Page 57 of Brutal Surrender

“What if they’re not?” I challenge her.

She doesn’t like the possibility I’m suggesting. Turning to get out of bed, she mumbles, “They have to be.”

I yank her back to me. She struggles to get away, so I pin her face down, laying my body atop hers. “That’s just what you want to believe, pet.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she grumbles, trying to writhe away.

Amused by her fruitless attempts, I let her struggle for a while before I cup her throat. She stills immediately.

With my mouth near her ear, I say softly, “I think, with and without the omega blockers, your body just wants to be mine.”

To my surprise, I find the thought that she’s genuinely attracted to me very intriguing. And arousing. Fucking arousing.

Before, she could blame her lust on the fact that she was an omega, and omegas respond to Alphas. I haven’t heard of an omega that wasn’t susceptible to an Alpha. But now that she’s taking the omega blockers and still gets wet for me…

I want to make her come. Partly for more own edification. But mostly I just love seeing her body light up with rapture.

Sliding my hand beneath her, I caress her between the thighs. Her body tenses, trying to resist. But I know how she likes it, where she likes it. Her juices start to course, coating my fingers and dampening the bedsheets. I catch her stifled whimpering. But I don’t rub it in, like I would have before. I just want her to enjoy this. I don’t even tell her how hot she is because I’m not sure she wants to receive compliments from me.

My mind swims with how swollen her clit has become. I imagine making it swell more with some suction toys. Maybe I’ll make her whole pussy swell. And her nipples, too.

She lets out a soft moan. I can tell her body is reaching for its climax. Orgasm denial would be especially torturous for someone like her. I wouldn’t do that to her now, though. With all the fucked up shit I did to her, I could probably give her over a dozen orgasms a day and still fall short of making it up to her.

“Don’t fight it,” I tell her. “Let yourself come. It’s going to feel good.”

Her pants and grunts, the small movements of her body beneath mine, have caused my hard-on to swell. I press it against her ass and imagine how glorious it would be to sink into her there.

Slipping my hand to the back of her neck, I continue to hold her down while I pull out my cock. When I press the head of my cock to her pussy, she doesn’t object. I push myself into her wet heat. The angle doesn’t allow for deep penetration, but it doesn’t matter because she seems to like it.

“Dio mio,” she mumbles.

I kiss the side of her neck, inhaling her scent. I hadn’t done much kissing with her because it’s too tender an act. Before, I just wanted to drill into her holes and force her into submission. Now, it’s different. I still want to possess her and mark her as mine, but I want to be nice about it. Or, nice-er. I don’t know that I’m capable of being ‘nice.’

Am I?

When I thrust into her, I’m gentle. Releasing her neck, I grab her wrists and pin them to the bed while I undulate my hips. Her body groans beneath mine. Heat thickens in my groin. When I sense the contraction of her body prior to release, I quicken my pace, loving the way my pelvis smacks into her ass with each thrust.

With a long cry punctuated by short gasps at the end, she comes undone, her body jerking, limbs twitching. Adjusting myself, I bury my cock deep, locking her body to mine before I follow her into the whirlpool of rapture.

It felt like something more than sexual tension was being released.

I remember pulling her into my arms afterward and softly kissing her temple. She let me hold her as if my embrace no longer disgusted her. She’ll never forgive me for the things I did to her. I wouldn’t if I were her. And I’m not even factoring in her belief that I took out her family.

Laying there with her, however, it felt like anything was possible.

But even if Martina’s capable of forgiving, I don’t deserve it. Just like I don’t deserve Irene’s forgiveness. It’s too late to make it up to Irene—if such a thing were possible. Is it too late to make it up to Martina? Would that be possible?

I stand beneath the shower for a while longer, lost in thought. I want to go back to Martina. I want to see how she reacts to me. But I have a meeting in Trinidad to get to.

When I step out of the shower to towel off, I realize that my headache is completely gone.

Chapter 26

Vincent

“There are two streams that would be reliable sources of water during the dry season,” Elijah explains from the front passenger seat as our all-terrain vehicle makes its way past the flat and rolling landscape. “As we already proved, we can grow the plants here in Trinidad as well as they grow in Jamaica. Clearing the vegetation on the land would give us an additional fifteen to twenty acres.”

“That would produce a lot more than our farms in Jamaica,” I note.

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