Page 34 of Unwritten Vows

Liza

It’s almost midnight, and I’m sitting up crying again, when my phone chimes.

I know it’s Derrick, because I have a special chime for him.

It’s just an innocuous sound, but my brain begs me every time to delete it.

Not to read it. To block his stupid number from my phone. And every time, I read it anyway.

I do the same tonight.

Derrick: I’m outside. B side entrance.

My mouth drops open. He can’t be serious. If my father’s guards see him lurking around out there he’s going to be fucked. I feel like I have to answer, which is probably why he pulled this stunt in the first place.

Liza: You’re going to get yourself shot.

It takes a while, but I get a text back a couple minutes later.

Derrick: Too late.

My face falls. Even with silencers, I would have heard that, right? What will I do if—

Derrick: Just kidding. But if you don’t come see me soon, I might have to do something stupid.

My nostrils flare, and even though he’s not here, I try to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up. I don’t want to laugh at anything he says.

I find myself drifting down the stairs as quietly as possible so as not to alert Daddy. By now he’s guessed that something is going on with Derrick and I, even though Derrick hasn’t been linked with any other women. He clearly hasn’t been told otherwise or he would be throwing a fucking fit by now.

As soon as I see him, even in the darkness, I go weak in the knees.

He looks like Leonardo DiCaprio in Romeo & Juliet , staring at me through the bars of the gate as if I’m the most precious thing in the entire universe.

As if he knows what he’ll have to go through to obtain me, but is defiantly going to do it anyway.

Any resolve I had slips through my fingers. I grab the iron bars between us and push my face up against them. “What are you doing here?”

It doesn’t come out nearly as accusatory as I’d like it to, and he knows it. He smirks. “I’m checking up on you, moy Zaychik .”

“I have a lot of guards to do that for me. Why are you really here?”

He keeps my gaze held in his. “There are different reasons to check up on someone. Now that you’re safe, my reasons are different.”

I don’t have patience for this tonight. “Derrick, what do you want?”

He pushes his face through the bars against mine. “I want you , Liza. I just want you. I can’t stop it. I can’t stand it.”

I close my eyes against his forehead and lose all sense of self-preservation. “Same,” I breathe out against him.

That gives him permission, I suppose, to kiss me through the bars, and I know that with this barrier between us, all I have to do is push back to stop it anyway. But I don’t. Of course I don’t.

“Fuck this,” he says, pushing off the fence and beginning to climb.

“Derrick, there’s razor wire at the top —”

He throws a mat of some sort over top of the wire and clambers over, dropping down in front of me. I’m speechless.

He kisses me hard once he drops down, pulling my body into his. “It’s the floor mat from my car,” he whispers coarsely against my mouth. “Learned that when I was fifteen years old.”

It’s hard to stay mad at someone who just braved barbed wire for me, but I try to stand my ground, pushing at his shirt, while kissing him back at the same time. “But you said I shouldn’t bother to wait—”

“I lied,” he says, pushing me against the fence and putting his cold hands under my nightshirt. It’s an unseasonably cool summer night, and I shiver, although the sensation when he covers my breasts with them and squeezes drives me wild.

“But this is driving me crazy—”

He puts his other hand into my pajama pants and groans when he notices I’m not wearing underwear. “You think you’re going crazy? I haven’t felt this tight pussy in over a week.”

I push him away in a huff. “Derrick, if you don’t stop trying to fuck me in my backyard, I’m going to scream. And that would be way worse here than it would anywhere else, trust me.”

He finally backs off. “Fine, fine. That’s not why I came here anyway.” I look at him knowingly. “Okay, it’s not the only reason I came here.”

I cross my arms over my chest, but I’m not sure I can be angry at someone who just jumped over a barbed wire fence to be closer to me. “You need to explain yourself.”

He finally has the good sense to look somewhat cowed. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

I pinch my sinuses. “You told me not to wait for you.”

He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You shouldn’t. But that’s not why you stopped answering me.”

