Page 18

Story: Vow of Vengeance

CHAPTER 18

Ophelia

Heaven’s gates were opened by his fingers dancing on me. He made me come. Hard. I saw stars. As quickly as he brought euphoria with his hands, he shatters it with his hurtful words.

“I can’t wait to fuck this tight little hole,” he says.

How could someone who made me feel so alive also be the one to bring me crashing back down and feeling used? Does he only see me as a tight hole to be used for his pleasure? I had never let anyone get this close to me, but now I question if I ever should have.

My blurred vision clears, and I push him away, my anger building. “How dare you talk to me like that.”

He tries to backtrack, but the damage is done. “I didn’t mean it like that. It was just… talk.” Wrong. He doesn’t see me as a person but as just another conquest.

He knows I’m a virgin, not an experienced woman who likes this kind of thing, and his words cut deep.

“It wasn't sexy or alluring; it was degrading,” I say. “I’m not one of your experienced one-night-stand older women looking for a good time.”

He looks at me wide-eyed. “What? How did I make you feel that way?” His face shows genuine shock.

I feel icky. Unsure of myself. Am I being too much? Too sensitive? Too… young?

This was not how I envisioned my first time being with someone.

“This isn’t about me. At all. This is about you and your… you know what—” I get up to leave, but he stops me.

Quickly he moves in, scooping my face into his hands. He stares deep into my eyes. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” As he speaks, he’s angling his body over mine, his legs maneuver against mine, and the head of his cock is finding its way between my legs.

I go from hating him to wanting him in a few breaths.

Desire builds back up inside me so fast that blood rushes to my head. I feel dizzy. The most fight I can muster is a weak “Okay.” Self-loathing washes over me for my weakness.

My body wants him, and she’s winning the fight.

“Let me make you feel good, baby. I want to show you things you’ve never experienced before. You’re so beautiful, so sexy. I lost my mind momentarily because I want you so badly.” His eyes never waver from mine as he presses the head of his cock to my entrance. The possessive hunger flashing in his dark irises is enough to make me forgive him.

Almost.

He stares at me. “Can I keep going?”

Can he?

I’ve never been wanted like this.

It feels good. Too good.

Am I in that stupid stupor I’ve seen other girls my age succumb to? The “believe anything he says” phase? Letting his smooth words woo me like a siren’s call, letting him in places a man like him should never be.

I used to laugh at girls who let their hormones win out over their brain cells. I felt superior, at least knowing I was using Carter as much as he used me. But with Haze, it’s different.

Everything’s different. My entire world has changed.

And I’m completely out of control, like now, when that heady look of need fills his gaze as he stares at me.

It’s too much. I have to look away.

He captures my chin in his hand, forcing me to make eye contact with him. “You’re better than me,” he says, meaning every word. “You deserve better than me.”

And my head has lost to my heart.

Unsure if I’ve made the wrong decision, I let him in.

Instead of the lingering doubt, I focus on the feeling of him against me. I love running my fingers through the hair at the back of his head, and I do that now, scratching my fingernails lightly over him for comfort. I’ve felt his fingers inside me, but this is different.

Immense. Meaningful.

Kinda like my emotions right now.

He moves against me. “You deserve better, but if you let me try, I’ll be better.” He kisses me lightly on the forehead and the cheek. “For you.”

He feels soft and firm, warm and slippery against me, yet I burn as he pushes, the head of his cock entering me. He moves slowly, giving me time to adjust as I process this new sensation of being stretched and filled.

How is having his cock inside me so much more vulnerable than his fingers? That’s not even the right word. I rack my mind, trying to put a name to this swirl of immense feelings I’m experiencing as he enters me.

But now he’s going deeper, and rational thoughts disappear. Relentlessly, he thrusts inside me. Conflicting emotions consume me. I want to give in to the primal desire coursing through my veins. Yet my body fights against this unfamiliar invasion, this new feeling balancing on the edge of pain and pleasure, causing sharp stabs of pain and discomfort.

My mind is a battlefield, struggling to comprehend the overwhelming emotions of vulnerability and submission as every inch of him stretches and tears at me, filling me and causing foreign sensations.

The burning makes tears sting at the back of my eyes as I try to adjust to the intrusion.

