by K. Webster
“You can’t keep me here,” she challenges.
I grip her wrist and pin it to the bed as my gaze roves over her glittering eyes, high cheek bones, pert nose, and sexy mouth. “Watch me. I’ll handcuff your ass to the bed again if need be. You’re here. With me. End of story.”
“Sounds like a nightmare,” she teases.
My palm slides along her forearm, over her bicep, along her collarbone, and to her throat. I clutch her until her face darkens in color. With my gaze darting all over her, I press greedy kisses on her flesh. Repeatedly, I buck into her, ragged and uneven. I’m trying to fuck my promise into her. To show her with my body that she belongs to me.
And I’m fucking owned by her too.
The part she stole so effortlessly was my goddamned heart.
Just plucked it right from the middle of my chest and held it in the palm of her hand.
All she’d need to do was crush it in her fist. This love, a quiet slow-growing little thing, would be snuffed in an instant. I don’t think it would ever be reborn again. It feels as though it’s unique. As if she’s the only one who could ever give birth to such an emotion within me.
“You’re terrible with words,” she breathes. “But I see it. Your eyes tell me exactly what I need to hear.”
I devour her mouth with mine. I kiss her so she’ll stop talking. Who needs words when you have this? When you have us?
We fuck—all lovely and shit—until she’s whimpering out words of praise to me. Until her orgasm, the jealous little thing, steals her from me. An instant but still one that’s stolen from me. And then it’s giving her back just in time for me to pour this finicky creature called love deep inside her.
I hope she can feel it in every nerve ending.
I hope that it grips her by the heart and doesn’t let go.
I hope she sees. Hears. Feels.
I love Sophia Rowe. I love her so much it fucking hurts.
“…and that is why I’ve decided I’m not going to have the surgery. The risks are simply too great. After some research, I discovered that I could try—”
I cut off Sophia from saying anymore stupid shit to her surgeon with a slam of my fist on his desk. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” she seethes, her gaze icy and mean. “This is my body. I can do whatever I want with it.”
“I said no,” I snap. “You’re not doing this bullshit alternative medicine crap. You’re getting the surgery tomorrow and that’s the end of it.”
Dr. Wilkinson’s white eyebrows pinch together as he frowns. “Miss Rowe, I’m going to have to agree with—”
“Excuse me!” she bellows, startling Dr. Wilkinson. I don’t flinch. I’m used to her outbursts. This, though, is the fucking tantrum of the year and we’ve only gotten started. “This is my body!”
“Your dad is on his way,” I snip. “You'll do the surgery. That’s all there is to say about it.”
“DREW!” she screams.
“Honestly,” I sneer. “You’re being a child. A child who thinks because she has the Web MD app on her phone, she’s suddenly a doctor and knows everything. Newsflash, Soph, you know nothing. Nothing. You’ll have the damn surgery.”
“I know everyone is getting heated but let’s take a moment to calm down,” Dr. Wilkinson says.
“Calm down?” she roars. “You’re trying to control my life. My body!”
Dr. Wilkinson stares at us uncomfortably. I turn my glare back to her. Something in my gaze must scare the shit of her because she sinks a little in her chair. “You’ll do it.” My voice is soft but my words convey that she’ll do it even if I have to drag her there kicking and screaming. I will, too. There’s no way in hell she’s going to ignore this goddamned tumor that’s causing her to be handicapped. It’s ruining her life. I want it fucking gone so she can start living again.
“I hate you,” she chokes out. “You have no idea how much I hate you.”
“At this point,” I snap as I rise from my seat. “I don’t care. As long as you’re here a year from now to give me hell, then it was worth it. I won’t lose you too.” My voice cracks on my last sentence.
Understanding washes over her and she bursts into tears. With a frown, I stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head. I can feel Dr. Wilkinson’s judgmental eyes watching our exchange. Still, I don’t give a fuck.
“Come on, crybaby,” I murmur. “Time to go home.”
