Page 45

“You don’t think I’m damaged? So fucking messed up? You don’t think I’m dirty?”

I stare at the dark ceiling as my questions to him echo in my ears, my fingers trailing over Alexis’s friendship cuff on my wrist.

He didn’t answer me.

I try not to let the hurt in—it was an emotional moment, and while he suspected something happened to me, I knew he was shocked at all the details. It was a rude awakening.

It would be a lot for anyone to take.

And maybe he couldn’t answer me because he didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Maybe he’d never look at you the same way again. Now he knows all my dark secrets, the grime I can’t scrub away no matter how many showers I take.

My eyes burn and I clutch the blankets closer to my chest as I replay our conversation over and over.

“I’m proud of you, Tay,” I whisper to myself in the dark, needing to hear those words. “You let someone in. That’s damn b-brave.” A shuddering exhale escapes me.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I frown. It’s late. There shouldn’t be anyone.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Panic seizes me, but another thought slips in. Could it be him?

Quickly, I scramble off the bed and walk toward the door, hoping, no, wishing, the person on the other side is the only man who’s ever made me feel completely safe, the man who used to say I was breathtakingly beautiful.

I wonder if I’ll ever hear those words from his lips again.

“Who is it?” I call out.

“Minx. It’s me. Open up.” The unmistakable rasp. The possessive tinge. My pulse quickens.

I throw open the door and there he stands, his chest heaving like he ran up the stairs to get to me. His face is flushed, his eyes wild with passion and intensity, a blazing fire that’s too strong to contain.

“Charles?” I whisper, staring at him, my nerves lighting up in his presence.

He expels a ragged exhale. His arms shake as he grips the doorframe above him.

Like he’s one second away from tearing into me.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he rasps. “I shouldn’t have left you here alone. I was in shock. I knew something bad happened to you. I suspected you were assaulted. But it was one thing to suspect something and another thing to know.”

His throat ripples, and he thumps the wall for emphasis. “I left because I fucking wanted to raze the world. I wanted to burn everything and everyone who’d hurt you. I c-couldn’t control my emotions because I fucking hated how helpless I was. How I wished I knew you when you were sixteen, how I wished I could be there for you to protect you so you wouldn’t have to go through what you did. B-Because, I…I…”

Charles’s eyes burn, lightning in stormy skies. “I crave you. The way you make me feel alive. The way you challenge me. The way you call me out on my bullshit. And now, knowing what happened to you, and seeing you still standing tall, proudly each day, I’m fucking obsessed with you. It’s terminal. Uncurable.”

I clutch my sweater, my pulse rushing in my ears. What’s he saying? Is he saying—

“I realize I never answered your question. It’s not because I couldn’t answer you, it’s because I was too damn stuck in my own head. I was dying inside when I thought of what happened to you.”

He huffs out a ragged breath, his voice deepening, his nostrils flaring. “Taylor, I swear to God, I’m going to find every single bastard who hurt you that night. I promise you. I’ll make them pay, and I’ll—” His chest rises and falls, a cyclone approaching me at breakneck speed, but I don’t want to leave.

I want the storm to take me with it.

“You’re not damaged. You’re not messed up. You’re not dirty. You’re a warrior, a queen. Those battle scars make you more beautiful in my eyes because they are a testament to your strength. You, Taylor Peyton-Anderson, are the most fucking breathtakingly beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

Tears escape my eyes and I rake in one inhale after the other.

He sees me. Truly sees me. Thorns and all.

He still thinks I’m breathtakingly beautiful.

Charles’s eyes sharpen, a growl rumbling out of his chest, and with one quick stride, he steps into the room, hoists me to him, and slams his lips on mine.

His kiss is savage. Feral. It’s messy and violent. Wetness streaks across my face as his hand cups my cheek before he pivots and slams my back on the closed door.

I pull back and touch my cheek, gasping when I see the red liquid. Blood. I quickly look at his hand, and I see the same crimson essence seeping out of his fist. “Charles, what happened?”

“Just a cut. I don’t fucking care.” He pulls me back to him and swallows my next words with his talented mouth.

The temperature rises, the inferno overtaking us both. He pulls my hair, I bite his lip, he digs his fingers into my ass, I claw his back. He shrugs out of his coat and his tie. His suit jacket crumbles to the ground.

His tongue duels with mine before he swipes it up from my chin to my temple, like he’s tasting and kissing away my tears. I moan, the sound foreign to my ears. My body burns as I grasp his dress shirt, needing it off him. I hear fabric tearing, buttons pinging on the floor, but I don’t care.

Charles wrenches my sweater off me.

“More,” I moan, baring my neck to him as he sucks and scrapes the tender spots down my throat. “Fuck, I need more.”

“I’ll give you more, minx. I’ll give you everything.” He yanks off my bra and my nipples prickle to attention. He snarls and bares his teeth as he stares at the hardened points before he sucks one of them into his mouth.

A sharp current hits my clit and I curl my legs around his waist, my pussy already pulsing from the sensations he’s wreaking on my body.