His lips are hot as they kiss my cheek and ear, fluttering my hair with his breath. He slides his hand under my ass, cupping my curves, his fingertips squeezing me as he presses his thighs against mine, burying himself deeper inside of me.

“Are you okay,” he asks.

I want to answer him. I do. I try to come up with the words, but there are none worthy of what’s happening to my body.

Instead, I moan, closing my eyes and turning my head to direct his hot kisses, wanting them to trail down the side of my neck. He takes the bait, and his lips and teeth tease my sensitive skin, sending tingles all over my body as he clutches my ass tighter.

The fingertips of the hand that’s clutching my ass cheek move in closer, exploring the space between my cheeks. He circles my rosebud with a finger, pushing it in just to the first knuckle as he starts moving, each thrust sending a jolt of electricity through my body.

Despite it all, he persists with slow and deliberate movements until he's fully engulfed inside of me. My nails dig into his back as I writhe beneath him, lost and overwhelmed.

I’m tight, too full, burning as I stretch to take him, but despite the discomfort, there's an undeniable wet wall of pleasure building inside me. As he picks up speed and intensity, the pleasure becomes all-consuming, threatening to overwhelm my senses, threatening to overpower the pain. His finger in my ass only adds to the confusing satisfaction.

He brushes the hair back from my face and flutters soft kisses over my cheeks, lips, and forehead. “How are you?” Frantically, I shake my head, unable to form words. My tongue is numb, and my mind is gone.

The initial pain fades into a dull ache as waves of intense pleasure crash over me. Lost in a feverish daze, I feel myself move past the wall of anxiety and uncertainty.

He moves faster now. My muscles clench and tense around him, the need consuming me whole. His lips take mine in a fierce kiss, his tongue dominating every inch of my mouth as he thrusts back and forth, plunging deeper and deeper inside me. My pleasure intensifies with each of his calculated movements, causing friction and heat like a caveman rubbing two sticks together to create enough heat for a fire.

Sparks fly through me as the blaze builds. The friction becomes all-encompassing, almost unbearable, creating a primal heatwave that pushes me to the brink of sanity.

He suddenly pulls out completely.

I’m empty, aching, my muscles clenching for him in his absence. Something I was so scared of…having him inside me for the first time…the pain of taking him for the first time…are now very distant memories.

The only thing that exists is the fact that his cock is not inside me.

My head snaps back forward. “What? No! Where did you go!”

He stares down at me like he’s gazing at a work of art. The tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip as he smooths his hand over my breasts, drawing my nipples even tighter till they’re almost painful in their excitement.

“I need you,” I whimper in protest, ready to beg.

His smoldering eyes lock on mine. Eye contact with him alone makes me wetter. Then, his deep, smooth voice tells me, “I want more of you. I want to feel you deeper.”

Deeper? Is that possible? Before I can protest, he flips me onto my stomach.

My stomach rests on the mattress, my face falling to the pillow. Grabbing my hips, he pulls them up and back, dragging me onto my knees. I feel his hard, ready cock brush my inner thighs.

“Ah… mmm.” I give a deep moan, pushing my hips back toward him, begging with my body. He strokes my ass with his hand as he nuzzles the head of his cock against my entrance. I beg, “Please.”

“Baby. Give me time. I want to worship every inch of you.” He bends down, laying against me. I feel the heat and the pressure of his firm, smooth chest against my back.

As he folds, his cock pushes harder against my pussy, making me whisper-plead with a soft murmur. “Haze.”

His lips brush over my shoulder. “I’ll be deep inside you soon, but first, I want to hear something from your pretty lips.”

“Wh—what?” I’ll tell him anything. I need him back inside me. Now.

“Tell me one thing, baby.” His warm, broad hands smooth down my back, from my neck to my waist, as he drags himself back up to a kneeling position behind me. His palms are rough as he cups them around my hips. Calloused from a day of work, nothing like a soft billionaire’s should be. I almost want to ask him what he’s been up to today to make his hands have this incredibly sexy feel, but even I can sense now is not the time.

“You feel so fucking good. How do you look this incredible from every angle?” Rough skin caresses my hips, the head of his cock teasing my entrance, pushing in only enough to make me more desperate.

