“Is this what you want, princess?” I growl, placing my hands behind her knees and spreading them wide open. Pulling back, I slam forward, making her tits bounce.
She covers her face with her hands, muffling her cries. I let go of her legs and pin her upper arms down to the bed instead, ripping her hands from her face. “Look at me, princess,” I demand. My heart is pounding, and my pulse is racing at what she’s feeling right now. Why she’s making me do this. Why she’s going to push herself so far, so soon.
When she opens her eyes, tears spill down the side of her face. I always want her begging for me with mascara streaks running down her gorgeous face, but it’s different. I never want to see her like this. “What are you?” I ask her, softening my voice.
She shakes her head, sniffing.
I squeeze her arms harder and growl, “Tell me.” Lowering my face to her neck, I pull my hips back and then push forward, going slow but deep. Her pussy gets wetter with each thrust. “Tell me that you’re my good little slut and that you want me to make you come all over my dick.”
She chokes out a sob, and I bite down on her skin.
“Please?” she cries.
My chest tightens at the single word. She’s never sounded this desperate before, but I can’t break. She needs me to be strong and give her what she wants, so I’m going to do it. “You know the rules. You want it, you have to beg for it.”
“I’m—” I feel her swallow against my lips. “I’m your good little slut,” she whimpers, admitting it. “Please make me come … all over your dick.”
“Good girl,” I whisper, but don’t let up. “You’re my good little slut, princess.” I lean up just enough to take her lips with mine. I kiss her. Dominating her mouth, letting her feel my love, my hate, my fucking regret. I pour everything I have into it, hoping that she understands that I love her, and I’ll do anything for her.
When I pull away, we’re both panting. “Look at me. Eyes on me.” I tell her while I fuck her into my mattress, holding her down. I don’t want her closing her eyes and seeing Nate.
I slam into her, almost as if I hate her. But I don’t. Not anymore. And honestly, I don’t think I ever did. I’ve heard people say it’s hard to pinpoint the exact second you fall in love with someone. I’m pretty sure it was the moment I first saw her. And I’ve been falling ever since.
She fights me but doesn’t tell me to stop. She’s still crying, her eyes on mine, and I watch them grow heavier with each thrust as the headboard bangs against the wall.
“That’s it. Come all over my dick, princess. That’s what a good slut does.” My words tip her over the edge, and her pussy clamps down on me. She arches her back. Sweat covers both of our bodies, and she sobs while coming.
The moment she gets off, I pull out and let go of her, sitting up. She pulls her legs to her chest and rolls onto her side, covering her face with her hands, trying to muffle her cries.
I lie down and stretch out in front of her. Wrapping my arms around her trembling body, I pull her into me. “You’re okay,” I say, holding her tightly. “I’m so sorry, princess.” I apologize for giving her what she wanted.
I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for her. But she wanted me to push her. Raylee is the type of woman who wants to appear strong, no matter what it costs.
“You did so good.” I kiss her sweat-covered skin.
Pulling her head from my chest, she places her lips on mine. I cup her face and gently kiss her back. “It’s me,” I say against her wet lips. “It’s me, princess. I got you.” I can’t even begin to imagine how she feels right now. But I know that I will do whatever she needs me to do for her.
Her bloodshot eyes search mine. “I’m … sorry.” She chokes on her words.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I hate that she apologizes for what she feels. That something in the back of her mind is telling her she’s in the wrong.
Licking her lips, she whispers, “I love you, Colt.” Fresh tears fall from her eyes, and I wipe them away. “I love you.”
I open my mouth, but she buries her head into my chest again, sobbing.
EPILOGUE
COLTON
I STAND SURROUNDED by woods back behind the Cathedral in the cemetery—it’s the Lords’ personal burial ground. Raylee stands about ten feet in front of me, her large sunglasses on her face as the sun starts to rise over the tall trees. It’s not quite that bright yet, but she wears them to cover up the bruises from Nate. They’re not as bad as they were, but still noticeable.