Page 57 of Destroy (Deadly Hearts 2)

“I need to see if I can do this!” I shout at him, feeling the frustration tearing at my soul. I beat my hands on his chest, tears streaming down my face.

He grabs my fists and kisses them. “Ruby. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

“It’s not about that. I don’t want him to be the last man to have been with me!”

Okay. I didn’t want to say that. I wanted to keep that thought to myself. It’s not fair. I don’t want him to only do it because of that. I need him to want to do it.

“Fuck, Ruby,” he says desperately. “Fuck!”

He pushes me away and stands up, starting to pace with his hands over his eyes. “Fuck!” He roars and smashes his fist into the wall.

“Jaysus fecking Christ!” He slams his fist again and again into the wall, until he’s bleeding all over the carpet.

I don’t move a muscle. I can’t. I’m frozen in place. I feel so guilty now, I need to start this all over and ask for absolution for putting this on him.

“I’m so-sorry,” I stammer. “Forget I said…”

He lets out a noise of sheer torment and in two giant strides, he bends down and sweeps me off my feet, cradling me against him.

He lays me down on the bed and I freeze. My heart is hammering in my chest.

“Tell me to stop,” he begs me, unzipping my jeans. “Please, Ruby, tell me to stop.”

I shake my head.

“Fuck, Ruby.” He squeezes his eyes shut and undoes his pants. They drop around his ankles and he leans over me to pull my jeans further down.

“Tell me to stop,” he grits out, opening his eyes to show me his tears.

“Do it,” I beg him. “Please do it. I need you, Daddy. I need you to take care of this for me.”

“Damn you, Ruby. Damn you!” he snarls and drops down on top of me. He kisses me roughly, pinning me to the bed with his weight. I wiggle underneath him to lower my jeans so he can do this. They’re stuck around the middle of my thighs, and I can barely open my legs, but he takes his cock in his hand and guides it into me as gently as he can under the circumstances and his intense frustration and pain for doing this.

I open up as much as I can as he thrusts deeply inside me, once, twice, three times.

I cry out in anguish, lying still and inactive in this painful, awkward sex that I’ve forced him into by placing all the responsibility on him to get rid of this feeling.

“Ruby,” he pants. “Is it enough? Can I stop? Please, please. I can’t do this…”

He pulls out of me and drops to his knees on the floor, his face on my thighs, soaking them with his tears.

I run my hand into his hair, my own tears sliding out of the sides of my eyes and onto the bed covers.

“It’s enough. Thank you, Daddy. Thank you,” I murmur with a relief that makes me go dizzy and weak. “Thank you.”

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