I should’ve known he’d see through that excuse. And he’s right. “What does it matter? You have me hanging by a thread.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Hanging by a thread? I told you not to wait and that it’s not going to look good for a while. I told you that you would continue to be in danger if we keep seeing each other publicly. I’m not sure what else I can do.”

I look at him as if he’s very stupid, turning my palms up and cocking my head to the side. “Seriously?” I motion between us. “There’s nothing worse than you coming here when I try to cut it off!”

He stares at me hard, trying to think of something to say, and then finally breathes out in frustration.

“Fine, I know. I just wanted you to tell you… I hate this. And I’m sorry that you’re seeing someone I used to be on social media but don’t want to be anymore.

” He takes a deep breath and lets his hands fall to his sides in defeat.

“I’m still sorry you have to see it, even when it’s not my fault. It’s what I have to do.”

I sigh in frustration now. “I know, Derrick. You’ve said all of this. But what do you want? To just meet in the dark and have sex? What kind of relationship is that?”

He shrugs. “For us? It’s better than what most billionaires have.”

He’s always saying the same thing—the same bullshit reasoning. “You’re wrong, Derrick. Because we are not billionaires. We can have what we want. We just can’t have what we want if we care about their money.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “If only it were about money,” he says quietly.

“But it makes sense that you’d say that, since it wouldn’t matter what you did anyway.

You would have everything no matter what.

But imagine what would happen if we left and went out on our own, with only what those normal people have?

Without the security and the cameras, the constant attention?

We would be targets, Liza. I could be happy without my father’s money, but I literally can’t live without it. Because without it… I’d be dead.”

The look on his face is too much for me to bear. It’s different than I’ve ever seen him—dismayed and lost. I can’t stand it. So I go to him.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry, I know you don’t have a choice.” I swallow hard. “Fuck your dad.”

He laughs into my hair. I decide that I’m done denying him. I’m going to let him do whatever he wants to me now. And he does.

He pushes me down into the cold grass, rucking up my gauzy nightshirt just past my thighs.

We can’t be loud, and although we’re out of sight of the cameras now, we shouldn’t be throwing our clothes off.

So he simply unleashes himself from his pants, pushes his hand down on my mouth, and spears into me, like he can’t wait another moment.

He’s smart, because I can’t help myself from crying out, but it gets muffled by the hand bearing down on me.

“Shush, sweet girl. You know I always make you feel good. You know I just want to make you come.”

The words light that familiar fire within me. He sucks my nipples through my shirt, leaving hot, wet spots all over my nightgown. I hate that he can make me feel this good. Why does it have to be him? How does he do this?

But in the end, it doesn’t really matter. He is doing it. He’d probably be able to even if I didn’t believe him. But God help me, I do. I believe every fucking word he says.

“When I take my hand off your mouth, you say my name. You say my fucking name, and then you come with me, got it, baby?”

I nod, and he takes his hand off my mouth, digging into the ground beside my head so he can thrust harder and faster, pushing me up and down over the grass, making grass stains all over my nightgown, I’m sure.

I don’t even want to clean them. I want to lie in them all night, hold this to my face while he’s not around, and remember this moment of getting railed into the dirty ground over and over again.

I look directly into his eyes, putting all of my emotion, my fear, my uncertainty, and my love into the gaze. “Derrick,” I say, letting it fall from my lips like a hopeful prayer.

He groans my name back before closing his eyes and pushing into me as far as he can go, pulling my thighs in a death grip to bring me closer, squeezing me so tightly it’s sure to leave bruises.

And all of it—the pain, the pleasure, the feeling of his warm cum and his hard cock twitching inside of me—finally gives me my own release.

I give myself time to really appreciate this moment as he pushes his cum up inside of me and puts my underwear on.

He takes me in his arms, cradling me like a child, and it’s only when I feel his hands swiping at my cheeks that I realize I’m crying.

His face is a mask of true sadness. There’s more emotion in there than I ever thought I’d see, and he’s barely holding back.

I don’t know what this means, but it appears that I’m not getting over Derrick any time soon. Knowing I have every last piece of his heart is going to have to be enough. At least for now.