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Rai’s knees buckle, failing her, but I hold her up by the hip. “I’m not done with you, wife.”
At the word ‘wife’, she closes her eyes. No idea if it’s due to pleasure or distaste, but she tries standing up on her legs.
I go on and on, thrusting into her with the same strong rhythm like a madman in search of his sanity—or probably a sane man on the verge of insanity. Because this? The way she enjoys it when I go all in? This is exactly why Rai is made for me.
Wait…made for me?
I don’t have the mental space to focus on that bizarre thought when my balls tighten and my spine jerks into a line. I hold her in place, grunting as I shoot my seed inside her.
Like I told her earlier, she takes everything in, every fucking drop. I don’t pull out of her for the seconds we use to catch our breaths.
Rai slumps against the wall and I crash into her from behind. If I’m too heavy, she doesn’t protest, just continuing to try to catch her breath.
I give us a few seconds like that. Just me and her. Body to body. Pulse to pulse.
I stare at my watch, cursing myself for losing track of time, considering the show I plotted for tonight. Thankfully, there are still twenty minutes to go. I should keep Rai here until it all ends.
She raises a hand to wipe the corner of her eye—or more accurately, a tear that escaped.
Fuck. That was too intense, even for my level of depravity.
Feelings of regret I should never have creep in on me as I take in her form against mine. She’s breakable, easily bruised, and yet I took it all out on her.
I pull out, begrudgingly releasing her. She turns around to face me, barely standing on her legs, using the wall for balance.
My eyes lock on her dark blues as I wipe a finger under her eyes. “Are you in pain?”
“I’m not a delicate flower, Kyle. Don’t treat me like one.”
“But you are.”
She juts her chin out even though it’s trembling slightly. “No, I’m not.”
I glide my fingertips over the mark on her collarbone. “This proves otherwise.”
“I’m fine. I asked for it.”
I smile a little. “You sure as fuck did. Can you walk?”
“Just…just give me a second.”
“Take a minute.” My tone is amused.
She narrows her gorgeous eyes on me. “Are you mocking me?”
“Why would I, my delicate flower?”
“You’re such an asshole,” she mutters under her breath as she bends down to slide her underwear up her legs.
She’s still shaking, her fingers barely functioning. I place her hands at her sides and take over the task of making her look presentable.
A part of me wants her to go out like this, with my cum dried on her thighs and her face looking thoroughly fucked, but the other big part, the one that wins, doesn’t want anyone but me to see this side of her.
She tries to protest, but I yank her hands down. “Stay still.”
I comb her hair with my fingers before I tie it with the elastic band at the back of her head.
At first, she remains as frozen as a statue, but then she starts fidgeting. All of a sudden, she grabs me by the belt. “I’ll help, too.”
She tucks me in, bashfully at first, like she doesn’t know how to do it. My dick twitches back to life at her inexperienced touch. Fuck me. That thing doesn’t know how to rest.
Rai zips up my trousers and does my belt as I finish cleaning up the smeared lipstick around the contours of her mouth.
Then we stare at each other, her hands around my waist and my finger at the corner of her parted lips.
“Why does it feel…normal?” she murmurs.
“What’s it?”
“This.” She tips her head between us, and I don’t know if she’s talking about her and me or the way we tucked each other in.
“Shouldn’t it?”
She shakes her head once.
She always gets on my fucking nerves when she does that. She’s still fighting and running away, even though I already have her by the throat—in every sense of the word.
“You were always meant to be mine, Rai. Quit fucking fighting it.”
“Then quit hiding from me.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“You’re running.”
“Yes, Rai, I’m running, and I’ll screw you over on the way. Is that what you want to hear?”
I expect her to yell back, to challenge me, because that’s what she does in these situations.
Instead, her voice comes out small. “What I want to hear is something about you—the real you, not whatever image you’re projecting to the world.”
“What good would that do?”
“Me. It’ll bring me closer to your side.”
“And let me guess, you still won’t completely trust me?”
“Not unless you prove yourself worthy of that trust.”
I pause, considering my options and formulating the best scenario. “I was part of an assassination organization.”
