Page 97 of The Bonds We Break
“Fuck, Rae. You feel so good.” I bury my nose against her neck, surrounded by the scent of her, all flowers and warmth.
“Like home?” she says, wrapping her legs around me.
I scoop my hands beneath her ass and hold her just where I need her. Wide and open to me. “Yeah. Just like home.”
Maybe she’s expecting me to be more ... well ... me. More dominant. More in control. But in this moment, I feel like sharing a piece of myself that I rarely show anyone. Perhaps I haven’t since the day I woke up and found my mom and sister gone all those years ago.
I show her the bit of me that needed someone to just fucking love me without asking anything else.
I show her with my hands and words and the rest of my body just how much it means that she fought for me. Fought for us.
Later, I’m going to fuck her in every position in this room. Then I’m gonna take her home and do it all over again.
But for now, I love her.
And revel in the slice of heaven we’ve created for each other.
“Uther, please,” my woman begs, and I change position slightly to give her more of what she needs.
I place my hands on either side of her face, taking my weight in my elbows, and I just stare at the woman who has brought so much fucking joy into a world that up until a month ago was getting darker and darker. We don’t say a word and simply focus intently on each other as our bodies follow the path to where they want to go.
Rae comes first, her mouth open, her eyes wide with the edge of surprise that seems to catch her by surprise when I make her come. With every thrust, I hold off my own orgasm, just because I want to feel every moment of hers. Each second of it is too precious to waste.
As she comes down, I let my own take over.
“I love you,” I gasp as the world tilts and my whole body detonates.
35
KING
“Istill think you should let me come with you.”
I finish tugging on my boots and look over at Rae, who is sitting up in my bed. The navy-blue sheet is tugged up under her arms, covering her breasts, and I need to look away before I pull it off her and make love to her again, as if we haven’t been at it like rabbits for the past three hours.
I take her hand and rub my thumb over her scars in a move I hope she understands— acknowledging their existence and honoring the strength it took for her to overcome them. “This is between me and your brother, and while I appreciate that you care for both of us, this is something we have to figure out between the two of us.”
Rae watches my thumb for a moment before she speaks. “Can I tell you a story before you go speak to him?”
“Anything, duchess.”
She smiles at the affectionate term. “If I’d known you were going to call me that name for the rest of our lives, I would have suggested something else.”
I shrug. “I like it. Suits you. What did you want to tell me?”
“On my fifth birthday, Mom baked me a cake. It was a huge one and my favorite. Red velvet with lots of cream cheese frosting and five white candles. Dad told us we had to wait to eat it until he got home from Bible class. But seven p.m. came and went. By eight o’clock, I was desperate for the cake. At nine, I knew I wasn’t going to be allowed to eat any because it was past my bedtime already. So I crept into the kitchen and cut myself a slice. It wasn’t pretty, but I tried to cut the thinnest piece I could and attempted to smooth all the frosting over so you couldn’t tell.”
There’s a sinking feeling in my gut. I have an idea where this story is going, but I let her finish.
“Sometime around midnight, Dad made it home and realized a sliver had been taken from the cake. He dragged all three of us out of bed. It was February, and I remember shivering in my nightdress as he made us kneel on the frigid tiles in the kitchen. He asked who took the cake, and I was too scared to answer.”
Rae blows out a breath.
“Hey,” I say. “It’s okay. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you now.”
She shakes her head. “Ryker stood and said it was him. And when I tried to stand and tell Dad it was me, Ryker told me that I didn’t have to cover for him. As he gently pushed me down to my knees, he winked and whispered that no little girl should get a beating on their birthday. Instead, I had to watch as Dad removed his belt and beat Ryker black and blue with it.”
Her eyes brim with tears, and I tug her hand to my lips. Now, I’m thinking about going to her dad’s place and finishing the job I started. My conscience doesn’t have a problem with killing people who deserve it. And I’ve killed people for a lot less than beating a child.
