Exiled (Anathema Book 2) (21 page)

“We
don’t have to do this.” His voice rasped a heavy promise.

I
answered with a foolish kiss, murmuring my own affirmations against his lips.
He gave me a chance.

Giving
in was a mistake. I couldn’t let him take me over so completely.

But
pulling away hurt more than any strike to my skin. Every nerve screamed with
heat, and he was my only relief from the agony.

My
confidence lay quiet and confused, letting my desire command me. The only way
I’d survive a night with Brew was if we did it my way. Deny my lust and silence
the part of me that demanded I offer him everything.

I’d
refuse my own nature for a chance to be with him.

My
shirt tossed onto the bed. I didn’t let him mourn the fading bruises over my
skin, not when my greatest pain came from my proximity to him. The bra followed.
My cheeks and chest flushed before I even pulled the material from my body.

He
didn’t reach for me. That was fine. He wasn’t going to lead this time.

I’d
take the pleasure for myself.

His
expression hardened—a determination that fought to keep him still. I eased his
shirt over his shoulder, gently skimming his muscles and injuries with a
curious touch. The pain toughened him. His body built for pure aggression and
sustained itself on the blood it spilled, but the injury hadn’t slowed him.
Only the flowering tattoo coiling in ivy and blossoms tortured him.

I
lowered my hand over the scar. His fingers tightened on the blanket. He tensed
to rip me away. He stayed still instead.

“I
want you.” My declaration meant more to me than any false plea I ever spoke. I
didn’t need a coy
sir
or humble
please
to express everything I
felt.

“You
got me, Darling.”

“I
want
all
of you.”

Brew
shook his head. “You’ll never get that side of me. I don’t trust it, and
neither should you.”

“You
won’t hurt me.”

He
allowed himself a chance to study my body, his gaze lingering on my buttoned
jeans.

“You
won’t give into that part of yourself either,” he said.

He
was right. I didn’t answer.

I
followed his eyes, tangling my fingers over my jeans. The denim inched down
over my thighs, and the revealed taste of my creamy skin darkened Brew’s
expression.

I
knew what he imagined. I imagined it too. Pale skin, flushed red with the
strike of a hand or the lick of the belt.

Sex
had always been about pain. A punishment for my desire, excitement drowning in
lust, and what I thought was a natural way to express my enthusiasm.

Tonight
would be…different. Tonight would be pleasurable. Relieving. Necessary.

My
jeans tangled on the floor. The lacy pink slip of my panties fell next. It was
the second time I exposed myself to Brew. My stomach knotted in wanting and
fear, but I had to try.

“You’re
so beautiful,” he whispered.

My
hand fluttered to my neck, lingering over the scarf I didn’t dare remove. His
eyes darkened.

“There
too, Darling. There’s not an inch of you that doesn’t make me ache.”

My
relief flushed me, excited. I resisted the urge to dive into his arms, to press
my revealed skin against his ink. My eyes drifted down. So did his.

I
never removed a man’s pants before, not without his permission. Undressing a
lover only served as an opportunity to degrade me on my knees.

Brew
didn’t demand anything from me. He didn’t ask or order or force. He let me. I’d
enjoy every moment of my exploration.

It
didn’t surprise me that the tattoos on his chest bled below his belt. Stripes
of blackened, aggressive ink etched into his legs, below his navel, and
engraved a promise of strength at the base of his thick, hardened cock.

I
wasn’t a stranger to that part of the man, but Brew was different. Every man
used his cock to brag. Some used theirs to hurt. Brew didn’t need either. His
confidence was earned, gifted from a hardness that bordered on intimidating.

His
was a cock that deserved to be sucked. Worshiped. Goliath earned his name, but
he retained it by acting as the brute. I doubted Brew ever had to force anyone
to give him pleasure.

In
another time, with another uninhibited part of me, I might’ve shown him exactly
how appreciative I was to finally enjoy that part of him.

But
not tonight.

Brew
was built to take. I had no doubt of the pleasure he’d give or the damage he’d
do, and I hated myself for being excited by both prospects. He still hadn’t
moved. Only the thickness of his cock twitched, raging with the need to bury
itself within me.

I
expected him to grab me by the hips and drive me down hard and fast with an
unrepentant, feral enthusiasm. But his grip punished only the comforter. He
said nothing, and he refused to act on any of his urges.

And
I was absolutely grateful.

My
stomach twisted, but it wasn’t like I had never been naked before a man. And it
wasn’t like I hadn’t experienced the moment right before offering myself to one.

But
the heat from his legs burned me as I crossed his lap.

The
brush of my nipples against his chest struck harder than any lash of a crop or
cane.

And
the first rub of his monstrous cock against my slit threatened me with the
memory of my stolen virginity and every time I had been taken since.

I
shivered.

So
did he.

“You’re
killing me, Darling,” Brew groaned. “Just shoot the gun and be done with it.”

I
smirked, but I think my lips only trembled. “And miss all this fun?”

“This
isn’t fun. This is…” His hips flexed, but he didn’t rise from the bed.

“Agony?”

“Wonderful.”

I
raised my hips over his. His lips traced a silent profanity, a word used to
punish himself for daring to touch the soft skin of my leg so near his fingers.

He
didn’t beg me to lower myself onto him, but I couldn’t imagine a time he’d ever
beg. Brew wasn’t a man who’d lose his dignity to anyone but himself. His
willpower shocked me, especially as my fingers danced over the defined muscles
in his chest, his shoulders, and traced the tribal markings that claimed almost
every inch of his skin on his arms.

