Chapter 26
Donavan
A huge part of me is screaming for me to leave it alone. She’s wanting attention, and not the good kind. The problem is, the attention she wants, that angry hate-fuck, is exactly what I want to give.
She’s pissed about my comment, but she doesn’t get to be mad about Maya. She doesn’t get to throw attitude my way because of my past. She doesn’t have any right to feel offended by her presumptions.
I clench my hands into fists as I stalk behind her into the bedroom, the repeated motion doing nothing to staunch my anger. I have this urge to wrap my hands around her throat, but I’m not so sure I’d let go once I feel her warm skin under my palms.
I consider making her leave, but fuck if I don’t want her here, and that pisses me off as well.
She stands in the middle of the room, her eyes wandering over the sparse furnishings, and I wonder what’s going through her head. Is she wondering why there isn’t much here? Does she think this is my home?
Before she can turn around and ask more questions she won’t like the answer to or get a bigger attitude, I grip a handful of her wet hair and step in closer.
She wanted this, and she’ll probably get it harder than ever because she’s made me want it too.
She may be pissed about my history with Maya, even with the very limited information she has, but Maya never had the ability to enrage me as much.
Maya never would’ve stood in a room and watch me cut on a man.
Maya never would’ve picked up a knife and used it herself.
She sure as fuck wouldn’t have stood there while I slit his throat.
Maya wasn’t a part of the world I was born into until she was at Marcello and Alessio’s mercy. She’d only heard hints of our darkness. When she was brave enough to ask, I shut those questions down, thinking her asking around would be what got her into trouble.
Alani and Maya don’t compare. They’re not only different on the outside.
Inside, Alani has a darkness in her, something that was formed long before I came along because she was pretty sheltered until she learned about her sister.
Some things can’t be experienced. Some things have to come naturally to a person.
It feels like a betrayal, like I’m tainting Maya’s memory with my attraction and addiction to Alani.
I’ve fought it for nearly a year, mostly feeding my addiction by watching her from the shadows.
I’ve gotten better in recent months, keeping my promise of not making physical contact.
It was going as best as it could until that dead motherfucker in the other room thought he could touch what’s mine.
Mine.
Four letters and one syllable that encompasses so much. It doesn’t seem like a good enough word. It doesn’t speak of the pain and suffering, or the lengths I’m willing to go to for her.
Wanting anything has always been a mistake. It means there’s something that can control you.
A person makes that ten times worse. It’s a weakness I can’t afford.
She’s a betrayal to the vow I made when I shut it all down the day Maya was murdered right in front of me.
Alani whimpers when I grip her hair tighter, but it doesn’t even cross my mind to ease up. If anything, it makes me want to twist my fist more.
She releases a harsh breath when an equally rough hand rips the towel from her body. I take a step back, keeping my hand locked in her hair just so I can look down at her perfect heart-shaped ass. God, that thing haunts my fucking dreams.
My breaths are ragged when I pull her back closer to me.
“You’ll bend over the fucking bed,” I growl in her ear, waiting until she nods her head before releasing her. “Don’t fucking move.”
The warning is in my voice, but I’m certain I didn’t even have to say it because this is exactly what she wanted.
I step back, walking toward the duffel bag in the closet, and grab a condom out.
I wasn’t joking in the shower. Fucking her in my truck without protection was a moment of insanity.
I spent many hours watching her the last several months for signs of pregnancy, fully prepared to lock her away if she was pregnant.
There is no scenario in this world that would allow her freedom, even for a second, if she was carrying my baby.
I clench my eyes closed against the memories from six years ago trying to gain access, and when I open them and look back to Alani, it’s easier than it has been before.
I rip the condom wrapper open, rolling it down my cock as I make my way back to her.
“Spread your legs.”
She turns her head, her face pressed into the mattress, and I love how she has to stand on the tips of her toes because of the height of the bed. It means when I fuck into her, I’ll probably be lifting her clear off the floor. My cock jerks with anticipation.
“Spread further.”
“I can’t.”
“Use your fucking hands, Alani.”
I watch as her cheeks heat, embarrassment in what I’m asking putting that beautiful color there, and it’s the biggest fucking mistake. In the blink of an eye, it becomes my most favorite fucking thing, a new addiction I know I’ll have to recreate over and over.
