“Mírame4, stay here. Feel me.” He grabs my hands and places them on him. “Siénteme5…Feel me… It’s me. Stay here. Stay with me.” I obey, my hands trembling as they explore the contours of his defined muscles. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against my lips before picking me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, and slamming me into the wall. All his restraints are shattered, and I gasp at the sudden forcefulness of his movements. Our bodies align perfectly, his hard edges meeting mine as he slips inside me. Kissing me to muffle the whimpers that work up my throat with each slow and deliberate thrust. Each motion sends rippling waves of pleasure coursing through me. His movements are calculated, his eyes burning with raw need and emotion. He bites my lip softly, a silent promise that he’ll protect me no matter what. “God, I'm so fucking sorry,” he whispers in my ear, his voice trembling with pleasure. His movements are slow but purposeful, each thrust accompanied by a whispered plea for forgiveness or a soft apology, leaving no room for doubt about the turmoil raging within him. Pressing his forehead against mine, his body shakes violently against mine as he tries to control the animalistic urge to claim me fully. His apology punctuates every breath I take. With every thrust.
1. Fucking dog.
2. I'm sorry
3. I love you
4. Look at me.
5. Feel me.
Chapter Twenty Three
Isaac
For years, I’ve imagined what it would be like to be with her again. Never did I think that it would be like this. It’s wrong, so fucking wrong, yet nothing could compare to being inside her and feeling the heat of her body envelop me. It feels incredible, and damn them for making her do this. And fuck me for enjoying it so much. The smell of her, musky with hints of soap, invades my lungs.
How naive of me to think I could ever move on from her? Forget the one thing my heart refuses to give up on. I kiss her slowly, savoring the sound of her moans and the vibrations they create against my lips. She digs her nails into my neck, sending a pleasurable sting down my spine that makes me groan into her mouth. My body throbs with longing, a decade’s worth of desire for her finally being fulfilled in this moment. Ten long years deprived of her, and now I'm drowning in her taste—in every sound that slips from her lips. It’s like coming home, or maybe heaven… hell, who the fuck knows.
Her hands move to tangle in my hair, a quiet plea for more—one that I'm more than willing to oblige. My hands hungrily roam her back as I fuck her into the wall. Fucking her as if my touch could erase the violation she’s endured. How I wish I could slow down, indulge, and drown in her. I pull back slightly, my eyes locking onto hers, before her face falls to the crook of my neck, and my hands move to cup her ass, pulling her as close as I can to me. I run my hand down the curve of her back and then up again, savoring each tremor that passes through her. Her skin is like satin under my fingers, warm and inviting. Each thrust sends me deeper into despair, one that merges with guilt and ends within the familiarthrob of arousal. Warm trickles of tears run down her face, mingling with our lips. I pull away just so I can remember this. To remember the moment I failed her entirely… the moment of my greatest betrayal. Resting my forehead against her collarbone, I hook her leg around me, feeling the sob make its way up her chest, vibrating against my ear. “I love you, Ronnie,” I whisper into her skin, continuing to slowly thrust inside her. For a second, my knees lock, and my grip on her ass slightly falters as guilt riddles me.
“Iz,” she breathes. She uses her hand to cup my chin and lift it to meet her gaze. “Kiss me,” she pleads softly, and I do. She takes my bottom lip and gently nips it. “Stay with me,” she whispers. “It’s okay.”
Words fail me. All I can do is show her how sorry I am each time our hips meet. How much I love her with each soft dance of our tongues. I wish this didn’t feel so good, that I wasn’t so hungry… so desperate to give her every inch of me. Every fucking thing I have to offer. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I'm also taking from her, and I hate myself for it. Each soft whimper that leaves her lips is a dagger that twists deeper into the hurt. And when she falls apart, my heart flutters and my cock twitches knowing she’s there. That she can use my body to escape, to run from this hell. My thumbs trace circles on the small of her back as my hips move rhythmically against her warmth, leaving no space between us.
I’ve wanted this for so long, and this feels more like a slap in the face. Good and so fucking twisted. I feel so unworthy of being inside her. If only she could feel how torn I am. I pull out again, my eyes on her as I slowly fill her back up. She bites her lip so hard that she draws blood, and the sight of that is enough to almost make me cum. Then it dawns on me, she will have me inside her. The irony doesn’t escape me, though. I’m branding her while trying to provide her an escape. My hands travel to the back of her neck, and I bring her face to mine. “Ronnie,” I choke out, feeling breathless as molten lava collects in my core. “When I move again… I’ll be fucking coming inside you.”
