Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
RYAN
My breath hitches, and my eyes pop open wide as my hips are lifted by a strong hand. Wet fingers slide through my center. I let out a whimper, knowing exactly whose hand is between my legs.
It’s Grover’s perfect touch. His hand at my hip shifts, and I feel his palm wrap around my mouth, stopping me from crying out as his hand moves and then his fingers between my legs are replaced with the head of his cock right before he slams into me.
It’s without ease. It’s hard, and I feel like he’s ripped me in half. I expect him to pause when he’s buried to the hilt so I can adjust to his size, to his invasion, but he doesn’t. Instead, he fucks me. It’s not making love. It’s not even sex. It’s rough and filled with anger.
Grover grunts behind me, his hips pistoning as he moves in and out of my body, his balls slapping against my clit, the sound of his flesh against mine with each thrust filling the air. It hurts. But at the same time, I welcome it.
I close my eyes when he tugs my head back, my neck stretched at an uncomfortable angle as he holds me back. My fingers grip the sheets beneath me, my arms straight, elbows locked, back bowed.
He fucks me hard in silence, his grunts growing with each thrust. The hand that was between my legs is suddenly wrapped around my throat as he squeezes. Then he lifts me up a bit more by my neck, high enough that I can’t keep my hands on the bed to brace myself any longer.
The only thing holding me up aside from his hands, one on my mouth, the other around my throat, is the fact that his dick is buried deep inside of me. Grover pushes up, over and over. He doesn’t stop, his pace so hard and fast that I start to see stars.
Or maybe I’m seeing stars because his fingers continue to grip the front of my throat, squeezing and releasing with each thrust. He releases his hand from my mouth, slipping it between my legs as he begins to touch my clit.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, his lips against my ear, his hot breath washing over me. My eyes slide closed as his fingers begin to work between my legs.
“Not right now,” I moan. He pushes up inside of me with a hard thrust, and I whimper. “Yes,” I whisper.
“I want you to hurt,” he rasps.
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer me right away. Instead, he continues with his brutal thrusts while his fingers continue to play my clit, bringing me closer and closer to an orgasm.
I don’t know if it’s a forced one or what exactly is happening, but I’m on the edge…
and with just a few swipes of his fingers, I come.
My orgasm rushes through me so hard that my entire body convulses. I whimper, careful not to cry out loudly so I don’t wake up Adam. I don’t want him to think I’m being hurt again.
Grover doesn’t stop moving even after I’ve come. His hand moves from between my legs, his other still gripping my throat. Then I feel his fingers against my back as he pushes me back over again.
Before I realize what’s happening, his hands are no longer on my back or my throat.
Instead, he’s gripping my hips as he pulls them back.
I don’t know how he can keep going. I have a sheen of sweat covering my body, and I feel overly sensitive.
Every inch of my body is in pain or pleasure, a mixture that I’m not sure of, and I don’t know where the pain ends and the pleasure begins.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I don’t know if I want him to stop or to keep going. I feel like I don’t know anything right now. My body, my mind, every part of me is mush, and then he stops and lets out a growl as I feel him empty himself inside of me.
He’s panting above me, but he doesn’t make a move to pull out of me the way he did yesterday. In fact, he stays buried deep, his fingers gripping me hard, adding to my already bruised body.
“Fuck,” he hisses, finally speaking, still holding on to me.
My body is so limp that I can’t hold myself up. The only reason I’m not flat on the mattress right now is because he’s holding on to me. Then he leans over, and contrary to this entire encounter, he touches his lips to my shoulder in a sweet and gentle kiss.
Only then does he release me and slip out of my body.
I don’t know what I expect to happen next, but it isn’t him lying down beside me then gathering me in his arms. My naked body is pressed against his side.
I don’t question how I got naked, even though I know I went to bed in my pajama tank and shorts.
I’m hesitant to speak, to touch him, to even breathe.
“I’m not the same man I was when we met,” he murmurs.
The announcement doesn’t surprise me, but at the same time, I’m not sure what he’s trying to tell me. I don’t respond immediately. I shift and look up at him, resting my chin against his chest.
He isn’t looking down at me. He’s staring at the ceiling. “I realize you aren’t the same either,” he continues. “But I’m still angry with you. I don’t trust you.”
That is a blow, but not an unwarranted one, because he shouldn’t trust me. I am lying to him. I’m keeping a secret that I know could ruin whatever this is. If there is anything left of us aside from sex.
I’m still not sure.
It’s only been a few days, and while I can appreciate that he’s taken care of me even when he didn’t have to, I can also understand that he feels incredibly guilty because I came to him for help right before I was attacked, and he wouldn’t give it.
“You don’t have to do this, Grover. I know you’re angry, but you also feel guilty. If that’s all this is. A guilt thing. Then please just go. Adam and I have been on our own for six years. We can continue.”
The. Wrong. Thing. To. Say.
There is a heavy silence before I’m flipped onto my back and his hips are between my thighs. I’m sore and swollen everywhere. His eyes find mine and focus on my own as he watches me in silence. He’s pissed. It’s clear he did not like what I had to say.
