Page 8 of Borden 3

“You alright?” Borden asked from behind me.

“Place is so damn big, everything echoes,” I grumbled. I carelessly threw the heels down behind me and climbed up the stairs. Borden followed.

“You’re quiet,” he said as I walked into the bedroom.

“It was a long day,” I replied, collapsing into bed, still dressed in my funeral outfit. I stared blankly up at the ceiling. “Right now a family is suffering, Borden.”

Borden loosened his tie, his gaze trapped on me. “Yeah.”

“Leonard died six months ago next week. He was forty-six.” I lifted my head to look at Borden. “Jason was 34.”

Borden turned his back to me and ambled to the dresser. He removed his cufflinks, his movements slow. “People die, Doll.”

“Maybe you should put that on the job advertisement.”

His movements slowed, and I knew I wasn’t being fair.

My voice softened. “I’m sorry.”

He placed his zippo down next, his voice indiscernible. “Don’t be.”

“I can’t stop thinking about Shaunie.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“And Lincoln.” He turned now to look at me. His emotions were hidden behind that stony wall, but his voice gave away more than he wanted. “I can’t lose either of you.”

I blinked rapidly, keeping the pain at bay before I pressed an arm over my eyes, hiding my face. “Protect him. Should anything ever happen to me, Borden, you choose Lincoln over me.”

A moment later, I felt weight sink into the bed. His large body came over me, trapping me beneath him until I had no choice but to drop my arm and look at him. There was a deadly calm in his blue eyes, but his voice was lethal when he quietly said, “Nothing will ever happen to you. I won’t allow it.”

“Just promise me,” I said, pressing my hand against his cheek. “Lincoln comes first.”

“Enough.”

“Please, Borden, for me—”

His mouth crashed against mine, silencing me. It was a bruising kiss. My words brought him anguish, and the only way he could process it was to punish me into submission. I relented, opening my mouth to let him in. His tongue swiped mine, and he let out a groan that vibrated down my body.

Every time I poked around his edges, he did this. Buried my words with his kisses, with the weight of his body, the hard ridge pressing against my core as he spread my legs wide. For now, it was working. I shivered when he dragged his large hand down my body, squeezing at my curves. When he ground his cock into me, making me shake from pleasure.

He wasn’t tender. He slid my pantyhose and underwear off me so seamlessly, I’d barely felt it happen. He kept my black dress on, though his teeth bit at my breast through my clothing. He was pissed off at my words, at what they did to him, at the possibility that hung in the air around us. In this world, death was everywhere, and there had never been a reprieve. Never truly. Never enough to make us take a few deep breaths without feeling the weight press on our lungs.

“Borden,” I moaned, my voice heavy with pain. “Talk to me—”

“No more crazy talk, Emma,” he rasped, silencing me once more with his mouth. I heard his belt unbuckle. Felt his pants slide down just enough to free himself.

He slid into me, his thrust strong and hard. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as his piercing grazed along my nerves, my breathy words hardly audible.“I’m not crazy.”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

There was no rhythm to the fucking. He was merciless. His movements were erratic, uneven. His mouth came down on mine, biting at my lips every time I tried to speak. He silenced me, his teeth clenched. Then he pulled away, gripped my chin and forced me to look at him as he delivered his thrusts.

“Mine,” he grunted. “Mine, Doll…”

My legs squeezed around his hips, his piercing continued to rub against that delicate part of me that would ache later.

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