Page 33 of It Destroys Me

I watched him for a while.

He stared at me as he chewed, never uncomfortable by my scrutiny.

I grabbed my fork and dragged it through the risotto.

He ate in silence, watching me as I watched him, not filling the silence with unnecessary conversation. Like he was comfortable enough just to be there with me.

Just the way I was comfortable with him.

When we entered his bedroom, he took off his clothes like he felt suffocated by them. Whenever he was home, he never wore a shirt, only wore sweatpants when he visited the rest of the house, even if it was in the middle of winter. He seemed more comfortable in his bare skin, like he was in a constant state of summer.

I unzipped my dress and let it slide off my body, revealing the bra and thong underneath. My back was to him, but I somehow felt his stare, felt it right on my ass. I lifted my ankle to slip off one heel then the other, still feeling his presence, hot as the sun.

He came up behind me, his dark chest hitting my back as his arm hooked around me. His head dipped, and his mouth was on my shoulder and neck, kissing and tasting the skin, his arm squeezing me like I was trying to get away. His hand slipped underneath my bra, gripped one of my tits, and squeezed it.

My head tilted back into him, and I let him have me, my hand gripping his big forearm, feeling his hard dick in my lower back. His other hand moved to my thong and pulled it over my ass to make it come free before his fingers pressed into my clit and rubbed in a circular motion.

I released a quiet gasp when I felt his touch, my nails digging into his forearm as his hand continued to grope my tit. He was aggressive in his touch, like he wanted to make me come before we even got to the bed.

I almost did—but then he pulled his hand away.

He scooped me up from behind like I weighed nothing and adjusted me in his arms before he dropped me on the bed. He grabbed my hips and dragged me to the edge before he gripped the backs of my thighs and spread me apart.

Then he guided his monster cock to my entrance and pulled me down over him, clutching me by the hips until most of his dick was sheathed in my slickness. Once he was fully buried, he paused to release a quiet moan, a low growl like it was the first time he’d had me. He adjusted his footing at the edge of the bed and pushed himself a little farther inside me. When I winced, he stopped. “I’ll be a gentleman tonight, sweetheart.” He kept my thighs pinned back as he thrust inside me, keeping a fast pace that never went too deep, stopping just before he did too much damage. “But just tonight.”

It was the deepness of his voice, his choice of words, the size of his dick—all of it made me come, holding on to his wrists for dear life. The tears burned before they released, and once they streaked down my cheeks, they took my makeup for the ride. I felt them drip down my cheeks as he fucked me faster. As his dick hardened and my climax burst his ego. I didn’t realize my iron grip until I let go and left marks behind.

He never cared if I scratched him or made him bleed. Probably didn’t even notice the damage. The fair skin between his black ink had turned a blotchy red, patches of redness across his chest and stomach. The veins in his neck were distinct, like rivers on a map. He gripped me harder as he prepared himself to finish, careful not to push his dick farther than my body preferred.

But I was his woman, and I wanted him to have all of me.

I reached for his hips and tugged, pulling him deeper than he’d been before.

The look on his face, the smolder mixed with the arrogant smirk, was so damn sexy. “If you want it, sweetheart…” He gave me all of himself as his hand went to my neck and squeezed, squeezed me like a possession rather than a person, like a whore rather than his woman. He plowed himself fully inside me and got off on my moans and whimpers as he finished, treating me as harshly as I asked him to.

He pumped his seed inside me with his final thrusts, his hand digging into my hair next because his previous grip hadn’t been enough. Instead of his dick softening to half-mast, it remained rock-hard inside me like he’d never fired the load in the barrel. “Can you take another?” He was already rocking gently, giving me a sample of his size after pounding the entire thing.

I would never say no to this man, not when a million women would happily take my place and cry tears of pain and joy all night long. “Yes.”

I jerked up from the bed, my eyes snapping wide open and seeing the darkness in front of me. I gasped for air like I’d been held underwater for five minutes and my lungs were about to burst. Sweat coated my forehead and the small of my back.

“Sweetheart.” He sat up behind me and placed his hand on my arm. “Just a bad dream…” He sounded wide awake, like he hadn’t slept at all. His arm circled my stomach, and he started to pull me to him.

My back hit his chest, but I continued to breathe like the danger hadn’t passed. I was stuck in the house that used to be a home, Bolton sitting in the armchair and looking at me with his threatening gaze. When I looked in the mirror, my face was gone…because he ripped it off. It was just blood and open pockets of flesh. I couldn’t shake the image from my mind, whether I opened my eyes or clenched them shut.

Theo pressed a kiss to my shoulder and neck when I didn’t calm down. “It’s not real.” He kissed me again. “This is real.”

I threw off the blankets because I was soaked in sweat. I couldn’t get enough air, even though the cool air came through the vents. My fingers went to my face and felt my soft cheeks, feeling them intact. My eyes were still there, my lips.

“You can talk about it…if you want.”

I stared at my hands in the dark, seeing they were clean of blood. “No.” I didn’t want the nightmare to become reality by speaking it into the world. I didn’t want to repeat it, to burden Theo with my fears.

Sometimes it was easy to get lost in this new life. Waiting for Theo to come home late at night. Having breakfast with him in the morning. Going out to dinner, sometimes with his friends Axel and Scarlett. We talked about the future like we had a chance.

It made me forget what I was running from.

Made me forget that my ex-husband had punched me in the face, thrown me against the wall, made me do things I didn’t want to do.