Page 48 of The Vengeance You Crave
But then he speaks, and I crash back down to reality with a violent bang.
"The only safe bet here is that your cunt is going to be obliterated by the time I allow you to hobble out of here. But—" he quickly adds. "Only one of us will have enjoyed it."
He thrusts inside me once more, clearly either believing that I'm clean or serious about just getting tested tomorrow. The thought of the latter makes my stomach turn. That he really thinks I'm that deceitful but the feeling of his length stretching me open soon consumes my every thought. It burns after his rough treatment over the table along with the fact it's not been used by anything that doesn't vibrate in… well… a really long fucking time. And because of that, I'm racing toward a release I already know I won't be allowed to ride out all too soon.
* * *
Pain slices through my body when I come to the next morning. I roll onto my back and just about to smother my moan as my muscles pull.
Memories of the reason for my aching body slam into me like a freaking movie. The dining table, the bed, against the wall, over the dresser, the shower.
"Fucking hell, Peyton," I chastise myself as I regretfully rip my eyes open against the harsh morning sunlight.
I blink as my eyes fill with water before looking to the other side of the bed. I already know what I'm going to find, I can feel his distance.
The sheets are a mess and there's a dent in the pillow, indicating toward the fact he was here at one point in the night. But he obviously didn't deem me a suitable sleeping partner because he's left me alone.
Sucking in a deep breath, I push myself to sit on the edge before forcing myself to stand.
Everything hurts as if I spent a night in a boxing ring, not in a bed with Luca.
Heat floods my core at just the thought of his name. It aches like the rest of me. The thought of him taking me again makes my thighs squeeze together, but hell knows I need the release. I didn't think he'd follow through. I didn't think he'd be able to because I was right on the edge time and time again, but somehow, he knew just how to play my body and every single time I was about to fall, he stopped me.
Holding onto the vanity unit, I lower myself to the toilet to pee, the tenderness of my delicate parts not surprising me as I wipe. What I'm not expecting, however, is what stares back at me when I stand in front of the mirror to wash my hands.
I look like I've been mauled by a rabid dog.
You were.
Lifting my hand, I run my fingertips over the red hickeys that run down my neck and litter across my chest and down onto my breasts.
I don't even remember him giving me most of these, but they look like I should have because they're so bright, the skin tender.
Stepping back to get a look at my lower half, I find more of the same, only when I get to my thighs, the hickeys are joined by actual bite marks, some of which have broken the skin.
"Jesus, Luc," I mutter, running a fingertip over one of the worst ones, a memory flickering in my mind of him between my thighs and giving it to me.
There is one thing I remember though.
He never kissed me. Not once.
Pain pierces my heart at the knowledge.
I wasn't good enough for him to kiss.
A sob erupts from my throat.
He really does hate me.
We used to spend hours making out as kids, it was my most favorite thing to do, well… until we started getting a little more adventurous. I didn't realize it last night, my brain was too distracted by him and the alcohol but I needed it. I needed his lips on mine.
Wiping the tears that have spilled from my eyes with the back of my hand, I reach for the toothpaste that's sitting beside the sink and squirt some on my finger to freshen up my mouth.
My temples pound steadily as I stand there. The shower calls to me, desperation to wash away some of last night down the drain is almost too much to deny, but having none of my own stuff stops me. Then another thought hits me.
I have no clothes.
I walked in here wearing a bedsheet and a pair of panties, both of which he ripped from my body.
