Page 48 of The Broken Wolf's Redemption

He wasn’t above feeling, it just normally didn’t happen. Even for the extreme, he was barely able to conjure up any emotions. There was one day in his life that still affected him. He would never be able to purge that night when everything changed.

He wasn’t sure what he felt right now, but he felt it through all his body.

He felt it keenly as he ran his tongue along Seren’s folds. He licked his way straight to her clit and heard her gasp. His cock throbbed, leaking in his jeans. She was so good, so bright and delicious.

She leaned into him, arching her back. He felt her shake as he slowly circled her clit and then pulled back. He teased her seam, vibrating with need. His fingers grew slick and clammy. They were going to come apart. Break their coupling like shattered chains. He was going to grasp her hips, tear his jeans open, and fuck her. He was going to fill her until it hurt, until he tore her apart with his massive cock. He’d grasp her thighs, her hips, her ass, her tits, so hard that he’d leave his fingerprints on her skin like the ink that decorated her body.

He hesitated at her entrance just because he wanted to hear her tell him to do it. Instead, she moaned and parted her legs even further. She rocked forward, her hips riding his face before there was anything to ride. He wanted her riding his dick more than he wanted anything, but he gave her his tongue.

He plunged it inside her. Fuck, she was so tight. She’d be exquisite wrapped around his dick. Heat surged up his spine. His fingers ached. They were going to snap apart.

He was going to tear apart.

He dragged his tongue back over her slit, back to her clit, and Seren’s strangled moan shattered through the room like a grenade.

He couldn’t do this. He was wrong. He couldn’t play this game. It was far too deadly. Too high stakes. She didn’t understand what she was getting herself into. She didn’t know what he’d done. To her, specifically. If she did, she’d hate him.

It didn’t seem right that she’d give him her body this way, so proudly free and strong, when he hadn’t told her that he’d manipulated her into this very position. He might never have meant for this exactly to happen, but it was happening and it wasn’t just the fault of some prick who’d decided to take Seren and her associates to court.

And there she was, spread open, at his mercy, begging him for more.

He slowly straightened and her back unbowed. Her eyes opened, pupils blown, the irises so dark blue that they were like falling through the ocean.

She deserved better than this. So much better than him. But if that’s what she wanted, he’d give her whatever he had that was worth anything at all. He’d gather up the shreds and tears and hand her the shattered paper bits. He’d tear himself wide open and allow her free access. He’d give her the soul he wasn’t sure he even still had, set straight into her open palms. She could create art with it if she chose. She was the talented one, the one who could take something worth nothing and turn it into a masterpiece.

“There’s something I have to—”

“No.” She flew forward, launching herself at him. She broke her fall with her hands on his shoulders, but his had untangled. They were tingling and numb, but he wrapped them around her waist to break her fall.

Fuck.

He was touching her. Her skin the softest silk. She was everything good, everything beautiful, everything he should have kept the fuck away from himself if he wanted to keep it unsullied. She’d get over it if she was just performing for him. She’d learn something about herself and then she’d get over it or get past it or use that knowledge however she chose. In the end, she would have been able to stand on her own. She would have left with her head held high and never looked back. She would only have thought of him to dismiss him. That was his end goal.

He was never going to achieve it now.

She’d found all the broken pieces of him. She was far from picking them up and slotting them back together. There was no right order. She held them in her hands, but the way she looked at him, it was like she didn’t care. She didn’t mind that they were going to cut into her flesh. They were going to scar and imbed and wound, but she wasn’t afraid.

This woman was so much more than he’d ever known or understood. If he lived a thousand lifetimes with her, he would never fully be able to comprehend all of her. A thousand lifetimes? He’d done enough damage in a single one. A half of a single one. Hopefully, re-birth wasn’t a thing. He didn’t want to come back to do this all again.

“You don’t know. You don’t understand. I’ve—”

“No.” Her nails bit into his shoulders through his t-shirt. She didn’t have fake ones. The real ones did enough damage. He liked the bite, the red welted crescent moons that would be there in his flesh if he stripped his shirt off and looked. “No, Rome. I don’t care what you’ve done or what you’re going to do. This is our hour. This is our night. There is nothing but right here, right now. There is nothing but us.”

Chapter 17

Seren

That might be taking things too far. She should care. She wasn’t just going to take this man physically inside her. She’d take him in every other way. His past mattered. His present. What he was going to do tomorrow and the day after and the day after. It mattered what he was and what he’d become and how he’d already changed.

But truly, all anyone ever had was the moment they lived in. She’d never been able to understand that concept or at least make it real.

It was real with Rome.

A new serenity flooded her veins. A new surrender.

She looked into Rome’s eyes and saw the flicker of something new. He curled his hands into his sides so tight that she could tell that he was forcing himself not to touch her when, really, that was all he craved.

She’d wanted to do this for herself, to prove that she was worthy, to stand up for herself, and because, even though it was truly fucked up, she wanted him.

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