“So fucking sensitive,” he rasps, “a goddess.” He suckles my tits, biting, licking, flicking his tongue in a way that drives me wild.

His hands grab my leggings and with a rough yank, he tears them off me and I curl my legs around his waist again, his hard cock hitting my pussy. I shudder and gyrate against his hard length.

“Not enough,” I whimper. “I want everything.” I want us naked, skin against skin, feeling every inch of our bodies plastered against each other.

Growling, he holds me tight against him, his lips making their way to the whorl of my ears as he carries me to the bed. He tosses me on to it, his breathing harsh in the room. I rub my overheated body over the cool sheets, my nerves raw as more wetness seeps out of me. I need more. My touch-deprived body needs everything.

His lips twitch as he slowly unbuckles his belt, the clinking sound sending a frisson of panic inside me.

“Look at me,” he rasps. “It’s me and you. No one gets to have this moment except us.”

His commanding words stave off the fear and I nod, my hands traveling up my body before I cup my breasts, my eyes fluttering shut as my fingers play with my nipples.

So sensitive. So fucking sensitive.

“Eyes open. Keep them on me, minx.”

My eyes flutter open and I stare at him, watching as he slowly takes off his pants and underwear.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasps.

I swallow a whimper.

My mouth runs dry when I see his hard cock curling around his stomach. It’s thick and long, an enticing vein running along the side. Its tip is swollen and red, liquid dripping from the slit.

“Look at my cock weeping for you,” he grunts, his hand curling around his cock and gives it a tug. Charles hisses in pleasure, his eyes growing molten as I press my thighs together, eager to relieve the ache in my pussy.

Slowly, he prowls toward me, his hands sliding up my legs to my thighs, eliciting a thousand sparks on its path. Pressing them open, he trails kisses on my skin, stopping at areas I didn’t even know were sensitive to begin with. It’s like he has mastered the instrument of my body, like he knows it better than I do.

Suddenly he pauses. His grip becomes borderline painful and I look at him, finding him staring at my parted legs. What is he looking at—

Fuck.

I try slamming my legs shut, but he holds them open and a muscle tics in his jaw. “What is this, minx? What am I seeing?”

I bite my lip and fist my hands on the sheets. The last ugly side I haven’t shown him. The tiny little scars on my inner thighs. But he sees them now. I might be a warrior. I might be brave. But I’m also hurting myself because I can’t cope.

“I-I…I stab myself when the flashbacks become too real. Needles. Just the needles. No drugs. No one can see them because they’re on my inner thighs. But the pain…the pain and the hot showers stop the memories. They stop the voices. I know I should be stronger. I know I shouldn’t hurt myself. I know—”

“Fuck what you know or think.” He presses his lips over my scars. “You’re dealing with everything the best way you can. You had no one to care for you, to take care of you.” He suckles my scars and a thousand sensations course up my legs and settle on my pussy.

Charles slides my underwear off me as he continues his sensual assault on my needle marks. His finger flicks my barbell and a loud moan escapes my lips.

It sounds lewd. Horny. I’m burning for him.

“It makes sense now, what you told me before. This little piercing was for pain and punishment, not for pleasure before, isn’t it?” His mouth travels to my barbell and he licks the piercing along with my clit, his tongue flicking the area in strong, rapid movements.

“Charles!” I scream, my body nearly careening off the bed if not for his firm hands holding me in place.

He alternates between sucking, flicking, swirling, all the while playing with my barbell. His finger dips into my wet entrance. I tense up automatically, but soon, another gush of wetness flows from me as he tugs my clit into his mouth and feasts on it.

My eyes roll back, my muscles locking in tension. “F-Fuck, I’m going to c-come!” The sudden onslaught of pleasure becomes unbearable. Fireworks explode between my legs and I shatter into a million pieces as he sucks and laves at my juices like it’s a taste he couldn’t get enough of.

My legs spasm against his face, and his scruff is abrasive in the best way.

“One day, I’ll teach you pain for pleasure, not for punishment.” His voice is hoarse, a dangerously low whisper.

I shudder, the aftershocks spreading through my body, hazy images of that evening in The Sanctuary floating into my mind.

I now interpret that scene completely differently.

My thoughts are muddled, my body pliant as he climbs on top of me after he rolls a condom on himself. He braces himself over me with his forearms. His eyes are dark, the irises nowhere to be seen, his beautiful light hair raking over his forehead.

He’s like a fallen angel. A deadly heavenly creature.

His cock settles on my stomach. It’s hot, throbbing and I shift underneath him, watching in fascination his eyes flaring, a hiss escaping his mouth.

Charles Vaughn’s restraint is seconds away from snapping. The man prides himself on his meticulous control—his appearance, behavior, mannerisms are all perfectly crafted.

And he’s about to unravel because of me.

A sultry pride sweeps through me and I move again, watching as he bares his teeth into a snarl. “Minx, you don’t want to unleash the beast. Trust me, you don’t want to.”

Emboldened, I move my hands down his muscular back, my fingernails digging into his muscles before I wrap my legs around his backside again.

This time, nothing separates us.

