16. Ren
16
REN
“ R en... Ren, please...”
I close my eyes, my back to the wall outside the doorway. On the one hand, the sound of her pitiful pleas is music to my ears. How long have I been starved for the sound of her voice, much less the sound of it when it’s raised in helpless abandon?
On the other hand, I don’t dare look at her. Those moans are enough to start me twitching and lengthening mere minutes after I came. Already, I’m prepared for more action.
That’s the effect she has on me. That’s the power of my need for her. My hands ache for the feel of her under them, and my dick longs to test the tight heat of her dripping pussy. Just the thought of it leaves me shuddering, now using the wall to keep myself upright.
“Oh my god!” She’s stuck on the edge, straining for that extra bit of sensation that will push her over and into relief.
Do it. Give that to her.
Not while I’m like this, with my hunger as strong as ever. I would only end up hurting her. I haven’t left her—both of us—waiting this long for it to turn out that way.
Besides, it would mean giving her what she wants. Setting the precedent that all she has to do is beg long enough, and everything she desires is hers. I’m not doing that. She’s not the one who calls the shots.
Which means I’m stuck with my body on fire, my every impulse and heartbeat devoted to her. Squeezing my eyes closed as tightly as I can, I will away the tempting mental images stirred to life by her constant, guttural moans.
This is not going to work.
There’s only one solution that’s ever come close to doing the trick. All the long, lonely nights where even jerking off to the memory of her wasn’t enough. When the idea of breaking into her apartment and taking her all at once seemed like a logical solution to my constant state of arousal.
Closing the bathroom door at least muffles the worst sounds still coming from the bedroom. Turning on the shower helps, too. I can almost pretend she isn’t mere feet from me, that she didn’t beg me to fuck her minutes ago. She has always been my greatest weakness, but never more so than now when she’s here, at my mercy, with nothing and no one standing in my way.
I strip down quickly, in a hurry to get this over with. I’m well acquainted with the unpleasant sting of what feels like countless needles drilling into my skin—I would only do this for her. Stepping into the shower, I have to grit my teeth, letting out a growl of pure agony at the first touch of icy water against my overheated flesh. It leaves my heart racing, my entire body reacting to the sudden shock. Everything in me tells me to jump out of the tub, but I force myself to stay where I am, controlling my breathing, focusing on getting through it until the sting lessens, and I begin to adjust to the sensation.
It works like a charm. I’ve never been less interested in the thought of pussy than I am right now. But that isn’t going to last, and I can’t stay in the shower forever. I’m going to want her again and again.
She has no idea of the control she has over me. Just like she has no understanding of what I could be sacrificing. Of course, I would never go along with River’s decision against bringing her here. That was a no-brainer.
But it does mean causing a rift that’s been steadily growing with every mention of her.
She has the power to make me forget what used to be so clear. How the bastards who destroyed our lives deserve to suffer… endlessly.
And if she can make me forget that, however briefly, what hope do I have of staying strong in the face of lust?
No. I will not hurt her.
The thought of ever causing her pain strengthens me and leaves me washing up quickly and turning off the shower. When I reframe this situation that way, looking at it through the eyes of a man who doesn’t want to hurt the woman he loves, it’s all clear again. I’m not an animal, even if she makes me feel like one. I can control my desires.
Or so I tell myself a split second before she moans my name. Drawing it out, promising fulfillment beyond my wildest dreams.
The sound leaves me closing my eyes again, touching my forehead to the wood of the bathroom door. It would hurt her. You can’t hurt her .
If I could only get that through her head.
My jaw is clenched almost as tightly as my fists as I approach the room in which Scarlet is losing her mind, thanks to what that powerful little bullet is doing to her. She’s sweating in earnest now, hair stuck to her forehead and along her temple, her body rolling from side to side while she rubs her thighs together like a demented cricket.
When her gaze lands on me, standing in the doorway with nothing but a towel around my waist, her guttural cry threatens to break the very thin thread of resolve I’m still clutching with all my might.
“Please, make it stop,” she begs, the bed creaking in time with her frenzied movements.
Fuck. How am I supposed to refuse her, deny her the pleasure she so badly seeks.
“How would you like me to do it?”
“Touch me. Please, let me come,” she sobs, tears cutting tracks down her cheeks.
I am her god at this moment. Only I can give her what she needs most.
It’s that thought—and the way she sobs, how broken she sounds—that has me taking pity on her. Without a word, I cross the space between us and take the cord to the vibrator in my hand. Giving it a firm tug, I pull it free and watch as her arousal leaks out onto the sheets.