I know I was harsh on her at the doctor’s office today but when she’s making a stupid decision, she needs to be told. It reminds me that she’s in fact young and does need someone in her life to parent her at times. And if I’m taking her from her precious daddy, then it looks like that responsibility falls on me. She may have conceded to the surgery but she’s not at all herself. Through lunch, she stared at her food. The drive home, she stared out her window. And now, she stares at the ceiling.
“You’ve had your tantrum,” I bite out as I yank my T-shirt off my head. “Now get over it.”
Her nostrils flare. At least I got a rise out of her. Still, though, she stares up. After a beat, she pulls her phone out of her pocket. With absolutely no emotion, she says, “I’m calling Dad to come get me.”
Why? So she can talk him out of her going through the surgery? Over my goddamned dead body.
“No.”
Ignoring me, she swipes the screen with her finger and starts scrolling for the number. With a growl, I storm over to her and pluck it from her grip.
“Whatever, Drew,” she mutters before rolling over to her side with her back to me.
I set her phone on the end table and kick off my shoes. Sitting down beside her on the bed, I run my fingers through her dark hair. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.”
I expect her usual remarks. To tease me and call me Daddy. Something. Not a deep sigh and then nothing.
“Soph…”
“Okay, Drew.”
Not okay. Not fucking okay.
“You’re weak,” I snap, my voice hard and accusing. “After all this time you’re going to stop fighting?”
Silence.
“Goddammit, Soph.”
Pure quiet.
I grip her jaw and force her to look at me. Dead. Her green eyes are fucking dead. I bite my fingers into her flesh hoping to drive some life back into her. She doesn’t so much as flinch. If I squeeze her any harder, I’ll crush her jaw in my fist.
“Sophia.”
Blink. Blink. Blink. No tears. No fury. No feeling.
“Snap the fuck out of it,” I roar, my voice thunderous enough to echo off the walls around us.
Vacant green eyes stare through me.
I release her jaw and pop my hand on her cheek enough to get her attention. Still nothing. So I do it again harder. A flicker dances in her eyes. It’s enough to spur me on. With Sophia, she’s not all sweetness and softness. She’s hard and crazy and bold. Sophia is fire and I just need to get her raging again.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Her cheek smarts red but she still contains her emotions.
“I’m going to hurt you,” I warn. “You want to hide inside that head of yours…” I slap her again. “I’ll fucking find you.”
Finally. A flare. So bright and scalding, I almost retract my hand and retreat. Almost. But I’m not afraid of her. Not afraid of us—no matter how hard it is. Maybe I want to get burned.
I slap her hard enough her teeth chatter in her head.
The flash turns into a raging inferno in a matter of a second. Her fingernails become claws as she loses her goddamned mind and attacks me.
“I HATE YOU!” she screams, her fists swinging at me. She knocks me in the eye before I manage to push her back down onto the bed. The vacant girl is now bursting with life. She wriggles and squirms.
“There’s my girl,” I growl as I run my nose along hers.
She tries to bite me. Her teeth nip at my cheek but I pull away. While she fights like a wild goddamned banshee, I shove my hand under
her shirt. I grope her perfect tit through her bra and squeeze it hard enough to make her burst into tears. She sobs hard, defeat creeping its way back into her.
“Crybaby…” I love you. “I’ve got you.”
Her body wracks as she cries. I run my tongue up her hot cheek and I lap away her salty sadness. I drink it up greedily. When her face is dry, I kiss my way to her jaw and kiss away where I hurt her earlier. Then, I make my way to her throat. I bite on her flesh and mark her. Tomorrow, she’ll look quite a sight at the hospital but at least they’ll know who she belongs to.
Me.
She’s mine.
I release her to pull her jeans away. She takes the moment to hit me. The heel of her hand hits me hard enough in the temple that I see stars. But not hard enough that I can’t jerk her jeans and panties down her thighs. We struggle but I win. I always win. The shirt she’s wearing gets torn right from her body. She’s in nothing but a black bra, her chest heaving with exertion, and she’s never looked more beautiful. Her green eyes are glowing with rage. So goddamned intense. So goddamned mine.
