Chapter Fourteen
Rancor
We arrived at my quarters in the Kiss of Death compound with my heartbeat still racing, the night ride having done little to cool the fire Cora had ignited in me with her defiance.
I shoved the door shut behind us, locking it because no way in the fucking world was anyone going to interrupt me tonight.
Freedom looked good on Cora. Victory, even better.
“God, that felt good,” she breathed, her voice still carrying that edge of defiance that had cut through her parents’ expectations like a blade. She paced the floor barefoot, the hem of her black dress swishing around her shapely thighs.
I loosened my tie, watching her move. Her trembling hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, not from fear this time but from the aftershocks of adrenaline.
Her lips curved with stubborn pride as she ran her fingers through her hair where it had come loose from the high ponytail that had started the evening.
“You were magnificent,” I said, my voice rougher than I’d intended. The sight of her flushed with her victory, her eyes bright, was the most erotic, amazing, beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
She turned to face me, the dim light in my apartment catching on the subtle shine of her dress, highlighting every curve.
“I’ve wanted to say that to them for years,” she confessed.
“Every time they made me feel small, every time they treated me like a possession…” She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek.
“In a way, I think them sending me off to boarding school made me realize my relationship wasn’t normal or healthy.
Especially when they just left me there.
I wasn’t the only kid there with parent issues.
Wasn’t even the only one who never went home.
But the experience was enough to make me realize I could have more if I was willing to strike out on my own. ”
I’d taken down men twice my size in prison without hesitation, faced down rivals and cops with an unblinking stare, but nothing had ever moved me like watching this woman find her voice.
The woman who’d somehow become my anchor, my reason, my fucking salvation in a world that had taken everything else from me.
“You told them exactly who you are,” I said, shrugging off my jacket and draping it over the back of a chair. “Who you’ve always been.”
Her eyes tracked my movement, darkening slightly as I rolled up my sleeves, exposing the forearms marked with memories in ink and scars. The energy between us shifted, tension crackling in the air like static before a storm.
“And who am I, Rancor?” she asked, her voice dropping lower, the question carrying weight beyond the words themselves.
She didn’t often use my road name, but I got the feeling she was now as a symbolic way of finishing the break with her old life.
As much as I loved hearing my real name on her lips, I found I liked my road name even better.
Especially now, given it represented a new life for us both.
Though my second life hadn’t started out the way I wanted it to, the current destination was more than I ever thought I’d have again.
I stepped toward her, deliberate and measured, the way I approached everything that mattered.
“Mine,” I answered simply. The word hung between us, heavy with all it implied.
She wasn’t my possession, she was my life, the person I wanted and needed to protect most in this world.
Did I miss Sarah? I would always miss her.
But I knew she’d want me to be happy. I had to believe she was smiling down on me from heaven.
A visible shiver ran through Cora as I closed the distance between us. I settled my hands on her hips, the expensive fabric of her dress smooth and cool beneath my fingers. I felt her heat through the barrier, her body responding to my touch with an immediacy that never failed to humble me.
I turned her to face me fully, pinching her chin with my thumb and finger to tilt her face up until her eyes met mine.
“You’re the woman who just told her entire past to go fuck itself,” I said, my tone dropping to that quiet, measured cadence that always preceded something fierce.
“You’re the woman who chose a future on her own terms. Who chose me.
” My thumb traced her lower lip, feeling it tremble slightly beneath my touch.
“You’re my wife. My fucking heart walking around outside my chest.”
Her breath caught, the sound small but unmistakable in the quiet room. I watched her pupils dilate, black consuming blue until only a thin ring remained. She swayed toward me, her body seeking mine instinctively.
I pulled her into a bruising kiss, swallowing her gasp as our lips collided.
The gentleness I usually reserved for her burned away beneath the heat of need.
My fingers dug into the fabric of her dress as I bunched it in my fists.
I backed her against the wall with deliberate force.
The small thud of her body meeting the drywall sent a jolt of satisfaction through me.
