by L.J. Shen
More hot shivers. More want. More lust. More Troy.
Idiot, I thought. You ruined me in Miami. “Oh?” I asked, fighting the need to let my arms loose, to allow my hands to touch his strong, male body. I wanted him despite everything, and worryingly, maybe even because of what he did to me.
“Paddy…” His name was like a smack in my face leaving Troy’s mouth. “I paid him a visit in Florida. Went there and got your payback for you.”
I choked on my saliva, and felt my eyes flaring, but I didn’t say a word. His lips fluttered between my shoulder blades, and he planted a kiss between my neck and shoulder, his tongue darting out briefly to remind me of what was to come.
“He’s dying from cancer, y’know. Will be dead soon. He will die a poor man. He will die a broken man. Every dime he had to his name…” He caught a loose strand of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers like he was examining fine silk. “Is now yours.”
“Mine?” I repeated.
“Yours.” He nodded into the crook of my neck, his hot lips landing on spots I didn’t even know were sensitive.
Calm washed over me. Realization, too.
This was retaliation.
Not business…but the sweetest form of comfort. Revenge.
“Six hundred thousand dollars.” His voice sounded like it was coming from far away.
I like him. I like him and I hate it.
“In the form of a check,” he continued. “Yours to cash, whenever you’re ready.”
I let it sink in, processing the meaning of it. He’d forced Rowan into signing over everything he had to me. More than half a million dollar. The kind of money I’d never even dreamed about. And it was for me to take.
“It’s dirty money,” I said on auto-pilot.
“This whole world is filthy,” Troy shot back. “You deserve it after what he’s done. Hell, the only reason I let him live is because it’s so much more fun to know every day is a Russian roulette of live or die for him.”
Deep down, I already knew I wasn’t going to turn the money down. Not out of greed, but because the check had my name on it. Literally and figuratively. I didn’t want Rowan’s money to find its way back to something or someone he cared about. He sure as hell hadn’t cared about nine-year-old me.
Six hundred thousand dollars. Fuck. Was I supposed to thank my husband?
Before I had a chance to decide, Troy’s palm found the small of my back and he pulled me into his body. Hard. “Nobody fucks with what’s mine. Even my late dad’s friend. Upstairs,” he demanded sharply. “Now.”
I couldn’t believe he flew us all the way to Miami to avenge my pain.
My legs found their way out of the guest room. I stared at my feet as I climbed up the stairs, him ascending behind me in perfect rhythm.
I felt his eyes on my ass. “When I was a kid,” he said, “my mother had lovebirds. She used to clip their wings so when she let them out of their cage, they wouldn’t fly away. The lovebirds always tried, but they never got far with their short, fucked-up wings.”
I inched the bedroom door open and stepped into the pool of warm light spilling from the street outside.
He moved behind me, tucking my hair behind my right ear aside, pressing his face to it. “Until one day, one managed to escape. My mother forgot to clip her wings. A moment of distraction cost her her favorite lovebird.”
I knew why he was telling me this, and the happiness in my gut swirled with a shot of sudden pain.
“Failure is inevitable,” he continued in a flat tone that didn’t hold much emotion or hope, “and heartache is unstoppable. One day, I’ll forget to clip your wings. When that day arrives, when you run away, I guess I’d be happy to know you’ll still have some money and the means to make it in this wild, tough world.”
Was it wrong that I adored the way the word lovebird rolled off his tongue? I knew he hadn’t told me that he loved me, but I still enjoyed the warm buzz in my chest when he said it. The truth about Miami had changed a lot. His visiting Paddy was not only forgivable but redeeming.
“It was more than a solid,” I whispered, averting my gaze from the window to the bed. Still not daring to turn back and look at his face. “What you did for me.”
“Sparrow,” he warned. “Don’t get any ideas into that pretty head of yours. I told you how things will play out. This…” He took a step back and walked deeper into the room, spinning around so that we faced each other. “This doesn’t have a happy ending.”
