My spine jerks upright at the sound of each of his strides.
They’re slow, and measured, but they catch up to me in no time.
I’m not even one step inside the living room when I’m jerked off the floor, by my waist.
Hot breaths tickle my ear when he whispers, “You’re fucked, little purple.”
Red lava courses through my body and I fight with everything in me. I wiggle, trying to escape his steel arms.
While simultaneously wanting to fall into them.
“The more you push me, the harder I punish you.” He throws me against the sofa. “Strip.”
My breathing shatters and fogs against the leather of the sofa, but I stare at him over my shoulder. At his larger-than-life physique, at the ruthless virility behind it.
He’s the man of my dreams and there will never be a day where I’m not attracted to him.
He lifts his T-shirt over his head, and I take in the veiny hands with long fingers and soak in the view of his rippled muscles and godlike physique.
A tinge of pain flashes through me at the sight of his bullet wound, a wound I gave him that neither of us will forget for the rest of our lives.
Me, because hurting him was worse than hurting myself.
Him, because the wound will remind him of how much he wants vengeance.
“If I have to repeat myself another time, things won’t end well for you.”
I turn around, propped up on my elbows, and meet his darkened gaze. I must be selfish, because all I want is to get lost in this moment. “Make me.”
A low grunt slips from his mouth before he’s on me. His fingers latch onto my throat and he uses it to haul me up, nearly lifting me in the air.
His hold isn’t threatening, but it’s controlling, and I have no choice but to look at him and drown in those eyes I thought I’d lost.
“As I said. Strip,” he repeats again. “And that’s ten.”
My lips part. “You want me to strip in this position?”
“You don’t want it to become twenty, now do you?”
My shaky fingers undo the zipper of my dress and I push the straps away until the piece of clothing hits the carpet.
Creighton’s gaze falls to my lace bra and panties and he grunts. “Fucking purple.”
I love how much I affect him.
The way he looks at me like he’ll never look at anyone the same way.
The way he wants me with abundance and refuses to see anything past it.
“All of it, Annika.”
It takes me several moments to unhook my bra, partly because of my unsteady hands and partly because of his hungry gaze.
When I take more time than needed to pull off my panties, he bunches the material in his fist.
“No, not Simone!”
A muscle clenches in his jaw but he pauses. “Who the fuck is Simone?”
“Simone Pérèle. The lingerie brand. Don’t rip it.” I push his hand away and try to finish the task.
The brute all but tears it to pieces.
“Creighton!”
“I’ll buy you another one.” His gaze darkens as he does a long sweep of my nakedness.
It’s crazy how my body comes alive under his attention. How everything just…falls into place.
He doesn’t need to touch me to provoke this feeling of irreversible belonging.
I was his even when I thought we were over.
I was his when I was trying to move on.
I’ll always be his.
Just like he’ll always be mine.
His free hand strokes my tight nipples, making me moan, then he pinches one with sensual brutality. His palm slides down, over the red fading lashes he left on my stomach. I hiss when he presses on them and then he moves to the handprints on my ass and cups me with it.
I get on my tiptoes, both due to the dull ache and the thrill of being utterly owned.
He wiggles the butt plug that he shoved up my ass this morning and I bite my lip.
“I bet this hole is all stretched and ready for me to claim it, isn’t it?”
My teeth sink further into my lip when he glides his fingers from my ass cheek to the throbbing wetness between my legs.
The slap on my pussy comes so fast and without warning that I yelp and push farther into him.
“Shh, we haven’t even gotten started yet.” He slaps me again and thrusts three fingers inside me at the same time.
The friction from the pain creates a dizzying rhythm I can’t keep up with. A hurricane of emotions that starts where he’s touching me and spreads all over my skin.
His hold on my throat keeps me immobile so that he can do whatever he pleases.
I grab onto his bicep, not because I need balance, but more due to the inherent need to touch him. I’m as desperate for him as he is for me.
I want to be owned by him.
Only him.
“Do you feel how much your cunt is swallowing my fingers, little purple? Hear that sucking sound it’s making to welcome me home?” His rhythm intensifies. “Because this is my home, you are my home, and I’ll make you admit I’m yours.”
A moan is the only answer I give. It’s kind of hard to speak when spurts of pleasure shoot inside me, building, heightening, and wrecking me.
“You’ll have no other home but me.” He curls his fingers and thrusts. “You won’t belong to anyone else but me, are we clear?”
