Page 41 of Ruthless Redemption

“You don’t understand how perfect you are.” He strikes at my heart, each word a punishment I won’t allow myself to believe.

“And you don’t understand that I’m only using you again,” I counter.

“Use me all you like.” He smashes another kiss to my lips, speaking into my mouth. “Use me for the rest of my life.”

Emotion tears me apart as his thrusts deepen. Quicken.

I could cry from the relief of it. Thepainof it.

I yearn and despise. Love and loathe. And still, he brings me pleasure, his cock gliding in and out, his adoration seeming to increase with each undulation.

He cups my cheeks. Kisses me tenderly, then ferociously. He digs his fingers into my thighs. Palms a fistful of my hair.

It’s chaotic. Wild. At least until a foreign sound breaches my ears. A chink of metal. A thud.

I stiffen. Freeze.

The front door opens in the distance with a squeak.

Shit.Bishop.

I shove at Matthew’s chest, jostling and scooting to get out from under him. He stands solid, not budging an inch, his cock remaining buried inside me.

“He’ll leave,” he grates. “This isn’t over.”

“Yes, it is. We’re done.Move.”

He grips my chin, his eyes vicious as he gets in my face. “I’m not letting you go. I won’t lose you now.”

“You never had me to begin with.” I push at his chest only to have his hands lock tight around my wrists.

“That’s a lie,” he growls.

Bishop’s footsteps approach, the rhythmic thud stopping as soon as he comes into view in my periphery. “Jesus fucking Christ, is that blood?”

I twist my arms free, then grab for the T-shirt on the counter, pulling it over my head while Matthew remains plastered between my thighs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Bishop’s steps trek toward the bedroom hall. “One of you better be dying, otherwise I’ll be fucking disappointed.” He continues out of view, his stomped steps fading down the stairs.

Matthew doesn’t acknowledge the anger. Neither do I.

I’m too busy bathing in shame, the carnage soaking me inside and out.

“Stay with me,” Matthew demands. “Don’t backtrack now.”

It’s too late. Regret has its hooks in me, the barbs buried deep.

“Don’t say it,” he warns. “Don’t fucking say it,amore mio.”

“This was a mistake.” I shove at him, using all my force to make him take a retreating step. I scoot from the counter and onto my feet, sweeping my jeans and underwear from the floor. “I can’t do this anymore. I won’t be baited.” I meet his gaze, my chin high, my shoulders strong despite the weakness chipping away at my limbs. “I want what you promised me. Then I never want to see you again.”

10

MATTHEW

I clenchmy teeth as she walks away, the cut on my neck stinging, the puncture wound on my arm throbbing.

The closer I get to her physically, the farther she pushes me away afterward.

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