68

H e advanced on me so quickly that I didn’t have time to react. The force of our bodies colliding up against the wall was enough to rattle the pictures that hung as he pinned me there with the barrel of his gun shoved beneath my chin.

Heavy breathing filled the kitchen, but the house was still and quiet.

This was the only opening he was ever going to get. If there was one thing that the Manor enjoyed more than hurting strangers, it was the joy it seemed to derive from my black moods. Wesley couldn’t kill me. There was no real threat—just the enjoyment the walls took from my rage.

A knowing sank in my gut as the cool metal of the barrel bit into my skin.

“For over a century, I believed the Manor was trying to protect me from the outside world. Delusionaly so.”

Wesley watched me carefully, our bodies melting into one as he kept me under his firm grasp and listened. The golden flecks in his eyes danced like fire when he realized I wasn’t afraid of him. My own anger and frustration raised to match his.

I was no longer the shrinking violet who made herself smaller to give space for the large violent outbursts of others. Our faces were so close I could feel his breath mingle with mine and could almost taste the blood that had dried on his lips.

“But now I realize it wasn’t protecting me. It was protecting itself. I’m just the beating heart of this place. As long as I keep moving, wandering, tending to its needs and keeping it entertained, the walls will keep standing.” I swallowed tightly, my throat bobbing against the barrel of the gun.

“So shoot me, Wesley,” I snapped, my eyes sharp as they bore into his, daring him to follow through on his threats, threats that I was almost sure now were empty. “You wanted so badly to kill me the moment you laid eyes on me, so now I’m giving you permission to pull the trigger.”

Wesley didn’t move, he didn’t breathe, his body pressed so firmly against mine that I could feel his heat rise the longer he was silent.

“Do it!” I demanded. He flinched at the sound, not expecting the force. It felt good to scream at him.

Wesley’s lips collided with mine, teeth and tongues clashing together as his hand came up and wrapped around my throat, keeping me pinned to the wall as he kissed me with all the force of the past few month’s pent-up anger and frustration. It was rough, but not unpleasant, as his teeth dragged over my bottom lip. His knee pressed between my thighs and I groaned against his lips, unable to help myself as his tongue swept over mine and his hold tightened around my neck.

My fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck and yanked him down closer to me, deepening the kiss, unconcerned if I was gentle; this wasn’t about that. This was carnal and desperate, and I was determined to give as good as I got .

Gasping for breath but yearning for more, he wrapped his arm around me and lifted me against him, spinning me until I sat on the counter, shoving himself between my legs. Never breaking the connection at our lips. I felt the gun press to my cheek as his hands came up to grasp my face. The danger was ever present and only fuelled my desires.

“You’re still a monster,” Wesley huffed against my mouth to satiate his guilt.

His fingers found my hips and dug in so tightly they would have left bruises if I was anything but what he claimed. He set the gun to the side and worked at his belt, the clang of the buckle falling open as I hiked my skirt up in preparation. He moved to take me and I pushed my foot out above his groin, and grabbed his open shirt in a hard fist, forcing his eyes to meet mine.

“If you need to see me as a monster, Wesley, that's fine... ” I hissed from my swollen lips, already bruised from the impact of his. I removed my foot and opened my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him with as much force as I could manage towards me.

My nails raked at the exposed flesh of his hard stomach as I reached down and gripped him roughly, jerking the length of him. His eyes were angry slits but never moved from mine as I lined him up with my center. “...But then so are you, ” I finished, forcing his entry with the flexing of my legs from behind him.

It was hard and rough as he slid inside of my aching heat. He grunted in surprise at the forced insertion and it turned to a moan when he felt how ready I was for him. A small smirk of pride lifted his face. His cock plunged deep inside me with only a hint of resistance as I cried out from the delicious sharpness it delivered.

He was broad and impressively long, each rough thrust massaging my cunt in the most toe-curling way. I rocked my hips in time with his, my legs still around his waist, deepening the angle with an exasperated whine as his mouth found my throat, and we fell into a relentless rhythm.

His head was bent against my shoulder, his breath hot and forceful against my collar bone. My hands clawed down his back, dragging him to me, and I delighted in knowing I could mark him. I buried my nose into the curve of his throat, taking in the deep heady scent of him. He was all gunpowder, smoke, and perspiration.

It clouded my mind and I lapped him with my tongue before biting down hard on his shoulder. It tore a low growl from him and his lips met my skin in retaliation.

His teeth bit against the swell of my bosom and I could feel my nipples harden to painful points against the restraint of my stays. Moaning, I moved to unbuckle the closure to release my breasts. Only to be pushed away when his hands jerked the corset with enough force to bend the metal closure open, and it fell back on the counter behind me.

My chest was freed and shuddered with the effort to catch my breath. He tore at the delicate fabric of my chemise baring my breasts and taking the swollen hardness of their peaks in his mouth and hands.

He buried his face against the soft round curves, biting harder than before as his thrusts grew deeper and more desperate. His hips slapped against me as he angled me back to my elbows on the counter and grabbed at my thigh for leverage.

A glass fell to the floor, shattering into tiny shards on the tile, followed by another, and soon they were all tumbling from the cupboards like the house was screaming in protest. But the pain was pleasure and the pressure that built in me was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

Wesley became crazed, his nails digging into my skin as my hips bucked up to meet his stronghold on them, his cock grazing every nerve and lighting them on fire. My aching core begged for release among the shattering glass and ragged breathing. Goosebumps painted my skin and a strangled cry tore from my throat as all composure was lost and the building orgasm overtook all rational thought.

Wesley followed over the edge as my cunt throbbed around him. My back arched off the counter as his stomach tightened. His hand raked up my back and pulled tightly in my hair, sending a wave of delicious tightness through my spine as he finished in a flurry of stuttering hips and groans.

Stars flooded my vision as he ripped from me, leaving me achingly hollow after the pressure of him. He shocked me when I felt his face briefly between my legs, his tongue swirling around the excruciatingly sensitive cluster of nerves before he sucked hard and I plunged even further into the dizzying fall of my climax.

“Oh, God,” I cried out with my eyes screwed tightly shut and his teeth bit down, his tongue soothing the aches as my body begged for relief from the endless shockwaves.

And just like it had begun, it was over, the sound of his boots crunching across the broken glass on the kitchen floor, the ache between my thighs reminding me that the presence of passion was not the answer to all our problems. But even if he had left me there, reeling from the feeling of him fucking the frustration he felt out of our bodies, he had still given in to the temptation.

I looked down at myself, skirt around my stomach and my bodice torn open. Bruises were already forming on my hips and breasts, and the faintest pink curves of crescent moon fingernails marking my skin.

A wall had broken inside of Wesley Cameron.

I had the marks to prove it.

I grinned wickedly to myself as I pressed my fingers to my bruised lips in revelation; and so did he.