Feeling his breath along my lips, he praised, “You’re such a good girl, Juliet. Such a lovely, beautiful girl. How can I stop myself from wanting to own every last part of you?”
My hooded eyes stared into his lust-filled ones.
Passion.
Self-loathing.
Never imagining I would see the man, hear what he was confessing.
My eyes widened, tranquil and at peace. Immediately wanting this roller coaster of emotions to consume me.
“There’s a very thin line between love and hate, little girl.”
He was right.
He didn’t falter, standing up between my legs, sliding the zipper of his tuxedo pants down. He didn’t even get undressed. With a devious grin, I caught the wetness of my orgasm down his mouth and chin. He wore it like it was his prize, like it was his honor, like it was everything he’d ever wanted and needed to become whole.
Roughly, he tugged my thighs toward him, effortlessly sliding my heated body toward his dick. Placing me where he wanted me, I was now a couple of inches away from his hard cock.
I’d never seen another man, but Donovan was stunning.
Big.
Firm.
Wide.
He would break me with it, and I didn’t care. I was his to do with what he saw fit. I was a virgin, and he knew that. Sliding his hand up and down the length of his shaft, he jacked off in front of me. It was such an erotic sight to witness, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what he was doing to himself. He fisted his dick harder and harder, confirming my suspicions.
“I don’t make love, Juliet. I can’t … I won’t.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Juliet
My mouth parted, and I licked my dry lips. Watching the tormented man in front of me, making me want him even more.
He waited for me to say the words, “I don’t care. Fuck me then.”
Pressing my fingernails hard into my skin, I braced myself for his thrust that would soon come. I’d witnessed both sides of this broken man.
The good and the bad.
His heaven and hell.
Pleasure and pain.
His love…
His hell.
The villain wasn’t asleep anymore. No, I’d awakened the sleeping beast, and he’d finally come out to play. He leaned over, his lips getting close to my face, his cock at my opening.
In a sick and twisted way, I wanted this. His dominance had become an aphrodisiac for me. He kissed my lips with so much urgency that I could have come from that alone. When his tongue touched mine, I moaned, and it was in that instant that he thrust inside of me with one hard shove, filling me to the tilt.
I loudly gasped as my body jerked forward from the intrusion through my virtue.
“I take, Juliet. I don’t know another way to be, to live. This is the man I am, but for you… I wish I could be different.”
His body trembled against mine; his words were kind against his harsh actions. I gripped onto the edge of the piano, biting my lower lip until I tasted blood. This was happening. My happily ever after with my villain, bringing me home but not mine, his, he was pulling me into his home, his world, and I was helpless as I fell for him and all his deviousness.
His tongue licked from one end of my lips to the other. I tasted myself as he swallowed my blood, sliding out and back in.
This was our beginning when it should have been our ending.
A final taste.
A hello mixed with a bloody goodbye.
Thrusting in and out, he didn’t let up. My hands instinctively reached for him for comfort, for support, for something, anything. With one grip, he crudely pinned them over my head, not allowing me to touch him, even for one second.
I couldn’t feel his warmth, only his turmoil. Suddenly, his demeanor changed, showing me the connection, the love which I longed for more than anything.
“Stay,” he ordered in a light murmur, moving his hand from my wrist to touch my clit instead.
I panted, instantly feeling the craze he was stirring. I was still sensitive from his assault with his tongue. Tears rolled down my face, and I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped from my throat.
He growled from deep within his own, toying with my clit as he licked away my tears.
Side-to-side.
Up and down.
He drew out another orgasm, owning even my pleasure in that moment.
I was wet.
Slippery.
My blood on his dick.
His eyes bore into mine, and I half shut my gaze, about to come.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes.”
I tried to keep them open, and he angled his forehead on top of mine. Fucking me harder, faster, his fingers worked overtime.
I cried.
I begged.
Until he won what he sought.
My come.
I couldn’t stop.
Taking me how he really wanted, making me feel like I was his—owned. Thrusting in and out of me with such abandonment, such hunger, fighting a battle of love versus hate. More tears slid down my face as he kissed them all away. Our eyes locked, and he showed me everything I so desperately wanted to see.
A roar erupted from his core, allowing his demons to prevail.
He came deep inside of me.
I came again.
It was such a crazy thing that was happening. One minute I was hurting from his cock, the next, I was coming on it.
Through our entwined bodies, I tried to stay in this moment with him; however, it was no use. My mind was thrown into another rational thought.
We didn’t use a condom, and I wasn’t on the pill.
Did he know that too? What was he trying to accomplish here?
His body collapsed over mine, shoving my questions away like he did my sanity. I heard him groan and felt him shudder, shaking my body from his own orgasm. This was supposed to be his way of freeing me from his hell, except it was the opposite. He only dragged me along with him, burning me alive with his demons and mine.
I hissed when he pulled out, immediately feeling the loss of him. He kissed my sweaty neck and left me there alone, with so many questions I didn’t even know where to begin.
I stayed put.
I didn’t move an inch, afraid of what would happen if I did. He wordlessly shuffled around the room and disappeared into the bathroom. I closed my eyes, letting several tears stream down the sides of my face and onto the piano that would forever hold a part of us. Setting my hand over my heart, I waited for him to return.
When he finally did, I tried to breathe and shut my eyes as tight as I could. If my eyes were open, he would know. If I made a sound, he would know he meant something to me even when he shouldn’t.
Not strong enough to look up into his eyes, too weak to handle what I would see or what I wouldn’t, I continued to painfully squeeze my eyes shut, keeping the tears in place.
I heard his footsteps, walking back toward me. My legs were spread, and I felt a warm washcloth between my legs and down my thighs. He was cleaning me, tender, caring, slowly, from my core to my feet.
He had officially broken me, except this time…
Those broken pieces welded together with his.
We were one.
Jaded.
Fucked up.
In love.
He was the first to break the silence, declaring the truth I already knew, “This is the closest to making love that you’re going to get from me.” Licking off one last tear, he added, “Best get used to it now.”
Donovan