Chapter 23
What the fuck is happening to me? Carrington is the storm I can’t escape. And now I’m not sure I want to.
The bars were cool against my cheek, my breath coming out in uneven bursts as I desperately tried to slow my heart rate.
My arms felt heavy, my wrists throbbing where he’d held me.
My whole body still trembled with the aftershocks of pain and so much fucking pleasure.
I couldn’t bring myself to move, not yet. If I did, I’d fall apart at the seams.
Behind me, Carrington’s weight shifted, his movements slow and steady as he made his way into the cell like a fucking peacock proud of itself for this victory. His chest pressed to my back, not crushing me this time.
Just there.
A solid form to lean on…my anchor in the waves he sent crashing through my soul.
“You’re alright, Baby.” His voice rumbled low, almost gentle, though it still carried that dangerous edge he could never take out. “I’ve got you. I brought these. Take them for the pain. It’ll help.”
I let out a shuddering breath, something caught between a sob and a sigh, as he shoved some form of medication in my mouth and sprayed something on my still exposed ass. My fingers curled tighter around the bars, my knuckles paling as a numbness spread over my hole as the medication began to work.
“You may hate me for this,” he murmured against my hair, slick with sweat and stuck to my forehead. “That’s okay, but you needed this. I will take all your hate so that you can feel strong.”
I swallowed hard, but I didn’t answer. Hate wasn’t the right word, not anymore.
I’d fought him with everything I had, cursed him, clawed against the truth inside of me.
But the truth was, I couldn’t have given in without him taking it from me, without him breaking me open first, like a horse before you rode them for the first time.
He certainly rode me.
My come was still on the ground under my feet. The worst part of all this was that I hadn’t even touched my dick once, meaning I came solely from being…fucked.
That thought should have broken me.
God help me, I didn’t feel broken. I felt…whole.
“I had to make you see it,” Carrington went on, not even knowing the war inside my head. His breath was warm on the back of my neck, and his soft kisses made me sigh. “You’d have run forever otherwise.”
He was not wrong.
My chest tightened, and I felt the sting of tears burning behind my eyes. He wasn’t wrong. He’d cornered me, left me nowhere to hide from what I wanted.
From what I needed.
I finally pulled my forehead from the cell’s bars, turning just enough to catch his face in my peripheral vision. He looked different now. Still rough, still wild, but now, there was a softness around the edges, and those golden eyes of his were steady on mine.
“You didn’t give me a choice,” I whispered, though my voice trembled more with need than accusation.
His lips curved, not in a smirk but something quieter. “You’d never have taken it if I gave you one. I chose for you so you can put it on me when the shame hits. I took it because I fucking needed you, Shiloh. And I know you needed me.”
I hated how much that rang true. My throat felt like it had closed, choking me, and I dropped my gaze, unable to face the weight of it.
His hand slipped up my thigh to my hand and threaded through it against the bars.
His grip was firm, but not trapping. For the first time tonight, he wasn’t holding me down.
He was holding me up.
The silence stretched between us, filled only by our ragged breathing, and the soft sighs I couldn’t hold back as he cleaned the blood and come on my body and helped me get dressed. For the first fucking time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone in this big ass world.
I couldn’t move, just listened to Carrington shuffle around as he pulled my underwear and pants back up and covered my dick like nothing had ever happened here. He righted my clothing, taking off his own hoodie to give to me since he had ripped mine earlier.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and almost tender. “You needed this, Shiloh. You needed me to take it because you were too fucking scared to ask. I won’t apologize. But when we do this again. I want your permission. I want you to beg me. I need to hear you want me, too.”
A shaky breath left me, as my chest loosened. Maybe he was right. Maybe I had needed it, needed him, exactly this way. But could I really tell him I wanted this? Allow him to own me like this again? I fought harder than anything to keep from being consumed by my shame and confusion.
But could I let him take me…
That was different.
I didn’t have an answer. So, I leaned back, just a fraction, enough to feel his body against mine, enough to let him know I wasn’t pulling away this time.
“I don’t know myself anymore,” I said, barely above a whisper.
His mouth brushed my temple, a ghost of a kiss. “I do.”
In this moment, with his warmth at my back and his hand tangled with mine. I almost believed him.
My legs still felt shaky when Carrington finally eased back, and I had to turn around so I could sag against the bars.
My wrists were still sore, my jeans were stretched out, and my belt loops were broken where he had ripped them.
My skin was red, marked where his hands had owned me.
I should’ve felt ruined. Instead, I just felt… steady.
In some warped way, his violence was my only true peace.
He crouched in front of me, his broad shoulders blocking out the flickering light at the end of the corridor. His rough hands zipped my pants and looked me over.
I probably looked like a bitch fucked to an inch of my life. The scrape of denim over my tender skin anytime I moved made me wince, but his fingers lingered on my hips, grounding me.
“Stand up straight,” he said, not a request.
“I can’t,” I muttered, but I tried anyway, pressing my back to the bars, forcing my legs to hold me.
He looked me over again, his molten eyes sharp, and for a second I thought he smirked. Instead, he nodded once and nearly knocked me over with a beautiful, toothy grin. He radiated light in that smile.
“There’s my Good Boy. You don’t fold, Shiloh. Not for anyone.”
A bitter laugh slipped out. “Except you, you evil, asshole.”
His jaw tightened, but then he leaned in, close enough that I felt his breath on my lips.
“You didn’t fold, Sunshine. You fucking fought me.
Hard. That’s what I wanted to see. You’re stronger than you think, Shiloh, even when you’re scared.
You held back zero punches and made me fucking work for my prize. ”
The word scared hit deep. My chest twisted because he knew. He knew what was waiting. And maybe that is why he did this.
My father.
Carrington saw it in my silence. His hand came up, gripping the back of my neck, his thumb pressing firmly under my jaw until I looked at him. His eyes were dark and unflinching.
“You think he’s some monster you can’t stand up to.” His voice was low and steady, like the iron around us. “But you just proved you can stand up to me. You took everything I threw at you, and you’re still breathing. Still standing. You hear me?”
My throat worked, words caught somewhere between fear and the strange comfort of his certainty.
He leaned even closer, his forehead pressing against mine. “Your old man bleeds just like everyone else. He doesn’t get to own you, Sunshine. Not anymore. Not with me here.”
The conviction in his tone startled me. He sounded like it wasn’t just a promise, but a fact already carved in skin, and etched eternally.
“Now you’ll face him,” Carrington said. “And you’ll win because you’re mine now. And you earned that right.”
Something broke in me with that statement. Something small and trembling that had clung to the idea that I’d always be the boy under my father’s boot, waiting for him to kill me, or worse, finally…I’d become him, and he’d win more than my body. He’d take my soul.
For the first time, I wondered if Carrington was right.
I drew a shaky breath. “And what if I fail, Care Bear?”
“You won’t. I got you. If you start to fall, I will be there to stand your ass back up.” His grip tightened, almost painful, as he dragged my gaze back to his and pressed his lips hard into mine until I couldn’t breathe again.
I should’ve laughed. Should’ve called him arrogant, hell, even delusional. But instead, I believed him. His belief in me was heavier than my own doubt. His strength and confidence in me were pressing the shame and fear down until it cracked.
My father’s smoke made me think of Carrington now.
That Turkish tang brought me to the rain-soaked ground where he kissed me.
Everything I used to fear about my father seemed small, or was replaced by a memory of the crazy asshole I belonged to, and for the absolute first time in my life, the thought of facing my father didn’t make me want to run.
It made me want to fight.
Knowing Carrington was by my side.
And I wasn’t alone.