Page 12

Tabitha

She regretted the words as soon as she said them. Not because the taunt might prick his pride and goad him into losing his temper, but because he really didn’t deserve it.

Letting the comment slide, Grit sat and watched her fumble with the fiddly fastening, his eyes a little more green than brown in the afternoon light. She did love how the color changed subtly; most of the time, they were an interesting combination of the two, merging into a rich hazel shade, but his mood sometimes dictated which was the dominant color.

“Come here, little tiger,” he commanded when nerves got the better of her and her fingers became clumsier. Spreading his thighs, he crooked a finger to summon her closer. “Calm down. Breathe. Take a fucking moment to think about whether you want to do this now.”

Thinking and making decisions were the last things on her mind. She bared her teeth in frustration as the bra refused to cooperate, then yelped when Grit leaned forward and pulled her forward by her hips.

Tabitha vaguely registered Evander sitting back in the chair, fading into the background as though he wasn’t even there. Her brain identified him as not a threat and forgot about him. “Unless you’re going for a quickie, get your pants off.”

Oh, now that was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Grit stood, straightening to his full height and towering over her, his expression darkening to reflect his displeasure. One hand slipped behind her back, freeing the bra clasp with a fast flick. Before she could remove it, he spun her around and shoved her onto the bed.

Her back hit the covers; the breath grunted from her lungs.

“First things first,” he growled, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t care how scared you are, little tiger, you show the same respect to me as I do to you. I’ve been lenient, letting stuff slide, but try and remember who’s the Dom here.”

Oh boy, she’d really hit his authority button.

Unfolding his arms, he reached down and popped the button on her pants, lowering the zipper with a soft whirr. “I give the orders in the bedroom. I hold the safety of your body in my hands. I’m the one responsible for making sure you come out whole on the other side of whatever we do.”

Trembling, Tabitha’s breath caught in her throat. She watched him warily as he gripped one boot in his big hands and tugged it off her foot.

“Until we get past the huge fucking elephant in the goddamn room, there isn’t going to be any quickies.” He almost snarled the word as he yanked off her other boot. “You deserve more than for me to just pull my dick through my zipper and stick it into you. Do you get that yet? You deserve a lot fucking more than what you’ve been given over the years.”

The tension in the room was rocketing. Not the kind she was used to, violent and forbidding. No, this was a thick vibration in the air, humming around them until her bones shook with it.

It only intensified when Grit grasped the hems of her pants legs and pulled, dragging them off an inch at a time. When he tossed them aside, leaving her only in the lilac panties she’d put on that morning, she was a nervous wreck.

Instead of stripping her of that last, meagre defense, he removed his own shirt. As the material fluttered to the floor to join her clothes, he lifted his chin. “Still want me to get my pants off, Tabitha?”

Fight or flight instinct was starting to kick in. There was an edge to his tone she hadn’t heard before, one that itched under her skin. All her exposed, vulnerable skin. She squirmed, trying to crawl backward up the bed without drawing attention to her retreat.

A subtle shift of his weight turned him from a familiar ally into a threat.

“Bunny’s trapped in a corner but she’s not ready to die,” she whispered beneath panicked breaths. “When push comes to shove, gotta lie, lie, lie.”

Grit studied her like a bug on a slide. His eyes never left her as he unfastened his belt, easing the leather through the loops around his waist and dropped it with a harsh jingle of metal on wood.

Before she realized she’d lost a few precious seconds of time, he loomed over her; a big man in his prime, fit, toned, and more naked than she was. Completely naked from head to toe.

The man was well-endowed, undeniably. Even though she’d had that appendage in her hand, the overall visual of him was enough to shock her.

There was no comparison between him and Dominic. The first time her father raped her, it felt as though he was tearing her open with his fist instead of his dick. Assessing the width and girth of the shaft in front of her, with the thick, mushroom-shaped crown, she realized part of Dominic’s fascination with abusing children wasn’t just the power he gained from causing pain.

Fucking children had made him feel like a big man, compensating for the pencil dangling between his legs.

Grit did not have that issue.

With one hand stroking his cock, he curled the other around her ankle, hauling her ass to the edge of the mattress. “Lift your hips and take your panties off, Tabitha. Are you wet?”

This wasn’t how she’d thought it would go. Well, actually, that wasn’t true; it was exactly how she’d imagined it would go when she begged him to fuck her and just get the whole traumatic shitshow over and done.

Close her eyes, spread her legs, and take the first painful thrust without a sound. Suffer through the ordeal, acting her ass off to make him believe she was enjoying the experience.

Somehow, she just hadn’t anticipated him being this way, not after all the care and attention he’d lavished on her to get to this point.

Fingers fisting in the covers, she couldn’t stop her chest from heaving. No matter how deep or fast she breathed, it felt as though her lungs were strangling. She tried to roll away; his fingers clamped down on her ankle like a shackle.

“Don’t think so, little tiger. You want my cock in that tight cunt so bad, you do as you’re told and get rid of the panties. If you make me do it, I’m ripping them off.”

Frantically, her eyes bounced around the room, looking for a way out. Seeking help where there was none. There were no weapons—her body was too captive to terror to function the way it was trained—and there was nothing but the bed and the chair…

Evander.

She locked eyes with the silent Dom, silently pleading. Muscles seizing, bones quaking, she didn’t understand the tilt of his head he gave her in response.

