CHAPTER 13 – THE REVELATION #3
It’s not sweet. There’s no forgiveness, no gentle easing.
My teeth smash against his, and I taste blood—his, mine, it doesn’t matter.
I claw at his shirt, tearing buttons loose, and he groans, grabbing my hips so hard I feel the marks bloom instantly.
Our bodies crash together, slamming into the wall, rattling the shelves until a photo hits the floor and shatters.
He tries to pull back, panting, but I’m not letting go.
“Stop—” he breathes. “Daisy, you don’t have to—”
“Shut up,” I growl, biting his lip, and then the words come from somewhere so deep I don’t recognize the voice: “Finish what you started.”
He hesitates, hands shaking, but I reach down and palm the hard bulge in his sweats. He’s already leaking, throbbing, and I laugh, sharp and hysterical.
“I know what you want,” I say, and with a single tug, yank the cotton down to his knees.
His cock springs free, thick and flushed, and I drop to my knees and take it into my mouth, not gentle, not loving.
He moans, grabbing my hair, but I pull back and spit on the head, jerking it hard until he swears and shudders.
Then I stand, tearing my own shirt over my head, baring myself to the cold, to the broken frames and the man who destroyed my past.
“You want Tara?” I spit. “Here she is.”
I turn and bend over the desk, spreading my legs so he can see everything. My heart is going a mile a minute, but my pussy aches, wet and open, ready to be filled.
Hunter stands behind me, breathing heavy. He puts his hand on my back, gentle.
“You don’t have to do this, Daisy,” he says in a low tone. “I know you’re hurting.”
I ignore him and snarl, “Don’t you dare be gentle.”
He lines himself up, the tip pressing against my slit, sliding in the slick.
Then he slams forward, all at once, bottoming out against my cervix.
My hymen is gone in a flash and I’m so startled that I don’t move for a moment.
I’m utterly, totally filled with this man, lifted on my tiptoes from his huge size, breasts swaying as I struggle to accommodate that massive cock in my aching cunt.
Then I scream—pain, surprise, raw relief. My nails gouge the desktop, and I feel the hot rush of belonging. Yes, this is where I was meant to be. With Hunter. His cock inside me. His property.
He doesn’t stop. He fucks me hard, desperate, like he’s trying to erase the last few weeks with every thrust. My ass bounces against his hips, my cunt stretched and burning, but I love the hurt. I want to be destroyed. I want to own every second of it.
He grabs my shoulders, pounds deeper, and I brace my hands, looking over my shoulder at him.
“Say it,” I pant, wild and feral. “Say my name.”
“Tara,” he moans. “Fuck, Tara. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
I clench around him, squeezing, and he hisses, losing control. His balls slap against me, and I feel every vein, every inch.
He leans over me, chest to my back, his hands gripping my tits. “I’m sorry,” he rasps in my ear. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I push back harder, the pain peaking, spreading into something sharp and sweet.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I snarl. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He doesn’t. He keeps going, jackhammering into me, until I’m sobbing with ecstasy, my thighs shaking.
When I come, it’s a whiteout—pleasure and agony, my pussy clenching and milking his cock, blood and slick everywhere. Hunter follows, pulsing hot and thick, filling me up until it leaks out, down my thighs and onto the hardwood.
“Fuck!” he shouts, a roar that fills the small room. “Oh shit, baby, shit shit shit!”
We collapse forward, wrecking the rest of the photos, shards of glass and family history under our feet. I’m utterly spent, panting with my big breasts smashed against the surface of the desk. Every centimeter of my skin feels alive, and only this man can do it to me.
He stays inside me, still hard, still twitching, before pulling out. I moan because it feels so good as he exits, and when I stand upright, a huge gush of semen drips down my thigh, splattering onto the hardwood below.
The sight of Hunter’s ownership makes me shiver, but not from fear. From completion.
Hunter collapses onto a desk chair, and slowly, I lower my nude form into his lap.
We sit in the wreckage, naked, breathless, and ruined.
I press my forehead to his, and for the first time in forever, I feel real. But how can this be? This man betrayed me. He withheld critical information that changed the course of my life. Yet, here I am, sated and panting in his arms, with no idea what to do next.
My body hums, but my head is empty, numb. My pussy aches, my thighs streaked with red. I glance at Hunter, see the dazed look in his blue eyes, and feel a flicker of pride.
But mostly I feel confused.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. “I love you, Tara,” he says. “No matter what happens.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
My brain spins, stuck in a blizzard of images: the yellow kitchen, the blue bowl, the party, the lake, the crash. My old self and my new self, locked in a battle of wills.
I know who I am, now.
But I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again.
I rest my head on his shoulder, let the pain and pleasure blur, and wait to see if the pieces will ever fit.
I don’t know if they will.
But at least, for tonight, I am Tara.
And I am free.