Page 51 of Broken Forced Mate

“Touch yourself,” he commands. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

The dirty words make me flush, but I obey and slide my hand between our bodies to find my clit. The added stimulation pushes me toward another peak.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “You’re so sexy. Come for me.”

When my second orgasm breaks, I scream his name as my body convulses around him. The contractions trigger his own release, and he buries himself deep as he fills me with liquid heat.

We stay locked together as his forehead rests against mine, and I can see wonder in his gray eyes.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls out of me, but neither of us makes a sound.

We dress in relative silence, both understanding that the real world is waiting outside these walls. When I’m fully clothed again, I realize nothing has actually been resolved between us.

“This doesn’t fix everything,” I tell him.

“I know.”

“I’m still angry. About the kidnapping, about how you rejected me before.”

“I understand.”

The reasonable acceptance in his voice makes something snap inside me. How can he be so calm when I just threw away three years of carefully built walls? When I just proved that mybody will betray every principle I have, the moment he touches me?

“Do you?” I ask, my voice rising. “Because I just let you fuck me on a workbench like some desperate—”

“Raegan, don’t—”

“Don’t what? Don’t acknowledge that I have zero self-control where you’re concerned? Don’t admit that I’m exactly as weak as you always thought I was?”

He reaches for me, but I step back, wrapping my arms around myself like armor.

“This was a mistake,” I continue. “I can’t even stick to my own principles when it comes to you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? You kidnap me, force me into marriage, and the first time you touch me, I fall into bed with you like nothing happened. Like I haven’t spent three years trying to get over you.”

The words pour out of me, each one more cutting than the last. He flinches, but I can’t stop. The self-loathing that’s been building since the moment I kissed him demands an outlet.

“I hate that I still want you,” I whisper. “I hate that my body doesn’t care what you’ve done to me. I hate that I’m so pathetically grateful for scraps of your attention that I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

“Raegan, please—”

“No.” I back toward the door, needing distance before I do something even more humiliating, like beg him to love me. “I can’t do this. I can’t keep pretending that what just happenedmeans anything when we both know you’ll just walk away again the moment it’s convenient.”

I reach for the door handle, but his voice stops me.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” I reply without turning around. “Before I make an even bigger fool of myself.”

Then I’m out the door, half-running down the corridor while his scent still wraps around my clothes and the taste of him lingers on my lips. Behind me, I hear him call my name, but I don’t look back.

I can’t.

Because if I do, I’ll end up right back where I started—wanting something from him that he’ll never be willing to give.

Chapter 15 - Wyn