Fuck me. I want to lick the sheets where she lies, devour her from the inside out until she is pleading with me to stop. There’s just one thing in my way. My ironclad willpower to make things good for her and be the man she needs.
She gasps, hips lifting, before another broken cry fills the room. “I’m so close. Oh my god, please...Ren.”
I can’t tease her anymore. Not when I understand all too well the agony she’s going through. “Just relax, angel,” I whisper before touching the vibrator to the tip of her engorged clit.
Her shriek leaves me trembling. “Oh! Oh, yes! More!” Her thighs are spread wide open—I should get this over with quickly, or I might forget my principles—with her shining, inviting pussy just begging to be filled.
Because I can’t shove my cock into her, I press the bullet against her flesh, holding it in place, watching intently as a look of pure, radiant relief washes over her, transforming agony into ecstasy. “Yes! Yes, oh god! I’m coming!”
Then anything else she wanted to say is lost as she rides out wave after wave of tremors, her thighs clamping shut, squeezing my forearm between them. I watch as the flush takes hold, making her skin glow, her juices drenching my fingers.
For her sake and for mine, I pull the bullet away as soon as she relaxes, then turn it off. She’s panting like an athlete at the end of a marathon, which in a way, I suppose she is. I’ve really put her through it tonight.
And she took it. She took it all. Being proud of her now doesn’t feel right, but I am just the same.
By the time her breathing takes on a more regular rhythm, I’m dressed again and untying her wrists. Her arms fall to the mattress, and instantly, I regret the welts left by the belt.
“Does it hurt?” I whisper, rubbing them as gently as I can.
“No,” she assures me, her voice cracking after all that screaming.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
She nods, her eyes closing again, limp with exhaustion. My sweet, exhausted angel wasted from what the man holding her heart and body hostage put her through.
“You just rest.” This is a pleasure being able to take care of her. I’ve been alone for so long; the prospect of fixing a sandwich for someone else is a joy. Especially when that someone else is her.
It’s not anything gourmet, but I have the feeling that after what she’s been through, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich will taste just as good as the lavish meals her family puts together during holiday parties.
Strange how even the briefest thought of them sets my teeth on edge. Those are happy memories, or they should be. And they were back when I could think of Xander without resentment flaring to life.
I make sure to include a glass of water before taking the simple meal to the bedroom. She’s still limp, recovering.
“Too intense?” I ask as I take a seat on the bed.
She chuckles as she opens her eyes. “Just a little. I literally thought I was dying.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen.” I offer her half of the sandwich, guiding it to her lips, glad when she takes a big bite. Because it seems she’s too worn out to do it herself, I lift her head with one hand and hold the water to her lips with the other. She drinks deep, then sighs happily once I remove the glass.
With her appetite as it is, it takes no time before she’s polishing off the last bite. I’m content to sit in silence rather than fill it with small talk. We don’t need to do that. We’re not strangers. There doesn’t need to be any awkwardness between us. Having her here is enough.
The knowing look in her eyes when they meet mine confirms this. There’s a deeper sort of understanding there now. A familiarity that didn’t exist before. There I go, taking another one of her firsts when it isn’t even her birthday.
“What do you need?” I ask once she’s drained the glass and looking more like herself.
“I think I could use a shower…” She looks down at herself and frowns. “If that’s okay.”
I have to ignore the telltale twitch in my shorts while I nod in agreement. “Sure. I haven’t shown you the rest of the cabin, either. Not that there’s much to show.”
Now I wish I had cleaned the place up somewhat before taking her, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, either. Too busy obsessing, watching her from afar, out of my mind with want. I would come back here to change clothes or shower, but that was about it. Everything that did not involve having my eyes on her became secondary.
Still, she gives no reaction as her gaze moves over the clutter in what passes for a living room. The kitchen is tidier, at least, with a small fridge and wood-burning stove.
Those two rooms comprise the entirety of the cabin aside from the bathroom, which is where I lead her. “This is cozy,” she says, and she sounds sincere when she says it. Her eyes widen at the sight of the claw-foot tub in the rustic bathroom. “Oh, that’s beautiful. This is really charming.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I murmur, fighting back a grin I know would come off as cheesy, like a little boy glowing under the praise of a teacher.
“Wait,” she blurts out, her cheeks flushing when I turn back after starting up the shower and explaining how tricky the taps can be, how they take a delicate hand. “Where are you going?”
“I wanted to grab you some more clothes, maybe fix myself something to eat.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, teeth sinking into her lip. This can only mean one thing, and desire and dread immediately begin fighting it out.
“Why don’t you join me instead? The rest of that can wait.” She slowly strips down, staring at me all the while. Almost daring me to look away.
