Blood in the Water(118)
“I didn’t want to love you.” The words were almost lost in her tears as they broke free from her mouth before she could snatch them back.
He thrust again, the slide of his cock inside her felt like nothing on earth, like nothing she would ever feel again.
“I know and I’m sorry, so sorry, beauty.” It was a hoarse, strained plea.
Over and over, he drove into her as she flexed, trying to draw him deeper, each thrust of his hips shoving her against the door. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, feeling her own gasps returned to her heated by his skin.
“I don’t want to love you.” Her words were punctuated by a sob.
He paused then, still buried deep within her. Her body writhed, unconsciously seeking that delicious friction. He stilled her with the arms still holding her, supporting her and with the weight of his body. He caught her face so that he could see her eyes, she couldn’t look away. His own pain was clear to read in his face and in his voice.
“I love you. With everythin’ that I am I love you. I’m nothin’ without you. Empty.”
He moved again then, but she couldn’t look away. He kept her gaze and wouldn’t let her look away. She was hypnotized by his pain, mesmerized by the intensity of their shared heartache.
The pain and the pleasure coalesced as they surged together, against each other, neither able to break that connection or hide behind closed lids. Her tears were still falling even when her climax filled her with its white heat, almost blinding her, turning her bones to molten silver. She felt him swell, felt the groan emerge from deep within him, as her release drew him with it.
He stepped back fractionally and an involuntary moan wrenched itself loose as he slipped out of her. Her legs unwound themselves and somehow her feet hit the floor. Despite shaking knees she was able to stand, but she didn’t think that would be the case for long. He was still close, close enough for the heat of his body to scald her as her fingers fluttered at her clothes.
“I have to go now.”
He kissed her tears. “I know. I have to let you.”
When he stepped back further to give her the space she needed to pick up the bags and open the door, she swallowed hard. If she let the anguish free it would dissolve her and she would be nothing, a puddle, pieces of herself left on the floor and she wouldn’t be able to leave. But even as she walked numbly to her car she knew it wasn’t over. She would have to go tonight, to watch, to see him again. She had to tell him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The bay in the garage attached to the clubhouse was filled with the core of the club. Church tonight would not be held around the table. Business would be taken care of, but it would not be discussed. Silence echoed back from the concrete walls despite the number of bodies in the space.
Every patch was present. Fletch was still leaning on his cane, although a little less heavily than he had been. Physical therapy and time in the gym had given Chiz back the strength in his leg. Morse was looking stronger than he had in days. Terry was perched on one of the smaller wheeled metal tool cabinets that had been pushed against a wall to steady it. He was healing well, but the gunshot wound in his side was still causing him some pain. Kong, Tag, Crash and Sinatra had lined themselves up side-by-side. Dizzy stood slightly in front of them.
The women of the club were present on this night to witness this punishment, this payment. Moira, Dolly and Ashleigh were lined up against the wall, separate from the patches, but very much part of the event. All dressed prettily for the summer heat they were an incongruous audience for this dark reckoning. Paul couldn’t decide whether he was surprised to see Ashleigh standing there, her spine held stiff. She may well have been in attendance for the same reason as her mother, since this was retribution for his deception against her father, but he would have understood if she had wanted to avoid his presence. Even for this.
It was his instinct to want to protect her from this. But as much as he didn’t want her to witness this necessary brutality, he needed her to see what he was willing to endure, that he was willing to pay any price to earn back the trust he’d lost.
He was chained to one of the lifts that they used to winch the cars above head height, his wrists manacled with chains to the steel uprights, his arms outspread. His kutte was currently lying on the table in the Chapel. He was clad in his jeans and boots. His torso was bare, his back to the room. Samuel stepped into his field of vision.
“From the Book of Revelations. ‘And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever’.” Samuel recited solemnly without needing to refer to any text. “Are you ready, brother?”