Page 49 of C is For Corruption (Horsemen #3)

I took a step closer. “Tell me what to do. How I can help. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Something in his expression shifted. The grief was still there, but it twisted suddenly, bitter and cruel, curling into the corner of his mouth like a cracked smile.

“Why am I not surprised that’s your offer?” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“What?”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You think getting on your back again is gonna get you back in my good graces? That how it works for you, Sweetheart ? Keep our balls empty and we’ll look past everything you’ve done?”

The words hit like a slap. I blinked, the air stolen from my lungs. “Fuck you,” I breathed, taking a step back, turning to go.

But his hand snapped out and caught mine.

Fast. Firm. I barely had time to react before he twisted me back around and pushed until my front hit the cold concrete wall of the lane so hard it made my teeth clatter.

My palms pressed against the surface roughly enough to feel the scrape against my skin.

His body was behind mine now, close enough to feel the heat of him.

My pulse was a frantic drumbeat in my throat.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” he murmured in my ear. “I said it wouldn’t get you anywhere this time.”

My breath hitched. This wasn’t like last time. Joey wasn’t wielding his anger like a weapon. He was quieter now, focused, and somehow that made it worse.

“Tell me no,” he said, voice low, almost gentle. “Tell me no if you still don’t want me. If you don’t miss how my teeth feel on your skin. If you don’t think you deserve to be fucked like the little whore you turned into for us.”

My fingers curled slightly against the wall, muscles tight with confusion, fear, and heat. I hated the way my body betrayed me, how my breath came faster, how my thighs ached with memory. Because I did miss him. I did want. Even now.

He took the silence as his permission, as though the lack of words meant I was just waiting for him to decide.

He pulled me harder into him; his chest pressed against my back, his breath hot and heavy against my ear.

The motion was deliberate and controlling.

I could feel his lips curve into something that wasn’t quite a smile but a grimace of satisfaction.

His hands slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him, his fingers splaying wide, almost possessive.

A sick rush of heat pooled low in my belly, and I hated it. I hated that the simple proximity of him made me feel dizzy and wanting. Hungry . I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve pushed him away. But my body couldn’t keep up with my mind.

“Don’t fucking pretend you don’t want this, Princess ,” Joey muttered into my ear, his voice hoarse and raw. His fingers slid under the fabric, brushing against my skin, drawing out a shudder I couldn’t hide.

I hated that he could still pull that from me. That my body remembered him and reacted even now, even like this. I bit my lip, but he noticed. He always noticed.

“Yeah,” he breathed, almost to himself. “That’s what I thought.”

His hand gripped my hip, pulling me back against him, making it impossible to ignore how hard he already was.

I felt my knees weaken, hands trying to support me as the concrete bit into the skin.

His other hand tugged at the waistband of my leggings, dragging them down just enough.

Not with care, never that anymore, but with urgency and frustration.

His anger hadn’t left him. It had just shifted shape.

And I let him. I let him because I wanted to believe this meant something. That maybe if I gave him this and showed him I wasn’t scared, he’d remember how things used to be. That part of him would come back to me.

The heat of him pressed against me, the rough drag of fabric shifting as he freed himself. A breath caught in my throat as he slid in, burying himself deep in one hard thrust. The wall scraped my palms. My eyes shut tight.

Joey’s breath was jagged against the side of my neck, a low growl vibrating from his chest as he pulled back, then slammed forward again. Hard. Unforgiving. His fingers dug into my hip like he was holding onto something just to keep from unraveling.

“You want to be useful?” he muttered, teeth grazing my skin.

“Then take it.” I did. I braced myself and took every brutal thrust. My mouth fell open on a sound I didn’t mean to make.

Heat flooded my core and climbed my spine, twisting through me in sharp, humiliating waves of pleasure I wasn’t supposed to feel.

Not like this. Not with him like this. But my body didn’t care.

It remembered him, remembered this, even if the version of him pressed against me now was something jagged and monstrous.

He slammed into me again, faster now, his pace unrelenting. Like he hated me. Like he needed me.

“You always make it so easy,” he hissed.

“Always so fucking ready to bend over, aren’t you?

” I flinched, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

“I could destroy you,” he breathed, palm flat against my lower back, pinning me harder to the wall.

“Break you apart until there’s nothing left but a shell.

And you’d still beg for more, wouldn’t you? ”

My breath hitched, but not from fear. Because I would, I would let him ruin me if it meant I could have even a piece of the man he used to be.

“Say it,” he snarled.

“Yes,” I whispered, the words shameful and real. Joey’s rhythm faltered for just a moment, just long enough for him to snarl something unintelligible under his breath and slam back into me even harder, like he was punishing me for saying yes.