“Bitch,” he snaps. I should be offended, but I’m about to pee myself, so I decide to forego the offense. “You think I’m in this bed, that you’re in this fucking house because I feel guilty?”
I blink, staring up at him. “Well, yeah,” I exhale, hoping that if I say the words quietly, he won’t be pissed about them.
It doesn’t work.
He’s no less pissed than he was a few moments ago.
“You’re fucking crazy, legs. I wouldn’t feel guilty about any of it if I didn’t want you here.
The fact that I feel even remotely guilty is because I still want you.
You’re mine, and I didn’t protect you because of my stubborn pride.
But you really brought the whole fucking thing on yourself, so the guilt really isn’t at my feet. ”
I don’t know how I feel about his words and the fact that he’s kind of right. I hate that. I sink my teeth into my tongue, not quite sure how to respond to any of that.
“Why are you so angry with me, then?”
“I’m not.”
His words come out harsh, and my brows snap together as I look up at him with confusion.
“I’m pissed at myself because I do care about you when I really fucking shouldn’t.
You betrayed me, and I think you’re still lying to me.
Keeping shit from me. I want to scrape your ass off and be done with you.
Eleven fucking years and the sight of you still makes me hard as fuck.
It shouldn’t. I should have already worked you out of my system, but I haven’t. ”
Anger instantly fills me. I ignore everything he’s said and focus on one thing. “So you’re mad because you still find me attractive?” I ask.
He chuckles. “No,” he grunts. “If I only found you attractive, I’d hit it and quit it, then send you on your way with a little cash to get you out of my hair. But it’s more than that. You’re my woman.”
“You’re an asshole,” I grind out.
“No shit.”
God.
What a dick.
His lips slam down against mine. His tongue fills my mouth, and not for the first time, I forget what the hell we’re talking about. I forget that he’s an asshole, and I whimper as he kisses the absolute shit out of me.
ATOMIC
The sun shines into the room what feels like just moments after I’ve closed my eyes. Truth is, it’s probably only been a couple of hours since we fell asleep. After I fucked her so hard that I probably bruised several more places on her body, I fucked her soft and sweet before we both passed out.
Sitting up, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair. What a goddamn night. After my meeting with Nash and King, a strip club now being part of the club endeavors, we drank a little too much, then Vixen gave me a knowing smile, and I knew I had to come home.
I had to have a prospect drive me home because I couldn’t fucking get on my bike. I didn’t realize I was as drunk as I was. I can usually hold my shit, but I don’t typically drive when I’ve had a bunch of Crown and no food.
Food.
Cursing, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand. I never bought food. I went through all the trouble to write a goddamn list but never made it to the fucking store. I grab my phone from the floor, my feet shuffling across the floor as I make my way to the bathroom.
I start the shower and let the steam fill the room, then step into the hot shower, the water burning my skin as I let it beat down against me. I need to not be hungover today. I have a lot of shit to do and not very much time to do it, including a meeting with Nash to finalize everything.
It’s a fuck of a lot, and that doesn’t include the absolute shit show that is the pimp and Ryan’s sister, both of whom have fucking vanished. Nobody can find them, and I’ve had people looking. I wanted to make sure we were home and both Ryan and Adam were safe.
Now that they are, I can focus on that, but now that I can give the pimp and Ellen all my attention, I have the club pulling me in about four different directions. Fucking hell, and now I have a goddamn family of sorts.
Finishing my shower, I grab a towel and dry off, wrapping it around my waist before I head back into the bedroom to get dressed. Ryan is still asleep in bed as I dress and then leave the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
I shouldn’t be surprised when I find Adam sitting in the living room playing with some cars, the low hum of cartoons playing on the television. I don’t ask him how he figured out how to turn the damn thing on. That’s just what kids fucking do these days, I think.
I’m a little surprised, though, only because when I was that age, I remember sleeping as long as I possibly could. Hell, I’m still that way.
“Morning,” I rumble as I move toward the coffee maker.
“Morning,” Adam replies, his voice soft, almost too soft.
The way he says that single word causes me to pause. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder at him. His back is to me, and his shoulders are slumped. Once the coffee has started percolating, I make my way toward him and sink down on the cushion of the sofa behind him.
“Adam,” I call out gently. He turns his head, his little haunted eyes find mine, and I press my lips into a straight line. “What’s wrong?” I prod.
He turns to face me fully, his big eyes focused on mine, and then he speaks. “You didn’t come back.”
Those four words cut me deeply. So fucking deeply. And I didn’t even know it was possible to be sliced that way by a five-year-old. But that’s exactly what he does.
“Did you think I wasn’t?” I ask.
He shrugs a shoulder. “I dunno.”
“I just had some work stuff to do. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Aunt Ellen came by. I was scared,” he whispers.
Anger flows through me instantly at the mention of Ellen’s name. I want to march back into the bedroom and demand to know what the fuck happened, but I decide against it. I need a moment to breathe, to calm down. I need a moment in fucking general.
But as soon as I calm the fuck down, I’m going to ask some damn questions, and I expect answers.
In fact, I will have them.