“Please…” Why won’t he put the damn thing in me? How do I ask for what I want? My body begs, but the words don’t come.

Then he spanks my ass, the sharp pain making me cry out.

He says, “Who’s your daddy?”

The taboo words burn through me. How have I gotten myself into this? I go from leaving my bedroom window open a couple of nights a week for cuddles to having a full-grown man teasing to get inside me and demanding to know who my daddy is.

He spanks me again, fire and light bright against my skin. I gasp out, “What? What do you want?”

“If you want me inside you,” he smooths his rough palm over my spanked ass, “tell me, now. Who’s your daddy, baby?”

“Oh my god. You are. You are, Haze.”

“There you go, baby. That’s right.” And I get my reward. Yanking my hips back against his, he thrusts the head of his cock past the tight muscles of my entrance, making my skin stretch and burn in the best way.

“You are, Haze,” I breathe out, relieved.

“Damn. Hearing those pretty words, you almost made me come.” He pushes deeper. I moan as he enters me. This time, my body is in tune with his, and it’s less painful than the first time he entered me.

His hands glide smoothly over my skin, leaving fiery lines in their wake. I can't bring myself to do anything but take him as he strokes and kneads every inch of me, claiming ownership of my flesh with calloused hands. From this new angle, he hits all the right spots inside of me; new sensations send sparks of pleasure coursing through my body. I lose myself in him, unable to do anything except let him take me all the way.

When I think I’m reaching the peak of pleasure, his hand finds its way to my clit, rubbing circles on it with expert precision. The added stimulation pushes me over the edge, and my body explodes into a powerful orgasm that rocks through every nerve ending.

The orgasm is deeper than anything I’ve felt. It’s coming not only from the outside, where his talented hand teases my clit, but it’s from the inside, where his cock rhythmically makes my body sing.

My back arches as waves of pleasure crash over me. I may implode. I want to beg him to stop. I want him to never stop. He continues to thrust into me from behind while teasing my clit until I'm writhing underneath him in euphoric agony.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he releases with a low growl deep inside of me. I can feel him pulsing and twitching inside me as he fills me up with wet heat, too much, spilling over and running down my inner thighs.

I can’t believe I’m no longer a virgin. Would my mother be proud? She bought me an IUD. She told me to kiss a lot of boys. Somehow, I think losing my virginity to a man almost twice my age the night after he abducted me isn’t what she had in mind.

Blowing out the candles on my cake when I turned eighteen, I felt no closer to entering the real world. But this primal, fiery encounter has shattered any doubts about my entering adulthood. I am a woman in every sense of the word now, my body ablaze with desire and satisfaction.

He collapses against me and rolls us to the bed, grinning. He looks as fulfilled as I feel. All he can say as he quietly brushes my hair back from my face is, “Damn.”

A placid grin spreads over my face. I tilt my face up to him, wanting to celebrate this milestone with a kiss.

He takes my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. He nuzzles his cheek against mine. Then he whispers hotly in my ear. “Now that I’ve had you, there’s only one thing left to do with you.”

Now that I’ve had you?

The words hit wrong.

The trust we had worked so hard to build now hangs by a thread. In his presence, I feel alluring, foolish, and unsure of where our interactions will lead. A heartbeat ago, I was basking in my self-assuredness and contentment. His words make me feel cheap and disposable, like a plastic pawn in a chess game. Once again, doubt invades my mind.

The fear of my ruin grows stronger.

His words make something burn bright inside me, and finally, I have the will to do what I should have done when he first brought me here.

Fight back.

Tearing myself from the lock of his warm embrace, I sit up, staring daggers down at him. “Now that you’ve had me? You mean now that I’ve let you have me.”

“That’s what I said,” he lies.

“Only one thing left to do with me?” I demand. It sounds like he’s planning on taking me out like a bin of trash. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that…” Satisfaction fills me as the cocky smile drops from his lips. Is that—regret on his face? Does he feel bad? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He goes from a lethal shark to a soft bunny, shaking his head at himself. “I’m fucking this up every way from Sunday.” He softly traces a fingertip up and down my bare arm. “I just meant that I may have some plans for you.”

I’m so confused. I need space. I untangle myself from his arms.