This poor fucking girl. She doesn’t have a clue what she’s just done.
She clamps her teeth on her bottom lip as she reaches back, one hand on either ass cheek before tugging. Sweet fucking Christ.
She is fucking exquisite—perfectly pink, slick with her own arousal.
I squeeze my cock right behind the head in an effort to stave off my own desire.
“Who was the last one in this pussy?” I growl.
She swallows before responding. “You.”
“Are you lying to me?” I reach out, swiping my thumb through the wetness glistening on her cunt and trace it up higher, circling the pucker of her asshole.
Her moan is the sweetest fucking song, and my heart kicks harder in my chest.
Maybe there’s something about her pleasure that’s just as desirable as her pain.
“You were,” she says with a seductive roll of her hips.
I press that thumb into her, testing her reserve.
“You filthy bitch,” I growl when she moans. “You want my cock here, too?”
“I want what you want.”
“You want to please me?”
She takes another shuddering breath. “Always.”
With my thumb still in her ass, I take another step forward, resting the tip of my cock at her entrance.
“Good girl,” I whisper before slamming inside of her.
Just as I predicted, her feet leave the ground as I find the end of her.
If I were the type of man prone to praise, I’d likely fall at her feet in worship.
As it is, I have to look up at the ceiling to keep from blowing my fucking load within a second. With a deep breath, I pull my thumb from her ass, the clench of the damn thing on my digit taking things a little too far right now.
When she squeezes, testing the feel of me there, I grip her hip with a punishing force.
“I’ll fuck you for hours and not let you come if you keep that shit up.”
I’ll be damned if this bitch doesn’t smile, knowing I’m not going to have the fucking stamina to follow through with my threat.
I shift back, pulling all but the tip from her. I swear on everything holy, her body is trying to suck me back in, a nonverbal plea for more.
My mind is blank, void of everything but me and her and this very fucking moment.
I fucking hate her for it.
I’m supposed to be drowning in comparison, hating myself for giving into carnal urges. But the only regrets I feel are for staying away from her for so long and for being unwilling to fucking seek someone else out in an attempt to get the taste of her out of my mouth.
With her in my truck after that little trip to Austin was the last time I got laid too, and the lack of desire to seek someone else out was only one of many clues that this woman has seriously fucked me up.
I’m pissed that I’m not pissed at what we’re doing, and I realize how fucked up that is.
The clench of her cunt a second time draws all of my focus back to her.
“Alani,” I growl.
“I’m sorry,” she moans, and fuck, I love the sound of her voice when she’s overcome with desire.
It’s husky and pleading.
The misery I’ve suffered when fucking a woman never comes. I’m supposed to hate every woman I touch, every woman that isn’t Maya. I’m supposed to be haunted by her ghost, not lost in a way I’ve never been in my life.
I swore to love Maya until I died. I meant those words when I spoke them to her, and her death shouldn’t matter. I made that vow with every intention of seeing it through.
Now it seems like a distant memory, like a promise made by a child who didn’t understand the real world when it should feel like a betrayal.
Alani makes me feel alive when I should’ve been destined to die years ago. I’ve put myself in that position many times, but now it seems like I’ve been living for this moment.
I do my best to wipe my brain of all thoughts, letting my body take over. I want nothing but the physical pleasure right now as I slam my hips forward again.
Over and over I drive into her, the sounds she’s making serving as the chorus to the song we’re writing together.
I’m relentless in the way I take her, in the demands I make of her body.
“Donavan!” she screams, her fists gripping the sheets to keep her in place.
Goddamnit if she mutters those words.
“I’m coming!”
Jesus, it’s like she controls every fucking switch in my body.
Announcing her orgasm is akin to her demand I come as well.
She clenches around me, the rippling of those internal muscles forcing my balls to draw up as if it’s now become a race. I fuck her through it, pulling at her hair to force her back into an arch. In a moment of insanity, I pull out, ripping the condom off.
The first fucking rope of cum lands on her back, but I’ll be damned if I don’t fucking shove right back inside of her and finish that way.
I realize I’m ruined for eternity when she starts to come again.