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“Open your mouth,” he orders.
I do. Not because he ordered me to, but because I want to give him what he needs. His demons need to be fed to eradicate his fear, and more than anything else, I want to be his solace.
He spits in my mouth. “Such a good girl. You like being used, don’t you? You like being my little cunt to do with as I please.”
In a fucked-up way, I find this hot. Probably why he’s my perfect match. All his depravities match mine to form a perfect union.
Ciaran moves his hands to my breasts, kneading them. “Perfect fuckin’ tits.” He grabs my nipples and uses them to lift me off the bed. The sensation is beyond anything. Pain mixed with pleasure surges through me, making me lose all reason. “You’re such a perfect little fuck toy.”
“Oh, god,” I moan, the pleasure taking control. I don’t care about anything but the sensations Ciaran and I generate in each other.
His hand leaves my nipple, and he slaps my breasts. “No one’s name on your lips but mine. Never say that word again.”
His harsh words take me aback, but he moves his hand down to my clit, and all thoughts vanish.
“Always so wet for me. Such a greedy pussy. I want you to come hard on my cock, baby. I want to feel your tight pussy grab my dick like a vise.”
His fingers work in swift, meticulous motion on my clit while his cock assaults my pussy with no mercy. My nails dig into his flesh, and his teeth sink into mine. I scream into the night as my body quivers, and I come undone in the arms of my dark angel, in the arms of the only man I’ve ever loved.
The feelings are so strong that the words strain to come out, but before I can say them, Ciaran unleashes into me and whispers in my ear, “I’m so sorry. I love you.”
My fingers roam through his golden hair, and I kiss his face. “I love you, too. As crazy as all this, I love you.”
Ciaran’s face scrunches up, and there’s something in his eyes: worry, concern, contempt. I’m not sure, but he bolts up as if he’s on fire, grabs his jogging pants, and stalks to the door.
With his back to me, he whispers, “I’m sorry,” and storms out of the room.
Chapter Nine
CIARAN
Fuck.
My fist punches through the wall, creating a massive hole to match the one in my chest. Like them. I’m just like them. I’m a piece of fuckin’ shit. I should go back in there and ask her to slice me the fuck up because it’s what I deserve.
I dip my head under the faucet and pray the water washes away the filth on me.
“Ciaran.”
Her voice is like heaven and hell, both the air I need to breathe and the burn hidden in the darkest parts of my soul. I can’t even turn around to face her. Shame consumes me, and all I want to do is hang myself, put us both out of our misery. I never thought she could love me. How could she after what I did?
“Ciaran, please look at me.”
I hang my head, gripping the counter so hard that my knuckles turn white.
She gently touches my shoulder, and it feels like the first rays of the sun after a long, hard winter. “Ciaran, please look at me.”
“How can you want to be anywhere near me after what I did?”
“You did nothing but give me a killer orgasm.”
I turn to face her and bang my hand against the counter, making her jump. “I fuckin’ raped you.”
Her hands fly to her mouth before she drops them and steps close to me. She frames my face in her hands and peers up at me. “Ciaran, listen to me and listen good. You didn’t rape me. You did nothing I didn’t want and didn’t enjoy. That was hot. It started out with you angry but, baby, I never said no.”
“Not saying no doesn’t mean it’s not rape. Many people don’t say no because of fear. Trust me, I know. Doesn’t mean they want it.”
“Well, I wanted it.”
Her fingers curl around my hand, and I can’t help noticing how much smaller they are than mine. If I wanted to, I could crush her, even with all her skill. She’s no match for me. I wouldn’t, though. I’d rather die than hurt her. That’s why what just happened is killing me.
“Wanna talk about it?
“No, but I will.”
I let her guide me to the couch. She pushes me down and crawls onto my lap, settling in like she’s made to fit there. She brushes the strands of wet hair from my brow and smooths her fingers across my cheek. “Were you having a dream?”
“More like a nightmare.” I scrub my face, trying to wipe the images from my mind. It won’t work. It never does. The only time I’ve come close to shutting down the bullshit from my past is when I’m buried to the hilt inside Parisa.
