Page 82 of The Prodigal

He doesn’t.

“You won’t hurt me. I’m strong, remember?”

Slowly, he absorbs my words, and eventually, his hips start to move as his arms wrap around me. “So strong,” he agrees, sliding in again. It doesn’t bite nearly as bad as the first push. He must see it in my face because he picks up speed, moving more steadily inside me.

“Touch yourself, my love,” he demands, driving deeper inside me.

I let go of his neck and reach between my legs, massaging the bundle of nerves at my apex. A wave of pleasure washes over me as I increase the pressure, matching my speed with his thrusts as my body warms all over.

“You’re so beautiful,” he declares, watching his cock disappear inside me.

“So brave.”

I can feel the knot of tension building inside me as he thrusts deeper—harder.

“So…mine.”

My stomach clenches, and Remington pistons his hips inside me, his strong arms driving me down onto his cock furiously until we both snap, tipping over the edge in orgasmic bliss, watching as the blood of my innocence drips down his cock—redeeming the villain.

Remington

Itook to her pussy like nicotine.

I didn’t care if it killed me. I lived for another taste—especially after she told me she was on the pill. I, of course, am clean since the last time I could tolerate anyone, let alone a one-night stand, was years ago.

I made lov—I fucked Eden all night long, stretching her to her limits, literally and figuratively. Watching my cock slide between her folds, claiming what I wanted but couldn’t admit…

It fucked up my head worse than a concussion.

One moment I was euphoric and possessive, and the next, I was guilt-ridden and remorseful.

I’m not the man Eden thinks I am.

I’m not worthy of her trust and devotion, and I’m damn sure not worthy of the gift she gave me.

Selflessness isn’t something I’ve witnessed often, so I was captivated by the thought of her giving me a gift that no one could ever claim but me.

I craved to own a piece of her that I could keep forever—a piece I could always love, even when she hates me.

It’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.

I tried to stop myself.

I tried staying detached, but I couldn’t keep Eden at a distance. I couldn’t protect her from me. Instead, I devoured each hour with her like it was my last. She intrigues me to the point of madness. I love her fight. I love her twisted mind.

But most of all, I love her loyalty—her need to seek vengeance on my behalf.

For years, I had no allies—no friends to take up my cause. I have always been alone. I had no sidekick or hero—just hopelessness.

Until I found the Potters—and found Albrecht.

Vengeance should drown the hopelessness inside me.

It should make me feel better.

But it doesn’t.

Instead, the hopelessness consumes me, suffocating me with its heavy weight. Revenge no longer excites me. It only tortures me with reality.

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