My eyes droop and I let go, chasing the orgasm, the pleasure, that only his ruthlessness can bring.
“Are we fucking clear, Annika?” he repeats, his face a few inches away from mine and his fingers stopping their maddening rhythm.
I breathe harshly, but still have enough brain capacity to mutter, “This isn’t the way to go about becoming my home, Creighton.”
“Wrong answer.” His eyes darken to become a deep hue of blue, a shade so terrifying, I’m rooted in place.
He wrenches his fingers out of me, and I resist the disappointing sound that’s trying to claw its way out.
And then he pushes me back with his hold on my throat. My calves hit the edge of the couch, and I stumble backward, but before I can hit the cushion, he pulls me over and whirls me around.
I yelp as I fall to my knees and my achy breasts meet the cold surface of the leather. With Creighton’s hand on my nape, fixing me in place. I don’t see him, but I feel his presence magnifying, becoming absolutely frightening.
My body goes limp, and I’m not sure whether it’s because of my survival instinct or due to pure unhinged anticipation.
The butt plug jostles before he wrenches it free, forcing a sharp moan out of me.
And then I feel something hard against my wetness. His dick. He’s lubricating his cock with my arousal and I don’t know why I find that so hot. More juices pour out of me, coating him and my inner thighs.
Creighton drives two fingers inside my back hole, causing me to scoot across the couch. I’m so stretched that I can hardly breathe or think.
“You’ve always been so tight, so small and breakable. No matter how many toys and plugs I shove inside this hole, it’s barely stretching.” He accentuates his words with merciless pounds of his fingers in my back hole and the up and down of his cock against my folds, teasing my opening but scarcely sliding in before coming back out.
Up.
Down.
Thrust.
Down.
Up.
Up—
I think I’ll come from the torturous sensation alone. The shallow thrusts in my core overlap with the ruthless ones in my back hole until I’m lightheaded.
He’s all I can focus on. His clean scent, large presence, and warmth.
It’s his hand, all veiny and strong. His cock, all hard and ready to wreak havoc inside me.
It’s everything about him.
Creighton keeps up the merciless, erotic rhythm. He thrusts, glides, strokes, and spanks. He grabs me in a figurative chokehold and I’m bucking my hips, writhing, panting, and whining.
Demanding that he take me.
Own me.
Make me feel alive the only way he knows how.
He removes his fingers and slaps my ass three consecutive times. A moan rips out of me as pleasure mixes with the mild pain.
And just when I think I’ll come, he drives his cock inside my virgin hole.
The world stills as my earlier pleasure dims to excruciating pain. It doesn’t matter that he’s been prepping me for this or that he spent a lot of time stretching my hole or lubricating himself.
The fact remains, Creighton is huge and his cock shouldn’t be anywhere near any back entrance.
It hurts, burns, and is downright suffocating.
Why do people love anal? This is torture.
I writhe and gasp and try to find reprieve from his savage hold on me.
Creighton doesn’t thrust inside me, but he doesn’t pull out either. His fingers dig into the flesh of my nape. “Relax. Don’t push me out.”
“I can’t.” Tears fill my lids as I strain. “It hurts. So much.”
“Shhh. Don’t fight me.” He soothes, grabbing my hip, stroking all the way to my side, then my stomach, then to my back. His fingers on my neck draw comforting circles, all gentle and caring.
A trait that’s not usual for him. Yes, he can be caring, but only after sex, not during.
He told me so himself once, that he knows how to take, and doesn’t know how to give, which is why he’s never considered relationships.
No clue if it’s that knowledge, the fact that he’s giving me this type of care so naturally or his appeasing touch, but I find myself relaxing, and my muscles loosen, slowly adjusting. I choose to focus on just how full he makes me.
So very full.
“Such a good girl,” Creighton’s deep voice might as well be touching me too. Or maybe it’s that word, because I’m dripping between my thighs.
He holds my nape with the hand that was stroking my side and lowers the other to tease my clit.
The arousal that I thought had disappeared earlier returns with wrecking force.
When he starts rocking his hips, I fall into the slap of his groin against my ass, into the sounds of grunting, moaning, groaning. Slapping and slapping and slapping.
Sweat coats my skin and I melt into his touch, into his presence.
“That’s it.” His rhythm is slow, pleasurable. “You’re taking my cock so well. You feel so good. So tight. So fucking mine.”
