Chapter 55
CURITIBA PARANá
Bryson admired Adria’s body. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the dip in her spine. She was fascinating to look at, and seeing her spent under him only spurred him on.
He hated that Regan’s voice crept into his mind every once in a while.
But with every moan, every breath, and noise Adria made, she chased him away. Burned the images until there was nothing left but her and him.
Bryson had told her he was going to fuck her ass, and he was a man of his word.
He briefly considered forcing her to have another orgasm before he fucked her, but decided it might be pushing her too far.
“Get on your knees.” Hearing his dominant voice in her presence was as exhilarating as it was unsettling.
Seeing her comply was nothing short of magic.
Bringing his hand down, he struck sharply onto her already pink bottom. She didn’t flinch.
She was too far gone from the prior orgasms, but Bryson wanted her with him. So he kept hitting her, until the pain brought her back into her body and he saw her tense, and then squirm under him.
Bryson had made her beg for every single orgasm he gave her.
Her pleas and cries would be music to his ears for the rest of his life.
His name on her lips was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. And Bryson didn’t know what he had done to be this lucky.
“You are going to beg me to fuck you now,” he said, his tone cold.
He punctuated the sentence with a sharp slap on her ass.
She shook her head.
He continued to spank her. “I can keep this up all night, and if my hand does get tired, I can grab one of the several paddles Xander gave us.”
She didn’t want to beg him for this.
But she was going to.
Bryson knew it.
And Adria knew it.
He continued until she was shaking under him. Purple spots started appearing on her tender flesh, and Bryson knew she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week without thinking about tonight.
“Fuck me, Bryson,” she said clearly.
Bryson leaned down and said, “I didn’t catch that.” Right before sinking his teeth into her tenderized ass cheek.
She squealed under him and tried to buck, but he held her.
“Fuck me, please,” she whined.
Bryson let her go and put some lube on himself and her, not that she needed it. She was soaked, and he had been prepping her hole for the last hour.
Pressing into her, Bryson felt the tight walls clench at his intrusion, and he went slowly at first.
When her moans and cries died down, he slapped her ass.
“Keep begging,” he growled as he picked up his pace.
She did.
The things that fell from her lips would have made sailors blush.
“Fill me.”
“Fuck me.”
“Ruin me.”
She chanted filthy things as he pressed into her, and he reached around and played with her breasts, rubbing her nipples between his fingers and pinching her until she was a babbling mess.
“Keep going,” he said.
Bryson teased her and pounded into her, taking his fill. He made her beg for every ounce of him, and he felt his arousal burning all around him.
Pulling her up by her hair, Bryson brought her into his chest and moved her body into his lap.
When he knew he was close, he pressed his fingers inside her cunt, feeling himself through her walls.
Adria whimpered and continued to beg. “Please, Bryson, just like that.”
“Fuck, don’t stop, keep fucking me.”
“Using me.”
Bryson didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
He pushed her all the way until she shattered around him and he wasn’t far behind.
The orgasm ran through him, while his body tightened in response before sparks seemed to electrocute his entire body as her muscles fluttered around him.
Hot cum filled the inside of Adria, and Bryson collapsed onto her.
The two of them fell into a perfect silence. Their bodies still except for the gentle rise and fall of their chests.
Bryson felt completely at peace. Hearing only silence for the first time in months.
And the stillness of it reached into somewhere deep inside of him. Bryson felt his armor—his carefully created shell—loosen.
“Regan hurt me,” he said, and he felt Adria hold her breath.
“But mostly, he just wanted me to hurt him,” Bryson whispered.
She twisted in his grip, and he fell out of her as she turned to place her palms on his face.
Bryson was surprised when he felt wetness forming there.
“I liked it,” he confessed.
Adria didn’t say anything. She just lay there with him, breathing.
“I would come, hurting him, Dri—like really hurting him.”
His voice cracked. “We both would hurt each other. It became a sick, twisted game.”
He closed his eyes, shutting her out. Shutting it all out. “I came every time.”
Every fucking time.
It didn’t matter who was topping, Regan always ensured Bryson finished.
“Your body responds in unique ways during assaults,” her voice said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “I still am fucked up from what happened to me. I—” she stopped talking, and he opened his eyes.
“Came, when I was old enough,” she continued, her voice so low that Bryson had to concentrate on her lips to hear her.
“My body just responded, even if my mind said no.”
Bryson shook his head. “But, Dri I, like, wanted to hurt him. I really wanted it.”
Bryson remembered the late nights, the thrill it gave him to mark Regan. How he felt when he knew something would scar.
“Why wouldn’t you want to hurt him?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Maybe I should have been less willing, made him force me more, not played into his hands so easily.”
Adria put a finger to his lips. “And what would have happened to Kaydon or Seth if you had? How would things have gone differently for you? You did what you had to do.”
He took in a steadying breath. “It doesn’t make what happened feel any better.”
“And why would it? It’s still a fucked-up, shitty thing. But it’s Regan’s fucked-up shitty thing. Don’t for a second think he changed you. When push comes to shove, you protected. Regan only hurts.”
The two of them just stared at each other for a long while.
“We should shower,” he said.
Adria’s eyelids were heavy. “You had your shot at being in charge, I’m back now and there is no way I’m getting out of this bed until morning.”
He laughed.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and after a breath she opened them. “What about your dad? What do you want to do?”
Bryson hesitated. “Truthfully, I don’t know.”
Adria nodded sleepily.
“And my mother, what do you want to say about her? I trust you.”
She snuggled deep into his arms, and the words died on his lips.
She doesn’t love you.
She doesn’t care about you.
She is hiding something from you.
Bryson couldn’t tell her.
Instead, he said, “I love you, Adria.” She made a content sound, her breathing slow.