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I gripped myself hard, shuttling my hand up and down my cock as my tip pressed into her folds but not enough to penetrate. When I felt the orgasm building, I pulled up until I was positioned on her ass, my fingers flexing against hers. When she curled her fingers around mine and squeezed, like she was reassuring me or trying to communicate something, I moved my cock into her palm. One brush of her fingers was all it took; I came so hard my eyes rolled back as I pushed myself into her palm, soaking it in my cum.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I gritted out. I was breathing so hard, the blood rushing through my skull with an intensity that blocked out every sound. When I was finished, I let go of her wrists but kept ahold of her hand, pressing it into my still-hard cock. “Do you feel this?” Without being urged to, she wrapped her fingers around my length, drawing a groan from me. I tipped forward and pressed my cheek against hers. “I am fucking starved for you. You, Whitney. Just you. And you wanted to take yourself away from me?”

Pulling myself from her hand, I drew back and positioned my cock at her entrance. “You are mine. And I’ve been giving myself to you since the moment I saw you. I just need you to fucking take me. Tell me you’ll take me. Tell me you won’t let me go. You’ll never let me go.”

“Please,” she begged, crying quietly. I leaned over her, kissing her face, her eyes, licking the tears away.

“Please what? Please be mine? Please love me? Please take me? Because you only have to say the word and I will do anything for you.” She moved her hips, trying to push back onto my cock as more tears spilled from her lashes.

She looked so devastatingly beautiful in this moment that my heart—my bruised and wounded heart—skipped a beat. “Shh. Don’t cry, baby. Just tell me what you want. You think this is love? You think you’re not capable of love? You don’t have to worry about that because I’m going to teach you.” I kissed down her jaw to her neck, burying my face in her throat as I drove my hips forward.

My eyes rolled back in my head as my cock slid past her folds, all the way in until I was buried inside of her. The moan she let out was low and long and turned into a strangled sound that forced me to pull out enough to grip the base so I didn’t come. Fuck.

She tried to wrestle her arms from my grasp, pushing her hips back to take in more of me. “Fuck, Whitney, stop moving,” I rasped, at the end of my rope.

I widened my knees, pressed her hands into her back to make it arch more, then leaned down and bit her shoulder. I drew my hips back and pounded into her, setting a brutal pace that pushed her forward with every thrust. My mind was melting from the pleasure as she gasped and moaned beneath me, the obscene sounds of skin slapping skin filling the space around us.

“Tell me you want to be good for me,” I panted.

“Court,” she moaned, unable to move an inch as I fucked into her. “My arms. Please⁠—”

I let go of her wrists and guided her arms to the ground, sliding my fingers through hers and gripping tight. “Tell me, Whitney. Tell me you want to stay. You want to be good for me. You want to be my good girl and let me take care of you. Please fucking tell me, baby.” Sweat dripped down my temple, and she made a whining sound in the back of her throat.

“I want—ungh⁠—”

“Say it.”

She was so wet I could smell her arousal from here, and the sounds her slick pussy made were sending me over the edge.

“I want to be good for you,” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut as I pumped into her harder and harder. I kissed her cheek, and when she clenched around me as she started to come, I bit down on her pulse point as my own orgasm exploded through me. That first wave had me biting down so hard that the taste of iron on my lips brought me back to my senses.

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry,” I groaned, pumping my cum into her throbbing pussy. I pushed my cock as deep as it could go, shuddering above her. I licked at the small pin prick of blood from where I’d bit her, then kissed the ruthless mark I’d left. “I’m sorry.” She trembled, her entire body shaking as I brushed her hair back from her face and kissed from her neck to her jaw across her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Court,” she whispered. My name was not a prayer on her lips. It was a promise. An apology. An explanation.

Fine. If that was how she wanted to use her words right now, I’d take it.

Because I was fucking gone for this woman. I’d fallen into the depths of my own hell for her and there was not a single thing on this earth that could bring me back.

TWENTY-SIX

I couldn’t stop shaking.

My body trembled uncontrollably beneath Court as he surrounded me completely, pumping into me with a ruthlessness that bordered on pain and I fucking loved it.

Tears spilled past my lashes as he kept whispering words that were decimating me and heating me up from within until I was nothing but an aching, throbbing, quivering thing full of a desperate need for him that felt insatiable.

I was coming back, was on the tip of my tongue.

I’d hurt him.

I’d hurt him so badly that he’d become a completely different person. Or this person was always there, lurking in the bowels of his being, and I’d released it with my callous, selfish actions.

So as much as I wanted to reassure him and tell him I’d been coming back, that I’d changed my mind, that I was sorry, I didn’t. I deserved this.

I wanted this and deserved it. And I wanted him to get all his rage and anguish out until he felt better.

I wasn’t sure how I’d reassure him after this. I wasn’t sure I hadn’t broken him. I’d crossed a line—no, I’d obliterated that line.