“Maybe I won’t run away.” I swallowed hard. “If you came clean about everything, about why you married me, maybe I’d stay. Break the lock to my cage, Troy.” I took a deep breath. “What are you hiding? Who are ‘they’? What did they do to ‘us’?”
“Can’t. It’s illegal. I won’t chance you running to the police with it, and I certainly won’t chance the police finding about it through other sources and questioning you about it. You’d be considered my partner in crime for not notifying them. And risking your ass...” He shook his head. “Not gonna happen. Sit.”
He patted the expensive mattress I kind of missed. Or maybe it wasn’t the mattress. Maybe it was the smell that clung to it. Of the person it belonged to. My shoulders fell and I lowered my head, but I sat.
Still standing, he kissed the nape of my neck. “Obedient. That’s new.”
“Not really.” My tone was flat. “But I’m in my underwear. In your bed. We had a deal. I intend to keep it.”
He tilted up my chin up. I stared up at his blue eyes, getting lost in his gaze. My breath quickened. He wanted to play. I wanted to play, too, even though we both knew he was going to break the toy. Me.
He was behind me. I loved the thrill of never knowing what was going to happen next. He favored this position, when my back was to him. We both knew I didn’t trust him. Which only made it more arousing.
“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” he whispered into my shoulder. It felt like warm feathers traveling down my body. Addictive, awakening my senses again.
My eyes fluttered shut as I breathed him in.
“Your virginity, Red.”
“Take it.” I leaned into his touch, pressing my head against his hard abs. “’Cause that’s all I’m going to give to you.”
I was a liar. I was reckless. I was an idiot. But I was his.
He yanked me up and spun me to face him. Pulling my hair and extending my neck, he ran the tip of his tongue between my breasts. I stilled, holding my breath when his free hand fisted the hem of my shirt.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while now,” he said.
He likes me, my heart chanted. He likes me and he is going to show me just how much.
Yanking the neck of my undershirt down, he ripped it apart slowly, painfully over my skin. He studied the ball of fabric with cold eyes and tossed it behind him.
“You won’t be needing that,” he said, ducking down to meet my hungry lips.
Goose bumps rose on my skin, a shiver breaking along my scalp. I didn’t moan, didn’t give him the satisfaction, but when his hand cupped one of my bare breasts and kneaded it, his thumb circling the ridge of my nipple, I clenched inside without even meaning to.
The way Troy touched me was worth every horrible, self-loathing feeling that I would have tomorrow.
His lower lip caressed my ear. “Guess your magical period is over, huh?”
His fingers moved from my breast down my stomach, making their way between my quivering legs. He spread my thighs, using his fingers alone, and nudged my panties to the left. His strength made me dizzy with want, and I knew once he’d touch me there, I would collapse and lose control again.
“Are you here to talk, or to show me what you’ve got?” My voice cut through the air.
He paused his leisured strokes along my sensitive skin. In one swift movement, he cupped my pussy hard, like it was a baseball he was about to throw, jerked me into his body, my stomach pressing into his cock, and shoved one finger into m
e while his thumb rubbed my clit.
It hurt. It freaking hurt a lot.
“Watch it!” I shrieked, flustered, my muscles tensing. I pressed against him nonetheless. “It’s painful.”
“Pain is pleasure,” he elucidated. His finger still inside me, he pumped in and out as he threw me onto the bed and spun me around again. He climbed on top, his muscular legs straddling my body.
I was face down on the pillow, panting like a cat in heat and loving every second of it. He was rough, not romantic or considerate in any way. And hell, that’s exactly how I wanted him.
I felt his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of my ass—more a tease than an actual bite. He ground his erection against me, and I almost begged for him to yank my panties down and enter me. But he didn’t. He just shoved his finger deeper, faster. Even though I winced, I became needier. Rubbing my opening and crooking his finger into me, he found a sensitive spot and pumped it again and again.
I buried my face in the pillow to muffle my moans. “This is…” I could barely speak. “This is…”
“This is your G-spot.” He bit my earlobe from behind. “Nice to meet ya.”