A single tear falls from the corner of her eye. There’s no loathing, no hate, just raw lust and pain. She doesn’t utter a single word, just a nod, permission to goahead. I ignore the tears now streaming down both our faces, the gnawing pain in my heart as I thrust back into her. Slowly, and then harder, I move. The sound of us, the way her body shatters so beautifully for me, does nothing but make me sick to my stomach, hating that I'm doing this to her.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I sob as I lift her higher, my face falling into her chest. Chains rattling harder, her moans and mine mingling with the sound. My mouth finds her tit, and I suck down hard on her nipple as I fuck her into the wall. I make her come again before I follow her there. Collapsing onto her, the wall behind her is the only thing that keeps us from falling to the ground. My body shakes violently, a mess of guilt and euphoria. I hold her for a minute, thankful that she doesn’t pull away, and her arms wrap around my head. We don’t say anything and don’t separate until my cock goes soft, slipping out of her, and Harry pulls at her. Signaling our time is up.
I gently place her on the ground and stroke her tear-streaked face, my touch as tender as I can muster in such a moment of disarray. My heart constricts at the sight of her. Her face is contorted, trapped in a struggle between the afterglow of sex and pain.
“You don’t deserve this,” I whisper softly, my voice breaking. “I wish…” I choke on my own word. I wish I could wrap her in an invisible cloak, keeping her untouched from anything tainted and vile. But I can’t. All I can do is journey through this hell with her, bearing my soul raw to shoulder her pain. “I love you,” I murmur into her ear, the plea barely audible before she is ripped away from me. Tears burn my eyes as I watch her walk away, my gaze never leaving her as I whisper her name.
Priscilla comes up from behind me. My body tenses at the unexpected proximity, a low growl resonating through my throat. I tilt my head slightly to the side, glaring at Priscilla. “Hopefully, this is it.”
My blood turns to ice, and all I want to do is strangle the woman beside me. Ronnie drags her feet as she brings her back to her spot. Her body is tense, using her arms to shield her body from unwanted gaze. Harry locks up the chain,grinning as he stares up at her. She’s naked, trying her hardest not to give him attention. I want to shield her with my body; he doesn’t deserve to see her, to feel her, to taint her. Neither do I, but that motherfucker definitely doesn’t.
“Soon, this will all be over,” Priscilla whispers to me. “A small sacrifice for a life to be born.”
I can only grunt in response, because what the fuck am I supposed to say? My mind blocks her out entirely and slips into a tumultuous storm of regret and guilt. The look on Ronnie’s face is the only thing I can focus on.Sadness. Pure fucking agony written all over it as she tries to shield herself from further indignation. My heart tears even more. If I don’t get her out of this place, he will break her to nothing, and I can’t allow it. She’s been through enough, and we are no closer to getting out. Without thinking, I headbutt Priscilla, sending her tumbling to the ground.
“Shit,” she hisses as she pushes herself up.
Before I can move, I hear Harrytskas he points the gun directly at Ronnie’s head. His body presses into her naked form, and he begins to roam his finger slowly between her legs. “Easy… pretty boy. I only needed you for this, but I can replace you. Would you like that?”
“No,” I growl, my eyes glaring daggers at Harry. The room spins at the sight, my heart hammering wildly against my ribcage as Ronnie's pleading gaze tells me to stop. Harry stops on his own accord, a chuckle escaping his lips, mocking me. Letting me know I have no power here. I’m at his mercy.
I AM. USELESS.
My promises are empty, and my words are meaningless. My heart is heavy, sinking into the pit of my stomach, each beat reminding me of the devastating predicament we are in. He walks back to the chair, picks up a thin, red satin robe, and throws it to her. “This is all you need.”
“Seems a tad ungenerous for the future mother of your child, wouldn’t you say?” I retort as Ronnie slips on the robe, closing it tightly around her frame, highlighting how much thinner she’s gotten. I can feel Harry’s hardened gazeon me, and I meet it. It’s like two animals circling each other, knowing one will eventually end the other, and a cold shiver down my spine.
“She is not the mother but the incubator… a surrogate. My wife, Priscilla, is the mother. Get. That. Right,” he says through gritted teeth. My fists clench at his words, the rage welling inside me threatening to boil over.FUCK YOU, I want to scream. Even though it will never be enough for the violence I want to unleash upon him. I don’t only want to scream. I want to sever his hands. Rip his dick off. And feed it to his wife. My mind is full of intrusive thoughts that only seem to grow. Despite the need for violence. I manage to maintain my composure, for now. I’m fully aware that any rash actions could have dire consequences. “Surrogate or not, she deserves better treatment.”
“What she deserves is not for you to decide, boy,” he spits back, his thumb playing over the trigger guard of the gun as he tosses a glance at Veronica. I follow his gaze, finding those stormy orbs. There’s a sense of defeat in her gaze that tears at my heart—a resignation to her fate that shouldn’t be there. She shakes her head to silence me. She wants them gone, and the longer I talk, the longer they will stay. So, I bite back my words, quietly slipping into the sweats Priscilla places near me. As she hurries to her husband’s side, her lips pull together in a thin line as she looks over at us.
