Page 46 of De Luca: The Saint

Kat isn’t wrong. The sparks flew almost immediately. Even when she was pissing me off, I wanted her. Maybe she’s right, our worlds are too different. I could never let a man get away with attempting to rape her. I swallow hard at my own thoughts. I’d kill a man for doing what I’ve done.

I hear the heavy footfalls of his boots before I see him. The pit in my stomach grows as I have a feeling I know what’s coming. How many times will I do this to her before she won’t ever speak to me again? Everybody has their breaking point, and I’m terrified that every time I violate her will push her further inside herself. Still, I have no choice. I’m not going to simply allow Wolf to tear her to shreds. Kat may not think I’m the lesser of two evils, but I am. She has no idea what the Bianchi’s are capable of or how much they enjoy torturing women.

She glances over to me, clearly hearing the same thing I have. She shakes her head no, “Don’t Damian. Just don’t.”

I take a deep breath, “I’m so sorry, Ang- Katherina.”

Wolf appears between us with a big smile on his ugly mug, “Let's have a little fun. This time, I will call the shots.”

He undoes my handcuffs and then says, “Same rules. Try anything and you know what happens. This time, I want her on her back. You will look into your rape victim's eyes while you rob her of her dignity.”

There is a good reason why I took her from behind last time because I couldn’t handle looking into her eyes while taking what I have no right to. He knows this, which is why he’s forcing me to do it this way.

I shake my head, “No.”

His lips curve up into an evil smile, “Good. I was hoping to fuck that cunt. I’ve been wondering if she’s tight. Now, I get to find out for myself.”

Wolf knows I will do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening. He has my card, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. When I finally get a chance to kill this motherfucker, I am going to enjoy it, whether Kat approves or not. She will not get a say in if he dies or how. He removes her cuffs before mine.

“Fine, take off your pants, get on the bed,” I sigh, “On your back.”

She wants to argue with me, I can see it on her face. She mouths the word, ‘red’ to me but is otherwise silent as she goes over to the bed and removes her pants.

Wolf growls at her as she gets on the bed, “Shirt too. I want to see it all.”

I take my pants off as well and walk over to her. Kat’s legs are closed tightly.

Wolf shakes his head, “Spread those legs before I fucking break them.”

I force down the growl, clawing its way through my chest. He hasn’t raped her, but still, he has no right to even look at her. Then again, neither do I.

When she lies down on the bed, I climb over her, push into her, and again tell her, “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know how often I’ve said it, and it doesn’t matter. Being sorry doesn’t change the fact that I’ve ignored her pleas and fucked her anyway. That’s the thing about that word. It changes nothing. It doesn’t undo the wrong, it won’t make her heal. For some reason, I keep saying, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I whisper, so hopefully only she hears me. As I expected, the words don’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks as she glances away from me.

Chapter Thirty-One

Kat

I stare at the tattoo of a rose on Damian’s shoulder, trying to imagine this isn’t happening again. I concentrate on the flower, ignoring his whispered apologies, counting the petals. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine petals.

“Eye contact,” Wolf calls out like he’s directing a porno.

My teary eyes move to Damian’s. The pain on his face is heartbreaking. A tear rolls down his cheek as it hits me, he doesn’t want to do this. But he came. That means he had to have liked it. I’m so confused. I want to believe he didn’t want to do this to me, I need to, yet I can’t. He pulls out and thrusts back inside me.

“Kiss her. Force your tongue into her mouth.”

Damian closes his eyes briefly, mouthing the words, “I’m sorry,” and leans down and presses his lips to mine.

I open my mouth, giving him access to my tongue because I know we have no choice. He snaps his hips forward over and over again.

I feel the familiar pull inside my belly, my insides pulse around him. I try to fight it, squash it down, but I can’t.

Luckily Damian swallows my moans as my body betrays me in the worst way, and I orgasm while he rapes me. There’s obviously something wrong with me. He finishes and pulls out of me while I feel physically sick by how disgusting I am. How could I get off on this? How did he? Is this normal? Is it possible that the body and mind are not as connected as I thought? Maybe the act feels good regardless of the circumstances, and it’s normal. As quickly as I can, I grab my clothes and get dressed as does Damian.

Like last time, we’re both handcuffed quickly, this time by another man, not Wolf.

Wolf is still here taunting Damian, “I think we should now call you Rapist instead of Saint, don’t you? That’s what you are.”

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