Page 85 of Widow's Walk

He switches the position of his hips so that his body rubs against my pussy. This time, I welcome the friction. The burn only makes it that much better. I’m shaking, and small noises keep spilling from me.

“Blackwell,” I cry his name into a kiss and begin to convulse. He groans in response, jerking inside of me without warning. Like he could have gone longer if it weren’t for me crying out his name mid-orgasm. Like that’s what lit the fuse.

His breath shutters and his thrusts turn to small jerks, and when he groans again, my pussy gushes.

This man has fucked me up forever.

And you know what?

Fuck it. Take me.

Our hearts finally come down from dangerous heights, still thunderous but steadying.

Our limbs remain tangled in the afterglow, warm and worn. The room is heavy with sex and smoke, but it’s him I breathe. Salt and cedar. His scent is now a part of mine.

He’s becoming the center of everything.

I know it will all eventually end in more pain. Everything does. Not just for me, but for everyone. That’s the nature of wanting something too much.

But I’m in too deep to care anymore. I will be the one who decides my fate, and I choose him. If he kills me, then so be it. It was my final act of defiance disguised as devotion.

Tonight, he gave me a piece of his trust. It’s only fair he gets a tiny piece of me. He’s earned it. I’ll never let my guard down, but I’ll give him something he’s been trying to reach all along.

“I was nine when it started happening,” I say quietly, and he almost stops breathing. In fear or fury, I’m not sure. But I do know that he wants to hear this. “Royce—” I swallow his name like poison. The embarrassment and shame have been plaguing me lately. Not for what happened, but what it might do tohim. “He’s always been…off. Like seriously sick. The kind of wrong that doesn’t need a reason. Just born rotten.” I pause, and he controls his breathing. Each inhale measured.

“Tortured animals and all that serial killer shit. You know, how they all start.” I breathe, my breath ghosting across his broad chest. “We were close, once upon a time. Born only three years apart… He was never kind to me or anything, but we got along as kids. Always finding trouble.”

“Then he started looking at me differently. The kind that made me uncomfortable. Even at nine, I could feel it.” The bile rises, but I push through it. “So, I began distancing myself, but that only made it worse. For months, he stalked me. He would appear out of nowhere. Straight from the shadows, waiting to strike.”

I close my eyes, and my breath shudders. Blackwell doesn’t say anything, but his hand moves, slightly tightening around me. “One night, I woke up, and he was just standing there. Watching me sleep.” I swallow. “Then he crawled under the covers and…held me.” My throat tightens. “That’s how it started.”

“It only escalated from there. Not only behind closed doors, but publicly. He was possessive, yet still merciless when we’d train. Probably battling with the fact that he was obsessed with his own sister. Why wouldn’t he take it out on me?” I snort. “The scar on my hip,” I start. “He carved his initials in it. Branding me like fucking livestock. That did something to me. Maybe it was the final straw, but it’s what made me finally snap. I wasn’t rolling over anymore. I mean, I used to fight back when things were getting worse, but I gave up easily. Because what was the point? I never stood a chance. But then I stopped caring what happened to me if I tried. So, I did. That’s when my father found out about it. We were beating each other to a pulp one night and woke everyone up. And I told my father everything.”

I’ll never forget the way he looked at me.

Not Royce.

Me.

Like I was the sickness.

“Anyways. We were both punished.” He goes rigid under me. “It didn’t stop him, though. He was just more careful. He’d try to catch me alone anywhere in the house. But I wasn’t playing his games anymore. And he knew better than to get caught again, so as long as I fought back hard enough, he’d eventually back off.”

I take another breath. “Then it stopped. No more ambushes. No shadow games. But I knew better than to believe he was done. That he gave up. It had me even more paranoid, a whole new fucked up game. So, I began stalking him. That’s how I found out he was sneaking into Gwen’s room.” My voice cracks on her name. I haven’t said it out loud since she died. “I didn’t even think about it. I acted. I thought I had to save her. Turns out, she didn’t need saving. She didn’twantit.”

I thought she didn’t, but knowing everything I know now, she was doing it for me. Her only way of protecting me. She took the damage so I wouldn’t.

I clear my throat, choking down the wretched memories like bile. “I cut his initials out. Obviously.”

I stop talking. I’m done. Mentally drained. The vulnerability has me sick to my stomach. My head pounds with an overwhelming rush. But I don’t regret it.

Blackwell gently pushes me to my back, his handsome face unreadable as he hovers over me. There’s no pity, no disgust, nothing but calm.

Without a word, he comes down to kiss me. There’s nothing different about it, at least not in the alarming sense. When he pulls away, my hand reaches up to brush a dark lock of his hair out of his face. The moment feels surreal.

“I know the deal was sexually based, but…” he trails off.

“But what?”

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