, but then his face broke through like a lighthouse piercing the night. The sharp, chiseled lines of his features came into focus, and a wave of relief crashed over me.

My body stilled as I became painfully aware of the heat radiating from him, his hard, muscled body pressed flush against mine, and his thick cock resting at my pussy entrance, leaving me feeling empty and needing to be filled .

The corner of Ty’s perfect lips pulled up into a faint unexpected smile. Wow, the cold warden smiles.

“There you are, my hummingbird.” he said, his voice warm like he was welcoming me home.

He cleaned up my tears from my cheeks with his warm tongue and the tip of his cock slipped into my entrance.

For a moment, panic surged through me, clawing at my chest.

No, don’t.

I wasn’t his.

I was Ciaran’s.

Every nerve screamed that this would be a betrayal—that somehow the therapy that had come before might be excused as… cleansing.

But for Ty to know me—to mesh with my body while he stared into my eyes—was unforgiveable.

But I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t pull away. I couldn’t even plead with him, no .

My body wouldn’t respond to my mind, and I was trapped in this moment where the lines between the two brothers blurred.

Ty slid his cock into me, the hollowness filling, my wet, soft body welcoming him even as it betrayed me.

As guilt weaved inside me, a louder voice whispered through the cracks—insistent, unrelenting. Let go. Give in. Accept.

This was out of my control.

Wasn’t it?

My limbs were paralyzed, my body no longer mine to command. If I couldn’t stop him, if I couldn’t fight back, did that make me complicit? Was it even my fault ?

Could I really be blamed for surrendering to the inevitable? For letting Ty—no, forcing Ty—to make these decisions for me?

Guilt weaved through me, but with it came a strange, twisted sense of relief.

I didn’t have to fight. I couldn’t. And that thought made the burden just a little easier to bear.

Pleasure slammed through me as he began to thrust, slowly at first, then faster. This time, inside my frozen body, I twisted around in its fiery delight, letting it burn away my demons.

Even when the darkness edged at my vision, all I felt was Ty. He might be my warden, but he was also my guard. My protector.

Ty gripped my face, trapping me in his stare, and pulled my thigh up around his hip so he could fuck me deeper. His cock slammed against that sensitive spot inside me.

“You’re mine ,” he whispered, he promised. “Only ever mine .”

My body exploded and a blinding light burned through everything. Every nerve was on fire, every cell exploding with energy.

In my mind I was screaming, but the sound was swallowed by the overwhelming sensation of my world shattering into a million pieces.

I became aware of Ty pulling me into his arms, holding me as my body stitched itself back together again. This time I straddled him, my thighs around his waist, my head on his shoulder as the life returned to my limbs.

I wanted to tell him that I hated him, but I swallowed it down .

I feared I’d start crying if I spoke. I was tired of crying. And I feared he would call me out, point out how easily my pussy welcomed him, proof of my lie. That I didn’t really hate him at all. Or at least, my pussy didn’t.

He was still hard inside me. He… he hadn’t let himself come.

Why not?

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised against my hair.

I buried my face deeper into his neck, letting the scent of sandalwood and musk envelop me—a scent that, against all logic, had begun to feel like safety. How had it come to this?

My tormentor was becoming my solace.

Even though I knew he would hurt me again, that more pain was inevitable, there was something undeniable about the way he held me. As twisted as it was, he was also my salvation. The balm to my wounds. My safe harbor in the storm.

Over Ty’s shoulder, I stared at part of the wall as a distant memory shimmered.

The shadow of a younger Ciaran appeared, watching from the narrow crack… of a secret panel I’d forgotten existed.

He was breathtaking, with that angelic face and the predator’s gleam in his icy eyes. Like a panther lurking in the dark, beautiful and lethal, fury radiating off him in waves.

“How could you let him touch you? ”

His words, once spat at me, now wrapped around my throat, tightening, stealing my breath.

Guilt clawed at my insides. Ciaran had to understand, didn’t he? This wasn’t intimacy—it was survival. It was Ty’s twisted form of therapy. I wasn’t responsible. I wasn’t to blame for the way my body responded. I couldn’t be.

Could I?

The pleasure that flickered through me wasn’t my fault. It couldn’t be. But that whisper of guilt gnawed at me. How could you let him touch you?

I blinked, and the memory of Ciaran vanished, the secret panel closing. But the consequences remained, lingering in the space between my skin and Ty’s touch.

And I feared that even when Ty set me free, when I returned to Ciaran, it could never be the same. I wouldn’t be the same girl he knew; I could never be her again.

And that might destroy us.

I woke slowly, the heaviness of sleep lingering in my limbs.

For a moment, confusion swirled in my head—no nightmares. I’d expected them, as if I deserved to be tormented in my sleep after everything that I’d remembered.

But there was only silence.

Then I realized why.

I felt a presence behind me before I heard the softest masculine sigh, the sound drifting over my skin like a cold breeze, sending a shiver down the back of my neck.

