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I start to nod, but then shake my head. “No. No, I’m not. I’m lonely, Dip. I’m out here in the middle of nowhere, and when you’re not here, I’m lonely.”
“Now are you done?”
My body deflates, all my anger dispensed. I nod.
“Fuck me, Kennedy? Fuck me?” he snarls, throwing my words back at me. “I’ll show you fuck me.”
Dip tears at my clothes. Fabric rips, but I don’t care. He’s beyond angry, but I know he won’t hurt me. There’s something about his frantic actions that have me submitting to him, have me letting him take what he needs.
There’ll be time enough later to argue.
When I’m naked, Dip yanks me over the end of the couch. “Bend over,” he commands, pushing on my back.
The sound of his zipper being lowered sends a bolt of white-hot heat to my core, and I whimper. When his jeans hit the floor, my pussy pulses.
Dip nudges my legs apart and wraps a fist in my hair. “I’m gonna fuck you, Kennedy. And you’re gonna be a good fucking girl and take everything I have to give.”
“Y-yes.”
He thrusts into my wet cunt, burying himself balls-deep, and he fucks me. Dip fucks me hard and fast. There are no more dirty words, no more commands. There’s only the moans barreling out of me and the grunts tearing from him.
My pussy clenches around him as my orgasm hits, and he picks up his pace. Dip pounds me from behind, gripping my hips so tightly, I know there’ll be handprints when he’s done.
And I love every angry second.
Dip thrusts and withdraws, slams in and pulls out, over and over, until he stiffens, and his cock pulses as he spills his release. He collapses on top of me, both of us sweaty messes.
He reaches toward my face and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly.
I wiggle beneath him, and he straightens before guiding me to sit on the couch. Instead of sitting next to one another, he urges me to straddle his lap.
Framing his face with my hands, I give him a quick kiss. “Do you feel better?”
He huffs out a breath. “I don’t know how to answer that question without hurting your feelings.”
“Honestly, Dip. Answer me honestly.”
He sighs. “No, Kennedy, I don’t feel better. I feel horrible.”
“Why?”
“Because I hurt you. It was an awful night and when I came home and saw you standing there, and then you tore into me…” He shakes his head. “I would never hurt you for anything, you have to believe that.”
“I know you wouldn’t. And I’m sorry I laid into you. I was angry and hurt and…”
“And what?”
“Believe it or not, you make me feel safe enough, cherished enough to actually speak my mind.”
Slowly, he smiles. “I’m glad, Kennedy.”
As we hold each other, I rest my head on his shoulder. A few minutes pass quietly, but then he starts to shake, and I realize he’s crying.
I don’t pull back to look at him, but I can’t ignore the pain of his tears.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Chapter25