“Grit,” she wheezed when her Dom’s hand stroked up her calf to claim the curve of her knee. “Grit, please, stop. I can’t do this.” She slapped at his hands when he released his cock to press her other knee to the side, opening her in a wide spread. “Grit, Grit, please. Don’t, I’m s-scared. S-S-Stop.”

The heat of his palms burned on her inner thighs.

Her heart threatened to break her ribs.

Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as her babbling pleas deteriorated into whimpers. “Rory, please—”

Everything crashed to a halt.

Relief replaced the intense concentration on his face as he exhaled loudly, lifting his hands clear of her body, taking a step back. “Good girl, little tiger. Good fucking girl.”

What? Reeling from the sudden change in his demeanor, she collapsed into the mattress as her muscles went lax. Trembling, sweating, she finally realized what she’d said to make the torture stop.

Rory.

Panting, she dragged herself up the bed until her back hit the headboard. She felt stretched out, overstimulated, her emotions twanging in discordant notes. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.” Grit bent and retrieved the blanket, sitting on the edge of the bed. Carefully, each movement measured, he draped the warm covering over her, then held out his hand.

Reluctantly, she laid hers in it, flinching when his fingers curled gently around them. The trust between them remained intact, but it was fragile. Her gaze ticked from one man to the other, acknowledging their somber, patient expressions, as though they knew something she didn’t.

“Remember I said he’d need to push you?” Evander asked quietly.

Tabitha blinked, pinning Grit with narrow eyes. Yes, she remembered that, somewhere in the roiling turmoil of her broken mind. Jesus, this was their version of pushing her? “I guess you made your point, huh?”

Grit inclined his head. “One word stops everything, Tabby. Not the nicest lesson to learn, but a necessary one. Unfortunately I think the lesson in forgiveness will be harder; straining your trust in order to strengthen it is a risky business, especially with you. Too much pressure and the bond snaps instead.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip. “I didn’t like it.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Raising their joined hands, he cradled her cheek. “You’re a difficult soul to break, Tabitha. When you’ve been abused all your life, you build defenses. A fortress no one, especially a man, can get through. One you won’t abandon even if it’s crumbling down around you.”

So she liked having a safe space, so what? She’d made it from scratch out of necessity, not some flight of fancy. It was quiet there, pain didn’t have the same debilitating effect, and it was solely hers. It couldn’t be taken away or held for ransom.

“The trouble is, accidents happen when you lock yourself in there. Knowing you, using the safeword is an insult to your pride. There are worse things to damage than that, little tiger, all for the sake of saying one word.” Grit sighed heavily. “I treat women a certain way, Tabitha, and no matter what, it’s always with respect. It’s who I am, how I was raised.”

She stiffened when his fingers caught the blanket, dragging it down her body an inch at a time. Tempting though it was to snatch for it, she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a verbal protest.

“My mother taught me a woman is a queen, a princess, a miracle of fucking nature. She can wear a thousand faces and never reveal her true self.” He skimmed a fingertip over the top of her left breast, following the natural curve. “She’s fire and ice, diamond and glass, and the strongest, most fearsome creature alive.”

Well, Tabitha couldn’t disagree with any of that, but her voice was gone anyway. Mouth dry, she couldn’t take her eyes off the lazy movements of Grit’s fingers as they drew patterns over her skin from the hollow of her throat to her breasts. Around and around the swell of flesh, rolling and tweaking her nipples into tight, rosy peaks.

Stomach muscles clenching, a pulse throbbing between her legs, she swallowed hard enough to make her throat click audibly.

“She won’t submit to just anyone, but the right one…” His voice lowered to a hypnotic murmur, sucking her in. “For the right man, she’ll give her all. It has to be her choice, but she will offer everything she is.”

He let go of her hand, setting it gently on the sheets; she missed the warmth and comfort of it immediately.

“Is this your choice, Tabby?”

How could one simple question cause such conflicting answers inside her? One half of her was ready to take the jump with him, stepping way out of her comfort zone in order to be intimate with him; the other was vehemently making the sign of the cross over her chest as she backed away at a rapid pace.

Which part of her was stronger, braver, more vocal?

She nodded slowly, feeling the walls constrict around her. “Y-Yes.”

“That’s my girl.” Lifting her chin, he studied her face, his gaze stroking over her like an artist touching brush to canvas. “Hmm. I think we’re going to miss a few steps tonight, pretty tiger. Judging by the spooked look in your eyes, foreplay is going to send you running for the hills, and I need you right here with me.”

Alarm rose quickly. If he didn’t mess around with the pre-game stuff first, that meant he was aiming directly for the finish line. “Grit—”

“Forgive me for how this started off,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over her mouth, “and trust I know what I’m doing. Don’t be scared, don’t bolt. Just take calm, quiet breaths and let me have control, okay?”

He was naked; she only had a pair of panties left to protect her sex.

It was tempting to stick her thumb in her mouth and suck on it like she’d seen Alicia do for comfort. Was this what he’d meant by lesson in forgiveness? She had to look past his earlier taunting, the deliberate and successful attempt to intimidate her into using the stupid safeword.

Forgiveness wasn’t in her nature. What had been done to her over the years warranted vengeance, not absolution, and she’d gotten the art of that down to a fucking science.