Ty.

Slowly, I turned to face him, my heart leaping as my eyes locked on his face.

It was softened from sleep, his features less guarded, more… vulnerable than I had seen in days.

His presence, so close and warm, bled into me, and I hated that it felt… comforting. I should have been afraid. I should have moved away, but instead, something in me softened.

I blinked drowsily, brushing the dried tears from my eyes as my mattress dipped and a familiar warmth settled in beside me. I knew, even half-asleep, that it was Ty.

Somehow, despite the professor locking me in my bedroom, unfair punishment for muddy shoes that hadn’t been mine, he’d found a way in. Again.

“How did you get in?” I whispered, rolling over to face him, the edges of his face barely visible in the dim moonlight.

Ty gave a quiet scoff, wrapping an arm around my waist. “You really think a locked door is going to keep me from you?”

A small shiver ran down my spine as his breath fanned softly against my hair. The scent of him—sandalwood, something dark and comforting—wrapped around me.

“If he finds you here, you’ll get in trouble,” I murmured, my voice barely audible, but even I knew it didn’t sound like much of a protest.

He buried his face in my hair and breathed in deeply, as if memorizing the smell of me, sending another shiver through me. “Worth it.”

We’d just slept next to each other. Nothing had happened. I hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did guilt twist in my gut like this?

Flashes from last night crept in. I remembered Ty carrying me to my bed after that horrific therapy had drained every ounce of energy from my body. I remember him tucking me in and climbing in after me, spooning me, wrapping me in his warmth.

And I took it, greedy for his solace .

I thought I even remembered begging him to please stay.

He did. He hadn’t left. He’d stayed beside me all night.

It was exactly what he used to do when we were younger whenever I had nightmares or was too afraid of the darkness around Blackthorn Hall.

That memory made something inside me soften, made something warm and familiar coil in my belly.

No. This wasn’t the same boy who’d been my best friend, my protector. This wasn’t him anymore. This man was a stranger. A monster.

Ty’s lids fluttered, his brows furrowing.

“No,” he muttered, his limbs thrashing against the sheets. “ Stop .”

The fear in his voice bled into my chest, tightening around my heart, making it seize.

He was having a nightmare.

I knew about those. Too well.

Without thinking, I lunged forward, risking the wild swing of his strong arms, and wrapped myself around him. As if I could anchor him to the present, pull him away from the nightmare.

“Ty, wake up,” I begged. “It’s just a nightmare.”

I squeezed him, willing him to come back to me, to now.

His eyes snapped open with a gasp, but they didn’t see me at first. They looked through me, past me, as if I wasn’t even there.

For a moment, I saw a glimmer of raw fear in those pale-blue eyes—something I shouldn’t recognize in him, but I did.

His fear mirrored my own.

Then his gaze focused on mine. He blinked, his gaze darting around my room and the coldness bled over his tormented features, slowly erasing the vulnerability I had caught a glimpse of.

I shouldn’t have cared. This man—my captor, my tormentor—shouldn’t have been a mystery I needed to solve. But his pain mirrored mine too much. It snuck under my skin, becoming a part of me.

And I needed to know.

“What were you dreaming about?” I dared to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ty shook his head as if to banish the last of the shadows clinging to him. His jaw tightened, and the mask slid back into place, rigid and unyielding.

Disappointment wove through me, bitter and unexpected.

Ty cleared his throat. The mattress shifted as he climbed out of bed and walked around to my side.

“Go wash your face,” he said in that infuriatingly calm voice. “Then we’ll start.”

His shadow loomed over me, and a jolt of fear crawled up my spine.

But I kept my voice steady. “Are you making me do therapy today?”

He tilted his head, expression unreadable. “In a way.”

My head spun at the possibilities, dread settling like lead in my stomach. What does that mean?

Fear gripped me, tightening around my throat as the memories from yesterday surged back—memories I’d been trying to shove deep down where they couldn’t hurt me. I recoiled from the images that flashed across my mind, bile rising in my throat .

“This exercise will make you feel better,” he added softly.

Better? What twisted form of “better” could he possibly mean?

He held out his hand toward me, an offering—or a demand. His face was calm, but there was something in his eyes, a flicker of hesitation.

I stared at his outstretched hand, my pulse quickening.

“You used to trust me,” he said quietly, the tiniest crack of vulnerability breaking through his cold facade.

I swallowed hard. “You’ve never held me hostage before.”

A flash of something crossed his face—regret, maybe, or frustration—before he schooled his features back into that cold mask. His hand remained outstretched, unmoving.

I sighed, knowing full well I didn’t have a choice.

Ty liked to make it seem like I did, but in the end, it was all an illusion. I could fight him every step of the way and just wear myself out, or I could surrender now and get whatever new torture he had in store out of the way.

My hand trembled as I reached for his. “Let’s get this over with.”