Page 72 of Ly to Me

“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 allfeeling, and what I was feeling was too damn much.

“Youcan,” 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, fulllips 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—brutallyfucking 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.

26

Carver

The Redo

Igave my heart to Lyra Thomas before I lost my virginity to her. I didn’t give her a piece or a chunk, I gave her the whole damn thing. I didn’t realize that at the time. It wasn’t until I tried to numb the pain by indulging in any woman who hit onme that it struck me that I might have a problem. Flash me a smile or call me sexy, and I was sold. I started fucking to feel, but ended up getting the opposite result. Every time I hooked up with someone, I felt less. Became less.

Hollow would be too expressive of a word to say how I felt during those times, because I just…didn’t. Not even the shell of me had anything to give. It was a shock that I’d been able to come at all with anyone that wasn’t her.

The first petite brunette I slept with after Lyra triggered a response I didn’t know I was capable of having. Hadn’t even registered to try recreating her image, but it fucking worked. If I turned them over, covered their face, and focused on the hair or pieces of their body that were similar enough, I’d be able to picture her beneath me. It was always her. I didn’t even try to fight it. What worked, worked.

Ten years of doing that, however, had turned me cold. Even I could see the monster I’d become.