Page 2 of Rescued By the Convicts
Jayce’s hands tightened in her hair, holding her still as he took control, as he so often did. With a slight rocking of his hips, he thrust into her, shallow and slow at first, allowing her to adjust to his size. As soon as he struck the back of her throat, it was as if he forgot where he was. His thrusts came fast and hard, and Melina struggled to breathe through her nose and control her gag reflex. When he finally exploded down her throat, she choked and gasped for air.
Strong arms lifted her off the floor. One large hand cupped the back of her head as he pulled her against his chest. Tears leaked from her eyes.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Lina. I didn’t mean it. I lost myself there.”
He had. He’d been fucking her, not making love to her. It was like when they’d first met, and he’d been eager to fuck her. He hadn’t cared about her name or what she wanted. He’d only wanted sex.
Like Namir. She’d been his toy to use, to loan to his friends, to abuse and humiliate for three years until she’d spoken out against The Company and been lowered to a Level 5. Being sent to the prison planet of Veenith had been her salvation. She’d found her destiny in Jayce, Ivan, Reece, and Zev.
Jayce’s hands cupped her face. “Are you okay?” he asked, his green eyes full of warmth and concern.
This was the Jayce she loved, the one who was all heart. Jayce had a dark side to him, one he tried to ignore, but he didn’t get off on hurting others like Namir. He cared about her and Ivan, even Reece and Zev. He’d sacrifice himself for any of them, but he had trouble forgiving himself for his past. He didn’t think he deserved happiness.
“Talk to me, Melina! Breathe. Something!”
She was breathing, but she’d lost the words to communicate. Goddess, was this how Reece felt when he had all these emotions, all the words built up inside, but couldn’t get them out?
Melina nodded her head to show she was okay. Jayce kissed her forehead and then pulled her against his chest again and held her tight to him. She could feel the panic and love in how tightly he held her.
Her entire body relaxed, and a huge breath rushed out of her, along with the terror that had held her hostage. Not Jayce’s harsh fucking, but the memories of Namir. He’d done much worse to her, and he certainly never held her or even cared if she could breathe afterward.
As Melina melted into Jayce’s body, she felt him shaking. And then she felt the wetness on her shoulder. Tears. Jayce was crying.
Before she could react, he shook his head and separated from her. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“It’s the storage room,” she pointed out as he blinked back the tears and stood tall, too tall, as if he were on alert.
He was distancing himself again.
“You didn’t hurt me, Jayce. You got a little excited, which is fine. Better than fine. I love that you’re so passionate and enthusiastic.”
“That wasn’t passion.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. She wouldn’t lie to him, but she wouldn’t blame him either. He hadn’t intended to hurt her. “What happened to you, Jayce?”
“Nothing worth repeating.”
“You go to that dark place sometimes, in your head. I know because I have one of my own. Please let me in.”
He shrugged, as if his past meant nothing. “Danning kept me as his slave.”
He’d told her that before. But there had to be more. The scars on his back spoke of physical punishment, but this sexual darkness had other roots. “Did he—”
“No! And don’t ever say that. I wasn’t a victim. I wasn’t weak.”
Tears stung the corners of her eyes. The storage room suddenly felt small, suffocating. “I need some air,” she said, rushing past Jayce.
“Melina! I didn’t mean that!” Jayce yelled in her wake as she rushed down the hall and up the steps. She couldn’t breathe. The bunker suddenly felt as cramped and confining as the dog cage Namir had kept her in when he wanted to punish her.
Melina slammed her wrist against the I.D. plate. The tattoo on her wrist glowed from the serilium infused in her bones, a permanent reminder that she was a convicted felon, Level 5, serving a life sentence on Veenith along with hundreds of murderers and rapists.
The damn door didn’t click open. She waved her wrist again and again, slamming it against the plate, the need to escape so pressing she couldn’t take it anymore.
Jayce swept her into his arms as her knees buckled. He swiped his tattoo over the plate and the door clicked open. He pushed it open and carried her out into the fresh air.
Cool air filled her lungs as fat snowflakes fell on her face and head. Neither of them wore a coat, and she started shivering immediately, but she couldn’t go back in that bunker. Not yet, not until the memories of Namir left her.
“I’m sorry, Lina. I screwed up again,” Jayce said, still holding her.