“I… okay?” Lost in his eyes, she couldn’t think of a reason not to do exactly what he said. There were no lies in them, no malicious intent. Just brown and green and quiet understanding.

His cheeks creased with a smile, barely visible through his beard, but his mouth curved with unspoken approval. “Good girl. Do you need to see my eyes?”

She saw them just fine, she thought in confusion. He had a nice body, but those eyes were—in her opinion—his best feature. The dumbstruck moment didn’t last long, though; she cottoned on to the fact he was asking if she wanted him to maintain eye contact while he fucked her.

Did she?

What would he see other than fear? If there was revulsion for the act itself, would he think it was directed at him? He saw too much already—he plucked thoughts from her head with just a glance; what the hell would he learn if she gave him unfettered access at her most vulnerable moment?

Worrying her lip, she shook her head slowly. Remembering he liked an honorific, she said, “No, Sir.”

“All right.” He slid his hand under the pillows, retrieving a condom. As his deft fingers ripped open the square package, he lifted his chin. “If you change your mind, all you have to do is ask. Roll away onto your side, Tabby.”

“Fuck fuckity fuck, said the rabbit to the buck,” she whispered. The taste of bile rose in her throat as her mouth filled with saliva. Swallowing it down, she forced herself not to throw up and make a fool of herself. “Chin up, the buck told the rabbit, or else getting fucked is gonna be a habit.”

She trembled as the cool sheets pressed against her side. Staring at the white wall in front of her, her heart picked up speed until her pulse resembled one of the eccentric dance tunes she’d heard in an underground club in Germany.

The mattress shifted behind her, depressing under his weight. The trembling escalated until her body erupted in a full-length shudder when his chest pressed against her back, his cock to her ass. Her teeth snicked together painfully, her jaw tightening until it locked.

“Relax, little tiger.” Grit’s left arm slid beneath the pillow, raising it so her neck and head were firmly supported. His other hand caught her hair, sweeping it aside to leave her bare from jawline to shoulder, followed by several gentle kisses along the exposed skin. “We’ll go slow. This pretty pussy is tight so there’ll be some discomfort, but you tell me if there’s pain.”

That pretty pussy was an utter whorebag, she thought in dismay. It was reacting to his proximity like a mare in heat, waiting to be mounted. As his hand stroked down her side to her hip, then along her thigh to nudge it forward, her sex squeezed on emptiness.

“Remember to breathe,” he murmured, nibbling on the sensitive spot beneath her ear. He hummed softly in reassurance when she went rigid beneath the touch of his hand covering her pussy. “Breathe, little tiger. Just need to make sure you’re wet.”

Two fingertips toyed with her clit, gently rubbing in light circles. Her inner muscles clamped down on nothingness, her hips rocking subtly into the caress. She sucked in a shocked breath, not quite as he’d ordered, when those fingers parted her labia and teased her entrance, gliding through the slickness and into her.

“Grit!”

“Beautiful,” he crooned in response to her panicked cry. “This pussy is beautiful, Tabby. She needs some attention, doesn’t she? She’s been used and abused, but she’s worth so much more.” Thrusting carefully, twisting his digits inside her, he continued to assault her neck and shoulder with his mouth. “I value a woman far more than what she offers between her legs, Tabitha. As perfect as this pussy is, you are an even greater treasure. I love you, little tiger.”

Head swimming in hormones and his voice, she didn’t flinch when he removed his hand. There was only slight resistance offered as he stroked down her hip to her thigh, cupping the back and guiding her leg forward, exposing her.

Neck arching in response to his mouth sucking on the most amazing spot in the curve of her shoulder, she closed her eyes on a quiet moan, basking in the tingles of pleasure emanating from that blessed place.

The arm beneath her neck flexed, curling around her upper chest, settling just above her breasts. Warning alarms bleated like claxons in her head, screaming at her to move, to run fast and far away before calamity rained down on her.

Drugged by her own system, her body went lax, her muscles softening to languid mush. Grit’s voice in her ear was so calm, not even a hint of tension, as it whispered in her ear. The words didn’t register, but the tone wound through her brain, trying to silence her internal distress.

His knuckles skimmed her lower back, then her ass, when he gripped his cock in his fist. Her skin twitched at the touch, the accidental caress triggering a quiver that shook her to the core.

“Easy, little tiger.” Grit’s hips shifted; the arm over her chest tightened just a fraction in restraint. “You’ll feel some pressure. No pain, okay? Remember who you’re with, listen to my voice, feel my touch. It’s just me.”

Legs tensing, hips hunching, she dropped out of the relaxed state faster than a stone plummeting down a well. Like that stone hitting the water at the bottom, she smacked into panic with a force that stole her breath and set her bones shaking.

The head of his cock, wide and round, ran up and down her slit lightly, coating the latex covering in her wetness before it notched against her entrance and tested her resolve.

Fuck, she couldn’t do this. It wasn’t him—he’d done everything he could to make every sexual experience tolerable at the least, enjoyable for the most part. But the terror ran so deep inside her, it consumed all she was as though she was brittle wood in a wildfire. The scars Dominic left behind cut beyond skin and flesh and bone; they scored her psyche, her soul.

As if thinking his name summoned the monster, Tabitha recoiled from the visage of her father’s face in front of her. He leered at her from the white, white wall, his eyes glowing with the heated lust she’d associated with pain and horror since being a fucking child.

