Catching Pretty (Lovely Broken Doll #2)

43. Ava

AVA

M y kiss was raw, demanding, fueled by the anger and despair clawing inside me.

Ty’s reaction was instant, his hands tightening around my wrists as he returned the kiss with an intensity that bordered on violence, his lips rough, desperate, as though he was trying to erase the last few hours.

He released my wrists and tangled his fingers in my hair, tugging it and making my scalp sting, a reminder of the anger still running under his skin.

Part of me wanted to resist, to shove him away, to scream—but I kissed him back with a hunger that surprised even me.

I dug my nails into his shoulders, dragging against his skin with a vengeance, as if somehow this might make up for the tracker in my neck, for Mr. Buckley’s death, for everything .

He just pulled me in closer, his cock flush against my wet pussy, his grip bruising, his lips harsh against mine, but I didn’t care .

I kissed him harder, feeling the desperation pouring out of both of us, the anger, the fear, all twisted together in a way that made it impossible to stop.

And in that moment, I didn’t want to.

I wanted more .

I reached for his shirt, his belt, for his zipper. He only broke away long enough to help me tug off his shirt and kick off his pants.

His cock sprung free, thick and hard, the veins almost angry.

He grabbed my bloody gown by the neckline and ripped it clean off me.

He positioned his cock at my entrance. “Beg for it.”

“W-what?” I gasped.

“Beg.”

“Please, fuck m—”

He thrust into me, swift and brutal.

I cried out, my nails raking down his back, leaving angry red trails in their wake. He hissed, his teeth grazing my neck, biting down hard enough to bruise.

God, he was so thick it felt like he was splitting me open. In a way, he was, carving my heart in two. Two men, same face, two sides of my heart.

He began to fuck me and I fucked him back, wrapping my legs around his waist. Two hot bodies. Feeling. Needing. Aching.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I love you more.”

“I hate you,” I replied, as we moved together in a frenzied rhythm, our bodies colliding with a force that bordered on punishment, the side table slamming against the wall .

Each thrust was an outlet for our rage, our fear, our helplessness. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, punctuated by our ragged breaths and guttural moans.

“That’s not the truth,” he said, and his thumb found my clit as he added, “Or at least not all of it.”

I betrayed myself with a desperate moan and before I realized it, the truth was flowing from my lips. “I hate that I don’t hate you.”

Pleasure mixed with desperation and fury inside me, the pressure building until I couldn’t take it anymore.

He wrapped his hand around my throat, trapping the breath from my lungs, but I didn’t care. I wanted the pain, craved it even. It was real, tangible, unlike the emotional turmoil threatening to consume me.

I came hard.

My body shuddered violently, clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed over me. I gasped for air as his grip on my throat loosened, my vision swimming with black spots.

Ty didn’t slow down. If anything, my orgasm spurred him on, his thrusts becoming even more frantic, more punishing. His fingers dug into my hips, sure to leave bruises, as he relentlessly pounded into me.

I could feel another climax building, impossibly soon after the first. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, raw and overstimulated.

It was too much, and yet not enough.

“Fuck,” Ty growled, his voice rough and strained. “I can feel you getting close again.”

He lifted up my thigh so he could get deeper, shifting his angle slightly, hitting that spot deep inside me that made me see stars.

I cried out, my back arching as my body flooded with pleasure again. I writhed as I was trapped in his arms, feeling like the orgasm was wringing me out.

Ty soon followed, thrusting into me one last time, a guttural groan falling from his mouth as he came inside me. He placed his sweaty forehead on mine, his breaths uneven and ragged.

His bedroom smelled of sex and copper, a heady mix that made my head spin.

For a moment, we just stayed there, our hearts pounding against each other, the reality of what we’d done slowly seeping in.

“Shit,” I said. “We didn’t use a condom.”

“You’re not going to fall pregnant.”

Men. Maybe if they were the ones burdened with growing the new humans, they’d care more about using protection.

“Unless your swimmers are defunct,” I snipped, “you can’t know that.”

Ty froze, a shadow flickering in his eyes, his shoulders tensing with something unspoken.

I pulled back, narrowing my gaze. “What is it?”

He tried to shrug it off, his tone casual, almost dismissive. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

I blinked, frustration building as I sensed he was hiding something. “No, tell me. Now. ”

He shifted slightly, as if to distance himself, pulling back just enough to make my grip tighten on his arm .

I held him in place with my legs around his waist, my voice firm, leaving no room for evasion. “Ty?”

A heavy sigh escaped him, his gaze dropping, the hint of vulnerability flashing through the usual hardened exterior.

“As a precaution, I implanted a contraceptive rod in…” his voice trailed off.

A wave of guilt surged through me, twisting into something darker, something raw—disgust at the liberties he’d taken, the choices he’d made without me. Violations, each one carving deeper.

Without thinking, I shoved him back, putting space between us, his hot cum trickling out of me.

“What?” he said as he stumbled back. “I mean, you don’t want a baby right now, right? Surely?”

