CHAPTER THIRTY
RENA
A n order to be on my hands and knees, naked? Living. The fucking. Dream.
I mean, yes, if I actually take a hot minute to survey the dream, it’s a little murky. Convoluted with a bizarre brother sighting; a forced death-defying initiation process into a clandestine cabal, run by my birth father, who killed my mother and wants me and that brother I spotted dead; and some secret-keeping from my husband that I have very honorable reasons for.
My life is like a bad country song with a horror-esque vibe and some gangster hip-hop on the down beats. Guns cocking. Explosions. A side of whiskey in a truck bed. That could be a badass mashup. Well, if we survive, it’ll give me something to create with Jax. He’s got some mad DJ skills.
But back to the dirty dream because I am all too happy to seize and forget so I don’t face the music and fall apart. I’ve never hopped out of a tub so fast in my life. If this man tells me to crawl, Cash can choke on his never-profess-love-declarations-first precept because I’m fairly certain that I’ll be worshipping at Ty’s feet, singing my love sonnet like a seductive siren. Or a willing whore. Either will do.
Once I’m dried, lotioned, and perfumed with my wet hair swept into a messy bun, I creep to the threshold, hoping to catch a glimpse. He’s dressed again—a clear power play, and I am freaking here for it. Black button-up and jeans, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, flaunting his corded forearms, the ink on his chest peeking out above the button.
Good God, he’s delicious.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Little Moon.” His voice slices through my drooling, so I slink to the ground—shimmying forward so I’m on the wood boards of the bedroom floor rather than the tiled bathroom—and await the hopeful command, which is when I notice something in his hand.
“Whatcha got there, sailor?”
He smiles, his teeth glinting and the corners of his eyes creasing. It’s that devious grin he only seems to offer me, the one that marries the two parts of himself—his monsters and his morals.
“This?” he asks, producing a long, thin dildo-like wand with seven balls on it that gradually increase in size, ranging from about a quarter inch to maybe one and a half, spaced evenly along it. “This is going in your ass because no part of you is off-limits to me.”
Well, fuck , I didn’t see that coming.
“At your service, Cap,” I breathe.
His lips twitch, battling against the amusement threatening to billow out of him. “Cap?”
“With plans like that, a promotion is in order.” I grant him an exaggerated wink, and he finally succumbs to his boisterous laugh, but he reins it in swiftly and proffers a haughty smirk while humming in reverence.
“My perfect wife. Crawl to me, baby girl.”
That’s even more erotic leaving his lips than it was in my imagination.
My arousal coats my inner thighs as I inch forward, nearly freezing because my clit is pulsing with each plod, inhibiting my motion with a yearning to halt and be touched. He’s not very far from me, so I forge ahead, my breaths ragged, my skin heating, my heart thrumming a fervent tempo.
And his cognacs brim with a glossy reverence, one that infiltrates all the hidden places inside of me—every crevice and cranny and hole of not enough and shelved purpose. He’s still too immersed in clawing his way out of his own carnage and pain to see how he’s eased mine, how what he considers a prison has become my haven. Stripped bare on my hands and knees for him, I’m more me than I’ve ever been.
“Fucking hell, you’re magnificent,” he hisses, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Look at you. You’re breathtaking.”
As I stop before him, he pets my head with palming strokes. “Such a good girl for me,” he praises before extending more instructions. “Spin around, chest on the floor, ass up.”
After I obey his command, he stoops behind me, and I can feel his probing ogle boring into me as his fingers thrust inside my pussy.
“Christ, baby. So goddamn gorgeous and always sopping for me. You’re so drenched; I won’t even need lube.” He smears some of my juices on my ass before settling on a different tactic and plunging the dildo into my heat, coating it with a few aggressive thrusts and pulling it back out.
The loss is immediately devastating, and a whimper escapes me.
“Shh,” he coos in his sultry rasp, which only lends a more salacious slant to the whole scene. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you filled everywhere. You’ll have my cum dripping out of you for days. And someday soon, I’ll put a baby inside you.”
A baby? I think my ovaries just somersaulted in triumph.
Bulldozing past that little bomb, he starts working the toy in, and while a sting burns through me as each ball forces past the resistance, the intrusion is surprisingly smooth. Full but comfortable. And the spanks he imparts on my flesh once he’s satisfied—two flat-palmed smacks to each cheek with a kneading balm in between—only rev me up into a greater fervor .
Never knowing which version of Ty I’m getting in our intimacy has become one of my most cherished parts of us. Sometimes, he’s unhinged, so engulfed by his zealous thirst for me that he loses his damn mind. But at other times, he’s deliberate. Controlled. Like he’s savoring the exchange. Worshipping me. Each undo me in equal measure. Both reveal that for at least a few fleeting moments, he can unchain himself from his penance and simply live.
With me. Because of me.
