I will bring you home. You’re mine. You belong to me. Say it, Daphne. My Comet, tell me.”
“I’m yours,” I moan, scratching my nails down the plains of his strong back.
He lifts up and wraps the other hand around my throat. I cough, unable to breathe, but I’m able to feel every inch of him powering inside my channel with my other senses being on alert. “You don’t get it,” he sneers with a hint of disdain. “You can’t get rid of me. If you leave me…”
“I’ll let you kill me,” I tell him, and the statement has him gripping the headboard, using it as leverage to put more force in his thrusts. For a man who has never had sex, he sure knows how to fuck. “And then, I’ll let you cut out my tongue,” I whisper into his ear, sucking the lobe into my mouth.
Our mouths lock again, desperate and needy, failing to try to get closer, but physically we can only do so much. All I taste is blood and the sinful aftertaste he leaves in my mouth.
“Say you’ll marry me.” He flips me over, my knee somehow on the damn elevated pillow to give it cushion, and he bites my ass and sucks the flesh in his mouth. He bites the other side, then plows inside me once more. “Fucking marry me!” He slaps my ass with his palm as a loud, pleasurable cry escapes me.
Saying yes would be crazy.
“I’m going to come,” I warn him.
Not happy with that answer, he pulls me against my chest by gripping my neck, choking me. “I said marry me.”
“Yes!” I scream, clenching on him so tight, he has no choice but to fill me with his seed. “Yes, more. Give me all of it,” I moan, loving the heat filling my pussy.
He bites the meat of my shoulder, thrusting one more time as he fills me to the brink. I wish he could stay locked inside me forever.
“We will get married tomorrow,” he tells me. “You’re mine. Need you to be mine.”
It’s a good thing normal doesn’t belong here.
“Now you can tell that asshole who gave you those flowers to fuck off.” Tongue’s voice turns to nails as he spits hatred toward the roses.
My eyes land on the flowers, Tongue’s cock still flexing inside me when my body goes rigid. “Those aren’t from you?”
“Fuck no, Comet. If I’m going to get you something, it isn’t going to die. Well, at least, no so quick.” He lays a kiss on the side of my neck, chuckling.
“Wayne?” I say his name to let him know the seriousness of the situation. “If they aren’t from you…”
He doesn’t wait another moment. Tongue yanks out of me and stalks over to the vase, grabs them, opens the window, and tosses them outside. He’s fucking furious. He grabs my good ankle, pulls me to the side of the bed, and slams his cock in me again. I’m scared. Tears drip down my cheeks, but I’m not afraid of Tongue.
I’m afraid of what will happen to me if he isn’t around. If this man is always watching me, anything can happen.
Tongue bends down and licks the tears off my face, and I cry more because I want to give him what he wants.
“I’m going to rip the tongue from the depths of his throat,” Wayne whispers the filthy words in my ear, a whole new level of dirty talk.
And he gives me what I want.
“Sarah made it out of surgery. She’s going to be okay. Reaper doesn’t want you back yet. Let things calm down. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.” The read-out-loud option on my phone reads the text from Slingshot.
I’m equally relieved and saddened, but I understand. I’m so glad Sarah is okay. I was scared, and that fear was what led me to see Daphne at three in the morning. I should feel regret, especially after what happened with Sarah. I don’t deserve happiness after what I did to her, but there’s a part of me speaking to me that’s been silent for so long.
I wasn’t in my right mind.
It doesn’t make it okay, but it makes the guilt a little easier to burden.
If Reaper doesn’t want me there, it’s the least I can do. I wish I could grab the books from my room, the journals too. I don’t fucking know if I’m ever going to be able to show my face in that clubhouse again after everything that has happened.
NOLA