“I was trying to be gentle.” I lift her off the ruined bed and kick the mattress away from the frame so I can lay her back down.
Her laughter subsides, leaving a soft expression that makes me ache. “I don’t want gentle.” Her fingers trace my stubbled jaw, feeling for the scars underneath. She smiles when she finds them, as if they’re a secret we share between us. “I want you. I’m strong, Logan.”
“I know you are.” I sip at her perfect lips. Gods, this woman is so perfect. So beautiful. So fuckin’ smart.
I cup her smooth buttocks and draw her close. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you’re mine.”
“Always,” she begs. “Always.”
I ease into her. She’s so small and tight, and I’m too big. Moans hum in her chest, but her lithe calf twined around my back tugs me closer. I cup her face and nibble on her lips, rewarding her as she stretches around me slowly. Finally, finally I’m seated inside her.
“Give it to me, Logan,” she whispers. “I want it all.”
Oh, I’ll give it to her. But on my timeline, my way. The woman’s already made me lose my head. Besides, this coming back together means something to me and I want her to know that.
So I pin her in place with my cock, exactly where I like her, and I give her my truth. “I love you. I’ve loved you since you were eighteen and we spent all those summer days at the beach talking—”
She squeezes around me. “You mean you spent all those hours ogling me in my red bikini.”
“Vixen.”
I grin and grab her wrists, pinning them over her head. I notch my thigh between her legs, bearing down against her sensitive spot until she groans my name.
“That damn red bikini.” I shake my head. “I still haven’t punished you for teasing me like that all that summer, have I?”
She stretches up and nips me on the jaw with her teeth. Somebody’s feeling playful.
But then she pulls back and goes serious again. “I can’t believe my dream finally came true,” she whispers. “I can’t believe Logan Wulfe actually loves me back.”
How am I supposed to have any control after she says something like that? I don’t bother even trying. I thrust inside her, giving us what we are both craving, and we moan in tandem.
Pleasure flashes up my sides, unknots my spine, nearly blinds me. There’s no holding back after that. I saw in and out of her perfect, tight entrance, making sure to grind against her clit with each pass.
“Harder.” Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Harder!”
She’s the perfect woman made flesh. I ram her so hard the mattress hits the wall. The frames above us shudder, but the screws I used hold.
She starts to shatter around me.
“I’m gonna give you everything, Daphne. Every hope. Every dream.” I roll my hips, prolonging each thrust, and tears stream from her eyes. Tears of joy.
Her body stiffens, her pussy massaging my cock as she cums over and over. And as I cum, I make a vow.
To be hers. To be Daphne’s. She knows all my evil desires, how I lust to hurt the ones I love. My past, my present, my wickedness. She’s walked every twisting turn of the labyrinth and come out the other side.
And still she loves me. She chose me.
My vision blurs and I blink my eyes to clear them. The view isn’t great—four dirty walls of this dilapidated room but I’m seeing them fresh.
With Daphne, I can have it all. A life. A full heart. A family.
For the second time in my life, I’ve come home.
Thirty-Eight
Present Day
Daphne
“So what about Adam?” I ask. I hate to break the mood, but I can’t take any more sex. Not after Mr. Insatiable ate me a second time, and flipped me over to pound me from behind. This poor mattress is done for.
“What about him?” Logan’s voice is level, but his body hardens to a block of stone. I massage his neck, but it’s like trying to get granite to relax.
I rise up and lean into his back, blowing into his ear. His shoulders ease a fraction.
“I think he should pay for what he’s done,” I murmur into one ear, and switch to the other. Just like being with Logan has taught me not to deny any of who I am, I don’t want to deny any of who Logan is. At the same time… “But I don’t want you to end up in jail for homicide.”
“It won’t be homicide. I want him to suffer.”
“I thought I was the only one you tortured.” I pretend to pout. Let’s keep this light. “Are you telling me this isn’t exclusive?”
“What I do to you isn’t torture,” he says as I nibble on his ear. “You like it too much.”
“Maybe I should torture you…”
With a sudden move, he twists and pulls me onto his lap. “Little seductress. Trying to change my mind with your wiles?”
“It it working?” I wriggle in his lap. “Feels like it.” His boner is the size of a tree. There’s so much good here. I don’t want to let Adam or anyone else to ruin it.
He lets me grind on his lap for about a second longer, then maneuvers me until I’m flat on my back with his big body caging me. My pussy is sopping, my breath coming in pants, ready for his claiming, but he stills.
“Daphne, I can’t change who I am.” He says, echoing my thoughts. His eyes search mine, pleading.
I know what he’s saying. He can’t give up his revenge. He won’t. Not even for me? asks little voice in my head. But that’s not fair. I’m not in his shoes and I can’t fathom going through what he went through at Adam’s hands.
So I give a tiny nod. As long as we’re together and none of his actions involve him being taken from me? I’m on his side, always. He sighs and hugs me, holding his body off me so I’m not crushed. I kiss his neck. Maybe he’s not ready to forgive and forget, like I am, but baby steps.
Holding each other like this inevitably leads us back to the—now broken, but when has that ever stopped anyone—bed. His touch drives me insane. I can’t get enough.
When we’re done making love for the third time, he tests the faucet for hot water. With a steaming face cloth he wipes down my body carefully. He pays special attention to my breasts.
“You took the piercings out.” He sounds sad.
“I didn’t think I could prevent infection in my homeless state. You can re-pierce them.”
“No.” He drops the washcloth. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“You won’t. I’ll take the thorns with the roses, remember?”
He leans in to kiss me. When our lips part, he presents me with a perfect red rose. “Your rose with thorns.”
I grasp the stem. My cheeks are sore from smiling so hard. This love story isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. And that sorta makes it perfect.
I bring the bloom to my face and inhale. “There. That scent. My mother’s perfume, my past and future all rolled into one. It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Logan says, but he’s looking at me. My heart swells.
“I love you, Logan Wulfe.”
He smiles, that rakish carefree grin that I love so much. “I love you, t—” he starts to say but then his expression suddenly changes. “Daphne,” he rasps, fear etched into the lines on his brow, around his eyes. He reaches out to touch my face, but I beat him to it.