“Jesus, I’ll never stop loving my handprints on your luscious ass, the way your skin blooms a pretty pink.” He glides his palm along my spine, his minty breath fanning over my skin to flourish full-body goose bumps. “Claiming you.” A nip near my rib cage. “Marking you.” His teeth sink into my shoulder with a delicious prickle before he soothes it with a languid stroke of his tongue. “Making sure the world knows you’re mine”—another nibble on my neck—“that you are my greatest gift.”
But then he’s gone, striding away from me, while I hang out here with my exposed ass in the air, wondering what’s next and nursing a loneliness from his sudden distance that doesn’t quite seem rational, until his voice finally shreds the solemn anticipation.
“There’s a cushion against the wall. Sit on it and face me.”
Noting the cushion that he’s referring to, I crawl over to it and prop myself against the wall as he ordered. He’s perched on the edge of the couch—the location of my escape-plan blow job—staring back at me.
“Spread your legs wide open for me. I want to see all of you, baby.” He waits with a sternness to his features for me to comply. “Best view in the world is right where I’m sitting. Now, play with your pretty pussy, sweet girl. I need to watch you come before I fuck you into oblivion.”
Before I can respond, the dildo in my ass begins to vibrate, which evokes a gasp. “Holy shit.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. You like that, don’t you? My kinky wife. Wish it were my cock there? ”
I nod, breathless, and my fingers wander to my throbbing clit of their own accord, waltzing in the rhythm that rockets me to my peak the fastest.
“So fucking greedy. Don’t rush it. Dip those fingers inside your glistening cunt,” he says, low and controlled, but every word oozes a ravenous hunger.
I thrust two into my core, moaning because it makes me so fucking full, and he wrenches down his zipper, whipping away his shirttails and boxers to unleash his cock and stroking it with a vigor.
“Taste,” he demands, zeroing in on my fingers.
That arrives like a longing plea from fifteen feet across the room, and I can’t understand why he’s maintaining his position, but I’m too heady to address it.
Doing as I was told, I raise my fingers to my mouth and clean them while he growls, “Fucking divine.”
“Heaven,” I agree, which seems to please him as I plunge back into my entrance, my eyes latched on his in a way that melts the space and time and twisted fate between us. “Almost as good as when you’re mixed in there.”
“That’s right, baby girl. Better together.” He watches intently for a few beats before extending more encouragement. “Warm your pussy up for me. You’re so goddamn mouthwatering, Rena. So sexy. And fucking mine. Mine .”
“Yours,” I whisper, venturing back to my clit, circling faster and faster while delirious purrs pour out of me. Black spots mar my vision, my head lolls backward, my muscles seize up, and my limbs quake as I fly into ecstasy. “Oh fuck, Ty.”
“So beautiful when you come. Jesus, I needed to see that, to hear those glorious sounds,” he grits out as I shake and droop and bask in satiated euphoria. “Now, crawl to me. I’m about to go fucking mad if I don’t taste you, sink inside you, and consume every goddamn part of you very soon.”
I’m half dizzy, stars flashing before my eyes, so it takes a second to get my bearings .
He rolls back the round throw rug between us, confusing me, but I assume he wants me trekking across the hard floor, so I don’t inquire. I slink to my hands and knees, inching slowly toward him as he keeps lazily stroking his cock, and my hand lands on a paper.
Glancing down, I discover a Post-it Note. In fact, there’s a trail of three Post-it Notes. As I peel the one from beneath my hand off the wood floor, a smile blossoms on my face.
You were my light, my home, my hope before I ever claimed you. The fortress of every dream I’d ever longed for.
XO,
The guy who pierced his cock in honor of the girl he was obsessed with
My head snaps up. “Is that true?”
“Yeah.” He scrunches his eyebrows. “I’d never tell you something that wasn’t. I noticed you had your nipples pierced at Tom’s funeral. So, when we moved to New Orleans, I got it pierced. We were so close to you, but I felt farther away than ever. Somehow, it helped.”
My breath shudders out. I’m not sure why that does me in. Maybe it’s the use of the Post-it Notes—the device I chose to say the things he wouldn’t let me voice. Or perhaps it’s simply the revelation that his pining was as all-encompassing for him as it was for me. But either way, I’m a mess.
“Don’t fall apart on me yet.” He puffs out a small chuckle. “C’mon.”
Crawling a little farther, I reach for the next one .
There’s a reason I’ve never fixed the hole in the bathroom wall from the night you disappeared on me.
XO,
Your sentimental husband who can’t bear to erase anything that connects him to you (I’ve got a piece of the plaster in my wallet.)
That one is swoonworthy sweet, but also makes me laugh, so I eagerly move to the last while the dildo in my ass keeps vibrating, working me up again.
Freedom isn’t nothing left to lose or blueberry fields and rain. It’s you, Little Moon. You are my freedom.
XO,
The man who will spend every heartbeat trying to be yours
“You already are,” I tell him .
A slight frown curls his lips. “We’ll see,” he utters as he moves his foot, alerting me to one more note.
Bonus.
