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Her body is overheated and on fire as I feel her twitching and rippling, her orgasm nearly surfacing as I help her move the way she needs. Just as the first wave of pleasure erupts from her, I pinch a nipple, rolling the bud between my fingers as I also slap her pussy. The sound echoes around the room, ringing in our ears, and just as she piques, I pinch her tender clit harder and erupt inside of her. My seed splashes against her throbbing walls as she screams into my mouth.
Breathless and out of our minds, I release my grip on her, still holding her against my body and search her stunning eyes for any signs of discomfort or regret. My cock still throbs inside her tight channel, not wanting to leave its warm embrace. “That was everything I had no idea we could be,” I whisper against her lips.
Isabel smiles up at me, eyes tired, and asks, “When can we do it again?”
CHAPTER3
Isabel
Standing in front of the mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door, I stare at my body. Light scar lines haphazardly spatter my arms, chest, shoulders, stomach, and thighs. With more on my back. And I wonder what Pace sees when he looks at me. I didn’t learn of the things he said and did to me yesterday from any of my teachings, but I’ve overheard some of the parishioners in the church speak before. I even eavesdropped on a confession from a woman who was addicted to sex.
From what I’ve been taught, sex is for making babies. That’s not what Pace’s goal was, though, and that’s certainly not how I felt. Although it could happen. I know when I look at him, my stomach flutters, my heart races, and I feel hot. Like I’m standing in the pits of hell and the only thing that can touch me is him.
Jumping back as the door pushes inward so that I don’t get hit with it, the man in question stands naked before me. He’s casual about his nudity, while I want to cover myself up. “What are you doing?”
His intense gaze moves up and down my body. From my now erect nipples to the curls between my legs and everywhere in between. I feel myself growing needy again.
“What do you see?”
“Perfection.” He doesn’t hesitate, and it warms me, but I expected more.
“Is that all?”
“Yes.” Pace moves around to stand behind me, shutting the door so he can see what I’m looking at. “What do you see?”
His hands move to my hips as I contemplate my answer. “Shattered pieces of a broken girl.”
“Broken.” He frowns as he repeats the word. “Broken, how?” He’s genuinely confused, and I think this is the moment I fall in love with him. Pace doesn’t see the scars. He doesn’t see the agony I suffered. He sees me. The me that has no idea who she is, and he wants her anyways.
“The scars.” I use the tip of one finger to trace one that expands down my chest and around to my side. The worst one. “I have so many.”
“Tell me why.” His jaw ticks as his eyes roam across each one, even the tiny ones, like he’s seeing them for the first time.
Tapping the one I just traced, I say, “I live in a dreary room with no color and a single window high on the wall for light. Sometimes, I do things without thought. I love color. Red, pink, purple, blue, they’re all beautiful. I just want a world of color.” Lowering my eyes, I dread the next part. “I clipped a bunch of wildflowers that grow on the church grounds by the graveyard and snuck them into my room. I placed them in a glass of water on the floor next to my bed.”
Swallowing hurts as Pace’s arms wrap firmly around me, and he kisses the side of my neck. “Sister Jeanne found them one day while I was in confession. I was stripped of my clothes, chained to the bed, and whipped sixteen times. Once for each flower I had in my possession.” Gazing down at my wrists, I still bear the scars from those chains and my attempt at escaping discipline. “I had to sleep on a blanket on the floor for a month afterwards. Father Cassio’s punishments are extreme, and they work. With everyone it seems, except me. I never learned my lessons. I always pushed harder, for more, trying to find some semblance of beauty in the lackluster world I was living in.”
Wordlessly, Pace turns me in his arms, brushing rough fingers through my hair and clasping my head in both of his hands. He searches my eyes, and what I see in his is terrifying. Or it should be. I should be running, screaming from this man. His eyes are so black, it’s like peering into the gates of hell and watching the devil torture the lost souls. His body vibrates with a controlled rage I didn’t think anyone could harness.
There’s a coldness in his voice when he speaks. “They’ll never touch you again. Not while there’s breath in my body.”
With my hands on his chest, I feel his steady heartbeat. A steadiness I wish I knew how to obtain. Our bodies are pressed tightly together, and I begin to feel a now familiar tingle between my legs where he’s concerned.
Desire.
Need.
Want.
A craving I can’t control.
One I’ve been told is a sin. And after all the beatings I’ve taken over the years, I should know better. My body should. Frankly, I should be terrified of the way Pace makes me feel, but I’m not.
“Why are you here?” I never questioned him before because he saved me. My life. My soul. I can never repay what he’s done for me, but I’m going to try.
Stepping back, Pace balls his hands into fists at his sides. Frustration eats at him, and I’m uncertain why. “I just am,” he finally grinds out between clenched teeth.
“Did you know about me? Did someone from the church call you?” A thought occurs. “Did Daia?” I need to get her out too. She doesn’t belong there.
