Chapter 18 #2
“Maybe you’re sorry for him, but not sorry for me. Never sorry for me.”
Dakota was breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted.
The thought that she might’ve been able to smell Micah on his pillow slammed into my thoughts, making my teeth grind.
Greedy, desperate, lying slut.
You belong to me, not him. Don’t breathe him in while I’m inside of you.
My fingers curled angrily around her hipbone, squeezing her tight enough to hopefully add fresh bruises to her collection. Her perfect skin, pale and soft, marred by my disgusting obsession.
Then I turned her head, shoving her face into the pillow, hard. Too hard, probably.
She couldn’t breathe now.
Can’t smell him like this, can you, baby?
The darkest parts of my brain wanted to affect her more than Micah did, even if in worse ways. Did she fear him the way she used to fear me?
I fucked her harder, pushed her head harder, wondering how much pressure it would take to actually break her nose.
I wouldn’t do that to her, though.
It didn’t take her long to start struggling.
“You wanna breathe?” I said in her ear, exertion making my voice hoarse.
She might’ve been nodding, but it was difficult to tell with the way her head was buried in the pillow.
It only made me harder.
“You need air, baby?” I asked. I wished I could erase every memory she’d ever made with Micah in this bed, wished I could scrub every inch of her brain clean of his shadows. Neither one of us deserved her, but I had her first. He didn’t know her like I did, and he never would.
She saved all the fucked-up shit for me.
That was us.
Dakota pushed back, her hair messy and tangled under my palm, woven around my fingers.
Every movement was shaded with both desire and fear, two dark sides of the same coin.
An arch in her spine paired with sharp nails raking down my thigh.
A surge of wetness dripping from her perfect cunt paired with muffled screams.
Heat coiled around the base of my spine, sparking through my veins with every cry she wept into the pillow.
“Want me to let you breathe?” I gritted out, leaning over her even further, covering her body with my own. I wanted her to feel my weight crushing her, feel every ounce of strength she’d never be able to overpower. “You want me to let you fucking live?”
Every frantic movement of hers was unraveling.
Piece by piece, her body softened, surrender moving through her veins in shivers.
The desire was there, threatening me.
Don’t let go. Make her pass out.
Every moment was dangerous now. Addictive.
Each subsequent second was one closer to the edge she couldn’t come back from.
The power of that made me feel monstrous, but the fact that she wanted it made me feel worshiped.
Dakota’s trust was a heady thing. I wondered if she understood how badly I wanted to keep her here, like this, forever.
I wondered if she understood how fucking beautiful her fight was to me, how gorgeous she looked when she let me do all these terrible things to her.
But was she letting me do this? Not really.
Those lines had been blurred from the day I met her.
Each time my heart pumped brutally in my chest, more dependency rushed in. If she ever learned how badly I needed her, she’d leave me. It wasn’t healthy, the way I felt about her. I knew that. I knew that.
Her body was so fragile in my hands, so fucking vulnerable. I could break her.
I could kill her.
Sometimes she wanted me to.
My cock was still buried in her cunt when I felt her go unconscious, and I flipped her over quickly. Her head lolled to the side, her body limp on the mattress. For one terrible second, I thought I’d gone too far.
But the next instant, she was breathing again, color coming back to her cheeks, her lungs dragging in air like she was surfacing from deep water.
Devotion and need surged in my veins so powerfully it made me lightheaded.
“There you go. Come back to me,” I said as I spread her thighs out wide, sliding myself back inside while she was barely conscious. I couldn’t stop myself from groaning at the new angle. “Wake up for me, baby.”
Her eyelashes fluttered when I touched her face.
“I know,” I murmured as I stared, sinking the full length of my erection into her, my hand sliding down to hold her jaw. Her eyebrows pulled together, soft breaths slipping between her parted lips. “Breathe if you need it.”
Slowly, she regained consciousness, her eyes blinking sleepily open.
I had to fight the urge to cover her face again. It was way too soon to be safe, but fuck she looked so pretty begging for air. Even prettier when it was my palm over her face instead of a pillow, when I could see all the terror and lust fighting in her eyes.
“You’re okay,” I said, caressing her cheek, her chin, her lips. “You’re okay, baby.”
I started rolling my hips a bit, pumping in and out, moving one hand down to play with her clit. She squirmed, but didn’t move away. She was so fucking wet.
I loved her like this. When she was weak, she stopped pretending she wasn’t mine.
She always looked at me differently after I pushed her to the edge of her life, like almost dying with me opened up a truer part of her.
She was softer. Needier. Unguarded. All her emotions showing plain as day in those big green eyes.
How was I not supposed to love her with her whole life in my palms?
Maybe this was why I needed to fuck her so often; it was the only time I felt like she actually belonged to me.
And I need her to belong to me.
“Mason,” she mumbled, a little pout on her face, confusion in her bleary gaze. “You made me pass out.”
“And you did such a good job. Look at you, taking me so well when you didn’t even know it.”
She shakily tried to lift her head to look down at where I was fucking her, to watch my cock sliding in and out of her, coated in her arousal.
“You’re soaked, baby.”
With a weak noise, she fell back against the pillow, tilting her hips to adjust the angle of my thrusts.
The toxic, jealous monster in my brain was sated for now, and I felt like I could breathe normally again.
Everything is fine. She’s not leaving me.
She’s not slipping away from me. She’s right here, so beautiful and so perfect and so sweet right in front of me.
She’d gone into the dangerous, freezing-cold ocean to save my life.
Fuck.
I leaned down to kiss her, still pumping into her soaked pussy as I devoured her hungry mouth.
Her soft lips parted easily, her tongue fluttering against mine.
I gently, reverently wrapped my hand around her arched throat so I could feel her pulse—just like a butterfly’s wings thrumming under my fingers.
She whined softly, enough of her strength coming back that she could loop her arms around my neck and hold me closer.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I like this.”
“I know you do. I like that you like it. You’re made for me, baby.”
I eventually filled her with my cum, then played with her clit until she orgasmed on my still-solid cock, fighting the urge to just start fucking her again right there. But she was worn out, too tired to take me again so quickly. I didn’t mind.
I was waiting on a text back from someone else.