Deciding to tackle whatever doubt he’s casting upon us later, I crawl to his feet and snatch the final Post-it.
I’m so in love with you, it hurts. I couldn’t breathe for all those years because you are my oxygen. There’s no living without you.
XO,
Always yours
“Fuck,” I wheeze, short on air myself, my voice quavering through my words. “It’s about time you told me that, sailor. I really needed to freaking hear it.”
He hooks his palms under my arms and lifts me onto his lap, gripping my jaw. “We moved so fast with everything else, and it had you questioning me. I didn’t want to risk you doubting this. Honestly, I don’t want to be saying it for the first time when we’re in the middle of this fucking trial either. None of this is what you deserve. But if something had happened tonight or … I’m all yours. Not because I needed to protect you or because we fell ass-backward into this goddamn mess. But because I’ve loved you for years. From afar. I just loved you enough to stay away.”
“Well, I’m sure glad you got the hell over that.” I smile, my eyes still leaking with unadulterated joy, not even caring about the danger or the bad country song my life has become because Ty is worth it. “You probably already know, but I love you too.”
He answers with a devouring kiss, reminiscent of our first. The one I waited seven years for. Fleeing through the flooded blueberry fields to seize what others said we couldn’t.
And here we are, setting the whole damn plantation ablaze.
Breaking our ardent connection, he darts his tongue out for one more taste before he rasps, “Fucking heaven,” against my lips—in reference to the lingering taste of me in my mouth—as he cradles my face, his eyes fastened to mine. “I am your refuge. Do you understand me? There is nothing I won’t do to take care of you, to protect you—body, mind, and soul. I did love you enough to stay away, but now, I love you enough to hold you close. To never let you go. To let you leap. To do anything necessary to keep you whole.”
Within that declaration is a petition for me to share with him what I saw on that roof, but those are the very reasons I can’t, so I move us to greener pastures by ripping his shirt open, buttons popping everywhere as he huffs a quiet chuckle.
“Right now, Ty, I need you to fill my empty hole like you promised. Fuck me into oblivion. Start with that.”
“Always such a slut for my cock, baby girl.” He smiles that devilish grin again, and my insides romp with exultation. “If you need me to split you in two, crack open your cunt, and get my answers from you that way, you don’t have to ask me twice.”
His filthy mouth throws me so off-balance. I think I might have blacked out there.
I’m not sure how we manage it, but his clothes are off in a blink, his hard cock saluting me as he grips my hips, lines himself up, and slides me over the entirety of his shaft—not a bit gentle. I gasp, sucking in a sharp intake of air as he stretches me, crowding my pussy to the point of pain-laced pleasure.
An impeccable representation of everything we are.
Beauty in the broken.
Blooms in the desert .
Gardens upon graves.
Which is why, as I bounce in a cadence that has us both moaning in delirium and he squeezes my bobbing breasts, tweaks my taut nipples, and peppers kisses along the column of my throat, I find myself tracing my fingertips along the rough edges of his torment—the little reminders that his raised skin bestows. No matter how many identities he’s claimed or how many times he remakes himself, those remain. My map to his affliction, a web of his perseverance.
Strength and sacrifices showcased through scars.
As his fingers entwine with my wet strands, his jaded ghosts seem suddenly ablaze with new purpose. “You are the only face I’ve ever seen. The only place I’ve ever fit. My bright light. Nothing will ever come between us, Little Moon. Not our past. Not these goddamn trials. Not even death could separate us. My soul will always find yours. I’ll love you in this life and the next and all the ones to come.”
My eyes are hooded, and my voice is breathy, woven with the emotion of our everlasting connection and the foggy lust of soaring toward the precipice. “An eternity of our dancing demons. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Ty. My freedom fairy tale.”
And seconds before I’m about to come, he flings me onto the bed, bends me in half, and fucks me into another state of consciousness until we’re a sweaty, shaky mess of tangled limbs and crashing heartbeats, tattered souls made whole by clinging to one another.
My tortured husband doesn’t stop there though. He makes good on all his plans—cooking me a gourmet-style grilled cheese sandwich, feeding me painkillers, rubbing oil into my sore muscles, and climbing into bed with me. Like most nights, he pulls me on top of him, chest to chest, and buries his cock inside me. It might seem like an odd ritual to others, but after the trauma Ty has endured, this is a tethering for him, preventing a terrifying fall into the abyss of the shame and guilt and torment that so often swallow him.
And for me? It’s the most content I’ve ever felt. The most needed and cherished and alive. It’s not pretending or leaping; it’s holding on through the hard. And it’s healing.
So, as his fingers scratch up and down my spine and his suede-and-spices-and-secret-desires musk permeates the room, I already know what my answer will be when he finally poses his question.
He tips my chin, his cognac pools sparkling in the dark. “What happened, Little Moon? Tell me. I can’t fix things if I don’t know what they are.”
“I love you, Ty. There’s nothing to fix. I will do anything necessary to protect you too.”