Page 77 of Petite Fleur

It wouldn’t have stopped me from fucking her, but it wouldn’t have happened in our backyard and in a position that I know is hurting her.

“You’re right, but we’re going to get this over with so we can go back inside, okay?” I ask calmly.

I let go of her hands, but all they do is fall limp into the grass. My girl has no fight left in her.

This feels wrong.

I miss the fighting and the struggle; it made me think that she wanted this and was playing out her fantasy, and now I just feel like I’m hurting her.

Even though she feels amazing, I feel terrible.

I rub my hand along her spine while I fuck her, taking it nice and easy in hopes of keeping her comfortable, but I know she has to be sore.

So while I’d love to fuck her so roughly that she’s feeling it for days to come, I don’t.

I take my time, going easy on her until I feel like I’m about to bust; only then do I push into her fully.

Her thighs tense, and her fists clench into tight fists, but she doesn't comment until she feels me cum inside of her. “No…” She mumbles.

I pull my cock out of her once I've drained my cum as deep into her as possible. "It's already done." I say.

I tuck my bloody cock back into my pants and pull her sweatpants back up when I’m done, and slowly get up. Fuck, my leg is throbbing.

I’ve been wearing my leg too long today and I still haven’t adjusted to how cold it is in my house, but I scoop Maeve up as soon as I’m on my feet.

She tenses but makes no attempts to fight me and simply stares at her hands in her lap.

“Do you want to lay on the couch and watch a movie? I have all of your favorite snacks, and I can get you a heating pad.” I offer.

She shakes her head and refuses to look at me, but I’m not giving up.

“Tell me how to help you.” I beg. “Maybe a nice warm bath and a little massage?” I add in.

I don’t know, but I’ll do anything to help her. I know she’s got to be uncomfortable and that she’ll be sore tomorrow; I just want to make her feel better.

Maeve doesn’t respond while I walk us back inside; she doesn’t even look at me, and I’ll do anything to break this silence that is hovering over us like a black storm cloud.

I’ll do anything to make her feel better.

Anything but take her home.

This is home and I will not lose what I’ve obsessed over for the last six months.

“I’m just tired.” She finally answers.

“You need to eat something.” I beg.

Again, Maeve doesn’t bother to look up at me, but she does mumble a quick answer: "Not hungry.”

I can’t have her skipping meals, especially when I’ve had to drug her.

I know she has to be nauseous and that she won’t feel better until she has a proper meal. “I need you to eat, ma fleur. The drugs I gave you will hurt your stomach if you don’t.” I plead.

“Not hungry.” She mumbles again.

Fuck.

She hates me.

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