He stares up at me. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” I say, grabbing my rumpled quilt and pulling it around my body. It feels silly to cover myself up after what we’ve just done, but I don’t like feeling exposed to him after what he’s said to me. “I need a shower.”

As I go to leave, he grabs an end of my trailing quilt, tugging me back to him for a quick peck. “Don’t be long.”

His sweet action is almost enough to make me stay. His sweetness is at war with his entitlement, confusing my head and heart. I rush to the bathroom, exhaling as I close the door. To my surprise, I’m sore under the hot, steamy water as I gently wash him away from me.

I can't help but question if it will all come crashing down. Despite this inner turmoil, a part of me wants to stay and see what could possibly arise from this touch-and-go inferno between us.

Wrapped tightly in a fluffy towel, I return to the room to dress. He’s not here. My bed is perfectly made, the feather duvet tucked tight around the corners. Obviously, I like that he’s made my bed with care. It’s kind that he’s given me privacy to dress.

Still, my stomach does a little twist. I’m disappointed that he left. Like, even kinda upset.

You take my virginity, then run the first chance you get?

The thoughts are not rational. This is so not like me. I’m not one of those girls who creates drama where there is none. Shaking my head at myself, I go for the comfort of my favorite gray sweatpants, a tee, and a hoodie. I open the top drawer for panties.

Instead, I find my necklace.

The best part of turning eighteen was being gifted these pearls. I love having something connected to my past; it makes me feel stronger. I lift them from the drawer, holding them to my face.

The cool beads rest against my skin. I close my eyes, trying to remember the woman who once wore them. I want to meet her, see her face, and hear her laugh. I want her to tell me the story of that day.

The real one.

Because I feel I’m not getting anything close to the truth out of my family.

I think of my father. If I close my eyes tight and conjure up the scent of cedarwood in my mind, I can feel him. His face is a hazy mask of images I’ve conjured up over the years, but deep within my chest, I feel him holding me. I feel his love. The story Mom tells about him kidnapping me and taking me away—it can’t coexist with the way I remember him, so I push it away.

I fool myself into thinking they’ve gotten it all wrong.

Why would they keep every name, every photo, every scrap of everything away from me if they were telling me the truth?

I carefully tuck the necklace back in the drawer, hidden under cotton underthings. I don’t know why I took it off in the first place or when I’ll wear it again but now, I leave it where it is. I grab a pair of panties.

On second thought…

Holding the soft cotton garment between my fingers, I remember lying on the bed, naked, my shirt pushed up over my breasts, my body exposed. How he stood over me, taking me in with those dark eyes filled with nothing but desire. I think of his words, how they warmed something inside me and made me feel wanted.

No panties. No bra. You are officially declared the sexiest creature on this earth.

I leave the panties in the drawer, untouched, forgotten, and go without.

There I go again, doing something to please him.

I shut the drawer a wee bit too hard in my frustration. I try to be mature and tell myself that any young woman in this situation would be hit with a tsunami of conflicting emotions—especially one who doesn’t let many people in.

Honestly, other than family, I don’t let anyone in.

Why do I guard myself with an iron sword and mile-high gates? Maybe it's because of my unresolved dad issues or because I constantly feel like an imposter at the prestigious school where I was on a scholarship.

Even with Carter, I only let him in my window.

I never let him in my heart.

So why Haze? Why now? I’ve let him “in” in many ways, haven’t I? The thought makes my heart pound harder and stirs an aching between my thighs.

Even in the chaos of this situation, I somehow feel safe with him even though I know the man could ruin a girl like me. A great white shark devouring his trusting little prey. And here I am, the naive wee one only wanting to let him swallow me whole.

I dress quickly, brushing and drying my hair until it gleams like water down my back. There really is a difference between drugstore shampoo and the expensive stuff they have here.

A soft knock draws my attention to the door. “Come in.”

The opening door reveals him looking like a god, dressed in a simple black V-neck sweater and jeans. He’s somehow holding two bowls of pasta in one arm like a waiter, and the smell filling the air is incredible. “You seemed like you needed some space to breathe. I tried to stay away as long as I could. Sorry, but this is all the time I could take.” Then he smiles, wide and clean and free of arrogance, and his damn near angelic face disarms me.