“Tabitha, stay with me. Here with me, baby.”

The voice drowned out in a chorus of strange noise she couldn’t identify. High, keening whines. Babbling whimpers and unintelligible words. All of it tumbling together into a mess of confusion and unmistakable anguish.

Dominic’s face spun and blurred, those hated blue eyes losing their hold on her.

She found herself flat on her back, pinned to the sheets by warm, heavy weight. Her gaze bounced frantically, searching for the monster, but when it finally locked in one place, she tumbled into the safety of concerned hazel eyes.

“Little tiger,” he murmured sadly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Swamped with relief, she threw her limp arms around his neck, clinging to him in a way she’d never shown affection with anyone else. As her body erupted in shudders, she pressed her face to his skin, breathing in his scent until Dominic—dead, mutilated Dominic—was only a memory once more.

It had to be now, she told herself. Lately, it seemed whenever she was in a difficult position with Grit, it had to be this time. Strike while the iron’s hot, before her composure broke down and left her floundering yet again.

Taking stock of the situation, Tabitha took a deep breath.

Grit was bracing himself on his forearms, suspending his weight above her by a hair’s breadth—the rise and fall of her chest teased her nipples by brushing them against the soft hairs on his pectorals. His stomach pressed lightly against hers, and his pelvis settled into the cradle of her own as though he’d been designed for her.

The thick, heavy length of his cock lay on her mound, still sheathed in the condom. It wouldn’t take much to line it up and…

“Come on, baby, let’s get you dressed.”

Now or never. Speaking slowly, trying to keep her voice as calm and reasonable as she could, she cast aside the reprieve he gave her. “I can’t do this again and again, Grit. We get to here and I freak out, then we start all over again. Please, just do it.”

“Baby—”

Tabitha winced. She’d learned little tiger was his preferred endearment for her, one she rather liked. It implied she had claws and a touch of wildness. He used Tabby or Tabby Cat when he was feeling affectionate.

But he called her baby so rarely, usually when she was at her lowest or most vulnerable moments, acknowledging she was raw and exposed.

“Please. I was wrong; I didn’t want to look at you because I was afraid of what you’d see. I’m more afraid of the monster staring back at me from hell than I am of you.” Okay, that sounded really bad. Another example of her inability to communicate effectively when under duress. “I need this to be over with, Grit. Either I stay celibate for the rest of my life or you go against your instincts and fuck me like a twenty dollar whore.”

“That’s an extreme set of either/or scenarios,” he pointed out.

Saliva turned to ash in her mouth as he shifted slightly on top of her. The subtle alteration of his weight rested pressure on different areas and heat began to gather in her pelvis, a strong flush of warmth sweeping through her veins.

Don’t beg, she told herself. If he got so much as a whiff of desperation off her, he was too chivalrous to push her the way she needed right now. Her white knight wasn’t polished and gleaming, but when it was necessary, he was blinding. “Grit, please, can you not be your conscientious, by-the-book Dom self for like… five minutes?”

“I heard you,” he replied slowly, almost thoughtfully. “Although I got the impression you don’t like a more aggressive approach. I’m not sure I’m comfortable disrespecting your limits to this extent, Tabitha.”

For God’s sake, why did he have to be so fucking nice? Grinding her teeth in frustration, feeling the urge to wriggle free and run, she attempted to bait him into action instead; with jerky, hesitant rolls of her hips, she teased his cock, angling her pelvis until the shaft settled between her labia.

A low rumble of contentment reverberated into her. “Good girl, little tiger. Eyes on mine.”

Startled, she met his eyes and, seeing the calculation in them, realized he’d been waiting for her to make the first move. Before she could react, one big hand slid under her neck to grasp her nape firmly, fingertips finding the right spots to elicit an instinctive submissive response.

As her head tipped back into the pillow, she kept her gaze locked with Grit’s despite her eyelashes fluttering. She knew she should be struggling—after all, she was aware what was coming next—but she’d asked him for this, and the pressure on her nape was just right.

“Atta girl. Eyes on mine, little tiger. I’ve got you.”

Grit rocked his hips lazily, thrusting along her slit once, twice, before letting his cock find her entrance naturally. Pressure of a completely different kind bit between her legs, followed by the godawful burning sensation she remembered all too well, and the painful sting of tight tissues stretching open around something a lot bigger than expected.

She went rigid, unable to breathe as the crown breached her.

Grit groaned under his breath. “Fuck me.”

Holy hell, this was far worse than what her memories portrayed. It hurt, her pussy unused to this kind of attention. Distressed sounds eked from her throat, puffing out on tiny exhales from her straining lungs.

“Can you take a breath, Tabby? Come on, baby, take a breath for me.”

“Hurts,” she wheezed.

“I know. I know, little tiger. Not for long, I promise. Just breathe and let me in. It’s only me. Relax and let me make you feel good.” Eyes never leaving her face, he played her neck like a flute, fingertips tap-tap-tapping those exquisitely sensitive spots until her skin prickled with pleasure. “Stay here with me, Tabby. There’s only you and me; forget about everything else.”

Easier said than done when Dominic and every other man he’d let touch her were standing around like a critical audience, laughing at her ineptitude, relishing the damage they’d inflicted. It was hard not to let Grit’s face waver and transpose into her father’s, to keep the gentle rumble of his voice from taking on a darker, more menacing edge.

