Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
RAYNE
How fucking dare he! Judgmental, arrogant, narcissistic asshole.
He really thinks he’s the victim here—and I can’t entirely blame him when I’m partly responsible for perpetuating that particular narrative.
But what other option did I have? Enzo made his choice, and there was nothing I could have said to change that.
So, yes, my dream was once to have a house full of children, but that was only with him.
Since he tore out my heart and stomped all over it, there’s no room in it for anyone anymore.
The sound of his footsteps coming after me make goosebumps prickle out over my skin. I dart into the kitchen, hoping he won’t follow me.
He does. Of course. “Just what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Rayne?” His angry growl reverberates around the kitchen, and annoyingly, also makes me shiver with excitement. What the hell is wrong with me?
I spin to face him. “You heard exactly what I said, Enzo, and so you must know what it means.”
He stalks closer, his body merely inches from mine and vibrating with anger. The heat from him is so palpable it’s like standing in front of an inferno and praying you don’t get burned. “You think I can’t give what you need?”
“I know you can’t.”
He takes a half step, closing the distance between us. “You’re wrong.” His voice has taken on a dangerous, dark edge, the kind that has my toes curling into the floor in the best possible way.
I tip my chin in a challenge. “Prove it.”
He moves so fast, everything is a blur. Suddenly, I’m spun around and he’s guiding me to the breakfast table, swiftly bending me over it.
With one hand on the back of my neck, he presses my cheek to the smooth wood while he uses his free hand to yank my dress up, dragging it over my hips.
He smacks my ass hard, the sound echoing around the kitchen and making my knees tremble and my pussy clench with anticipation.
I hate that my traitorous body responds to his this way. Hate that when he tugs aside my panties and slides his fingers through my center, he finds me wet.
“Fuck, Rayne,” he grunts, slipping two fingers deep inside me. “You always did get so fucking wet for me, baby.” He twists them, opening me up, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a moan. “So fucking needy.”
God, he’s an asshole, but one who definitely knows how to bring a woman pleasure.
I have the rest of my life to regret this decision, but right now I’m going to take what I want from him.
All too soon, his fingers disappear and I’m left feeling empty.
Until I hear the distinctive sound of his belt opening as he hurriedly rips it open, then his zipper.
My heart rate doubles—at least. I writhe on the table, his other hand still pinning me down, but I’m frantic to feel him inside me.
To sate the ache that’s been growing from the first moment I saw him again.
He’s always been able to do this to me, maybe it is just muscle memory, like he said, but it’s as though our bodies are hardwired to each other’s.
He leans over me, his chest against my back and his mouth at my ear, stubble scratching at my skin. “You always loved being bent over and fucked too, didn’t you?” Without another word or warning, he drives inside, filling me in one smooth stroke.
“Oh, god,” I moan.
“Don’t call for him when I’m inside you. The only fucking name I want you moaning is mine.”
“Oh, god!” I cry out again on purpose.
He slams inside me, making my teeth rattle. “Is it god making your pussy soaked, Rayne? Or is it me?”
“Fuck you,” I bite out.
“No, baby. But I am gonna fuck you.” He pulls out and drives back inside and searing pleasure lights up my insides. “You love being railed by a huge cock, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say on a breathy moan. “But yours will do.”
He slaps my ass so hard that the sound echoes around the kitchen and my pussy responds accordingly, clamping around him and coating him in a rush of arousal. I press my lips together to stop from giggling.
He leans over me, the weight of his solid body pressing me to the wood and his hot mouth at my ear.
He growls, clearly not sharing in my amusement.
God, I love pushing his buttons so damn much.
“You need to learn some manners, Rayne. I should make you fucking beg for this.” He thrusts his hips, until the thick crown of his cock swipes over the sensitive spot inside me that has my knees trembling.
“You don’t have the willpower to make me beg, Enzo.”
“You think?” he snarls.
“I know.”
He slaps my ass again, but he doesn’t stop railing into me, each thrust more punishing than the last. This is different from the other night in the hallway. That was raw and primal and frenetic, like we just couldn’t hold back. Driven by our desire. This feels like so much more. It’s intentional.
“Your cunt loves my cock, baby. She’s soaking for me. Can you hear her?”
It’s hard not to when the wet sounds of him fucking me are so obnoxiously loud. God, I’m so damn obvious. I hate that he knows how much I want him. “You’re so damn sure of yourself.”
Another hard slap. My eyes roll back in my head. “Where you’re concerned, yeah, I am.” He leans over me, mouth at my ear. He catches my earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. “But nobody makes me as hard as you do.” He slams into me again. “Nobody.”
I’m thrilled that’s true and squeeze my pussy muscles around his shaft as his reward.
“Fuck, Rayne,” he groans in my ear, as close to coming undone as I am. This might be messed up, but there’s no denying our bodies have remained firmly in tune with each other even after all these years.
“God, I hate you,” I pant out the words, chasing the release that’s so damn close.
“You too,” he growls as he drives into me again.
He fucks me hard. Relentless and unforgiving, and I relish every single second of it, basking in the way I’m able to make him lose control. “Such a tight fucking pussy. You gonna come on my cock? Soak my pants for me again?”
“Yes!” I cry out.
“That’s my fucking girl.” He wraps my hair around his fist, uses it to pull me up so that my back is flat to his chest. Then his hand coasts over my hip and he squeezes my throbbing clit between his fingers.
I go off like a nuclear warhead, stars blinding in my vision and my entire body shaking as euphoria lights up my veins.
He grinds his hips, emptying his own release into me.
We stay like that for a moment, his arms wrapped around me and us both panting for breath. That was intense. Incredible.
His arms fall from around me and he staggers back a step, fastening up his pants and belt. But I’m determined not to feel bad about what we did this time. We’re both adults, and we’re not hurting anyone—well, except for each other.
I fix my clothes and turn to face him.
He looks so guilty that it makes my heart ache a little. He has nothing to feel guilty for, not about this anyway. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure we did that. And you don’t have to apologize. There’s nothing wrong with what we did. We’re two consenting adults. Besides, there’s not much that’s hotter than some good old hate sex, right?”
I say that to lighten the mood, but it seems to have the opposite effect. He steps closer, his entire being invading my personal space and making heat coil low in my belly. “And exactly how much hate sex have you had, Rayne?”
I always loved my jealous, possessive Enzo—until he took it way too far.
Part of me still craves that kind of obsession, and I never found it with anyone else.
Never wanted to. I run my fingertip over the buttons of his shirt, feel his breathing quicken at my touch.
I stand on my tiptoes, leaning close to his ear, feeling my breath fan across his skin.
“I promise you that I’ve never had sex with anyone I hate quite as much as you. ”