“Thanks. I did.”

He crosses the room, standing only an arm’s reach away from me. He eyes me, then holds out one of the bowls. “Gian’s famous at the Villa for his sauce. Have some.”

I take the bowl, inhaling the delicate scent of roasted garlic. My stomach rumbles. “Any word from him?”

“He left a note. I missed it—it was on the counter by the sauce.”

“What did he say?” Relief comes over me. I pierce a noodle with the prongs of my fork, popping it into my mouth, and a ripe tomato bursts on my tongue. “This is delicious.”

“He said he had a few things to deal with, but I know he’s giving us space. And threatened me with death if I didn’t feed you,” he says. “The message was vague, and I don’t like vague, but at least I could call off the brothers from putting out a search and rescue mission now that I’ve heard from him.”

We eat in silence. “Let me clear up.” I take his bowl. I hate the way the oil in tomato sauce stains.

He follows me down to the kitchen. I go to the sink. He stands beside me, resting against the edge of the counter so he can watch me as I clean. His stare is so focused. I’ve never had anyone show me so much interest, especially when doing something as mundane as rinsing a bowl.

His question surprises me as he asks, “Do you trust me?”

I stare back at him.

Do I trust him?

Digging deeper, I know one thing for sure: I trust myself. I wouldn’t let anyone inside my body if I didn’t trust them on some level. So, the answer is yes, I do trust him.

For how long, I have no clue.

“Come on,” he says, still smiling. “Say yes.”

I stop myself from swiping a fingertip over the adorable dimple on his cheek. “Yes. I trust you.” I add, “Somewhat.”

My answer makes his grin double. “Somewhat is all I need.”

“You keep your expectations low,” I laugh. “That’s good.”

He holds his hand out to me. “Come with me.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Get your coat.”

I need a moment to escape his heated gaze, so I head to my room. Opening the closet doors, I grab my coat from over the backpack, shrugging my arms into the sleeves.

The backpack on the floor stares up at me, reminding me of the contraband it holds. I stare down, thinking of the phone. Should I look now and see if I can turn off the ringer?

My heart thrums in my ears, and my face goes hot as I listen for footsteps. Nothing. Kneeling, I unzip the backpack, a few painfully loud teeth at a time, the sound unbelievably loud in the silent room. Still, no footsteps come, so I pull the gray hoodie from the bag. As I’m unrolling the hoodie, the phone pops out, landing on the floor.

“Shoot.” I lift it with fumbling fingers, snapping the thing open. There’s a text. My heart lifts, immediately recognizing the number.

“Carter!” I whisper-shout to myself. “You’re okay.”

PHEE RUOK

My heart now pounds. He could come up any moment. It’s worth the risk to let Carter know I’m okay. The poor boy practically got thrown out my bedroom window.

Im OK!

How’d you get this number #

He writes back.

ur mom

haha

WHAT’S WITH THAT DUDE

Too many things to list here, Carter. It would take me three days on this tiny keypad,” I murmur. One ear out for Haze, I text back as quickly as I can.

Long story, but I’m good

Promise!

He texts back.

the teachers said you won some dope ass trip

is that true?

Hmm… what to say?

Heavy footsteps move around downstairs. “Ophelia? You ready?”

“Crap!” He’s coming up.

I risk my ass, sending one last text to Carter, telling him it’s all good and I’ll explain when I get back. Wrapping the phone up, I shove the hoodie back in the bag, hopping up without taking the time to zip it closed.

I shut the closet doors, my hands gripping the knobs, and try to slow my heart rate as I stare at the white paint.

Can’t breathe.

Attempting to look casual, I turn from the closet, pasting a bright smile on to greet him. He appears in the doorway. Looking too good. Too muscular. And too interested in what I’m doing.

Attempting to distract him with a little flirting, I bat my eyelashes. “Hey, you.”

“Ophelia?” He eyes me, a brow furrowed. “You good?”

I drop the act. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just took a little longer than I thought. Sorry.”

He holds his hand out to me with that sexy devil’s grin of his. “Ready?”

Then, I do something I probably shouldn’t.

“Ready.”

And I take his hand and follow him into the night.