She gripped my head, her nails scraping against my scalp, kissing me back with a fervor equal to my own. I felt her teeth against my lips, the sharp nip more demand than request. I growled low in my throat, pressing her harder against the wall, pinning her with my larger frame.
“Did you feel powerful, telling them to go fuck themselves?” I murmured against her mouth, my beard scraping the delicate skin of her jaw as I moved to her ear. I bit the lobe gently, relishing her sharp inhale. “Because watching you do it made me want to fuck you right there in the parking lot.”
Her breath came fast against my neck, her chest rising and falling rapidly where it pressed against mine. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice ragged with want. “God, Marcus, I’ve never felt so free.”
I captured her mouth again, my tongue claiming hers with possessive intent.
Every slide of our lips, every shared breath, felt like sealing a pact we’d made long ago.
My hands slid down her sides to her thighs, finding the hem of her dress and pushing it upward, exposing the silk of her skin to my calloused palms.
She arched into me, her body a living flame against mine.
I lifted her easily. She wrapped her legs around my waist as I supported her against the wall.
The position aligned our bodies perfectly.
I shoved her skirt over her ass, the hard ridge of my erection finding and pressing against her pussy through the silk panties she wore.
The other layers of fabric suddenly seemed an intolerable barrier.
“I need you,” she whispered, the words broken and raw. “Need you to fuck me, Rancor!”
The second she uttered those words using my road name, I lost my Goddamned mind. “Hang on,” I bit out before I hooked my finger in the elastic of her panties and guided my cock to her entrance.
With one shift, hard shove, I buried myself deep inside her cunt. The wet, hot heat of her pussy surrounding my bare cock was unlike anything I’d ever felt in my life. I actually saw stars on the edge of my vision.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I promised, my voice rough with a passion I had no hope of containing. “Always. My woman. The warrior.”
“I need this fucking dress off!” She tightened her legs around my hips but shoved me back, trying to reach behind her.
Probably for the zipper. When she gave a frustrated screech, I wrapped my arms around her, found the tab and tried to slide it down her back.
The Goddamned thing hung and I tugged a little bit too hard.
The satisfying rip of the delicate fabric under my grip probably wasn’t pleasant to her as it was to me.
She gasped, not in protest but in approval, her eyes darkening further as I exposed more of her skin to my hungry gaze.
“Fuck,” she breathed as I ripped it further, exposing the black lace beneath.
“Hated this fucking dress from the moment I put it on.”
“You’re mine,” I growled, needing to repeat myself until we both believed it to our very souls.
I grazed my teeth over her neck, leaving marks she would feel long after this night ended, visual reminders of my claim on her.
Not because I owned her, but because she had chosen to give herself to me.
The thing that surprised me most was that, though I didn’t believe she was my possession, I knew deep in my soul she owned me.
“Yes,” she agreed, no hesitation in her voice. “And you’re mine. Every goddamn inch of you.”
I began to move then, thrusting my hips, fucking her hard. The need to plant my seed inside her was the most pressing desire I’d ever had in my life.
“Say it again,” I demanded, my breath hot against her ear. “Tell me who you belong to.”
Her nails dug into my shoulders, leaving half-moons of pressure through my shirt that I knew would mark my skin. “You,” she whispered, her voice breaking with need. “I belong to you, Rancor. Only you.”
I fucked her with powerful movements, claiming her with my body the way she’d claimed my soul the first Goddamned day I met her.
She screamed, the sound raw and primal, her head falling back against the wall as my movements drove her up and down the flat surface.
I prayed I wasn’t hurting her since I didn’t seem to possess the self-control to slow down.
Thankfully, when I looked into her lovely eyes, I saw only hunger, the same hunger I knew reflected back at her.
I set a punishing rhythm that had us both gasping.
Each thrust drove us higher, the force of my movements pressing her harder against the wall.
Her black dress hung in tatters around her waist. Cora reached between us and grasped the edges of my shirt, yanking hard.
Buttons scattered around us but the only thing that mattered to me was getting her tits out of her bra so I could mash against her chest to chest.