I wanted to scream with both pain and pleasure, and I clenched against his fingers. He picked up the pace even more, screwing me with his fingers while grinding his cock against my ass. I loved it. Loved every filthy moment of it. The pain of his weight and fingers inside me was so much…
I gasped each time he slammed into me. I felt his lips traveling along my upper back, my neck, my hair, leaving bites and kisses.
“Tell me what I’m doing to you, or I’ll stop.”
“You’re driving me mad,” I groaned. This much was true. His hand was between my legs while he jerked off on my body, and I admitted it was hot. So hot I was beginning to feel dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk. The Catholic guilt I had felt after he performed oral sex on me the other day evaporated. It was technically not a sin. We were married.
“What. Am. I. Doing. To you? Simple English, Red.”
“You’re fingering me,” I said, blushing hard. Damn, why was it so hard to say it out loud?
“That’s not fingering.”
“Okay, okay,” I panted when he momentarily stopped, his fingers still inside me. “You’re fucking me with your fingers.”
He resumed thrusting, increasing the numbing ache and the crazy desire thrumming in my crotch. My body felt electrified, the bed beneath us pooled with my want for him, and after a few minutes of buildup, of so much pain and pleasure and everything in-between, I came apart for the first time in my life. There was no mistaking the feeling. It was hard. It crashed through me in waves of heat.
The tingling calmed, and my body went limp. His fingers stopped, and after I droopily crashed on the mattress, he pulled his hand from under me, sucked on his two fingers, and flipped me to my back.
I was his rag doll, for him to flip, spin, toss, finger, use, repeat. And that’s exactly what I craved. In bed, anyway.
“I wanted you since that night at Rouge Bis, you know.” His lips dove to my neck and he bit me hard, making my back arch with desire. He licked the spot, moving his finger down my spine and grinding against me. “Such a breath of fresh air. Messing around with me like I can’t break you in two.”
I moaned, returning a favor by pushing my hips in his direction.
He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his dress pants as he spread kisses all over my face and chest. God, I wanted more of him. Not just his body, just more. More feelings. More sex. More everything. I wanted him to be my real husband, and I was lying to him, myself and the world when I said that all I wanted was sex. This was just the tip of the iceberg. I was addicted.
“It’s going to hurt like a motherfucker,” he warned.
“Of course it will.” I smiled into our kiss, my lips still glued to his. “Everything with you does.”
He yanked my underwear down and guided his cock to my entrance. We both watched through hooded eyes as he moved it up and down my slit. I was so ready for him after falling apart between his strong arms, coming so hard, so wet and in need, I barely had any second thoughts about it.
“I love this,” he whispered wildly, his mouth traveling down my body, his tongue swirling around my nipple. Everything about him was scorching hot, and I threw my head back, my eyes closed. “Love that I’m going to rock your world and ruin you for every other man in the world.”
When he entered me, I held my breath. It wasn’t just painful—it was torture. So bad, in fact, that tears stung my eyes. Troy was equipped with something resembling a semi-automatic weapon, and even though his cock was the first I had ever seen, I had a feeling it wasn’t a modest, fun-sized one. He moved inside me slowly, his eyes holding mine. Interest flickered in his gaze, and I tucked my head into his chest.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I felt my face heating. He didn’t look turned on anymore. Just…alert. He was searching me, looking for something, making me feel even more naked than I already was.
“Breathe, baby,” he said seriously. “The pain will go away, but the pleasure will stay. I got you, Red.”
He thrust in and out, and I winced every time he did, digging my nails deeper into his back, knowing I’d leave marks. Because I wanted him to stop. Because I wanted him to continue. Because I never wanted to leave.
He kissed away a tear that slid down my cheek, and I wish he hadn’t, because my heart broke a little more when he showed me tenderness. I wanted the ruthless version of him, the one that didn’t offer me hope, that didn’t promise a happily-ever-after ending. Troy was the guy who not only broke your headboard, but also broke your heart. And I didn’t want false hope to occupy any more space in my mind than it already did.