It was ridiculous really. Twenty years ago, she’d been the prize whore in Dominic’s duel-purpose stable, getting better and better with each mark until she was fluent in fucking and killing in equal measure.

Now she felt like a virgin all over again; uncoordinated, ungainly, unconfident.

Grit grunted softly. “Too many thoughts muddling up your head, baby. Can’t relax when your brain’s this busy.” His beard scraped her throat as he kissed her rabbiting pulse. “What’s it going to take for me to switch it off?”

If she told him a shovel to the back of her head, he probably wouldn’t like it. In all honesty, she didn’t know. She was physically and psychologically braced for the pain that came with sex; how did anyone switch that off?

“Lift your hands above your head, Tabby. Now,” he added in a dark, authoritative tone that cruised through her blood, winding through her muscles until they trembled.

She obeyed because he was the only one with any power over her. His voice was both freedom and a leash. As she raised her arms, crossing her wrists on the pillow over her head, her body stretched beneath him, encouraging her pelvis to open.

Wrapping his fingers around the joints, he pressed them into the pillow with a biting grip, rendering her immobile. “Next time, my cuffs will be on these wrists, on your ankles. I’m going to tie you down and spend hours exploring you from head to toe. I think I’ll dedicate an hour just to licking this gorgeous cunt, feeling you squeeze my tongue as hard as you’re clamping down on the head of my cock.”

Her toes curled at the reminder. The heavy weight of him was poised between her legs, his crown barely seated inside her entrance. All she had to do was soften, submit, and he’d own her.

“Gonna make you come over and over again, little tiger. My fingers milking orgasms from you inside and out, my tongue lapping up all the cream. This shy little clit won’t know what to do with itself,” he mused, chuckling when her eyes widened. “By the time I’m done with you, Tabby, my name will throb through your veins with every heartbeat.”

She didn’t doubt that in the slightest. The experiences he’d given her with his hands and mouth were balms on raw wounds, his skill obvious and generous to say the least. The memory of that, of how careful he was, how dedicated to her pleasure he’d been, was enough to ease the strain of holding herself rigid.

“Like that, do you?” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against hers. “Want to feel me inside you with every breath, little tiger? Hear my voice in your dreams, smell me on your skin? It feels good, right, to be close to someone. Skin to skin, warm and safe.”

Maybe he had a point. Despite the physical and emotional exposure, there was a comfort she’d never expected from being naked with a man. The heat of his body chased away the chill in her bones; the press of his skin against hers did strange things to her nervous system.

She wanted to burrow into him, hide beneath his protection.

“That’s my good girl, just relax a little more.” His hips rolled slowly, adding gentle pressure against her sex. “Take a deep breath, count to four, and blow it out.”

Oh, damn that tone. Tabitha breathed in so deep, she felt her breasts compress harder into his chest. She held the air in her lungs until spots danced across her vision like tiny red stars and Grit admonished her with a sharp nip to her collarbone; she didn’t just blow it out, it exploded free on what sounded awfully like a sob.

“Shush, little tiger. Everything’s fine.”

Hands fisting, she accepted his first thrust stoically, struggling to stop the pain showing on her face. Teeth biting into her bottom lip, she managed not to scream as panic tore through her, the sense of being suddenly and uncomfortably full overwhelmed her.

The second drive of his hips slid his cock deeper, stretching her internal muscles to the sound of broken whimpers. The third… fuck, the third seated him completely, his crown somewhere in the vicinity of her cervix, and the wide root of his shaft grinding against her clit.

“Easy, Tabby. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Every muscle in his body was poised for action, yet he didn’t move. His breathing was slow and steady; not the shallow, rapid puffs she was accustomed to before a guy blew his load prematurely—not that she’d ever complained.

The faster the better, in her opinion.

Grit wasn’t a one-pump chump. The pride and adoration in his eyes triumphed over the lust, which somehow made her feel more secure. He wasn’t chasing the quickest orgasm, he was waiting—with the patience of a saint—for her to gain her equilibrium.

Admittedly, her pussy was relieved to have something hard and thick to clamp down on, alleviating the annoying ache gnawing at her lower abdomen. Squeeze and release, squeeze and release. Tingles spread over her skin like a rash, needy and insistent, as her hips tilted.

“That’s what I want, little tiger. Show me what you need.”

“Please.” Why the hell was her voice so thready?

“More?”

Because she hated how her voice sounded right now, she nodded hesitantly. He wasn’t hurting her—the discomfort was bearable—but he hadn’t started jabbing his dick into her yet, and that was the worst part.

He teased her mouth with his. “Feeling brave enough to give me a kiss?”

“Can I have my hands back?”

He grinned. “No.”

What the hell did it matter anymore? He’d claimed her fully, broken down every barrier and finally gotten her where he wanted her. She hated kissing almost as much as she loathed sex, yet look at her now. Impaled on a thick shaft, fear ebbing, needing something to spread those tingles further.

She mimicked his teasing brush of lips over lips. “There.”

“Try again.”

Throwing caution to the wind, she gave him what he wanted. Focusing on the fullness of his lips, the shape of his mouth, the scratch of his short beard against her skin, she kissed him as though the clock turned back twenty years and she didn’t have over two decades’ worth of trauma weighing her down.

