After Donna leaves and my brothers and I decide there’s nothing to be done about Leo tonight, I go to bed. Christ, was today fucking tiring. Harlow ran off to her room after the discovery, and I have to fight the urge to go see if she’s okay.1
Every muscle in my body wants to rush to her, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s pettiness. I comforted her in the warehouse because, how could I not? I promised to always catch her when she falls, and she was falling fast.
And if I’m being truthful, I feared the worst heading into that warehouse and the chance to hold her—alive—was one I couldn’t resist.
But tonight, I don’t invite her to my bed. She comes anyway.
There’s a soft knock on my door, and I chew on my lip to keep from calling her in right away. After leaving her waiting for a few moments, I tell her to come in. She’s in a big t-shirt, hanging down her thighs, and I can’t tell if she’s wearing anything under it.
“I don’t know what to say, but I will try…” she starts, and I sit up in bed, leaning against the pillows. “You’ve more than proven yourself to me. You said you’d never lie to me, and you never have. But I did. I knew you’d do anything for me, and I used that against you. You showed me your heart, and I used it against you. I’ve hurt you in ways I know you’d never hurt me.”
Her voice cracks, and I clench my jaw tighter. Seeing her lay herself bare before me is worse than seeing hate in her eyes. It’s worse because she deserves it, but still I want to take the pain away. Pain she caused me.
She steadies herself with a breath and lifts her shirt over her head, leaving her in nothing else. “I don’t know how I can ever make up for what I did, but”—she crawls onto the bed at my side—“I can start here.”
“Wait.” I stop her before she reaches me, and she sits back on her heels, looking embarrassed and slightly scared. “Get my belt.” The city lights outside my window provide enough light for me to see the way she gulps at my instructions.
She slides off the bed and fetches a belt from my closet. When she returns, I tell her to get the vibrator out of my nightstand. Her face is a mixture of confusion as she looks at the two items, bringers of both pain and pleasure. She kneels again on the mattress next to me, and my chest squeezes seeing her so pliant and willing to please. So willing to serve.
Finally understanding her place.
She lifts her chin and speaks softly. “You can hurt me if you need to.”
“I know I can.” I bite out harshly, and she looks back down at her thighs. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I want totortureyou. I want to drive you mad the way you’ve driven me.”
She peeks up at me through her lashes, and my cock jerks at the fear and heat in her eyes. I take it out of my boxers, already throbbing hard, and pull down the sheets from my waist. “You played me tonight,a chuisle.And now I’m going to play with you.”
I look at her then look at my lap pointedly, and she gets the message, crawling on hands and knees to me. She wraps a hand delicately around my shaft and, before she touches me with her mouth, I lift her chin with a finger. “Show me how pretty you are when you cry.”
As her hot mouth takes me in, my thighs flex instinctively and my wounded leg feels like it’s tearing. I ignore it and focus on her wet tongue swirling around the tip of my cock before she forces it to the back of her throat. She gags and I reach for the belt, folding it in half. Her body tenses, hearing the jingle of the buckle. The next time she bobs down, I bring the belt down on her ass.
She yelps, mouth still full of me, and the vibration of her cry shoots to my balls. The sensation is so good, I snap the belt against her flesh again right away. She whimpers, the impact making her choke on me. The barbed wire wrapped around my heart loosens each time the leather cracks against her supple skin.
I thumb her cheek and sigh, displeased. “No tears for me,a chuisle?”She looks up at me, blue eyes swimming with apology. I reach for the vibrator and turn it on, pressing it between her thighs. She jolts and moans. “You don’t come before me. Nod that you understand.”
She bobs up and down my cock in acknowledgment, making me grit my teeth to hold in a groan. “Now, hold it yourself so I can continue to turn this sweet ass red.” Her plump cheeks are already hot to the touch and bright red. I’m hitting hard enough to leave a nice sting but not enough to bruise. And enough to release some of this hurt and anger, while also knowing she’s getting off equally on the pain.
As she rides the vibrator, I lash her ass, and she sucks more vigorously, almost desperately. Each time she deepthroats me, on her reprieve, I smack her ass so she stays in a constant state of breathlessness. The noises we make are almost violent sounding. I hiss and grunt as she fucks me with her mouth, and she’s a mingled mess of moans, cries, and chokes.
My groin clenches and my balls tingle as my climax nears. Despite the pain in my leg, I can’t help but thrust up into her wet and waiting mouth. I try to hold on until I feel the beginning spasms of her own building orgasm. “Not until I come,a chuisle,”I say hoarsely, waves of pleasure cresting. I drop the belt and use my empty hand to hold her head down as I buck my hips up with great force.
I come with a hot burst and deep growl, both from the euphoria and the searing pain in my leg. I pull her off my cock and then rip the vibrator from her hand. Her eyes are watery and wide. She’s breathing deeply, but I know she never reached her peak.
Her eyes claw at the bruised, beating mass in my chest as she wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb. I can’t look at her when I speak next.
“Get out.” The words are cold and sharp.
She climbs out of the bed without a word. I don’t know who it hurts more—me or her—when she leaves.
1.Don’t Mess With My Mind—EMO | SummerOtoole.com/Playlists
Chapter twenty-seven
Requiem
Harlow
Ican’tsleepwhenCash sends me back to my room. I wanted to go downstairs and clean up the horrific mess I made in the Den, but Roman informed me they already called their cleaners. I offered to help them, and he made it clear that I wasn’t welcome, that I’d “done enough.”