“Shut the fuck up,” he says with a snarl.
With my hands still clutching his shirt, I pull him closer. “Well, here I am, Cullen. If you want to finally hurt me, have at it. Stop fucking with me and do what you’ve wanted this whole time.”
“You don’t want me to hurt you, Everly. You don’t know what I’m capable of.” There’s no warmth in his eyes, and it sends a thrill through my body, the feeling of challenging him. The fire that burns between us has finally reached a temperature I don’t think either of us could survive. But I’m done trying to dull the flames. I’m ready to just have everything out between us, and hopefully on the other side, he will be able to forgive me and himself.
“Come on, Cullen. I can take it. Lose control on me.”
His mouth slams against mine so hard, I’m sure it’ll bruise. It takes me by surprise as he owns my mouth in a possessive, harsh kiss. Then, he bites my bottom lip, and I let out a whimper.
As his rough hands slide up my body, it’s like he owns it. Every inch he claims with his demanding touch, grasping, squeezing, pinching. It’s a pain laced with pleasure and anticipation. I don’t really know what Cullen is capable of, especially when he’s so lost to his anger the way he is now.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as he tears off my shirt, moving his mouth down my neck to my chest, nipping at the flesh of my breasts. I let out a scream as he takes my nipple into his mouth, biting so hard tears spring to my eyes.
In a frantic motion, he flips me around, and I plant my hands hard against the wall. My body tremors as he tears down my pants, digging his hand between my legs to cup me in his hands.
“This is all you’re worth to me.”
“Then, do something with it,” I snap back. There’s a flash of lightning against my ass as his bare palm lands harshly, creating a sting that vibrates through my body. Moving to the opposite side, he slaps me again, and this time I cry out. Arousal pulses with each stroke, but he doesn’t let up. He’s losing himself in the repetition of smacks across my ass, and as tears begin to pool in my eyes, I beg him to stop.
Grinding his body against mine, I feel the rock hard erection in his shorts. “This isn’t like last time, Everly. It’s not for you, it’s for me.”
His shorts come off quickly, and then I feel him there, pressing against my core. He slides in easily, pounding rough against my flesh. My body flinches from the sudden penetration, but he pulls me back, thrusting again. And he was right. It’s nothing like last night. We’re not connecting on a deeper level or savoring the feel of each other. He’s fucking me hard without emotion.
No, there is emotion. It’s resentment and rage and dread. He’s fucking me in frustration, and like he said, this is for him, not me. Still my body responds, purring under the almost violent, overwhelming motion of his thrusts.
“Harder,” I gasp, because I need him to know I can handle him at his worst. I want him at his worst. He picks up speed, filling the room with the sounds of our bodies slamming together. I don’t even cry out when sparks ignite every nerve in my body, throwing me into a silent fit of pleasure. I keep quiet, letting him release inside of me.
When his movement stops, we’re left panting. His grip on my hips is brutal, squeezing forcefully onto my flesh. He wants to hurt me.
We’re right back to where we started. Everything we’ve built up over the last few weeks is gone. Because I reminded him that I’m the journalist he hates. To him, I’m the enemy because I make Cullen face the truth.
When he finally pulls out of me, a cold chill runs up my spine. It feels so wrong to be without his body in mine. Without a word, he’s gone, and I’m left exposed and alone, leaning against the wall of my living room. Before I can even pull up my pants, he’s rushing out of the room. I hear the rustle of keys coming from the front door where I left my purse. Spinning around, I pull my pants up and run after him.
“Cullen!” I scream. The front door slams shut, and my heart starts to beat rapidly. When I hear the sound of my car engine running, I panic. It all happens so fast, my head practically spins. Feeling dumbstruck, I stare at him through the windshield of my car. His cheeks are still red from exertion as he tears out of the driveway, and I’m left standing alone, shock and fear written all over my features.
He’s gone, and this time it feels like he might never come back.
20
Cullen
My mind is racing as I drive, no destination in mind. I just keep my foot on the gas, rounding corners in the city with so many thoughts running through my head, I’m surprised I don’t crash this car.
I just keep replaying the last fifteen minutes with Everly. I don’t like the person I was while I was fucking her hard against the wall of her living room. That’s not who I am, but God, I wanted to hurt her. My thirst for revenge is more intense than it’s ever been, and it scares me. I had to get out of there as fast as I could.
How could I go so quickly from the feeling we shared last night to this burning hatred for her?
The image of that woman in the photo with the swollen belly sears my mind, and I slam my fist against the steering wheel. It can’t be true. Everly was using me for another story, another juicy piece of gossip she could manipulate me for. I’m just a case to her, and she was probably fucking me the whole time to get information out of me. But this story can’t be true—it can’t be.
My mother was Valerie Ayers. And I won’t let Everly stain the memory of her.
It starts to grow dark as I finally pull into the parking lot of my dorm building. I still have her car, and I have no clue what I’m going to do now. I can’t go back there. I’m afraid of what I might do to her if I see her again. This rage courses through my veins like poison, and I’m completely powerless to it.
Throwing the car into park, I let out a long exhale and rest my head against the steering wheel, trying to calm the erratic beat of my heart. There’s a force pulling me back to her, a silent voice inside I can’t ignore, and the instinct is strong. But that’s just the love I felt yesterday talking, and I can’t listen to it.
As I turn the car off and move to get out, I notice an all black car parked in the lot a few empty spaces down from me. It looks strangely out of place here with beat up cars that belong to college kids. This one looks expensive and ominous.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise as the rear door of the car opens, and I know who’s going to step out of it before his face appears. As my father emerges, looking at me without emotion, my hand tightens on the steering wheel. He looks so much older than I remember him, gaunt and all gray.
“Get out of the car and come see your father,” he calls to me. He looks impatient, as if he’s annoyed with the fact that he’s had to wait on me. I can’t focus my eyes on him for too long without a seething anger that threatens to boil over. Everly was right—I do want to do more than hurt him.
I want to kill him.
When the judge sentenced him to thirty years, I was disappointed. It never seemed like enough. A man like him does not deserve to live, and not just for what he did to my family, but for what he did to a thousand others. For how he treats people like they are disposable—things to be bought and sold.