Page 33 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)

Lyra

The Sentimentality

I was silent as Carver adjusted the lace back over my aching pussy.

I remained silent as he helped me down from the counter.

My lips were sealed shut as he cupped my head in his hands and checked me over—my disheveled hair, the uneven straps on my shoulders, and lipstick that must’ve been smudged to hell.

I didn’t say a single word as he adjusted all of those things, and he didn’t say a word, either.

It was funny how that tongue of his could wag when he was eating me out, both to speak and to—well, make me come, as I’d asked. No, begged. I begged him to continue, and he obliged. But now that it was over, neither of us could seem to form any words.

Carver’s fingers threaded through mine as he guided me to the exit, the bar still as lively as it had been when we entered. Only that dash of red had been missing from the lot, and if my lips weren’t numbed shut, I’d probably smile at the reminder of what had just happened.

Vengeance was nice. What wasn’t so nice was the twist of my insides as Carver squeezed my hand when he looked over his shoulder.

When his eyes raked over my body as if he was making sure I was okay.

When those same eyes shifted to the truck I hadn’t realized we were already standing beside, the passenger door wide open and ready for me.

I blinked, trying to blend the man before me with the one I’d known all those years ago. The last time I’d done this, all I saw was a monster. A man so fixed on anger that he’d bend the bars of Hell to make everything as he thought it should be again.

It seems I’d been wrong about what he was breaking free from Hell to do.

I didn’t know how to handle you comin’ back, but now, I do.

“Ly.” His voice broke as his hand slid to the small of my back. He cleared it quickly. “Do you want me to help you get in?”

His help ? First, I needed a room to stay in. Then, he made it so I needed him and a contract for money. Help only led to being damned.

“No.” I hauled myself into the truck faster than he seemed to register, and when I slammed the door in his face, he was lucky he took a step back before the metal dinged his head.

He took a few beats before stepping around and settling into the driver’s seat, but when he did, I was done being silent.

“What was all that in there?”

“All that? ” he asked.

I huffed in agitation. “You’re really going to make me repeat what happened?”

“Yes, actually.” He dropped the keys to the space between us. “Continue.”

“First”—I held up my hand, lifting a finger—“you brought me to a bar, but it couldn’t be just any bar, could it? No. You picked your parents’ bar—”

“ My bar,” he corrected.

“Of-fucking-course it is.” I paused, then grunted as I continued, “ Fine . Your bar. You took me there ”—I pointed at the building, then went back to my raised finger, ready to add another—“and then you acted all possessive, like I’m your damn prop—”

“You are my wife, remember?” He lowered his tone, and his eyes darkened. “Of course, I’m going to be possessive over you.”

“ Then ”—I added a third finger, looking away from those inferno eyes—“you—”

His fingers gripped my chin and dragged my head back. “Look at me when we’re fighting.”

“Or fucking , right? Like what you decided to do in front of an ex-girlfriend, giving me no other choice but to—”

“When I was devouring your very wet, very turned-on cunt, you mean?” His brow arched. “We have yet to fuck. Not since our contract was written, anyway,” he clarified, and my blood boiled.

I slapped my hand down on my thigh. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“I’m getting rid of this Article Five shit right now.” I pointed at his pants. “Remove them. Now.”

Both brows shot up this time. “You care when a girl watches, but a whole bar is okay?” There were no windows in the front, it was still relatively early to leave a bar, and the people were all inside, not out.

I formed a fist in my lap. “I don’t give a damn who sees. My gripe is with you takin' advantage of being able to order me around, knowin' you’re holding twenty-thousand dollars over my head if I don’t.”

He unbuttoned his jeans, then reached for the zipper.

“And, in your mind, if you fuck me now, you won’t have to do it anymore.

You’ll just get it all over with.” He finished unzipping, then thumbed the folded-over flap of his jeans as he studied every curve of my body.

“Am I understandin’ this correctly, little Ly? ”

“Yep.”

Carver smirked. “You’ll want to fuck me again.”

“Doubtful.”

His hand slid beneath his jeans, and I didn’t waste a moment as he freed himself. I swung my leg over as his fist closed around his exposed cock.

