23. Ripley
CHAPTER 23
RIPLEY
LOVE YOU BETTER – THE HAUNT
I’m not sure where my pleasure ends and my hatred for the man gifting it to me begins. All I know is that if he dares to stop right now, I’ll surely lose my mind. Analysing what a mistake this is can come after he’s fucked me senseless.
I’m restrained tightly by his iron-clad grip and can feel the protest of my wounded wrists. It hasn’t entered Xander’s awareness. Or perhaps it has, and he simply doesn’t care enough to ease up. It’s hard to tell with the iceman.
Right now, he isn’t that man at all.
This creature is all fury and flames.
My body is nothing more to him than the scorched earth beneath his feet. He’ll trample me underfoot to get what he wants. In this frenzied state, I’d probably thank him for it. I’m all sensation, blindly grasping for any opportunity for relief.
His midnight-blue eyes have descended into inky blackness. Each stroke he inflicts makes his jaw tense and wiry muscles spasm. He’s built similarly to Raine, lean and agile, but still hiding significant strength. Strength that is marred by scars and pain.
I want to feel guilty. I want to stop this. Walk away. Never look back. Take my rightful place in Raine’s hospital room. But selfishness is a powerful motivator, and after what Lennox did, I need this.
I need the safety and control of surrendering to someone else. Someone evil. But I don’t know if I can even call Xander that anymore. His icy nonchalance hides a far more horrifying reality that I’ve yet to unearth. I don’t know who he really is.
The enemy?
The man who saved me?
Both paradoxes wrapped up in one?
Seizing the pain that’s setting my mind alight, I focus on my throbbing wrists. It’s a wonderful juxtaposition to the way my limbs are turning to mush.
Xander is slamming into me, his tempo inching ever higher. But his attention doesn’t waver. After all these months, he’s still studying me. Searching for whatever answers he’s so willing to sacrifice everything for.
I know I antagonise him. His icy fa?ade can’t withstand whatever the fuck this twisted sickness burgeoning between us is. I don’t understand it and wouldn’t expect anyone else to either.
We’re as toxic as all good tragedies are, and that only makes me want him more. Finally accepting that feels like a defeat. This man has brought nothing but grief and misery into my life, but in this moment, that doesn’t change a thing.
I want Xander.
I want every emotion he has left.
I want to hurt him back.
Releasing one wrist, he moves his grip to my chin. His short fingernails dig into my skin as he drags my mouth to his. Our lips clash. There’s no hesitation on my part this time. I want to bruise him just as badly.
Tongues meeting, his spearmint taste fills my mouth. I bite down on his bottom lip, luxuriating in the blood that wells up to meet me. A deep, satisfied groan rolls up from his throat as I suck the bloodied lip dry.
Taking that tiny bit of control back and hearing his reaction fires me up. I’m already a sweaty mess, clawing ever closer to the edge of a welcoming oblivion. He’s tortured me enough. I want to spiral and explode now.
With my freed-up hand, I stroke over Xander’s neatly-packed abdominals. The tight lines of muscle are visible beneath layers of scar tissue. Seeing those marks again only reignites the questions I’m too scared to ask.
Years have softened each light-pink laceration but failed to obscure them entirely. He must’ve been so young when he started cutting himself. Young enough for the marks to bear witness to all he’s done to avoid feeling ever since.
My broken boy.
My twisted, damaged man.
“Eyes on me,” he grinds out. “Now.”
I drag my attention from his scars. Xander is glowering at me, unable to stand being ignored for even a second. Like somehow I could forget he’s making it his mission to command my every thought.
Seemingly appeased, he lowers his face to my breasts. I cry out at the sudden onslaught of his lips. He lavishes each nipple, alternating between kissing, sucking and biting down hard enough to sting. Each sensation makes my nerve endings sizzle.
My legs clench around him, holding his waist in a vice. When he rolls one nipple between his fingers while sucking on the other, I feel an orgasm begging to take over. My nails dig deep into his mottled skin.
“Please,” I beg for a release.
“I don’t think so,” he clips out.
When his lips disappear from my breast, the steely warmth of his cock within me vanishes. I hit a brick wall and ricochet, an unbearable pressure threatening to rip me apart. My orgasm is cruelly snatched away before I can gasp.
Xander holds himself over me, observing each iteration of disappointment. I cry out in shock at the sudden loss, my thighs clenching tight around him, like I can force the clock to rewind and give me the release I need.
“No… Please!”
His grip on my chin loosens. “Hurting, little toy?”
“God-fucking-damn you, Xander!”
“That’s more like it.” His grin is full of sinister satisfaction. “You haven’t begged enough.”
Moving to grasp my hips with both hands, he roughly flips me over. I land back on the mattress in a faceful of bedsheets. Fingertips glide down my spine, tracing each curvature as another hand circles my hips and ass.
