Chapter 18 #2
I’m stunned when, what seems like only seconds later, there’s a knock on the door. Before I can even process how he got here so quickly, PJ is in my arms.
“Were you following me again?”
He shrugs as he kicks the door shut behind him. “I couldn’t stay away.” There’s a sort of apologetic smile on his face, but then it turns serious. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I can’t. I can’t get into this all right now. It’s too real, too fucked up, and I don’t even know where to begin.
“I’m cold,” I tell him instead. Because I am. It’s the month of August, it’s Florida, and I’m fucking frozen.
He doesn’t quite seem to understand, but he approaches me anyway. Chafes his hands up and down my arms. Like always, my body responds. The adrenaline recedes. Maybe he can bring feeling back to me after all.
“What happened? What can I do?”
“I need…” I squeeze my eyes shut, searching. I don’t know what exactly I’m asking for. “I need to not feel the way I feel right now.”
Then I press my lips to his. The kiss is desperate and bruising, and I cling to him for all that I’m worth.
He tears at my shirt and tugs at my hair, his grip bringing me back to reality.
He pulls my head back to expose my throat.
I love it when he does that. I love bearing one of the most vulnerable parts of myself to him and knowing he’d never hurt me.
Except now, when I want him to. “Please, Keeper. Fuck me. I need you to fuck me and I need you to make it hurt.”
The plea slips out of me on an unsteady breath. For a moment, he seems confused. Understandable because I’ve told him before that I only like a little pain, but I need more right now. I need to crack the ice I’m encased in. I need to thaw this numbness inside me.
He seems to consider me for a moment, and then he shoves me into the kitchen, toward the sliding doors that lead out to the backyard and the beach beyond. “Where’s Bruiser?”
My heart melts a little that the first thing he’d think of is the puppy. I glance into the kitchen, where Bruiser has passed out on his bed with his tongue still on the treat I gave him.
“Over there. Sleeping again.”
PJ grins. “Good.” Then he opens the sliding door and shoves me again. “Run. I’m going to catch you, and I’m going to make you beg.”
I take a breath, and then I sprint for the backyard.
Some voice in my head says if PJ’s going to chase me down and fuck me, it doesn’t make any sense to head outside, but that’s what I do.
Even knowing Everett has taken the mysterious cameras out of the bedroom, the thought of being watched by an unseen stranger makes me squirm.
If we’re spotted by people on the beach, at least that’s under my control. It’s my decision.
I race across the grass in the backyard, and I’m nearly past the garden when I’m tackled to the ground right where the grass starts to give way to sand.
I barely manage to avoid getting a mouthful.
With quick efficiency, PJ pulls down the lounge pants I changed into after work, and he pulls my hips backward so hard that a blissful shock of pain shoots through me.
I can feel it. I can feel him.
“Don’t fucking move,” he growls.
“Yes, Keeper.” I’m barely able to catch my breath before he shoves his hand between my shoulders, shoving me down, pulling my ass up. It’s like before, but more intense. I’m painfully aware that I’m out here in the backyard with my ass aiming at the sky for anyone to see.
The sun is going down, but still, anyone could come by. It’s a public beach.
“Don’t fucking move,” PJ repeats. He then proceeds to spank me. Hard and relentless blows that leave me gasping for air. Okay, this part is nothing like last time. This is overwhelming. This is agony.
It’s exactly what I fucking need.
“That’s for trying to fucking friend-zone me. And for choking me with your cock. And for trying to break up with me.”
My skin burns, and right about when I’m thinking I don’t feel I can take much more, he roughly digs his fingers into my ass, prying my cheeks apart. After a few moments of the absolute mortification of having my asshole exposed to the open air, his tongue swipes over my hole.
“Oh God.” My heart threatens to jump out of my chest. “Keeper, please. More. It feels so good. So, so good.”
He gets more into it, pushing the flat of his tongue against me and then spearing me with the tip. I’m dying. I’m completely overwhelmed.
“Nobody’s done this to me before,” I breathe. He chuckles behind me.
“It’s a first for me too. Not something I thought I’d try,” he says. “But it felt right, didn’t it?”
“Yes, Keeper.” Everything feels right with PJ.
“I’m going to fuck you hard and fast. I’m going to shove your face in the sand so you’ll be spitting it out for weeks. I’m going to remind you why we need each other. Why I’m the only one for you and you’re the only one for me.”
This is completely wrong, but it feels incredibly right. No wonder my family thinks I make terrible choices. There might be something very wrong with me.
I can’t even think about it right now. I just need.
I hear PJ spitting—on his cock, presumably—before he shoves roughly inside. I try to hold back a groan, but it’s impossible. It hurts, it burns, and while I can accommodate him, the fact that he didn’t stretch me first makes itself known.
I can’t take it. It’s too much.
It’s fucking heaven. It’s bliss.
The pain means I can still feel. That PJ still wants me. That maybe some of what’s broken can be fixed.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Please. Fuck me so hard.”
“Fuck me, what?”
I already said please. “Fuck me hard, Keeper.”
He does. Rough. Fast. More aggression than at Wes’s, more anger than against the bank wall on our first date. He’s punishing me for breaking up with him, and that’s good, because it’s exactly what I deserve. It’s what I need.
PJ owns me, and I’d forgotten. He reaches beneath me and jerks me roughly, hurting me but also speeding me toward my orgasm. A little pain never kept me from coming. Right now, nothing could. Right now, PJ is all I can feel.
Sand coats my lips as I shout my release. I’m pretty sure I swallowed some.
PJ digs his teeth into my back. He’s marking me. He’s claiming me, and he’s making me sorry.
And I am. I’m so sorry.
He keeps pounding me, slamming hard, until I can tell he’s close by his stuttering hips and jerky movements.
“Did you like it that time I came on your face?”
“So much, Keeper.”
“Yeah? You liked that? You liked it when I disrespected the fuck out of you by smearing my jizz all across your lips?”
“Yessss.” I felt owned. Though I hadn’t quite identified the feeling at the time. “I loved it, Keeper.”
“Good.” With a shout, he pulls out of me and stands over me. He presses one hand against my head, pressing my cheek to the sand, as he jerks himself over my face, coming in splashes on my jaw and neck.
When I think it’s over, he lets out an angry growl and reaches down to pull me up with pinching, grasping, and squeezing hands. Every touch is a painful twist of skin that is both hateful and sweet as he helps me to my feet and gets my clothing situated again.
His breathing is choppy, his chest rising and falling as he stares me down. He’s still angry, but I can see the worry too.
“Tell me what happened,” he demands.
I hesitate. Technically this isn’t his problem anymore.
“Fallon. Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Tell me.”
I do. I tell him everything.
After a string of angry expletives, he grabs my hand and drags me inside the house. “Get your things,” he says. “Pack a bag and some stuff for Bruiser. We’re getting the fuck out of here.”
I nearly argue. The reasons I ended things with PJ are still very real. Then the thought of spending the night alone in a house where someone has been watching me hits full force. And PJ’s hand is so warm in mine.
“Yes, Keeper.”