I grab the front of her bra and yank it down to free her tits. They hang over the top and her nipples are hard as fuck. I don’t have to have my fingers in her pussy to know she’s dripping with want. Part of the excitement for Soph is the fight. She likes the drama and intensity of it. The fire. My girl likes to burn.
“Spread your legs and let me see how wet your cunt is, crybaby,” I taunt, my tongue running along my bottom lip as I drink in her perfect body.
“I’m dry because you’re an asshole. You’re not touching me,” she snarls.
I laugh because she can fuck off with that thought. “Spread your goddamned legs and let me see what’s mine. Now, Soph.”
My barked words don’t scare her. Her lip curls up and she hisses. “You can’t have me.”
I shove my hand between her thighs and enter her drenched opening roughly. She screams and arches off the bed but her thighs spread slightly to accommodate me.
“Look how your cunt drips for me. You can be pissed all you want but your body doesn’t lie,” I say with a smirk.
She tries to roll away from me. “Go to hell, ass!”
I push her onto her stomach and pin her from behind. She squeals when I shove my jeans down my thighs and rub my aching cock against the crack of her ass. “Maybe I should take your ass right now.”
She claws at the covers but doesn’t make any progress on an escape because she’s caught in my trap. I grip my cock and slide between her thighs until I find her wet opening. From this position, she’s tighter than fucking ever. I manage to push into her but not without a blood-curdling scream from her.
I grab a fist full of her hair and yank her head to the side to expose her neck. I latch onto her with my teeth as I thrust brutally into her. She screams but I know her screams. These aren’t the screams that tell me no. Her body begs for me. Soph knows the rules. If it’s too much, she just has to tell me. Stubborn ass would rather die than tell me I’m being too rough.
“Tell me to stop,” I roar, suddenly furious that she can’t be normal. She can’t be normal like all the other girls. Why the fuck does she have to be like me?
“Stop being a pussy!” she chokes back at me. “Stop telling me what I want. I know what I want.”
Our bodies are slick with sweat as I rub against her. With her sobbing and struggling and us fighting, to an outsider, it’d seem like some fucked-up rape or some shit. To Soph and me, it’s how we make love.
I slide an arm around her and hug her tight as I fuck her. My palm grips one of her tits as I suck on her throat. I’m probably hurting her hip. All of my weight is on her and I’m being too rough.
But she won’t fucking tell me no.
I want her to learn that word and use it against me. Wield it like a goddamned sword. And yet…she won’t.
“You’re so stubborn,” I growl. “So fucking stubborn.”
“You’re a psycho ass,” she moans. “I hate you.”
I kiss her softly. Fucking reverently. Then, my lips are at her ear. “I love you, crybaby. I love you so much it makes me fucking mental.”
She cries out as if my words are a whip. Paining her as they cut deep through her to her soul. But they must heal too because she comes with a loud groan. Her body jolts beneath me. My cock gets strangled in her tight, sweet cunt and I come like it’ll be the last time. I fill her hot body with my seed. One day, I’ll put a baby inside her. Hell, I’ll put ten babies inside her. All I know is I’m going to marry her and make her the family I’ve never had. She’s everything to me.
“Say it,” I murmur against her throat. “Tell me what I want to hear.”
She sighs. “Go to hell.”
I wake in the middle of the night, my hip screaming in agony. I’ve been too brutal on myself lately. I take that back. Drew has been too brutal on me. I begged for it. Forced him to hurt me. Now, he’s like an uncontrolled animal. I love that he loses his mind around me.
But he also pisses me off.
He doesn’t know what he’s forced me to do.
The surgery…what if it takes me from him?
Anxiety blossoms in my chest like an ugly flower. I want to stomp on it. Crush it with my fury. But it’s wild like a weed and doesn’t stop growing. He’ll be heartbroken and torn apart if I don’t come back from this. Just like Dad was with Mom. If he loses me after losing his family, I don’t know that Drew has it in his hard heart to ever love anyone again.