“No, of course not.” I shook my head, frustration making me want to hurt him. “That’s not the point.”

“I mean, maybe one day…” he said, his voice growing wistful.

I hopped down from the side table and swung at him, this time landing my fist square on his mouth. His lip split open, blood glistening against his teeth.

“Ow,” I hissed, clutching my throbbing hand, bruised twice now on his maddeningly gorgeous face.

For a fleeting second, I almost felt guilty for reopening that scar. Almost.

I braced myself, half expecting Ty to lose it, to unleash his anger after I’d hit him yet again.

Instead, he touched his fingers to his mouth, glancing at the blood smeared across his fingertips with a blank expression.

He pursed his lips as he looked back up at me. “Your stance was off. You’d have hit me with more force if you’d followed through with your hip.”

A sound of pure frustration slipped out of me, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Nothing fazed him. Nothing.

I stomped off toward the bathroom and turned on the water, letting it fill the claw-foot tub. I needed to clean myself up—and clear my head.

I gripped the edge of the tub, staring into my reflection in the mirror as the enormity of what I’d done hit me like a sledgehammer.

I’d fucked Ty.

Worse than that—I’d wanted to.

I had begged .

Begged him to fuck me.

I couldn’t hide behind the excuse of therapy or punishment, no rationale to shield me from the truth. I’d been the one to lean in, to instigate the kiss and more .

My heart hammered with shame and a sickening sense of guilt. What had I done?

I pressed my fingers to my swollen lips, as though I could erase the memory, the taste of him still lingering.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling of Ty’s mouth on mine, the way his cock had buried deep inside me, stirring something deep and volatile within my soul. Something I couldn’t deny, something I’d tried so hard to bury.

And now, I’d betrayed Ciaran in the worst possible way. The person whom I loved, who loved me, and I’d betrayed him.

With Ty.

With his twin brother .

God. I wanted to scream.

I’d allowed myself to indulge in the twisted intimacy Ty offered, the warmth that felt dangerously like comfort, like belonging. I’d let go of the boundaries I’d sworn I’d hold, given in to something dark and selfish that I couldn’t take back.

I’d let Ty in , if I was being painfully honest with myself.

What would Ciaran think if he knew? If he saw me now, with Ty’s finger marks bruising my skin, his cum inside me, his stain on my soul?

I’d torn a hole through everything Ciaran and I had once shared, breaking trust that he didn’t even know I’d betrayed. I tried to swallow the rising panic, the sickening realization that I might have destroyed everything.

I felt Ty’s presence behind me, the warmth radiating from him brushing my back, an unbidden shiver tracing up my spine.

He walked so fucking quietly.

I forced myself to ignore him, clamping down on the confusing whirlwind inside me. Anger. Guilt. Confusion. All of it boiling beneath my skin, almost too much to contain. How had I let it come to this?

His voice, firm and determined, vibrated behind me. “If you want babies, I’ll take that implant out now and keep you in bed until your belly is round. If you want to leave and never step foot in Blackthorn again, I’ll burn it down behind us. And…”

“And?”

“And if you want to return to Darkmoor and destroy the Society— ”

“Let me guess,” I said with a snort, “you’d burn them down for me.”

“No. I’d stand by your side and hand you the match.”

I didn’t say anything.

Because I feared he was lying. That this was all just some trick.

“Ava, I’ll go back to Darkmoor with you.”

I whirled around, barely able to believe it. I must have misheard him over the rush of water from the tub faucet.

For a moment we just stood there, both of us still so very, very naked. The only noise was the rushing of water. The only movement was the steam curling around us.

“W-what are you saying?” I asked.

“We’ll take down the Society. Together.”

I felt a flicker of disbelief, something twisting in my chest that I didn’t dare call hope. This had to be a trick, a ploy, some twisted attempt to manipulate me back to his side.

I braced myself, waiting for him to reveal whatever strings were attached.

But he just looked at me, his face steady and unreadable, like this was an offer without conditions.

“You’re ready,” he added.

The words lingered, an unexpected note of finality in his tone that stopped my breath.

Yes. I was leaving this cursed place. Going home. Back to Dublin. Back to Ebony and Lisa and Darkmoor and…

Scáth.

The relief was short-lived, dread settling in like a heavy stone.

How would Ciaran react, seeing me arrive with his brother—the brother he thought dead, the brother he believed was just a ghost of a memory? How could he ever look at me the same, knowing whom I’d chosen to bring along with me?

Ty cleared his throat. “But first…”

I almost snorted. Right. There was the other fucking shoe.

“There’s one last… session.” His tone darkened, a quiet insistence settling into each word. “One more memory left for you to unlock. One final thing you need to remember.”

A fresh chill slipped down my spine, colder this time, and I fought against the desire to cover up my nakedness from him. “One more… memory?”

The question hung between us, and though I fought it, curiosity and a trace of dread filled me.

Ty nodded, his face as solemn as I’d ever seen it.

“You need to remember what you did.”