Page 115 of Forgive Me Father

“It’s just a cut—”

“Not to me,” He snaps, cupping my face with a desperate intensity. “I’m supposed to protect you, shield you from all the darkness in the world—”

“That’s not living, Roman,” I counter softly, my gaze filled with regret. “No one can be shielded from all the evils of the world. If you try, you’ll only drive yourself mad.”

His eyes drift to his shirt, still stained with Eric’s blood. The grim reality of our situation hangs heavily between us.

“You’ve already risked so much by staying. Don’t torment yourself over the fact that some people are beyond redemption,” I comfort him.

“It’s consuming me,” He whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. “This longing, this overwhelming urge to keep you close, to make sure you’re only mine—”

His gaze falls to the cut on my back, and I wince as he touches it gently.

“It angers me,” He continues, his voice trembling with emotion. “It angers me that your pain brought no satisfaction. It angers me even more that I wish I were the one who inflicted it—”

“Roman,” I interject softly, halting his distressing tirade. “I asked you to come here, not just to my house, for a reason. I know who you are, Roman Briar. So take the key, and—”

Before I can finish, he lifts me effortlessly over his shoulder, draping my upper body down his back. His hand rests possessively on my ass as he strides toward the bedroom.

“Remember, Eden, you asked for this,” He growls, a predatory smile tugging at his lips.

“I know,” I whisper, a smile of my own forming. “So don’t disappoint me.”

Coiling the rope around my wrists, he binds them above my head, keeping my body restrained on the bed. The closet doorstands ajar, revealing a collection of torturous devices: nipple clamps, leg spreaders, vibrators—everything a mind could conceive. Roman has amassed it all.

“How many women have seen the inside of your closet?” I ask, watching him move away from my wrists.

“Just you,” He replies, a hint of pride in his voice. “I thought collecting might curb the urge to use them. Clearly, that’s not the case.”

He pulls off my skirt, leaving me clad only in my crop top and underwear, my anticipation growing with every move he makes. Shirtless, his body in the dim light is a sight to behold. Tattoos snake up his arm and neck, ending at his hip, the intricate designs accentuating his muscular form. His dark sweats hang low, and he tugs at the drawstring, letting his hand brush over his growing length.

“So, Angel,” He purrs, inching closer, “are you ready?”

“Depends,” I retort with a sly smile, “how hard do you plan on going?”

“As hard as you can handle,” He murmurs, his voice low and intense.

Roman retreats to the closet, emerging with a concealed object. With deliberate slowness, he pulls me to the end of the bed by one ankle, stretching me as far as my bound wrists allow, the strain adding a thrilling edge.

He yanks down my underwear and kneels at the foot of the bed. With my legs draped over his shoulders, he gains full access, the anticipation making my heart race. He retrieves a large silicone toy from behind his back, the same one he used to prepare me for his size.

“If you cum from this,” He threatens, his voice a dark whisper, “I’ll make sure you regret it. The only pleasure you get to have is from my cock.”

He spits on my exposed warmth before dragging his tongue slowly down my folds, his touch deliberate and torturous. My breath hitches, small whimpers escaping as I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation.

“Do you want it inside you?” He teases, nipping at my inner thighs, driving me to squirm.

I glance down at him, a smirk playing on my lips. “I want nothing more.”

His eyes darken with a mix of desire and anger as he slides the toy into me, filling me completely. My hips buck, and my back arches in response, craving more.

“You like it, Eden?” He asks, his voice brooking no argument.

“I’d like your mouth even more,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Why don’t you—”

He doesn’t need further encouragement. His mouth lands on my swollen clit, his tongue working in tandem with the toy. He thrusts the toy into me with unrelenting force, his mouth teasing and tormenting, pushing me to the brink. I struggle against the bindings, desperate to free my hands, to push him away before the climax overwhelms me.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” He asks, his grip firm on my thigh. “Are you going to cum on something that isn’t my cock?” His tongue trails slowly over my clit, sending shivers through me.