Love.
When he told me he loved me, I wanted to scream it back to him. With every fiber of my being. But something held me back. As if saying those words sealed my fate. If I told him I loved him and then died on that operating table like Mom, it would somehow be harder on him. I want to make this as easy as possible. I want to fade away from his life without cutting too much into his heart. The last thing I want is for him to hemorrhage without me. He’s too perfect and beautiful and strong to lose his brilliant light.
My panic simmers some when his strong hand rubs along my bare stomach as he sleeps. Even unconscious, he’s possessive over me. I love that. I love that he needs me so desperately. I need him too. His fingers gently massage at my hip, as if he can literally provide therapy in his sleep, and some of the pain eases. I melt against his touch. His breathing evens out and soon he’s pressing kisses on my breast.
“You’re in pain.” Not a question. A simple statement.
I run my fingers through his hair. I don’t argue or confirm. He just knows. He always knows.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, his voice gruff with sleep.
When he returns, I don’t see him in the darkness, just feel him. He pushes one of my pain pills past my lips and lets me swallow down some water. Then, I hear the familiar pop of the oil he uses to massage my hip. His body heat warms me as he sits next to me. The moment his fingers press into me, I let out a groan.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just…”
“I know,” I breathe, pain radiating through me.
“This…” He kneads the flesh harder. “Us….” I whimper at his thorough touch. “It hit me out of nowhere. Blindsided me. I feel so powerless to it all. But fuck if I don’t want it with every ounce of who I am. When you give up…” A sigh from him and a moan of pain from me. “It makes me want to force you to keep going. Don’t you see, Soph? I’m not going to let you roll over and die. You’re going to fight through this shit because you’re the toughest girl I know. You’re my girl.”
His words feed my soul and it makes my body crave him wholly. I spread my legs to offer myself to him. Taking my nonverbal cues, he begins massaging toward my sex. With the oil as lubricant, he slides easily to where he wants to be. Boldly, he pours the liquid all over my sex. He massages me expertly like he does my hip. Clinical. Measured. Intense. But then his fingers go exploring. They probe my opening.
“How many fingers do you think I can fit inside you?” he murmurs, the vibrati
on of his growly voice rumbling through me.
“One?”
He laughs and pushes one into my body. In the darkness, his laugh coupled with the way he slides his finger in and out is positively wicked. It sends shivers running down my spine. “A lot more than that, baby.”
“Two?”
I moan when he eases another finger beside the other one.
“Two fits just perfect,” he says. “Maybe I want it to hurt a little. Do you want that, Soph? Do you want it to hurt a little?”
My pain pill is kicking in, so why the hell not?
“Yes.”
He wastes no time urging a third digit inside. I gasp at the sensation. His fingers are stretching me. It’s as though my body will accommodate him no matter what he tries to do. As if my thoughts are a challenge, he eases his pinky in too.
“Too much,” I breathe. “Too much.”
Slowly, he slides his fingers out of me. “One day, when you’re all healed up, I’m going to work my entire fist inside you,” he whispers, his promise violently exciting. “And you’re going to love it.”
Somehow, I believe him. He makes me feel bliss I’ve never known before. Keeps taking me to new heights.
“And here,” he growls as the tip of his finger slides down my crack and pushes against the puckered hole of my ass. “I’m going to put my dick here one day soon. I want to hear you scream as I fuck your tight little hole. It’s going to hurt so fucking bad,” he warns. “You’ll soak my pillows with your tears, crybaby.” As if to drive home his words, he pushes his lubed-up finger slowly into that untouched place. Searing fire explodes through me at the intrusion.
“Stahhhp!” I cry out. “That hurts.”
He does stop. With his middle finger all the way in to his knuckle, he stills. “Would you rather me be here?” His thumb slides into my pussy. I choke on the sensation of being utterly claimed by his hand. He keeps his finger still but massages my insides with his thumb. Being full in my ass with his finger, strange zings of pleasure begin to flutter through me.