He swallowed her gasp of shock as he eased out until his crown was barely inside her, then pushed in deep again. She whimpered under her breath, unsure how to handle the sensations spiking through her.

Grit rode her carefully, his chuckle rumbling in her ear when her attention diverted away from kissing him onto… hell, everything else. The rock of his body over hers, how his pelvis nudged her wider with every thrust, the way his cock seemed to brand her as it claimed her over and over again.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“N-Not yet.”

His growl of disapproval made her clench down on him on an instroke, turning it into a groan of pure, male bliss. Touching his forehead to hers, he murmured, “It won’t; you’re safe here. Relax and give your body some room to play, Tabitha. Let it move naturally.”

She couldn’t move at all—she was sandwiched firmly between the firm mattress and Grit’s considerable weight. Maybe she could shift her legs to try to alleviate some of the ache, but all that did was lift her hips and…

Oh.

A little switch in her head flicked off just as it dawned on her that this was what he wanted her to discover; she didn’t have to lay passively, blindly counting down the seconds until the cock inside her kicked and spurted. There was no reason to lock herself away from this—her lover was miles apart from her father in so many ways, she couldn’t count them all.

As her thoughts went silent, her body took over. Hips rising to meet the long, languid strokes of his cock. Falling away when he withdrew. In and out, unhurried and painless.

Anxious whimpers became throaty moans. The stiffness of her muscles flowed into the submission he demanded. The first stirrings of pleasure overrode everything else but the lazy pace of his shaft filling her, leaving her empty, filling her all over again.

“Good girl. Gonna find that sweet spot with my cock, little tiger. The one that makes your toes curl and this gorgeous fucking pussy tighten like a snare.” Hunger flared in his eyes without malice. “I want to feel it around my cock, Tabitha. Feel you milk me, squeeze me, as you come. Need to hear it more.”

Tabitha shuddered, canting her pelvis to meet his next thrust without thinking about it. A flush of wetness drenched her core, sparked by his words and the sudden shock of his crown striking the upper wall of her vagina, gliding over that magic spot too fleetingly.

“There, huh?” With a pleased hum, he latched his mouth onto the place on her neck that connected straight to her core, sucking in long pulls until her knees began to shake.

Flesh slapped on flesh, the sound wet and obscene. She supposed it was better than listening to her own muffled cries as she tried to suppress them, biting her tongue until there was as much blood in her mouth as there was leaking from between her legs.

Grit shifted up a gear, driving into her harder, faster. Rolling his hips when he was balls deep inside her, grinding against her clit. The grip on her wrists flexed, the suction on her neck grew stronger until she began to throb—head to toe, under her skin, in her head, and in her womb.

Breath coming in pants, she arched, stifling a cry as an orgasm gathered in her center, growing teeth by the second. She tilted her head, giving him greater access to her neck, trying to pull her hands free so she could touch him, hold on to him.

The bedframe began to squeak in time with his thrusts.

Control was written all over his face, concentration marring his brow. He pounded into her with calculated force, hitting her G-spot with precision, leveraging himself up on his elbows for a better angle, fixing his gaze squarely on her. “Come, little tiger.”

Skin slid over skin, slickened by sweat.

Breath twined with breath, quickened and warm.

Everything coiled inside her, tightening to the point of pain before her pussy spasmed around his cock, wave upon wave of bliss washing through her. It dragged on and on, nurtured by the steady rhythm of his cock, until the dying dregs of pleasure started to ignite a second time.

“I can’t. No, I can’t. Not again.”

“Hell yes, you’re doing it again.” Dominance, pure and unadulterated, underscored his voice. His breathing was heavier; the motion of his body tightly controlled. “Again and again until I hear you scream, little tiger. I’m not coming until you do.”

She squirmed restlessly, whining in frustration. Her thighs were trembling with the effort of cradling Grit’s hips, absorbing the impact. She was sore and aroused, high on an unexpected rush of dopamine so strong she felt as though her blood was soaring.

The rhythm altered suddenly like a slap to the face. Those long, hard strokes became short and powerful, fucking into her faster than the last. It was an assault on her clit, her G-spot, on every erogenous zone she possessed.

He rode her ruthlessly, hammering her into the mattress. Pushing her back over the edge, wrenching a yelping cry from her, he didn’t stop until she screamed his name, arching beneath him, her pussy strangling his cock as he plunged deep and came with a satisfied groan.

Spaced out and breathless, Tabitha went limp. Quivering fitfully, she wheezed in several frantic breaths, concentrating on a bead of sweat sliding down Grit’s temple. It blurred, her vision wavering with shock and exhaustion.

“That’ll do, little tiger. That’ll do.” Brushing his lips over her cheek, he remained perfectly still, probably enjoying the flutter of her muscles around his softening dick. “Still with me?”

She nodded tiredly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. My perfect, beautiful girl,” he murmured, releasing her wrists. He brought them to his mouth, one by one, kissing the faint red marks left by his restraining grip. “I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life, Tabitha.”

If she wasn’t already glowing like a strip joint sign in the dark, the fresh heat in her cheeks would’ve lit her up like a firework. Uncomfortable with the praise, she let her hands fall to a more natural position on his hips before she simply slid her arms around him.

Everywhere ached. Shoulders, thighs, pelvis.

Heart.

