Chapter 12
Rory
I’ve been staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes. I haven’t really slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands on me again. Sunlight slices through my window, too bright, too cheerful for how I feel. Last night was a whirlwind of emotions, especially since my ex won’t go away.
And yet, I find myself attracted to Ryven even after all these years, but I know he is no fucking good for me. Not to mention, the lie he held onto regarding my brother’s death all these years.
Even through the hatred, I can’t let him go. I don’t think I ever will.
I let out a long sigh and sit on the side of the bed. One boob’s already escaped my tank top. I shove it back with a grunt. Tank tops at night? Guaranteed rogue titty. That’s the rule.
I pull off my shirt and toss it into the clothes basket at the end of the bed. Now I sit, shirtless and still, not willing myself out of the fucking bed. Then, there is a knock on my front door. I look toward the window. Who would be here at seven in the morning?
I groan, fishing out my tank from the hamper and yanking it back on.
“This better be good,” I growl, opening the door. My stomach drops of course it’s him. It’s always him.
Ryven storms in, slams the door, and lifts me like he owns me. Like I belong to him. Like I always have. I slap at his back but that does little to deter him. He pins me to the wall, body crushing mine, mouth stealing the words right off my lips.
“Mmm, wait!” I say out of the side of my mouth, trying to get some air. “Get off of me!” I smack his shoulders.
He grunts and kisses me again—deeper, hungrier. Like he doesn’t even see me. Just the ghost of what we were.
I give in, not because I want to, but because I don’t know how not to. I should fight him. I should shove him off of me and slam the door in his face. But instead I open my mouth for him to explore with his tongue and moan as he pushes himself against me harder.
He grabs me around the throat and squeezes. Then he rests his forehead against mine. “That’s right, Rory. Let me in, baby. Let me get what I came for.” His hard cock glides against my stomach.
His hand tightens around my throat, cutting off my air and for a second everything else goes quiet. No thoughts. No pain. No memories. Just peace.
Then he releases me, and my eyes shoot open. I thought this was finally it. I thought I would finally be free of this hell I live in. But he unleashed me.
Rage pulls me under, and I push at his chest. “Why do you keep stopping?” I rasp. “Just let it end.”
“If I let you go,” he murmurs, “Then what would I have left?”
He lifts me so I can wrap my legs around his waist, and unzips his pants and I know exactly how this is going to end. It always ends like this.
“Free me,” I sob. From this. From you. From everything...
He shoves my shorts aside and drives into me in one brutal motion. Burying his face in my neck, he whispers. “Never.” Like it’s the only truth he believes in. Then he pulls out of me and slams back inside.
Tears blur my vision as he moves inside me—hard, relentless, like he’s trying to burn himself into me.
I hate him for it.
Hate myself more for needing it.
My orgasm lies on the edge of the horizon as he picks up his pace. His thrusts are relentless, filling with sorrow and anger as he takes everything out on my body.
“You feel so good, Rory,” he growls. “Just like coming home.”
His words do me in, and my orgasm takes over. My legs begin to quiver, and I tighten around him, slowing his pace to a near halt.
“So tight,” he whispers.
Once my body is done convulsing, he pulls out of me, carries me to my bedroom, and lays me on the bed. He removes my shorts, along with my underwear and pushes his pants down the rest of the way.
When he climbs on top of me, I push at his chest once more. “What are you doing?” I squint my eyes.
He pushes himself back inside me, and I arch my body off the bed. “I’m not done with you, baby.”
I shake my head as he slowly inches out and then thrusts back in. “We don’t make love, Ryven. It’s fast, and it’s dirty. That’s what makes sense.”
He slams inside, and I claw at his back. “Then, maybe we should change that.” He groans as he glides out and rams back in.
For the next fifteen minutes something shifts.
Not in him but in the way he touches me.
He fucks me with a tenderness I haven’t felt from him since highschool.
Every stroke is deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize my body again.
As if he might lose it. He hits all the right spots inside me and even presses his mouth to mine, running his tongue inside.
I come to the edge of bliss again, moaning his name as he spills his seed inside me.
For just one breathe the room feels quiet, nothing but the sound of our straining lungs trying to catch our breath.
And then it all comes crashing back in. The feelings.
The way our bodies mold together so perfectly.
I squeeze my eyes shut at the rush of emotions threatening to break free.
I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.