He was pumping in and out of me, faster, stronger, deeper. Soon, I learned his rhythm, and our hips moved together like a sensual dance.
The pain will go away.
No, it wouldn’t.
The pleasure will stay.
“I want you to come in my arms again,” he said, but I knew it wouldn’t happen. Not when all I could feel was him ripping through me. He snaked one of his hands down between us and started rubbing my clit, applying pressure. I gasped a little when he flicked it up and down with his thumb.
“Oh, God,” I panted. “That hurts in the best possible way.”
He kissed me, darting his tongue between my lips. Even his tongue fucked my mouth. The massive bed creaked a little with every push, the headboard banging against the wall with every thrust.
Wild. Possessed. Abandoned.
And it turned out that was all I needed, to twist and writhe again under him. I felt the familiar sensation of losing control over my muscles and tried pushing him away, because this time, the orgasm threatened to tear through me.
He held me in place, nailing me to the bed with the firm hand that played with me. “Fuck, you’re beautiful when you come.”
And I came again, this time harder, screaming his name to the sky and back. I don’t think anyone ever felt more intoxicated from another person as I was intoxicated from Troy Brennan. The scary stranger turned cruel husband.
It was only after my second orgasm that my husband started pumping harder into me, losing control himself. It was wild to see him letting go for once as he thrust deeper and deeper. He swelled inside me, filling me completely, and strangely, not only physically.
He was coming. His forehead rested on mine, his black strands of hair sticking to his temple. Our sweat mixed together.
Damn, it was sexy.
Hell, I was done for.
It wasn’t him taking my virginity that made me feel vulnerable. Not the fact that I was lying in a pool of our lust and my own blood. It was what I felt for him that horrified me. I wanted to step away from whatever I was feeling, put some space between me and Troy, gain some control over my heart. I was spiraling down, fast. Drowning, sinking, free-falling. I was defenseless, helpless, completely exposed. A sitting duck waiting for him to fill
me with a buckshot and strip my feathers clean.
He flopped down next to me, pulling me into his arms, my ass against his body. The sheets beneath us were so wet, the thought of Maria finding them made my face heat with embarrassment. I would change those sheets tonight and do the laundry myself. Tomorrow, it’d look like nothing happened.
We lay there in silence while he drew letters and patterns on my skin with his finger. He wrote “God” and then “Troy” and then “Red.” Drew a house, raindrops and a pair of wings.
We weren’t kidding anyone.
This was not just sex. It was more and it was scary. A good thirty minutes passed before one of us spoke. Surprisingly, it wasn’t me.
“Tell me about your mom,” he asked out of nowhere, me still in his arms. His tone was lazy, like we were familiar with one another more than just physically. And that was a lie I was tempted to believe.
My body must’ve stiffened, because suddenly, his fingers stopped stroking my back and his lips no longer pressed against my hair.
“I don’t have a mom,” I clarified. “The woman who gave birth to me ran off long before I was able to remember anything about her.”
“Have you tried looking for her over the years?” The softness in his tone was rubbing me the wrong way. He was not supposed to care. He was a sorry douchebag who cheated on me, forced me into marrying him and broke the law for a living.
“Are you auditioning for Dateline? What the hell is your problem, Troy?” I wiggled out of his touch, pulling myself up from the bed and standing up in a hurry. I lifted items of clothes that weren’t even mine from the floor and dressed in his shirt and my underwear without making eye contact. Tonight was not supposed to end this way.
He was still lying on the bed, his head supported on one of his arms. Naked, he watched me. “Just trying to be a good husband,” he said.
“You’re good for only one thing, Brennan.” I pulled my panties up my legs in swift movements. “And that’s for what happened between your sheets not too long ago.”
“They’re your sheets, too, Red.”
“Thought I was supposed to be lovebird from now on?” I turned my back to him, already making my way out of the room.