He
was mine.

The
revelation came so suddenly, so absolutely, I nearly wept in the frustration I
forced between us.

Total
control. Total trust. Total desire.

And
we both held back.

I
sucked in a breath and lowered myself, sealing his entire length within me in a
single, forceful claiming that punished me more than him.

The
sudden, shocking fullness sliced through me. He swore. I panted his name and
gripped his shoulders. My body raged, each shiver destroying the defenses I put
in place.

One
thrust conquered me.

It
wasn’t only pleasure that splintered my guard. It wasn’t the vulgar stretching
of my body or the hot entrapment that pierced me upon him.

I
thought I controlled our moment.

I
thought I was the one making the rules and setting the time and taking what
each of us offered.

God,
was I wrong.

I
controlled
nothing
.

Brew
didn’t touch me, didn’t help me, and said nothing as I ground against his cock
and shuddered in every mind-rending sensation his thickness commanded. I did
everything and gave everything and took everything, and yet the authority of
our embrace belonged to him.

He
didn’t throw me on the bed or beat the submission into me. He had it.

I
was lost.

I
wrapped myself against him, tucking my arms over his back and lowering my head
into the safety of his shoulder and neck. My movements weren’t fast. I couldn’t
handle so much of him so quickly, not when it was my choice. If it was my
choice. My body arched and shuddered and rolled with a dark sweetness—a pained
pleasure that ripped through me as both gifted bliss and a harsh lesson.

I
didn’t dare cry out his name even if it was the only word screaming in my mind.
Admitting it, calling for him, would ruin the fragile illusion we created. I
might have taken my pleasure on top, but I had no control over anything I did
or felt.

My
entire life, I submitted to a cock.

This
time, I fell for the man. And I fell way too hard and way too fast. If I
crashed, there’d be no piecing me back together.

His
uncompromising strength bound me. His need enraptured me. His heat brought me
to a peak so fast I’d break before I even understood what was happening.

I
held on because I didn’t know what else to do. I promised myself I wouldn’t
surrender. I wouldn’t give in to those thoughts. And now? None of it mattered. He
exposed me. His cock felt like an interrogation. Letting myself orgasm would betray
every truth I denied and every secret I ever hid. But the crushing pressure
built low in my belly. It captured me, shredding my pride and mocking my reactions.

I
sweated. He did too. I fought the pleasure, but my body moved faster even as I
tried to fight my urges. Brew swore, each frustrated profanity a shameless
compliment.

If
I asked, he would have taken me. Thrown me onto the floor with my head down and
hips up. I’d have lost everything and gained everything and let myself collapse
in pleasure as I flaked away in desperate surrender.

I
couldn’t let it happen.

Torn
between bliss and denial, I teetered on the edge of insanity. My body ached. My
insides clenched, trying to hold him deeper and expel him from the tempted
tightness. Every breath I took pained me, as if he had struck me, as if the
rocking heat of his cock slamming inside me was the lick of a belt.

But
I forced him deeper. I dropped my body against him.

Harder.
Faster. Torturing myself in a way I never thought possible.

Brew’s
heavy groan touched me when he didn’t dare move his hands. The rough promise
bound me to him, whipped over me with the heavy implication of his pleasure, of
his final claiming.

“Darling—come
with me.”

He
came inside me.

I
lost my mind to the shattered submission I tried so hard to contain.

My
mind blanked, and my body fell limp. I drove down on top of him as his orgasm
set me on fire. There was no denying this part of him. His heat filled me. I’d
never escape. He marked me with his seed and owned me completely.

I
groaned into his neck, kissing and biting and shielding myself within the
safety of his strength. His cock pulsed inside me, and I finally cried out. His
pleasure became mine, and I held onto him as the only force in the world protecting
me from my own undoing. The shivers sliced down to my bones, and my chest ached
for air. Nothing stopped the never-ending agony of his conquering. He exposed
every darkness and truth within me.

Brew
finally touched me. Finally took ahold of me and did what I had subconsciously
begged of him. His fingers dug into my hips, and he stood, pinning me against
him in mid-air as the last jets of his seed surged inside me. I gripped his
neck, but Brew was strong enough to drive me down upon his standing body.

Our
passion slashed through me. His surging, possessive kiss bound me against him,
fiercer than the cock imbedded within me.

He
crashed me onto the bed, never once withdrawing as he hardened even more. He
laid over me, his fists pressing into the blankets at my sides.

I
was trapped under him, around him, and with him inside me.

I
never wanted it to end.

My
lips parted, and he seized my kiss, forcing himself deep enough to earn my
squeal. His eyes burned with a reviving excitement, a brightness that I hadn’t
seen before. He stared at me, revitalized. A past version of Brew took hold and
banished the shell of the man cloaked in misery.

I
gripped his arms. He didn’t like that. His frown scolded me. My hands pushed
over my head instead, pushing my chest toward him. He feasted upon my breast,
possessing my body within his size and strength and claiming me with hardened
thrusts. My release shuddered through me, raking me with continuous pleasure.
Brew tormented me in passion, and I let myself drown in the scalding heat of
his victory.

His
phone vibrated against the nightstand.

I
cursed the interruption and whimpered as he pulled away. He forced me against
the bed, pointing a finger and commanding I remain where he put me. He grabbed
the phone without checking the screen.

The
call ended after only a few seconds—a mere moment before everything we had done
and everything we had uncovered was ruined, crushed, and destroyed by the
darkness of his past.