Page 28 of Repluse

“Come inside and I’ll tell you my life story,” he says as he turns off the engine and climbs out of the car.

“Said the spider to the fly,” I reply before he closes his door.

He pauses and leans back in to look at me, concern now etched on that beautiful, blue-eyed, boyish face of his. He’s so fucking pretty I could cry as guilt at my harsh words washes over me.

“You want me to take you back to the city? Or we can sit out here till Frankie graces us with his presence.”

“Then go inside with two of you and a broken wrist?” I can’t help myself this morning.

His jaw ticks as he tenses, and I know his mood has switched from concerned, possibly a little hurt, to thoroughly pissed off.

“We had you in an apartment alone all last weekend. No one knew where you were. You didn’t know us. We, or at least I, didn’t know you, but you letme, letbothof us inside your body.”

My vagina—the traitorous little hoe—reacts to his words as memories flash through my mind of all the things we did and how fucking good they felt.

“DidI, did either of us do anyfuckingthing to make you feel unsafe or vulnerable?”

I shake my head.

“Good,” he replies before slamming his door and walking around the front of the car to open mine. His face has relaxed again, and I want to sit on it when he looks at me the way he is right now.

“I would never, not ever hurt you, and I fucking hate that someone has. Now, come inside, I’ll make you one of those girly teas you like so much, and tell you the life story of Samuel Axel Olsson.”

“Axel? How manly.” I take the hand he’s offered to help me out of the Land Rover.

“You fucking know it, baby girl,” he responds with a slap to my arse as we walk towards the house.

“And how do you know I like girly teas?”

“I stalked your Insta.”

“See, again, not filling me with confidence about entering this place alone with you right now.”

“I’ll enteryouwith my dick if you don’t quit bitching. Will that make you feel safer?”

“Absolutely,” I say as I follow him through the front door.

He turns and is on me in a second. Raising my arms above my head, he gently holds my hands in one of his. Pressing his body flush with mine, I feel his hard dick as he grinds it against me, his eyes on mine as his hot breath coats my skin.

“I wanna fuck you so bad. Fuck the cunty attitude you’ve rocked up with this morning right out of you. But every time I look at what those fuckers have done to your gorgeous face and your wrist, I get so fucking angry, I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. You’ll never hurt me; you just told me that.”

He blinks rapidly a few times—something I’ve noticed he does when he’s processing—before closing his eyes for a long moment.

“Hard and fast against the door, or long, slow, and fucking deep in my bed?”

“However you wanna have me.”

“Every way fucking possible.” He lifts me up into his arms, carrying me along the hallway and through a set of double doors into a large bedroom.

I don’t get a chance to take in the space before he’s over me, peeling me out of my clothes. His movements are precise but gentle. When he sees the bruises across my ribs, he pauses.

“Mila, fucking hell. Are you sure? For fuck’s sake, look at you.”

I reach for the back of his head and pull him towards me.

“I’m sure. Fuck me. Fuck it all away. Make me forget them. Make me forget the bruises. Fuck me until there’s nothing and no one except me and you.”

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