Page 23 of Wounded Wing

My arms tremble from the budding pressure of another orgasm while my heart beats frantically against my ribcage. “I can’t–” I whine as sweat beads down my chest, disappearing into the fabric of my bra.

Slamming into my dripping core, Ren hisses as his cock pulses inside of me, “Fuck, I’m going to fill your perfect cunt.” He flicks myoversensitive nerves, sending a tremor through my body. His cock jerks steadily with a second wave of my pleasure, filling my pussy with his cum until it leaks between us.

“That was a delicious show,” Atticus taunts, bringing me back to reality. “Well done,mon papillon.”

My eyes focus back to him, noticing his dark pupils are still blown wide. He tucks his limp cock back in his cumstained pants, appearing far more presentable than me and the man still inside of me.

The guilt of what I allowed to happen settles in my chest. Did I seriously enjoy that? I shake my head at myself.

You’re sick. Just. Like. Him.

Ren eases his semi-hard length from my quivering core, sliding his fingers in gentle circles over my aching nub. His touch is comforting, even after everything he did.

“Are you satisfied, Lennon?” Ren clips.

Pulling up from the table, I straighten my spine, ready to be done with Atticus’ bullshit.

“More than satisfied,” he drawls, standing from his chair. “Clean yourselves up, you’re making a mess of my office.” He spares me a brief look, eyes trailing over my exposed flesh. “You’re on the schedule tonight,cher.”

Leaving the room without another word, he closes the door behind him. My breath hitches at being left with the man I just fell apart for, hoping he isn’t a man like my husband.

“I’m sorry, flower,” he whispers, brushing his hands down my waist. “We had to play his game, even if we didn’t want to.”

Frowning, I turn on unsteady feet to face Ren. “Why are you sorry then?” I ask.

His gorgeous face is shadowed with enough guilt that it makes my stomach sick. “I didn’t have your explicit consent for any of that.” He shakes head, refusing to look me in the eye as he speaks. “I’m not likehim. I’m not a monster, little flower.”

“We’re all monsters, Ren,” I sigh, bending down to pull my soiled leggings up. “Some of us are just better at hiding it.”

He tucks himself back into his stained slacks quickly, removing the naked tension between us. His dual-colored gaze meets mine, a fierce glint in them as he speaks, “You are not a monster, Mae Lennon.”

A disbelieving huff leaves my lips, I know what I am and it sure isn’t an angel. “I stay with one willingly, so what does that make me if not a monster?” I snark. Warm hands cup my face before I can continue my self-deprecating train of thought.

“I’ll get you away from him, little flower. I promise.” He breathes, the words ghosting along my lips.

Licking my lips, I fight against the years of conditioning that made me stay when all I wanted to do was flee. “Please,” I murmur, choosing to put my faith in him and his promises of help.

It’s a risk I can’t afford, but the sickly feeling of hope burrowed its way under my skin, infecting my blood. I’ll be good. I'll play along with Atticus and his sick games. For Ren and his pretty promises, and the traitorous light of hope.

“Hope in reality isthe worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.”-Friedrich Nietzsche

Chapter seventeen

13 years ago

“Come on, Mae! It’s almost time for the fireworks to start!” Daniel smiles, his eyes widening as he watches me strut in my new Western boots towards our favorite spot next to our barn.

The embroidery on the shaft is an intricate design of little white may flowers and vines, ‘Mays for my Mae’ is what he said when heproudly dropped them on my lap before giving me a kiss that made my heart flutter.

“Hell yeah, it is, Danny boy!” I shout, looking up in time to see the first round of Crossette stream effortlessly into the darkened skies. Settling down on the dry grass, I lean my back against the rough wood, wishing I had worn a T-shirt instead of a strappy sundress.

The blue, yellow, and red hues illuminate my best friend’s face. Daniel is beautiful in every way imaginable, from his unkempt, ash-blond hair to his devilishly handsome, jade eyes. I knew I was in love with him when we were only eight. Some folks claim that’s merely puppy love, but I know he’s the one for me. The other half of my soul, like Da says about Ma.

Daniel Fremont is my best friend and partner in crime. We’ve known each other since before we were born. At least, that’s how Mama says it. We’re two peas in a pod, birds of a feather, or as Miss Neal says; cellmates.

Miss Neal might be right about that.

I’m pretty sure there’s a running bet in town on when the pair of us will end up in jail. Danny and I had fun explosively.

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