CHAPTER THIRTY #4
“That’s better.” His teeth scrape down my neck, biting until I cry out, his words hot against the bruise. “Filthy little Butterfly, begging for the man who left you to tear you apart all over again. You love it. Don’t fucking lie.”
“I—” My voice cracks, but the truth rips out anyway. “I love it. I love when you break me.”
His growl rumbles deep in his chest, his hips snapping harder, relentless. “Say it louder.”
“I love when you break me!”
He snarls, grinding against my clit with his hand while he pounds deeper into my ass, the filth of it choking me, shaming me, undoing me until I’m wailing, coming again against the brutal stretch.
He doesn’t let me collapse. He doesn’t let me hide. He keeps me up on the chain, cock still pounding, still claiming and when I scream his name, broken, ruined, begging—He growls it back like a vow.
“Mine. Always fucking mine.”
The chain bites deeper, my throat raw, my sobs muffled against the wood. His thrusts don’t slow. If anything, they get harder—meaner—like he wants to drive the splinters into my skin just to prove I’ll bleed for him.
“Look at you,” he snarls, yanking my head back until I’m gasping for air. “Crying and dripping like the dirtiest little slut alive. You think anyone else could use you like this? Hm? You think Torres, or any other good man, could take you apart until you can’t even fucking breathe?”
“No—” My voice is a ragged sob, broken.
“That’s right. Only me. Only the bastard who you should have left.
Only the man who breaks you because you beg for it even when you don’t say it out loud.
” His hand drags between my thighs, smearing slick across my folds before forcing his fingers into my mouth. “Taste what you are. My mess. My ruin.”
Tears stream hot down my face as he fucks me harder, his voice jagged.
“Say it. Say you’re my ruin.”
“I’m your ruin,” I choke, lips stretching around his fingers, gagging on the salt of myself.
His laugh is cruel, sharp, splitting me open. “Good girl. Now beg me. Beg me to never let you go.”
Shame burns my skin raw. My chest heaves. “Please—never let me go.”
His thrusts slam deep enough to rattle bone. The chain digs harder. My body convulses, helpless, betrayed, and I scream as another orgasm rips through me, violent, humiliating, soul-shattering.
He groans low, savage, his cock jerking inside me as he spills again, marking me, drowning me, his hips rolling like he’s branding me from the inside out.
When the world finally stills—when I’m shaking, sobbing, wrecked and pinned beneath him—his grip softens just a fraction. The chain loosens. His forehead presses hard against the back of my neck, his breath ragged, his voice a whisper carved out of glass.
“Fuck…” His words break apart, jagged, torn. “I hate this. I hate how much I need it.”
I barely breathe, terrified of the silence that comes after and then he shocks me. Cuts me open wider than the filth ever could.
“I love you, Butterfly.” His voice is raw, wrecked, almost a growl but trembling like he hates himself for saying it. “I love you so much it fucking destroys me.”
The chain slips from his hand. My body collapses into the wood, shaking, but all I hear—are those words and for the first time, I don’t know if I can survive them.
The chain slips loose. My body slumps against the rail, every nerve still burning, every sob still clawing at my throat and then—his words. Low. Ruined.
“I love you, Butterfly.”
It guts me worse than the chain, worse than the filth.
“No…” My voice cracks, splintered, shaking as I drag in air like I’ve been drowning. “Don’t you dare say that. Not like this. Not now. You’ll rip it out of me and walk away again. You’ll—”
His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back until his mouth crashes against my ear, his breath scalding, his words jagged.
“You think I’m lying?” His voice is ragged, breaking on every syllable.
“You think I say this to anyone else? To the goddamn bottle I drown in every night?” His chest heaves against my back, his body trembling.
“No, Butterfly. It’s you. It’s always been you.
I fucking love you, and it’s killing me. ”
I sob harder, shaking, every part of me rebelling against it. “Stop—you don’t mean it—you don’t get to mean it—”
His hands slam against the wood on either side of me, caging me in. His voice tears out like shrapnel, like confession at the edge of death.
“I love you in a way that makes me hate myself.” His forehead presses hard against the back of my skull. “I love you in a way that makes every breath without you feel like fucking torture. I love you so much it breaks me every goddamn second you’re not mine.”
My knees give, my body buckling, but his grip holds me upright. I shake my head, sobbing into the splintered wood.
“You’ll leave,” I whisper, hollow, wrecked.
His lips brush my ear, soft and sharp all at once. “I can’t. Don’t you understand? I couldn’t leave you if I tried. You are the wound I’ll never fucking close.”
The words detonate inside me, crueler than any chain, darker than any filth. Because I believe him. Because I don’t want to. Because it’s the one truth that will ruin me more than all the rest.
“You’ll leave,” I choke out again, my voice a rasp against the wood, every word wet with tears. “You always leave, Dax. You’ll break me, and then you’ll go. That’s what you do. That’s all you do.”
His grip tightens in my hair, pulling my head back until his mouth is at my throat, his breath ragged and hot.
“Yeah,” he growls, his voice shredded, broken. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll have to. Maybe the world will rip me away from you again, maybe the war, maybe the ghosts in my fucking head.” His teeth scrape my skin, brutal. “But don’t you ever doubt this—”
His chest slams against mine as he pins me tighter to the rail, his words raw, torn from the deepest, ugliest place inside him.
“I’ll always come back. You hear me? Always. Crawl, bleed, fucking burn—I’ll find my way back to you.” His lips crush against my ear, every word a vow that sounds more like a threat. “Because I love you, Butterfly. And I’d rather die a hundred times than stay gone from you once.”
My throat splits with a sob, my nails clawing at his arms just to keep myself upright. “Don’t say that—don’t make me believe it—”
He snarls, shaking me, forcing me to face him. His eyes are wild, wet, storming with fury and devotion that tears me apart.
“You already believe it.” His mouth crashes to mine, brutal, desperate, like punishment and salvation at once. He breaks the kiss only long enough to rasp against my lips, “Because it’s the only truth I’ve ever had. And you’ll fucking know it every time I leave—and every time I come back.”