and then deny me a final release, the tears slip down my cheeks faster.
It’s not that I want him for the orgasms, but that his cruelty is so shocking. It shouldn’t be. I know what Claire said, how strongly she’s warned me, but Nathan isn’t an evil man. Hurt, suspicious, cautious, calculating, yes, all those things.
But that my actions have driven him this far, this deep into depravity, saddens me. Because nothing else has. Not the lonely childhood, not years of seeing atrocities in the service, not the death of his father.
None of those broke him.
I did.
Guilt consumes me along with a promise to fix it, fix him. Whatever it takes. I steel my core, knowing it’ll take all I have.
His fingers move against me, brushing my clit. It’s so good, almost exactly what I need. So he takes it away.
He does it again and again. Touches so light I can barely register them, but my body does, mixed in with rough rubbings, slaps, and even pinches to my clit. And my pussy reacts powerfully to every bit of it, my honey making his every move slippery and easy.
I’m going mad, only standing because of his continued grip on my neck as I beg. “Oh, my God, Nathan . . . please.”
But he is immune to my pleas, just continuing the delicious torture, taking me to the edge again and again but never letting me fall over into the abyss.
“Your mouth lies time and time again, but your pussy tells the truth. Whatever you wanted from me when you walked into that party, this wants my cock.”
He cups my pussy roughly. “This is truth right here.”
He sweeps his fingers through my juices, bringing his messy fingers to his mouth.
“Fucking delicious. Your truth is delicious.”
He shoves his fingers into my mouth, making me taste myself. I lick and slurp at his fingers, even when he pushes a little too far and I gag a bit. He chuckles darkly.
“Truth is hard to swallow, huh?”
My eyes narrow, and I suck his fingers hard, hollowing my cheeks and not letting them go. But he gets them free of my mouth, so I say, “I want the truth. All of it. Nothing between us, no lies, no secrets.”
He spins me, pushing me over the arm of my living room chair. Face down, ass up, I hear him undoing his jeans. And God help me, I wiggle my ass like a red cape in front of a raging bull.
I hear a rustle of fabric, and he’s naked behind me. He grabs my shoulder with one hand, forcing me to arch, and uses his other to line his thick cock up with my slit. There’s a sweet moment of anticipation, just his crown touching my entrance, which pulses like it’s kissing his cock.
His moves his hand to grip my hip and slams into me, one powerful thrust to the hilt.
I cry out at the invasion, so good but so full, and my walls spasm around him instantly. He smacks my ass hard. “Don’t you dare fucking come, Emma. I’m gonna fuck you rough and hard, punish you for your lies. And you’d better not come. Understood?”
I nod, my cheek pressed to the seat cushion of the chair, and agreement received, he does as he promised. A man of his word, even if I’m not a woman of mine.
Each pounding stroke shakes my body, my ass jiggling in waves from his power. He takes each cheek in hand, squeezing so hard I know I’ll have bruises where his fingertips are as he spreads me wide.
I try to look back over my shoulder, trying to meet his eyes and see if there’s anything there or if this is as cold as it feels.
But his eyes are locked on our junction, watching his cock disappear inside me with every stroke.
True pain washes through me, and I bury my head back in the cushion.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe I can’t fix this, can’t save us.
I’m giving him everything, and on some level, it physically feels good.
But whereas I’d hoped it’d be a cathartic cleansing, emotionally, it seems like he’s even further away than before.
I cry out in pain.
My soul, not my body.
His hips pause a moment and his eyes flick up to check on me. And there, I feel it. Deep underneath the anguish and anger, it’s there. Hope.
“Fuck, Em,” he says, and I know he feels it too.
He probably senses even more than that because whether this is hopeless or not,