A moan rips out of my throat and all the tension from earlier disappears. Raw, gritty pleasure pools between my thighs and I rock my hips, demanding more.
“You want me to fuck you harder? Want me to take your ass and ram into your virgin hole until you’re unable to sit for days?” he asks, voice oozing with dark lust as his thrusts deepen. “Want me to tear into you and claim you as mine? Because that’s what you’ll always be, Annika.” Thrust. “You can shoot me and run. You can push me and leave.” Thrust. “But you are my girl, and you’ll remain my girl despite your fucking parents.” Thrust. “I’m the only home you’ll ever have. My bed is the only bed you’ll ever sleep in, so the next time I say you’re my home, you say I’m yours, too.”
I gasp and whimper and moan, unable to take in the load of emotions he’s arousing.
Lust, despair, and sadness.
Complete utter sadness that stabs my bones, but I choose to fall into lust instead.
I choose to fall into the feeling of having him completely owning me.
Body, heart, and soul.
Pleasure shoots inside me in waves, starting where we’re joined, where he’s torturing my clit, and spreads through my whole body. The harsh slide of my hard nipples against the leather heightens it to the point of eruption.
The fact that his hold on my nape prevents me from fighting this, even if I wanted to, adds a sense of animalistic pleasure.
“Tell me you’ll stay.” He grunts from behind me as the slaps of flesh against flesh echo in the air.
Every hit on the welts on my ass causes me to drip into his hand.
Every inhale is filled with the smell of him, me, and sex.
Of us.
Still, I shake my head slowly, as much as his hand allows, and Creighton slaps my clit.
The hit is so sudden that I come in a long flood of…holy shit.
My eyes widen. Please don’t tell me I peed myself.
Creighton becomes feral at the wetness that pours out of me and thrusts in with animalistic force.
I close my eyes and chase my orgasm, rocking my hips and adjusting to his rhythm.
He comes deep inside me with a growling, “Mine.”
He doesn’t seem done, though. After he pulls out, he coat my ass and thighs with his cum, as if he’s marking me for the whole world to see.
When he finally releases my nape, I don’t turn around and, instead, remain in the same position. In fact, I wish the world would open up and swallow me.
“Annika?”
I bury my face in the leather, my voice coming out muffled. “Leave me alone.”
“Look at me.”
I shake my head in the sofa, trying to ignore the process of my heart shriveling and dying.
“I won’t repeat myself another time. Look at me.”
I slowly do, shame and tears clinging to my eyes. “Can’t you just leave me alone to deal with the fact that I peed myself?”
He frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“Just now when you… Ugh…give me a moment.” A slow smile lifts his lips, and he looks so gorgeous that I want to slap him. “What are you smiling at?”
“You didn’t pee, you squirted, and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
My cheeks heat. “Oh.”
Hearing him call me the hottest thing he’s ever seen makes me want to do it all over again. But maybe it only happens with strong orgasms.
A low gasp rips out of me when he lifts me in his arms. “Now, let’s have a shower so I can fuck you again.”
“But I’m so sore.”
“Not in the cunt.”
I release a long breath as his large strides eat up the whole distance to the stairs. Despite the peaceful moment, something still nags at me.
“I meant it, Creighton. I’m not staying.”
His jaw clenches, but he soon schools his features. “I’ll convince you otherwise.”
My body falls slack against his. “That’s what I thought I could do, too, ever since we came here. I thought I could convince you to let bygones be bygones, but that’s not possible, is it? Aren’t we both just fooling ourselves at this point?”
“Shut up.”
It’s two words. Merely two words and yet they hold so much punch that I tremble in his arms.
“Please…” I cradle his cheek, kiss his temple, his ethereal eyes, the ridge of his straight nose, the fullness of his lips, anywhere my mouth can find. “Please let go of your grudge, Creighton. Do it for yourself. Let that little kid go and stop being trapped in the past.”
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge me, and I want to cry.
Because I know, I just know that I’ve failed to change his mind, and now we’re just on a path of self-destruction.
“I hate you right now,” I murmur.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“I wish I’d never loved you. I wish I could turn back time and unlove you.”
A cruel smirk tugs on his lips. “But you can’t. You love me, Annika. You never stopped.”
“That might be true, but I will find a way to stop.” I let my arms fall to my lap. “I’ll never love a man who’s intent on hurting my family.”
