Chapter Twenty-Four — Oliver

I pulled out of her slowly, the blood on my sheets further proof that she belonged only to me. All those years of torture, of imagining other boys dipping their dicks into my little bee, had nearly driven me insane.

I’d tried to hold back, restrain my movements once I was inside her, but I wanted her so fucking desperately that I had to struggle to keep control. This wasn’t what I imagined it would be. Anger flared up in my gut. This wasn’t supposed to be her first time.

Yet nothing pleased me more than to know I was first. My heart nearly burst with joy—a feeling I’d forgotten ever existed.

This is so fucking twisted. I'm mad and happy at the same time. Maya was fucking with my head. That was nothing new.

It was just supposed to be sex—raw, carnal lust. Feeding my desires.  I didn’t want to care if I’d hurt her or have to control myself when I fucked her. In my mind it was always rough, dirty, exciting. Pleasure mixed with pain. No feelings, no fluffy shit—only ownership. I’d use her as revenge for all the wrongs done to me in this life. 

My stomach twisted into a tight knot. Fuck, instead of getting rid of my obsession she’s pulled me in deeper.

Now I’d had her, and there was no fucking way I could stop. I’d only ever want more. I wanted to tie her to my bed and fuck her until she couldn’t walk. I wanted to hear her scream my name. I wanted every part of her.

Like a slap in the face, the realization pierced my mind: this was only the beginning of my obsession. How had I believed it would end once I’d been inside her? After what happened, there was no way in hell I’d ever let her go. Ever let another man touch her.

Something had shifted and it frightened the fuck out of me.

The worst part? I had absolutely no fucking control over it. None whatsoever. That was a first for Oliver King. I'd always thought that I was the one in control. Now I learned that it was the other way around; fear broke out on my skin; my mind was spinning. 

Only I knew she could never really be mine. I was fucked—my DNA tainted. And I was taking her straight to hell with me.

Think, Oliver. Think.

I was getting both of us deeper into a mess of fucking epic proportions. Was I prepared to take the consequences? Was I even ready to? Before, fucking Maya was all in my head. Now shit had gotten real and I couldn’t see any way out.

She reached out and cupped my cheek in her hand, smiling shyly before burying her face in my neck. I cradled the back of her head, holding her against me, feeling every inch of her soft curves against my hard body.

Fuck. Something inside me stirred and I didn’t know what the fuck it was. It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on. My analytical brain kept searching for answers, trying to make sense of this jumble in my mind. It scrambled in circles, confused and defunct. Unable to comprehend what the fuck was happening to me.

My heart was cracking open, little by fucking little, as she clawed her way inside the one place that was totally forbidden.

I'd take her body. I'd control her mind. But I wasn’t going anywhere near her heart—or mine. Those were totally off limits. It was just the way it had to be.

Rising from the bed, I fetched a wet washcloth, cleaning between her legs. She watched me with wide eyes as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Her skin was flushed and she wouldn’t meet my gaze, turning her eyes down every time I looked at her.

Leaving her alone for a moment so that she could compose herself—no, so I could compose myself—I went back to the bathroom and rinsed the washcloth, then wiped the remains of blood from my cock. I sucked in a breath when I realized it was the first time I’d taken a girl’s virginity. Every other woman I’d ever fucked had been used before.

The significance wasn’t lost on me. Although I hadn’t known before I fucked her. Why hadn’t she said something? Stopped me? Would I have listened? I was a monster in Maya’s eyes, evil and twisted. She was right.

Exhausted from trying to figure this out, I went back to the bedroom.

She’d curled into a little ball on the bed, her arms hugging her knees. She looked so fucking vulnerable, so alone between the white sheets, her dark hair spread out like a fan around her head. An overwhelming urge to make it right, to make her feel better, flooded my heart.

Crawling back onto the bed, I spooned behind her back and pulled her into my body, caging her in with my arms. She stiffened for a second before relaxing into me. We fit so fucking perfectly together—how could this be wrong?

Two broken souls.

Damaged.

Searching to belong.

Finding one another in the most unexpected way.

“You okay?” I whispered against her skin, kissing her shoulder. She didn’t answer.

I closed my eyes, caressing her skin with my lips. “I'm sorry I called you a slut.”

She shivered and let a long sigh escape her lips. Needing to ensure she understood, I continued my monologue.

“I’m just a stupid man. A jealous man. The thought of other guys . . . inside you. It nearly broke me.” Fuck. Why did I have the need to confess? I'd never felt guilty before. Why now?

One hand resting on her pussy, the other on her breast, contentment flowed through me. This was exactly where I wanted to be—who I wanted to be with. Nobody else would do.

“Please forgive me?”

Her hand slipped over mine, lacing our fingers together and squeezing. 

Yes.

Perfect silence filled the space around us. It was only us in that moment. Nothing else existed.

I shut all thoughts out. I didn’t want to think, to analyze this. The answers could be more than I could tolerate. I just wanted to soak up this moment—revel in it and forget everything else.