I stare at the ceiling, trying to keep from sobbing again, and wonder if anyone could ever make this right.
But if he’s going to steal my past, I’ll be damned if he keeps the rest from me.
“If you really wanted to honor me,” I say, voice a dead thing, “you would have told me the truth. You would have let me choose.”
He bows his head, silent.
In the new quiet, something inside me snaps.
And what comes next is up to me.
There’s a silence,the kind that rings in your teeth. My knuckles ache from clenching, but every muscle is taut, every nerve flayed. Hunter’s sitting with zero expression on his rugged features, a man in free-fall. I take in the arc of his broad back, the slope ofhis shoulders, and I want to rip him open and crawl inside, just to feel what it’s like to be whole.
Instead, I slap him. Hard, across the jaw. The crack echoes, loud enough to set my ears ringing.
He looks up, stunned, blue eyes flashing.
I don’t give him time to recover. I lunge, grab his shirt with both fists, and yank him up so our faces are almost touching. I’m crying again, snotty and wild, but I don’t care. I want to see if I can hurt him more than he’s hurt me.
“You fucking monster,” I snarl, and then I kiss him.
It’s not sweet. There’s no forgiveness, no gentle easing. My teeth smash against his, and I taste blood—his, mine, it doesn’t matter. I claw at his shirt, tearing buttons loose, and he groans, grabbing my hips so hard I feel the marks bloom instantly. Our bodies crash together, slamming into the wall, rattling the shelves until a photo hits the floor and shatters.
He tries to pull back, panting, but I’m not letting go.
“Stop—” he breathes. “Daisy, you don’t have to?—”
“Shut up,” I growl, biting his lip, and then the words come from somewhere so deep I don’t recognize the voice: “Finish what you started.”
He hesitates, hands shaking, but I reach down and palm the hard bulge in his sweats. He’s already leaking, throbbing, and I laugh, sharp and hysterical.
“I know what you want,” I say, and with a single tug, yank the cotton down to his knees. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, and I drop to my knees and take it into my mouth,not gentle, not loving. He moans, grabbing my hair, but I pull back and spit on the head, jerking it hard until he swears and shudders.
Then I stand, tearing my own shirt over my head, baring myself to the cold, to the broken frames and the man who destroyed my past.
“You want Tara?” I spit. “Here she is.”
I turn and bend over the desk, spreading my legs so he can see everything. My heart is going a mile a minute, but my pussy aches, wet and open, ready to be filled.
Hunter stands behind me, breathing heavy. He puts his hand on my back, gentle.
“You don’t have to do this, Daisy,” he says in a low tone. “I know you’re hurting.”
I ignore him and snarl, “Don’t you dare be gentle.”
He lines himself up, the tip pressing against my slit, sliding in the slick. Then he slams forward, all at once, bottoming out against my cervix. My hymen is gone in a flash and I’m so startled that I don’t move for a moment. I’m utterly, totally filled with this man, lifted on my tiptoes from his huge size, breasts swaying as I struggle to accommodate that massive cock in my aching cunt.
Then I scream—pain, surprise, raw relief. My nails gouge the desktop, and I feel the hot rush of belonging. Yes, this is where I was meant to be. With Hunter. His cock inside me. His property.
He doesn’t stop. He fucks me hard, desperate, like he’s trying to erase the last few weeks with every thrust. My ass bouncesagainst his hips, my cunt stretched and burning, but I love the hurt. Iwantto be destroyed. I want to own every second of it.
He grabs my shoulders, pounds deeper, and I brace my hands, looking over my shoulder at him.
“Say it,” I pant, wild and feral. “Say my name.”
“Tara,” he moans. “Fuck, Tara. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
I clench around him, squeezing, and he hisses, losing control. His balls slap against me, and I feel every vein, every inch.