Her body. Fuck me, every inch of skin, every curve seems like it was made for me. To be touched and held, stroked, and grabbed.
Eaten. Fucked.
It seems to me she’s forgetting who’s in charge around here. Yes, I need to focus on that because it’s the only way I’ll be able to resist.
“I already took a shower,” I inform her with a tiny shrug even as fire begins raging in me all over again.
“There are other reasons to get in the shower besides washing up.” As she speaks, she steps into the tub, leaving the curtain open. I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of her, the water hitting her hair. It runs over her chest, drips from the pink nipples of her perky tits, and it’s all I can do to keep from growling like the animal she turns me into.
But I can’t stop watching. Nothing in the world could pull me away now.
I settle for closing the lid on the toilet and taking a seat, glued to every move she makes. “Look at my dirty little angel. Acting so seductive.”
Almost as an afterthought, she soaps up her hands before running them over her throat, her shoulders, and arms. It’s her chest I’m focused on, and soon she rewards my intense stare by taking her tits in her hands and squeezing, running her thumbs around the nipples, and sighing.
This isn’t put on for my sake. I know it. I feel it.
And oh, what I want to do to her. What I want to make her feel. What she went through in the bedroom will be nothing compared to what I have in mind.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in here with me?” As if to punctuate the question, she turns her back to me, bending slightly at the waist before running her soapy hand through her ass crack. Fuck, I could watch this all day. She is living, breathing porn, and she’s all mine. No one else will ever look at her this way. She will never display her body for anyone but me, the man it belongs to. The man she belongs to.
If I’m not careful, that cold shower will have been for nothing.
“I’ll get your clothes,” I mutter before practically fleeing the room. By the time I return with fresh sweats, she’s finishing up, rinsing quickly now that there’s no reason to linger.
“How was the shower?” I ask, watching her dry off.
She’s endlessly fascinating. Even the most mundane activities take on new meaning. I’m desperate to be a part of her life, to weave every part of her with every part of me.
“Good, but I feel like I got hit by a truck,” she admits with a soft giggle. “But in a good way, if you can imagine being hit by a truck and smiling about it.”
Adorable. Perfect. Mine.
“Come sit with me. I’m starving.” Almost as much as I’m starving for her. Rather than send her back to bed, I gesture to the table separating the living room and kitchen.
Instead of settling for one sandwich, I make two for myself, spreading the peanut butter and jelly thick enough that they threaten to drip out. I haven’t eaten since… before I took her.
How did I forget to eat?
She sits on one of the two wooden chairs at the small, round table, drawing her feet up onto the seat with her. Like this, she looks small, fragile, and so helpless. Every protective instinct in me rears up when I see her that way, looking so young, her blond hair—darker now due to its wetness—hanging against both sides of her face.
Immediately, a wave of self-consciousness swallows me. This cabin is nothing like she’s used to. It’s outdated, the chairs don’t match, and the table is scratched and beaten to shit. It’s a very dull comparison to all she had back home, and I hate it. I hate that I’m comparing myself to those fuckers. Yet I can’t stop myself.
Disdain burns my lips. “I’m sure this doesn’t look like much compared to the life you’re used to living.”
Her gaze goes from moving around, studying, observing, to locking onto mine. The blue of her eyes is brighter now.
“What makes you say that?”
“I see you looking around, and I know you probably have a lot of questions. I also know it’s not much, but it won’t always be this way.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“No, but you deserve more than this. We both know it. I only want to be sure you understand where I’m coming from. I’m not asking you to rough it for the rest of your life.”
I pick up half of my sandwich and take a huge bite, which only inspires another bite. Sometimes I don’t realize how hungry I am until I start eating.
While I chew, she asks, “How did you find this place? Does it belong to you?”
Instantly, my chest goes tight, and the sweet jelly now tastes like nothing. I have to force myself through the process of chewing and swallowing before leaving the rest of it on my plate. “Why do you ask?”
Her head snaps back slightly, her delicate features pinching as she winces. “I was only curious. Isn’t it a natural question to ask? I’m interested.”
“Not everything is for you to know right now.”
“Sorry.” Her voice sounds tiny, tinged with fear, and instantly, I hate myself. There’s still so much she doesn’t know, so much I need to keep from her, but those secrets form a wall between us.
A wall she knocks against without knowing it.
“Why did you do it? I’m sorry,” she’s quick to add, flustered, her face flushing. “I have to know. Why live so far away from everybody who loves you? Why run away and seclude yourself?”
Every word takes effort. Every last one. “You and I both know there was no life for me at Corium or with your family after what I did.”