His hand slid higher beneath my hoodie, nails dragging across the skin of my back, leaving red-hot lines in their wake. My cheek pressed hard against the wall, and I braced myself with both hands, the sting of rough concrete biting into my palms.

Every thrust knocked the breath from my lungs and made my knees quake. My thoughts blurred. Faded. All I could feel was his fury, his heat, his weight behind every movement. I shouldn’t have let this happen. But now I couldn’t stop… wouldn’t stop.

He growled behind me, one hand twisting in my hair and yanking my head back so he could hiss into my ear, “You want to come for me? Want to scream for the man who hates you?” I whimpered, teeth catching my bottom lip as pleasure knotted low in my belly, coiling tight and sharp like a wire pulled to the brink.

“Do it,” he spat. “Fucking come on my cock like the good little slut you are.”

That was it.

My body broke, convulsing around him with a cry that cracked something open inside me. I screamed his name, loud and raw, all of it too much: the pain, the need, the twisted agony of still loving him.

I felt him snarl against my skin, his rhythm turning erratic, desperate.

His grip bruised my hips as he slammed into me one final time and came with a grunt, hips jerking as he spilled into me.

His teeth clamped down on the curve of my neck, biting hard, so hard I cried out again, breath catching from the sudden flare of pain.

He didn’t let up. Not until I felt warmth bloom under the bite.

I knew he’d broken skin, and it would bruise deep.

He stayed there for a moment, chest heaving, his weight pressing into me like gravity had doubled. And then, slowly, he let me go.

Joey stepped back from me, his hands pulling away, leaving me cold in the empty space between us. His breath was ragged, but he didn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he looked around, almost like he was pulling himself together before he could even think about looking at me.

He adjusted himself, tugging his clothes back into place with mechanical precision, like this was just another thing to check off on some to-do list. His movements were sharp and dismissive, as though he didn’t want to linger on the mess he’d created.

“Fix yourself,” he muttered, his voice raw but still carrying that edge.

It was the command of someone who wanted to get this over with.

He wasn’t even looking at me when he spoke. Just like always, always away from me.

I stayed frozen, my mind still reeling, my body trembling with the aftermath.

He grabbed the duffel bag off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder with a practiced motion, then turned toward the door.

“I’ll meet you outside,” he said, his tone flat. No warmth. No remorse. Nothing.

I stood there, barely holding myself up, as the silence between us thickened. Joey was already halfway to the door before I could even blink, his back to me. Just like that, he was gone.

I could almost see it. A flicker of regret in his eyes.

Maybe? Or maybe it was just the weight of what he’d done settling in.

Or perhaps I was just still seeing what I wanted to see.

But the moment passed before I could confirm it.

He didn’t stay long enough for me to know if it was real or just the reflection of a man who’d gone too far and didn’t know how to fix what was broken between us.

I didn’t wait. I couldn’t. I forced myself to start pulling my clothes back together. My hands were shaking so badly it felt like the smallest tasks were too much for me. The fabric felt wrong against my skin. Everything about me felt wrong.

My palms ached from the burn of the concrete wall. My cheek was raw and scraped, the evidence of his force still marked across me. My knees were also sore and bruising, and they were already starting to swell under the fabric. I knew it would hurt tomorrow. Hell, it would hurt for days.

But none of that mattered. Not really. I was numb. I was just trying to breathe and make sense of the mess inside me, but there was nothing to latch onto. Everything I wanted and thought I needed had crumbled the moment Joey touched me.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand answers. To make him see how much this hurt. But I knew he wouldn’t hear me. He hadn’t heard me all along.

My throat closed up as I swallowed back the tears, the deep, ugly truth that had started to sink in.

I didn’t know if I’d ever get back to what we were.

And I didn’t know if I wanted to. But I also couldn’t stop hoping, couldn’t stop wanting him.

Even though what he’d become was nothing like the man I loved.

I took a deep breath, but it only made the ache inside me worse. I wiped the wetness from my eyes, steadying myself as best as I could. I couldn’t let him see me like this.

The door to the gun range felt miles away as I slowly made my way out. Each step felt heavy, like the weight of what had just happened was pressing me down and holding me in place. I was so small in this moment. And the more I tried to move forward, the more I realized I was walking toward nothing.

I didn’t want to be here but didn’t know how to leave.

By the time I stepped outside, I was already feeling the hollow ache deep in my chest, the one that would likely stay with me for days, for weeks.

The ache that reminded me that I chose to stay.

Joey was already in the car, his hands gripping the wheel, his face hidden in the shadows, making it impossible for me to read him.

I slid into the seat, breathing through the hollow space inside me that had once been filled with hope.

With love. With the sound of Joey laughing against my neck and telling me I was the only good thing in his world.

That version of him felt a million miles away. And I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again.