Page 62 of Prodigal Son

Harder he drove into her body, seeking respite from his reality and longing to be someone else. He wasn’t a disappointment or a pariah here. He was a god, taking everything he wanted without apology, and she saw him with unpolluted preciseness, exactly as he was, a male desperate to escape from life’s pain and find respite in a mild impression of love.

He wanted more of her. All of her. He wasn’t letting her go until he was certain she had nothing left to give. He needed everything she could offer, needed to bury himself alive in her, end and begin in her, disappear in her.

Pounding his hips forward, he slammed deep, his strokes almost punishing, but his anger was not with her. His fury had been solely aimed at himself, his blunted circumstances. She was merely his escape.

His choices landed him here, alone with a desolate future. He would never find the satisfying end his brother found, the conclusion he provided through great sacrifice and love. And what thanks did he get for his devotion to family?

His anger at God’s cruelty heightened his emotions, and he rode her harder, taking out his frustrations in ways he never thought to try. Or was it that no other female had ever successfully stripped him of the façade so completely and driven him to such a brink of hunger and desire?

Greedily taking out his pleasure to hide his pain. He thrust into her with strong, punishing strokes. Tired of the rules, sick of pretending to live without sin when those he tried to protect most saw his attempts as wicked betrayals that might threaten their otherwise peaceful lives, he relied only on his sense of pleasure and lost himself in this hedonistic moment.

No more trying to please those who didn’t appreciate him. He was through living in the shade of Adam’s shadow. Let them call him wasteful or extravagant. They could accuse him of abandoning his duty. He knew the true score. They saw him as the prodigal son, but it was his honor that saved their family from ruin time and time again. His sacrifice. His devotion. His love.

Gripping her wrists, he shoved them into the bedding above her head. She surrendered so easily to his desires, and he found himself equally wanting to fulfill hers. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Her breathy moans increased as her body came apart in his arms. “Just don’t stop.”

He lost himself as her greedy hunger fed his. She took everything from him and he relished in her uncensored lust. He gave her all but his final truth. And in the end, he desperately wished he could show her that as well.

He wanted to let himself go, bare his fangs, feed from her vein, and face his actuality. This was his reality, and he was tired of living in secret, tired of hiding and praying to a God that ignored him when all he’d ever wanted was acceptance.

The purpose of his existence had been spent the day he gave Anna away. He had nothing greater to lose. Nothing of real value to gain. No mate to call his own, no hearth to call home, no beneficiaries or loyal lover waiting in his bed.

Pleasure would be his respite and he would shamelessly indulge himself as often and as brutally as he pleased. Judgement be damned.

He licked the swell of her breast. His heavy length sliding in and out of her tight sex. Her nails scraped down his arms and back as their bodies locked as one. Skin slick, flesh gliding against flesh, they moved like poetry, rhythmic and anticipating, satisfying, every sway and thrust, teasing out every measure of desire.

They shared an intimacy he couldn’t explain. It was as if she understood his pain and carried her own. Drawing back, he met her stare and everything stilled.

She’d so neatly convinced him they shared indifference, that this was merely a physical exchange, but as he looked down into those dark, wavering eyes, he recognized a flash of vulnerability.

He couldn’t fathom why he’d feel so protective of her. A few days ago, he didn’t even like her. But she was helping him now, in ways no one else could.

“Who hurt you, Destiny?”

Her expression instantly shuttered, her body noticeably cut off to him. He understood the desire for privacy. He was an incredibly private male when it came to matters of the heart, but he wanted to know her secrets. Wanted to help her heal.

“Tell me.”

Her body stiffened with tension. “My ex.”

“How?”

Her shoulders tensed and she tried to look away, but they were too entwined. She had nowhere to go. She was at his mercy.

“He betrayed me.”

He could have pressed for more, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears, delaying his curiosity in favor of meeting her needs. “I’m sorry someone hurt you like that.” Rather than pry further, he did something he’d never done to a female before. He kissed her on the nose.

She looked up at him. That small kiss on the nose somehow more intimate and personal than anything else they’d done tonight. “Me too,” she whispered.

“He was a fool.” Cain spoke the truth. Anyone who would hurt this female would fail to fully appreciate her.

He understood her. Saw her. Not the ball busting, do-anything-for-a-lead reporter on the job, but the vulnerable, inquisitive, shy yet brave woman who hid her battle scars well. He wanted to compare stories so they could comfort each other and move on. But they were alike in that they carried every tear and felt every fracture so long as their heart still beat.

An unsure smile trembled to her mouth, gone a second later. There was something sweet and innocent about her, something he valued and wanted to protect, even though he couldn’t. Tomorrow she would return to her regularly scheduled life and have no memory of him or this place.

A bitter sense of urgency burned inside of him, demanding he learn as much from her as he could, while he had the chance. “Tell me how you found your way back to the farm.”

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