For a split second, fear threatens to spark as he gives me more of his weight, pressing me into the mattress. I grit my teeth, the familiar sensations of panic unfurling from the cavern in my chest.

I can get through this. I can do this.

Taking a deep breath in, I force myself to calm. I can do this. I want this.

“Tay,” Charles rasps, drawing my eyes back to his.

His brows are furrowed, and he cups my cheek again. Of course he can read me like a book. It has always been this way with him and maybe that’s why I was so against him in the past, because I didn’t want him to see through my layers.

“Are you sure?” he asks. I know it’s taking every ounce of restraint inside him to hold back. I feel it in the coiled tension of his body, I see it in the muscle throbbing in his temple.

I nod. “Yes.”

I want this.

His nostrils flare as his thumb trails circles over my cheek. A loving caress.

“ This is your first time,” he whispers, and those five words unlock a wound inside me, a loss I’ve never let myself grieve. My first time stolen by monsters. Tears well in my eyes again and I curse myself inwardly for becoming emotional yet again in his presence.

“My sweet, darling minx. This…This is your first time. Anything before doesn’t count. They’re meaningless. This…” he links his fingers with mine, our hands locked with each other and my heart throws itself against my rib cage, “is everything. I’m here with you. Always. Every step of the way. You’re not damaged, you’re not dirty.”

My breath freezes as he leans down and presses his lips against mine.

He rasps, “You’re perfect.”

With those words, he enters me and I whimper at the pleasurable pain and he lets out a guttural groan, his fingers tightening against mine.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. So wet. You’re doing so well, taking every single one of my inches like a good girl.”

He presses the last few inches in and he’s burrowed as deep as he can, our hearts beating as one, our breathing in sync. Charles kisses me, his lips moving over mine in a tender embrace, his hips beginning a sensual rhythm—a dance of our very own.

Soon, I feel myself relaxing, the pleasure gathering between my legs as his cock scrapes against a tender spot inside me. There’s no more pain, no more terror, no more dark voices.

There’s only me and him.

My first time.

The thought unmoors me and I move my hips, joining him in his rhythm, kissing him back with everything I have inside me, thanking him without words for this gift he’s giving me.

Tears slide down my face, but I don’t care. My heart is mad for the man above me, the man loving me with every thrust, every piston, the man raining kisses over my eyelids, nose, and lips.

“You’re doing so good, minx. You’re fucking made for me.”

The pressure climbs from a spot deep inside me, his cock gyrating harder, hitting that sensitive spot with every movement and soon, I thrash underneath him, urging him faster with my hips, chasing the high only he can give me.

It’s different this time. The sparks build from deep within, the pleasure burgeoning into something I can’t control.

I grip his hand, my nails digging into him. “Charles, it feels…I f-feel… Oh my God.” My legs tremble, and I’m pushed to the edge of a cliff, nirvana gathering in my veins.

“You’re going to come, minx. You’ll come so hard. Your pussy is strangling my cock. Fuck, you feel so good.”

The shudders erupt from my legs and travel up my thighs then to my chest, my tits becoming even more swollen and sensitive, my nipples scraping against his hard chest in the most delicious way. The pleasure grows and grows and soon, his gentle thrusts become a punishing hammering, the slaps of skin hitting skin loud in the room.

Charles clamps his teeth on my neck and I detonate.

“Charles!” I shriek, black dots blurring my vision and a low growl rips from him.

“Fuuuck,” he roars, his hips snap into me a few more times, his cock throbbing as he follows me into ecstasy.

My blood roars in my ears, our moans and grunts a lewd symphony. My pussy tingles as he gyrates his body on top of mine, sending sharp aftershocks through me. We’re a mess of sweat and tears, our skin no doubt full of scratch and bite marks.

Everything is too sensitive in the best of ways.

I open my eyes, finding his startling gaze on mine, concern radiating from those brilliant blue pools. He’s worried about me. I truly am not alone anymore.

A smile breaks across my lips, and I see a myriad of emotions crossing his face—relief, awe, and finally, happiness.

He chuckles before he settles himself on top of me, sealing his lips with mine. We’re still connected—both physically and emotionally.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispers, and I startle. I didn’t realize today was the international day of love, for I never had anyone to celebrate it with.

Charles smiles, as if he knows what I’m thinking. “Why did you think I dropped everything to fly halfway across the world today, minx? My Valentine.”

My Valentine.

My lips hike up in a smile. “What if I said no to you outside the theater? You drive me crazy, after all.”

He chuckles and presses a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’d find a way to convince you. I’m a relentless bastard, you know.” He winks, no doubt thinking how I called him that when we danced the Argentine tango.

Warmth fills my insides and I kiss him with fervor, my heart thudding resoundingly. I’ve never been good with words, my body has always been more proficient at speaking for me.

And it appears he understands, because he kisses me back with passion, with the same desperation my lovesick heart feels. But this time, the hole in my chest is filled, and I throw myself into the madness he’s created with me.

My life stopped when I was sixteen. Now, at almost twenty-four, I’m resurrected.