I brace for the hit I know is coming. His soft touches never last long. When the first spank cracks against my rear, it jolts my whole body. Pain flashes up my spine in time to the exploration of his fingertips.
“You still mark so exquisitely.”
Fisting the bedsheets, I swallow a cry. It’ll only satisfy the son of a bitch. If he isn’t going to give me what I want, then I sure as fuck won’t return the favour. He’ll have to hit me until I bleed.
Xander strikes my other ass cheek, the force of his smack making my skin tighten and prickle. I can feel blood rushing to the area. My back arches, absorbing the force, still enduring the tease of his featherlight fingers.
Those dancing fingers traverse upwards to wind into my tangled hair. Though it’s unkempt and matted from my brush with death, that doesn’t stop Xander from fisting the coarse strands.
He wrenches hard, forcing my head to tilt up. I’m suspended, half-upright at a vulnerable angle, breasts jutting out and knees wobbling.
“Is this what you wanted?” He nudges back between my soaked thighs from behind. “Someone to fuck you like the object you desire to be?”
“I’m not your object,” I gasp in delicious pain.
“I forgot. You’re not mine.” He yanks sharply on my curls. “You’re Harrowdean’s whore, right?”
Before I can snatch the knife from my bed and stick it in his fucking eyeball, he slides back into me. From this angle, his strokes are shallow and fast. A constant drilling that takes me right back to the brink.
I want to wail and rave. Batter my fists against his bare chest and throw him out of this room. But each stroke of his cock inside me silences whatever hatred I’m ready to spew. He owes me this much.
Xander pulls my hair with each pump, merging fierce pain with toe-curling pleasure until tears are pooling in my eyes. I’m too overwhelmed. Overstimulated from every angle. His other hand clasps my hip in a bruising grip.
When that grip slackens, I prepare for the next slap. It’s a hard, fast strike against my right ass cheek. Bracing for it doesn’t decrease the way my skin burns. With each spank, the fire spreads.
“Still pretending to hate me?” Xander groans.
“Yes!”
His pounding continues, relentless and battering. It’s like he’s trying to beat the truth out of me. The reason why I sacrificed their lives to get my revenge. He still doesn’t get it.
“You… ruined… me,” I pant.
“Oh, I know.” His breathing is almost as laboured as mine. “And truthfully, I don’t blame you for feeding us to the wolves. In fact, I was impressed.”
“Why? I wanted you dead!”
“Exactly.” His breath teases my ear as he pushes my hair aside. “Look at how formidable we made you.”
When his teeth sink into the shell of my ear, I moan again, sparks flying with each sensation. It’s all building to the grand finale, but I know he’ll make me work for it. Nothing is easy with Xander.
“I hate the person you made me.”
“Do you?” he grunts. “Because I find that hard to believe.”
I’m climbing a steep cliff, dragging myself up inch by agonising inch. His cock worshipping me shoves me higher up that slope until I can see the tempting fall once more. The edge I need him to throw me off.
This is what he’s reduced me to. A submissive, needy wreck, willing to sacrifice my integrity and secrets just to earn his surrender. Just when I thought I couldn’t stoop any lower.
“You want the truth?” I grit out.
Xander drags his nails over my skin, leaving scratches behind. “Yes. Admit it.”
“Admit that if it wasn’t for you… I wouldn’t be here at all.” My legs quiver as my climax nears.
“More, little toy.”
Releasing my hair, he abruptly pushes me down so I’m bent over with my ass high. I turn my head to the side to suck in ragged breaths as his thrusts deepen, finding an angle that pushes me past my breaking point.
“You made me ruthless. You made me cruel.” I moan through another punishing spank against my sore ass. “You made me into a monster fit to walk beside you.”
“Where.” He pumps into me. “You.” His cock jerks as I spasm around him. “Belong.”
My muscles spasm with the force of my hard-won orgasm. After all the baiting, he finally yields. Xander’s roar is a fucking triumph that makes me shatter. I steal his remaining control and plummet with it into the unknown.
My name rolls off his tongue like a lamentation. He’s grieving the loss of whatever flimsy protections remained in place between us. The hate that once kept us apart now binds us together in a far more intimate way.
The iceman has finally thawed, and it feels so fucking good to relinquish the fight. That realisation makes my release even more intense. I feel my extremities turn to mulch as Xander pours himself into me.
His body becomes a dead weight above mine. At some point, he collapses next to me on the bed, and we end up entwined. Our limbs are a sweaty tangle as we both search for air, neither able to form a coherent word.
Don’t do it, Ripley.
But the voice of reason can fuck off right now. I snuggle up against my enemy’s chest and rest my head over his out of control heartbeat. At first, it’s like embracing stone. Then a scarred arm curls around me. I feel his nose bury in my hair.
I’m where I belong.
Sleeping with the devil.
“What happens now?” I eventually break the silence.
His buried face doesn’t lift from my hair.
“I have no fucking idea.”