Page 316 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“Like this?” He slammed into me again and again, going deeper and deeper.

I wanted to reply, but my mind couldn’t register anything except the heat and desire rising to the top.

“Kain!” I cried as the pleasure flooded me, shaking my body.

He didn’t stop fucking me. Instead, he kept going, and my body didn’t know what to do but to succumb to the waves of bliss blinding me.

Then he pulled out, shifting me so I was bent over the table with my bare chest kissing the table’s surface and my ass facing him. I didn’t object to anything he wanted to do to me. My body was too relaxed—too satisfied. He slapped my butt twice, and I spread my legs for him.

He drove into me, chasing his own pleasure. “I love fucking you in my office. You feel so good.” The raspy voice soon turned to a loud roar of pleasure.

I wondered if the construction worker heard us from outside the office. I woke this morning expecting a normal day. But what I got was an offer to take over a flower shop and the best office fuck I’d ever experienced.

Sex with him was on another level.

“Thanks for the best business meeting I’ve ever had.” He lowered himself and kissed me.

Eleven

KAIN

After getting dressed, we settled onto the couch in my office.

“What does the black rose with the thorny stem mean?” Eva traced the tattoo on my right bicep.

Somehow her touch seemed to purge the darkness that had been embedded into that image like a massage removing the knots in a tight muscle.

At that moment I knew what could heal me on a physical level. Meeting Eva had slowly opened my heart to love, and that was the beginning of my internal path to recovery. I had wanted to move away from the dark past, but didn’t know how until now. Love had propelled me forward.

“Hawthorne was an intelligent psycho. I don’t know why he was obsessed with the black rose and thorns. All his captives had the same tattoo. It was his insignia. His way of making us his possession.”

“What did he make you do?” Eva asked.

“Hawthorne ran an intricate business selling human organs. He made us clean them.” My body shivered from the remembrance of the first time I had to clean a human heart. “He had his team deliver them. Two of his members worked at a funeral home. That’s how they got rid of the bodies after the organs were taken. I heard them talking about burning them. Though we stayed in the underground bunker, there was an area with a small window. That’s where I saw cars come and go and overheard their conversations.” I looked at her, expecting her to shudder, but she looked angry.

“He’s an evil man.” She frowned. “I want to hurt him for hurting you and all the people he held captive. What a sick person. Did he die a horrible death?”

I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest. “He did.”

“How?” She stared at me.

“A bomb exploded in his home.”

She sighed. “Good. I hope he’s suffering in hell right now, where he has to endure the pain of having someone extract his organs over and over again. Kind of like the myth of Prometheus who had to endure the suffering of having an eagle eat his liver every day for defying the Gods.”

Amusement and pride stirred in me at this interesting woman. “I see you like Greek mythology.”

“People were messed up back then too.” She shrugged. “Did you . . .”

“Kill anyone?”

She nodded.

“Hawthorne didn’t make us kill anyone. Not that I heard or saw. We were kids and he kept us confined. I’m sure he had his men help with the murders.” Sharing this story with her had lifted an incredible weight from my shoulders. “He forced us to help him extract the organs from the dead bodies.” I paused, unsure if I wanted to share more about myself with her. But she seemed strong and courageous, looking at me with so much trust. “But I killed someone after I escaped.”

She sucked in a breath. “Who?”

“My father.” I swallowed, releasing a sigh. “Though my mom had left him, he found out where she lived and battered her to the point where all her limbs were broken. The doctor couldn’t save her. I ended his life that night. I saw the worst of humanity while being captive. I’d never held a human organ in my hands until then. It changes you. So killing my evil father wasn’t as hard as it should have been. The rage from being imprisoned added to the grief of my mom’s death poured out of me onto him.”

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