“Look at me,” I commanded, slowing my pace just enough to make her whimper in protest. Her eyes snapped to mine, pupils blown wide with arousal. “I want to hold your gaze while you come on my cock. Just for me.”
She nodded frantically, her breath coming in short, sharp pants that matched the rhythm of my thrusts. I slid one hand between us, finding her clit with practiced ease. The first touch had her arching against me, a strangled cry escaping her lips.
“That’s it, baby,” I encouraged, my voice rough with exertion and need. “Fuckin’ come. I’ve got you.”
The tight clench of her body around mine told me she was close.
I increased my pace, driving into her with relentless force, feeling my own release building at the base of my spine.
The sight of her, head thrown back in abandon, skin flushed with pleasure, lips parted on my name, pushed me closer to the edge.
When she finally came, her entire body tensing around mine, I followed her into bliss, my release tearing through me with an intensity that left me gasping.
We clung to each other, shuddering through the shared pleasure, the wall at her back the only thing keeping us upright as I leaned into her.
I gasped for breath as I rested my forehead against hers.
I remained inside her, unwilling to break our connection just yet.
She kissed me, a soft, lingering press of her lips against mine as a small joy-filled laugh escaped her. “Well,” she murmured, “that’s one way to celebrate telling my parents to fuck off.”
I chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest. “Just getting started, wife,” I promised, carefully withdrawing from her body and lowering her feet to the floor. Her legs trembled beneath her, and I felt a surge of masculine pride at having reduced this strong, defiant woman to such a state.
I swept her into my arms, carrying her the short distance to our bed.
She went willingly, her arms looped around my neck, her head resting trustingly against my shoulder.
I laid her down with more gentleness than I’d shown minutes before, the sight of her sprawled across our sheets sending a fresh surge of desire through me despite my recent release.
She reached for me, her arms open in invitation. I followed her down, covering her smaller body with mine. This time, when our lips met, the kiss was softer, the urgency replaced by something deeper, more tender.
“I love you,” I murmured against her mouth, the words still new enough to feel like a revelation each time I spoke them. For years after Sarah died, I’d believed that part of me had died with her. Cora had proven me wrong, awakening feelings I’d thought forever lost.
Her hands framed my face, thumbs tracing the contours of my cheekbones with reverent care. “I love you too,” she whispered back. “So much it scares me sometimes.”
“Don’t be scared, honey. I will guard your heart with my life.”
“I know.” She stroked my face as she pulled me back for another kiss.
I sank into her again. This time the sensation was no less intense for its gentleness. I moved, watching her face as her pleasure built slowly. This wasn’t the raw, animal coupling of before, but something equally powerful for the love it conveyed.
With a soft cry, she came, milking my cock again for the seed I needed to plant inside her. I shuddered as I came, groaning against her neck as I held myself inside her as deeply as I could, never wanting to be free.
After, as our breathing slowed and the sweat cooled on our skin, I wrapped my arm protectively around her, drawing her close against my side. She came willingly, her body molding to mine so she fit perfectly.
“No regrets?” I asked, my voice low in the quiet room. “About us? About your parents?”
She tilted her face up to mine, her expression open and unguarded in a way she rarely was with anyone but me.
“Not a single one,” she said firmly. “My only family is right here.” She pressed her palm against my chest, directly over my heart.
“Everything I need, everything I want. It’s all right here. ”
I covered her hand with mine, feeling the steady thump of my heartbeat beneath our joined fingers. The peace I found in her arms was something I never thought I’d experience again.
Cora was my love. My wife. My everything. I’d lost so much and had dwelt on those losses for a long time. Now, all I wanted was to embrace the second chance I’d been given.
“Tell me you love me again,” I demanded.
I felt her lips move against my chest as she smiled. “I do love you, Rancor. With all my heart.” Her voice was thick with fatigue, and I knew neither of us would last much longer.
As sleep claimed us, cradled in each other’s arms, I felt a sense of completeness I’d longed for my entire life. In Cora, I had found my anchor, my sanctuary, my reason to believe in second chances and the enduring power of love.