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Each thrust was brutal, both painful and pleasurable.
My legs fell open wider, and I gave him access. His hips pistoned against mine as he forced me to take him so deeply.
I moaned into his hand and cried out each time he pulled out, only to gasp when he would push back in.
“Do you feel me? Inside of you? That’s me. I am fucking you right now, Maddie.”
So close…I was so close…
But he wouldn’t let me fall.
His dark eyes grew molten. I nodded shakily, my stomach cramping, my legs trembling.
Oh God…
He pulled his hand away from my mouth, only to push it under my ass, lifting me up slightly from the mattress. The rhythm of his cock sliding inside me was both music and a nightmarish storm to my ears.
“Tell me. Tell me who is fucking you right now. Tell me who got your pussy weeping and tell me who is about to make you come. Say my name!”
“Phoenix,” I whimpered.
My fingers scratched his back, and he molded himself over my body. “Again,” he says gently now.
“Phoenix.”
“Again.”
His breath whispered over my face, and he kissed my lips, tenderly. “Phoenix,” I cried.
“Good girl. Again.”
My orgasm was fast approaching, and I begged. “Phoenix.”
“Once more, darling.”
“Phoenix.”
His thrust didn’t slow down, and then I felt it. The glow widening inside of me, spreading, and then I was falling and falling…
His lips met mine, silencing my cries.
I heard his groan as he released inside of me, felt his rhythmic thrusting stutter, and then he pressed so deeply inside of me that I would feel him for days.
Our eyes met as Phoenix continued to leisurely thrust into me. I felt him pulsing, and my pussy continued to throb.
“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you so much.”
Phoenix caressed my face, and I flinched away, but he didn’t stop. His fingers slid over my cheeks, and he touched my lips sweetly. “It’s okay, Maddie. I’ll love you enough for both of us. I’ll love you even if you hate me. I’ll continue to love you…until you love me again. And I’ll still love you until I take my last breath.”
A promise. His stupid vows he’d make every time we’d fuck. As if his vows could save me…save us…bring back what we’d lost and change the past.
Nothing could be changed. Nothing was okay. The past made us and broke us. The present was a living reminder of what we were, what we’d lost, and what we could have been. His stupid vows made me angrier.
It made me hate him even more.
And while hating him…I hated myself.
“I. Hate. You,” I hissed.
“I know, baby. I know.” I saw the same pain reflecting in his own eyes. A mirror to my soul. He tried to kiss me again, but I pushed him away. Phoenix slid from my body, and I closed my eyes, fighting back a whimper.
He groaned and fell onto his back beside me.
I felt him leak from between my legs, and I turned on my side, closing my legs together tightly.
Phoenix curled around my body, bringing an arm around my hips and holding me close.
Why…why couldn’t he just stay away?
Why wouldn’t he leave me?
Why did he have to hurt me more…every time he touched me?
He brought his face closer, but I closed my eyes and tried to ignore him.
I wanted to beg him to leave, but that would make me sound weak.
Phoenix placed a whispered kiss over my pulsing vein in my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited…and waited.
When I was sure he was finally asleep, I slid away from under his arms. Standing up, I looked back at him. He looked troubled in his sleep. For a brief moment, I wanted to ease the frown, soothe him.
But then I took a step back.
Quickly pulling my dress over my naked body again, I turned away.
I left him and closed the door behind me.
Tears spilled down my cheeks, and the feeling of hollowness was back. My fingers feathered over my neck, where Phoenix had last touched me.
He had kissed me, as if begging for absolution.
A kiss of promises and silent love.
A kiss of healing and forgiveness. Begging for mercy.
But it was too late…
There was no redemption for us.
Chapter 15
Viktor
The next morning, I found myself facing the rest of the Ivanshov men. In one room. Full of testosterone and glaring matches. It was a game, you know.
I rolled my eyes, watching Lyov and Alessio argue. They were never on the same page, not really. Lyov didn’t agree with the plans to pit the Mexicans and Solonik against each other. He said it was too dangerous. Carlos was a mad man.
And his sons were more lethal.
Twins. Future Kings of the Mexican cartel.
They were men you should never cross paths with.
One was mentally deranged, crazy in the head—spent most of his life in prison and then an asylum.