“Lyra,” he growled as I shimmied my hips back and forth, trying to line us up. “I’m not trying to—”

Whatever he had to say could wait. I sank down, immediately regretting my decision as his piercings rubbed against my walls. I could feel exactly how far I’d gone because the barbells were reaching places I’d never felt before.

Carver’s head tipped back in clear ecstasy. “ Fuck,” he groaned, circling my clit with his thumb, easing some of the pain.

“I hate you.” I moaned, biting hard on my lip to keep from crying out as one of his hands slipped beneath my dress and grabbed my ass, guiding me up and down his length.

“Hate me more, Ly.” His head fell in the crook of my neck. “ Fuck , you feel as good as you taste.”

“You knew that already, asshole.”

He chuckled, then peppered gentle kisses up and down my neck, keeping a slow rhythm of rising and lowering me down on him.

“Relax for me.”

My chest tightened. “I don’t need to relax. I need you to go faster.”

He instantly pushed in so deep I saw stars. “Can you handle faster?”

Probably not. “I can handle anything.” Wrapping my fingers around his biceps, I swirled my hips, my tender clit rubbing against him. “Faster.”

“The truck will bounce.”

I gripped his hair, pulling him away from my neck so I could look him in the eye. “Then make it fucking bounce.”

“Grab onto the headrest.” His fingertips dug into my hips as he adjusted his legs.

I rolled my eyes. “Really?”

“Well, if you wanna question it—”

His hips bucked up, and I gasped as he started rutting into me with vigor.

Car’s thick cock filled me over and over, his fingers digging into my hips so hard, I was sure he was bruising me.

The truck rocked, squeaking with age and I threw my hands up to the ceiling to keep my head from banging against it, though maybe that would smack some sense into me.

“I can’t—” Breathe. Think. Everything was all feeling , and what I was feeling was too damn much.

“You can ,” he said. My body jerked up and down as I kept my hands above my head. Then, suddenly, he stopped and gripped my wrists. “Head. Rest. That was an order.” I glowered as he tossed my hands over his shoulders. “Hold on to the metal bars.”

I reached for the silvery rods behind his head, but stopped when my lips came close to his nose. He tipped his chin up, full lips quirked into a sinful smirk only an inch from mine. The heat of his eyes burned over my lips, my cheeks, then my hair.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it was you.” His hands roamed over my back, caressing the groove of my spine, his touch mapping out the flesh he once had memorized. Perhaps, he’d never forgotten.

Time seemed to blur together—our first time having sex meeting with the here and now.

I turned toward the window, pinching my dampening eyes closed.

“I told you to go faster, not make it sentimental.” My fingers clasped the cold metal definitively just as his hands stopped in the middle of my back, right over my birthmark. “Please.”

“Ly—”

“We’re not going there. You heard what I wanted.”

His head fell back to the headrest, his face turning blank. No agitation, no signs of giving in or defeat, just—blank. His still-hard cock pulsed inside me while a heaviness settled between us. “Fast, huh? To get this over with?” The tip of his tongue pressed into his bottom lip.

“Yep.”

The only thing he shifted was his hold on me, any semblance of gentleness or warmth I’d felt before turning cold, like the metal in my hands. His nails dug into my flesh, gripping onto my hips like they were nothing more than a set of handles for him.

He started fucking me— brutally fucking me. Every thrust was hard and fast and utterly brutal. Holding onto the headrest kept me close to his lifeless eyes, no semblance to the animal I’d seen him become when he fucked my mouth. He’d at least been recognizable then, but now?

I didn’t know who was thoroughly pounding into me, bringing me more pain than pleasure. The man under me was different. He was hollow and scorned. Past caring about the world around him as he sought his own pleasure.

He’d become utterly brutal.

My pussy was in pain, his length and girth alone hard to take as it was, but with his pace, it had become agonizing to feel.

To watch.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes before he gave up, ripping me from his cock and planting me in the passenger seat, leaving both of us unsatisfied in more ways than either of us was willing to say.

His jaw set in a tight line, and with the lack of eye contact, his blankness turned quickly into anger, or maybe regret.

Carver fixed his boxers and jeans, started the truck, and began driving back down the two-lane road before I could register to fix my own panties or put on a seatbelt.