Shaking from more than just two strong orgasms, she pressed her face into the curve of his neck and wept silently. She tasted salt, either from her tears or the sweat on his skin, and felt as though the foundations of her existence were crumbling from under her, never to be the same again.

*

Grit

He was in heaven.

Tabitha’s tears weren’t those of regret—if she’d regretted anything about what they’d just done, she’d have kicked his ass and left—but of deep, painful emotional release. She’d allowed him to gouge her down to the core, purge some of the darkest, dirtiest fears plaguing her, and hollow her out.

She clung to him, her nails anchoring her hands to his back. Warm breath gusted over his upper chest in hiccupping sobs, yet she never made a sound. Muscles quaked beneath him, around him, trembling with shock and the last remnants of her orgasms.

The ripple of her pussy around his cock was going to stay with him for a while.

“Cry it out, little tiger. Hold on to me and let it go.” He hated that she suffered so much. That he, in part, was responsible for some of that pain—after all, he’d bent and pushed some of her limits to get to this point. “I’m right here. Everything’s okay, Tabby. You did good.”

She shuddered and clung harder.

Deciding talking wasn’t what she needed, Grit started to hum instead. He could honestly hold his hands up and say humming wasn’t something he’d ever done moments after sex, while he was still inside his partner, with their sweat and bodily fluids still wet between them.

Remembering they hadn’t been alone, he froze, then glanced over to the corner where Evander should be. Gratitude and relief filled him when he discovered their friend was absent; Grit thought he’d probably slipped out of the room while they were… distracted.

Humming the wordless tune, he played with Tabitha’s hair, stroking the bare skin he could reach without moving. The sobs slowed, her breathing steadied. The quivering stopped, her muscles relaxing until she was utterly, peacefully limp.

When her head thumped softly onto the pillow, he eased back to see her face. Still flushed, lightly sheened with sweat, her cheeks wet with her tears, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Those eyes he loved were little more than pale blue slits between eyelids as pink and swollen as her lips.

“Tired, little tiger?”

A soft whimper. “Just need a minute.”

Yeah, she was gonna be out like a light in thirty seconds, he thought as her head tipped to the side before she jerked it back. There was only so much fear and stress a body could take before the toll was too much—add in a couple of orgasms, flood the brain with hormones, and the whole system collapsed.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Take as many minutes as you need.”

A quiet snuffle was the only answer he got. Tuckered out, she fell asleep exactly as she was, her pussy enveloping his cock, her arms loose around his waist.

Because he could, he watched her sleep. She looked younger somehow, without the internal glow of madness she emitted when awake. Without those pretty eyes and her quick wit to distract him, it was easy to see the softer side of her she hid so often.

God, he loved her. The kind of love he hadn’t thought he’d find, the kind that gripped his heart in an iron fist, squeezing tighter every time he saw her or heard her laugh, filling his veins with primal need whenever she fired snark in his direction or threatened him with violence.

The trust she put in him brought him to his knees, not that he’d tell her so. The last couple months of bonding, working hard to build her faith in him, hadn’t cost him anything in comparison to what Tabby brought to the table.

There was no denying he wanted more. More of her, on every level. Moving in together was a monumental step—for them both. While he’d had relationships in the past, sharing a home had never been part of the process. It involved intimacy he hadn’t been comfortable indulging in before her.

Now they’d cleared the sexual hurdle, he hoped her confidence would soar. She deserved to know what it felt like to embrace a key part of herself without fear or shame, to explore her wants and desires without Dominic dictating everything from position to partner.

Asshole.

With time, she’d flourish. The bare bones of a passionate, outgoing sexual creature were there, waiting to be flesh out and formed into vibrant being. He’d felt her willingness to respond beneath her hesitancy, sensed her uncertainty and confusion—she’d always been fucked, never taught how to find her own pleasure.

Grit rested his cheek against hers for a moment, relishing the contact before he dropped a kiss on her collarbone and, with the utmost care, eased out of her. Removing the condom, he tied it in a knot as he strode over to the stainless steel sink in the corner. Depositing it in the trash can, he washed his hands, then soaked the washcloth Evander had kindly left in warm water.

Returning to the bed, he tended to her pussy, cleaning between her swollen folds gently until he was satisfied. He found a treasure trove of gifts from the giant Dom in a basket beside the bed—water, chocolate, protein bars, ibuprofen, and a finger-sized bottle of aloe vera gel—and promptly put the gel to good use.

A light knock on the door spun his head around.

“Safe to come in?” Evander murmured.

“She’s asleep.”

“Are you surprised? If she can think straight when she wakes, it’ll be a miracle.” Bending to fit through the door without bashing his head, he didn’t venture any further forward. “I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay before I head back to the city. Elias is in charge of packing up the hotel room, and Callie is in full Little mode. She’s driving him crazy.”

“Which you think is hilarious,” Grit commented.

“Of course. That stick up his ass gets in the way sometimes; Callie knows how to wind him up until he snaps, and then we all reap the rewards.” Anticipation gleamed in those dark eyes. “Feel free to stay here as long as she needs. I’d say use the cabin, but you’ll probably be more comfortable here until we get it furnished.”

“Thanks. For everything, Evander.”

“Call me Van. Do you think my being here made a difference?”

Grit glanced at his girl. “Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t think she even remembered you were here, but on some subconscious level, maybe your presence was reassuring. Regardless, I appreciate you taking the time to chaperone.”

