“We’re not waiting for you at the end of it,” he gritted in my ear. “There won’t be grand confessions of love, or sweet speeches about wanting you all along, and now we can finally be together. You wanted this.”
Legend punched the wood, stealing a cry from me.
“The pain. The choking. The begging for it to stop before it gets worse. We’re sweat, blood, and agony. We’re the last lost mile on blistered feet. I’ll force you to go on, Rainey, because it’s the only way to get to where you’re going.
“Atonement.”
My tears slowed. Hiccups softened.
“If it’s too much for you, say the word, run out of here, and don’t fucking come back. Otherwise, get on your fucking knees, pet. You chose your jailers, now take your punishment.”
Rising up, I moved as he did—getting to my knees and Legend’s weight disappearing.
“Face me.”
Legend was an immense being blocking out the sun itself. He reached for his zipper, and my soul quieted.
“You’re terrible at yoga, but maybe your talents lie elsewhere. Do a good job and I won’t have to imprint another lesson into that lovely, unblemished skin.”
Another game I’m meant to fail?
How could I do a good job? I’d never given a blow job.
Legend unveiled in all his thick, smooth, uncut glory. He pressed against my lips—demanding entrance.
I parted, accepting him. Legend drove home and filled me to the brim.
I gagged at first, but forced myself to relax, breathing through my natural reflex. Planting my hands on either side of him, I bobbed my head, sinking to swallow as much of him as I could. Pulling back to suck and lick the tip.
He grunted. “Shit.”
Picking up the pace, the noise spurred me on. Maybe this was all there is and all there should be. I changed since I received that first letter. I’d done the unspeakable and dragged others down in my selfishness. The Letter Man said I didn’t understand the meaning of sacrifice. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.
I sacrificed my sister for vengeance. I sacrificed truth to live in peace. I sacrificed the Bedlam Boys to escape the consequences for both.
Any connection I felt with Cairo, admiration from Arsenio, or understanding with Jacques could not overshadow the simple truth that they are not my boyfriends.
They are my sacrifices, and they put me on an altar to burn.
I stroked Legend’s balls, earning filthier curses and the flip of his on switch. He started pumping—fucking my mouth slow at first, and then faster as he lost control. I fought to accept him.
Choking and sputtering, Legend’s mercy was to tangle in my hair, tugging my head back to open me wider. Tears streamed down my face. My gag reflex was out of control. But I gripped Legend tighter, nails piercing his hips, and determined to take all he had to give me.
He seized—muscles going rigid between my touch. Popping out, Legend exploded hot, dripping cum all over my face.
He propped against the door as I knelt there, blinking in wide-eyed shock.
“Terrible,” he gruffed, voice ragged. “You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re doing, but damn if that hot little mouth isn’t tasty. Let’s split the difference, shall we?”
“No more spankings?”
He grinned, cutting a track through the mess on my cheek. “No more yoga.”
Legend spanked me until “the message sunk in.” Over and over again, not letting up after two screaming orgasms and another blow job to win my reprieve.
“That’s enough.” He dropped the paddle, leaving bitch to lie with slut and slave.
The good news was I didn’t know any more pain. My ass fell numb half a dozen slaps ago.
Pushing myself up, I made for the door.
“Where are you going? I don’t sleep alone.”
Legend swept me up in his arms and carried me to bed. It didn’t occur to me to fight him as he tucked me in the silk sheets. Why would it? It was the moment he slid in next to me, throwing his arm over my waist and pulled me close that gave me pause.
This was everything Legend said wouldn’t happen. Closeness. Tenderness. Shouldn’t he be carrying me to my new doghouse in the basement right now?
I relaxed, letting my eyes fall shut. It didn’t matter if this wasn’t real or the opening of what would be a cruel joke. All I knew was what I felt. This was not my jail.
This was home.
Chapter Thirteen
Friday morning, I walked the short distance to Paris’s house. She was giving me a ride to school these days since the Bedlam Boys were sitting out classes at the command of their dean.
They shut down school for a day to collect witness statements and stem the flood of worried and irate parents who heard there was a shooting.
There was, and if you asked me, it was stupid crossing into insane that those guards fired guns and set off a panicking crowd. Did it work to stop the fight? Yes. Did four people end up in the hospital because of the stampede and now one is suing the school? Also yes.