Anguish contorts her face. She looks visibly pained by my statement, and I wish it wasn’t true, but it is.
“That’s just it. Why did you do it? All this time, I didn’t want to believe it?—”
My jaw aches, and a pain begins to form at the back of my head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Really? Because I do. How am I supposed to live here in this cabin with you when there’s so much you won’t tell me? Why didn’t you at least send me a message so I would know you were alive? I have been so scared for you all this time. Worried you might be dead. Don’t you know there’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive?”
Just as my heart swells, my teeth grind in resentment. This is what she does to me. This is how she tugs at me until I’m afraid I’ll split in half. How can I maintain my loyalty to River and our cause while maintaining my loyalty to her, to my heart, and to every dream she’s ever inspired?
“I had business to take care of.” I settle for responding, pushing my chair back from the table, and taking the unfinished half of my meal to the counter. It’s easier when I’m not looking at her to keep the wall between us, so I keep my back to her, staring at the wall over the sink.
“Business?” she asks, full of doubt. “What kind of business?”
I’m tired of walls. Tired of lies. Tired of holding myself back from the one sweet, good, perfect thing in my life.
That’s why, rather than whirling on her and demanding she shut her fucking mouth, I ask, “Do you remember hearing the name Safe Haven?”
It’s the first time I’ve muttered those two words to anyone but River in as long as I can remember. Since the old days, I suppose, immediately after everything that happened.
Speaking them aloud opens a door I hoped she would never need to step through. I didn’t want to expose her to this. The ugliness, the darkness. She deserves so much better than to be dragged into my fucked-up past.
On the other hand, if we’re ever going to have a future, she needs to know. I can’t hide it from her, especially not when River is hell-bent on bringing this war to a bloody conclusion. There won’t be any secret keeping with blood on my hands. It’s better to explain things now.
It will save time later. She’ll have the opportunity to think things over and see how right this is because she has no other option. She either follows me in the fight, or I carry her screaming into it. I’d rather do the first, but one way or another, there is no escaping our future.
I turn in time to watch her thick lashes flutter at the mention of the name, worry lines appearing over the bridge of her nose the way they always do when she concentrates.
“I feel like I’ve heard the name before, yeah.”
“But do you remember hearing about what went down there?”
The lines get deeper, her brows bunching together. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I only heard about it briefly. You know how it is. Women don’t really have a say in the affairs of the family.”
“Sure, I can see why you wouldn’t have heard much. Knowing your father, he would have wanted to protect you from it all.”
“So what is it? What is Safe Haven?”
“ Was ,” I correct. “It doesn’t exist anymore. It’s where Luna and I spent the earliest years of our lives. It’s where we were found before we met Sophie and Roman.”
Her soft snort of disbelief speaks volumes. We’re in the same house, in the same room, yet we may as well be worlds apart. “Since when do you call them by their first names? Whatever happened to Mom and Dad?”
“Of course, they’re still my parents,” I’m quick to confirm. “But for the purposes of filling you in on the past, they’re Roman and Sophie. They’re my current life.”
“Okay...” She bites her lip, features still pinched, but lets me continue.
“Safe Haven was my past life. It’s the place where my birth parents died.”
She winces, her eyes roaming over my face, searching for signs of pain. I know that expression. I’ve seen it too many times to mistake it for anything but pity and sadness.
“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” she whispers.
Perversely, it’s the concern in her question that makes me lash out before quickly reeling myself in. “Yes, dammit. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t. I’m trying to give you the answers you say you want.”
“I’m sorry.” She’s quick to back off, down to the way her shoulders rise, nearly covering her ears. If she had a shell, she would have retreated into it. Deep breaths , I say inside my head, trying to stay on track. My anger isn’t toward her. She’s done nothing wrong.
“Look, I’m sorry.” I heave out a breath and run a hand through my damp hair. “Safe Haven was a terrible place, and the people who ran it…there are no words to describe them.”
She rubs her arms briskly as if to ward off a sudden chill. “What kind of place was it?”
There’s only one word for it. My lip curls with rage, remembering all the horrible, gruesome things they did under the guise of goodness.
“A cult. I was raised in a cult, angel, along with Luna… and my older brother.”
Her blue eyes bulge, and her shocked gasp fills the cabin. “Your?—”
“Your father told us Safe Haven was dismantled,” I continued, speaking over her, my voice becoming twisted and thorny. Her beautiful eyes filled with horror. She needs to know this. It’s the most important part of the story. I smile; the justification for revenge beams along every cell in my body. “But my brother found me, and together, we’ve learned that was a lie. So now, it’s up to us to set things right.”