“Always happy to help.” Evander gave him a long, considering look. “You know, the amount of patience a man possesses makes a statement. Tabitha’s a lucky woman, or perhaps an astute one; she chose very well for her savior.”

“Are you trying to make me blush?”

The blond’s grin flashed. “I’ve only got eyes for Eli and my Callie, but it would be interesting to see how far down that blush could go.”

What? Dropping his gaze down his own body, Grit rolled his eyes. “Mature, Van. Real fucking mature.”

Laughing, the giant idiot tipped his head. “I gotta go. There’s food and supplies in the other room if you need them. The crews won’t disturb you in the morning, should you decide to stay.”

That was the best thing about friends, Grit thought as Evander took his leave. They might rib the hell out of him, annoy him, even piss him off to the point of losing his shit, but friends like Eli and Evander, Jasper and Atticus… they always had his back no matter what.

Would that change now he was literally in bed with a serial killer? Mass murderer? Whatever the hell Tabitha was in the grand scheme of things.

Obviously, Elias and Evander didn’t have an issue with it. They’d spent enough time with her to realize she was more than what she purposefully portrayed herself to be; Atticus and Jasper were probably more hesitant to believe that, seeing as they’d witnessed her brutality up close and personal.

Settling in beside her, resting his arm over her stomach, Grit sighed and wondered how Jasper felt about becoming his brother-in-law at some point in the future. The sadist had his opinions on his sister, that was for sure—whether he approved of her being in a relationship shouldn’t matter, but for some reason, it mattered to Grit.

Tabitha’s opinion was the one he held above all others, but Jasper’s came in a close second.

Trying to imagine how a conversation where he asked the sadist for his blessing might go, Grit trailed absent circles over the soft skin under his fingertips. Warm and silky, a little damp. Rising and falling gently with quiet breaths.

Yeah, he was gonna marry this woman. Tie himself to her, bind himself to her wildness, chain himself to all she was for as long as they had time on this earth.

Because the moment seemed to call for it, he began to hum again, low in his throat. Something quiet and melodic to fill the silence so she’d know she was safe when she woke, especially if her dreams were fraught with memories of her father.

She slept for another twenty minutes, thankfully undisturbed. As a plus, she didn’t try to murder him before her eyes opened; she stiffened when she felt him pressed against her, then relaxed as best she could once he murmured her name.

“Did I do good?” she mumbled.

He wondered how many times she’d asked Dominic that after he’d raped her, and what the consequences had been; her father’s reputation wasn’t a lenient one—no doubt she’d been punished for a lackluster performance in the past.

Grit kept his voice light, positive. “You were perfect, Tabby. So brave.”

“I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

Well, at least he hadn’t terrified her so badly she didn’t want to do this again, he mused, but he wasn’t pleased by her response. “Listen to me, Tabby. All you need is confidence, okay? That comes with time and,” he added suggestively, “lots and lots of practice.”

Slowly, painfully, she lifted her gaze to his. She’d hate that her emotions were so clearly written on her face. “Does that mean all the crying hasn’t put you off?”

He didn’t miss the subtle flinch as he lifted his hand to her cheek. Carefully, he traced the pale lines on her skin where her tears dried in streaks. “I don’t mind if you cry, little tiger, as long as the cause isn’t something I’ve done by accident. There’ll be times when I make you cry because you need to purge, and times when I wring tears from you just because I fucking want them. Want them any which way I can get them,” he told her solemnly, “because they’re rare and special, and when you cry, they belong to me. Just like you.”

Those emotional defenses she erected and maintained so thoroughly had obviously been seriously compromised, he realized, when the pale blue of her irises—usually as cold and foreboding as her brother’s—swam with a fresh haze of the precious, beautiful tears he prized. “What happens when you don’t want me anymore? If I give you everything, where’s the challenge?”

Dominic and his cronies had taken it all from her, Grit thought bitterly. Stripped her, gnawed on her bones like locusts until she’d become the woman she was today. What little childhood she’d had was stained and marred, the child she’d been lost far too early.

Inhaling so deeply it sounded like a growl, he locked eyes with her, searing them together with all the love and dominance inside him. “I don’t love the challenge, Tabitha. I don’t see you as a prize for being able to see past a lifetime of torture and pain to the woman beneath. I love you, Tabby. I love the woman you see in the mirror every morning, even if you don’t. I love the woman who fights like a fucking ninja and can take down a dozen men in the dark with one arm tied behind her back. I love the woman who broke away from years of training to follow her own agenda and protect children around the world from the same pain she suffered. I love,” he continued darkly, “the woman who trusts me enough to lay under me, to let me put my hands on her, to do things to her that she’s only ever associated with pain so horrible, she’s lived a life without physical contact to avoid going through it again. Who do I fucking love that much, Tabitha?”

Her bottom lip quivered. “Me?”

“You. There is never going to be a day I don’t want you, when I crave you being within touching distance just so I can take your hand and feel your skin against mine in a room full of people.” He let his thumb swipe away a sly tear as it slipped from the corner of her eye. “Give me everything, and I’ll take it, Tabitha. I’ll hold it close, protect it, cherish it. In return, you’ll get all of me, all that I am and have to offer in this lifetime.”

She made the softest, sweetest sound of acquiescence.

Grit knew not to expect the words back, but the kiss she gifted him was as welcome as any declaration of love.