Page 103 of Lesson In Forgiveness

Unfolding his arms, he reached down and popped the button on her pants, lowering the zipper with a soft whirr. “I give the orders in the bedroom. I hold the safety of your body in my hands. I’m the one responsible for making sure you come out whole on the other side of whatever we do.”

Trembling, Tabitha’s breath caught in her throat. She watched him warily as he gripped one boot in his big hands and tugged it off her foot.

“Until we get past the huge fucking elephant in the goddamn room, there isn’t going to be any quickies.” He almost snarled the word as he yanked off her other boot. “You deserve more than for me to just pull my dick through my zipper and stick it into you. Do you get that yet? You deserve a lot fucking more than what you’ve been given over the years.”

The tension in the room was rocketing. Not the kind she was used to, violent and forbidding. No, this was a thick vibration in the air, humming around them until her bones shook with it.

It only intensified when Grit grasped the hems of her pants legs and pulled, dragging them off an inch at a time. When he tossed them aside, leaving her only in the lilac panties she’d put on that morning, she was a nervous wreck.

Instead of stripping her of that last, meagre defense, he removed his own shirt. As the material fluttered to the floor to join her clothes, he lifted his chin. “Still want me to get my pants off, Tabitha?”

Fight or flight instinct was starting to kick in. There was an edge to his tone she hadn’t heard before, one that itched under her skin. All her exposed, vulnerable skin. She squirmed, trying to crawl backward up the bed without drawing attention to her retreat.

A subtle shift of his weight turned him from a familiar ally into a threat.

“Bunny’s trapped in a corner but she’s not ready to die,” she whispered beneath panicked breaths. “When push comes to shove, gotta lie, lie, lie.”

Grit studied her like a bug on a slide. His eyes never left her as he unfastened his belt, easing the leather through the loops around his waist and dropped it with a harsh jingle of metal on wood.

Before she realized she’d lost a few precious seconds of time, he loomed over her; a big man in his prime, fit, toned, and more naked than she was. Completely naked from head to toe.

The man was well-endowed, undeniably. Even though she’d had that appendage in her hand, the overall visual of him was enough to shock her.

There was no comparison between him and Dominic. The first time her father raped her, it felt as though he was tearing her open with his fist instead of his dick. Assessing the width and girth of the shaft in front of her, with the thick, mushroom-shaped crown, she realized part of Dominic’s fascination with abusing children wasn’t just the power he gained from causing pain.

Fucking children had made him feel like a big man, compensating for the pencil dangling between his legs.

Grit did not have that issue.

With one hand stroking his cock, he curled the other around her ankle, hauling her ass to the edge of the mattress. “Lift your hips and take your panties off, Tabitha. Are you wet?”

This wasn’t how she’d thought it would go. Well, actually, that wasn’t true; it was exactly how she’d imagined it would go when she begged him to fuck her and just get the whole traumatic shitshow over and done.

Close her eyes, spread her legs, and take the first painful thrust without a sound. Suffer through the ordeal, acting her ass off to make him believe she was enjoying the experience.

Somehow, she just hadn’t anticipated him being this way, not after all the care and attention he’d lavished on her to get to this point.

Fingers fisting in the covers, she couldn’t stop her chest from heaving. No matter how deep or fast she breathed, it felt as though her lungs were strangling. She tried to roll away; his fingers clamped down on her ankle like a shackle.

“Don’t think so, little tiger. You want my cock in that tight cunt so bad, you do as you’re told and get rid of the panties. If you make me do it, I’m ripping them off.”

Frantically, her eyes bounced around the room, looking for a way out. Seeking help where there was none. There were no weapons—her body was too captive to terror to function the way it was trained—and there was nothing but the bed and the chair…

Evander.

She locked eyes with the silent Dom, silently pleading. Muscles seizing, bones quaking, she didn’t understand the tilt of his head he gave her in response.

“Grit,” she wheezed when her Dom’s hand stroked up her calf to claim the curve of her knee. “Grit, please, stop. I can’t do this.” She slapped at his hands when he released his cock to press her other knee to the side, opening her in a wide spread. “Grit, Grit, please. Don’t, I’m s-scared. S-S-Stop.”

The heat of his palms burned on her inner thighs.

Her heart threatened to break her ribs.

Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as her babbling pleas deteriorated into whimpers. “Rory, please—”

Everything crashed to a halt.

Relief replaced the intense concentration on his face as he exhaled loudly, lifting his hands clear of her body, taking a step back. “Good girl, little tiger. Good fucking girl.”

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