Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(89)
By the time she reached him, she’d lost her shirt and was in the process of unhooking her bra. Standing in front of him, she tossed the black lace aside and went to work on her black dress pants.
“Sit down,” she ordered as she stepped out of her pants. Her underwear was next and then she was standing before him, naked. He took his time looking down the full length of her, feeling all sorts of ugly thoughts rear up inside of him, mixed in between how beautiful he thought she was, and how desperately he wished he could be with her the way a man was supposed to be with a woman, before meeting her eyes once again.
“Michael,” she said forcefully. “Sit down on the damn couch!”
He didn’t know what she was doing, but he didn’t want her to leave, so he backed away from her slowly until his legs hit the couch. Once he sat down, he looked up at her. Now what?
Now what became suddenly clear when she followed him over and bent down in front of him. Dirty went stiff as her hands reached for his leathers and he fought the urge to slap her away.
“You want me to f*ck you,” he said, clenching his teeth. “You coulda just said so.”
Ellie yanked down his zipper. “I don’t want you to f*ck me,” she said, sounding angry. Freeing his cock from his boxers, she grabbed hold of him. “I want to f*ck you.”
Dirty’s chest heaved hard as fear exploded inside of him. His hands flew to his sides and his fingers dug into the couch cushions. He was getting hard, he didn’t want to be, he would have given anything to cut his own dick off, yet still he was growing harder in her grip.
“What…the…f*ck…are…you…doin’,” he said, sounding breathless as if he’d just run a marathon. She knew he couldn’t play it this way, she f*cking knew.
He did not want to hurt her. He did not want to hurt his Ellie.
Ellie ignored him as she straddled him. He gripped tighter to the couch cushions and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t do this,” he gritted out and then, rather weakly added, “Please.”
But she didn’t stop and once he felt her positioning him at her entrance, he knew she wasn’t going to stop and suddenly it wasn’t just fear that was red-hot, pulsing wildly through him, but it was pain, and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t think straight.
“Look at me,” Ellie demanded and when he didn’t, she repeated, “Michael, look at me.”
His jaw locked, his body strung tight, he opened his eyes and tried to focus on her.
“I am not going to hurt you,” she said forcefully.
His vision swam. He needed her off him. Away from him. He needed her to stop f*cking touching him.
“Michael!” she yelled. “I’m not going to hurt you! I am not her!”
No. No, no, no, no. That’s what she always told him, that she wasn’t going to hurt him. She promised every time, swore she wouldn’t hurt him, and then she did. She always, always did, she hurt him over and over again until he was crying and screaming and begging her to stop and she never did.
Dirty let out a ragged gasp as Ellie pushed down and he slid slowly inside of her. He was going to kill her; he didn’t want to, but he was going to. He was going to let go of this f*cking couch, wrap his hands around her neck, and wring the f*cking life from her. He just had to let go of the couch.
“Michael,” he heard her say, her voice soft. “Please look at me and let me show you what love is.”
Air shuddered from his lungs in loud, noisy spurts.
Love.
She had never shown him love.
Ellie wasn’t her.
Ellie was not her.
Ellie was…love.
Not her.
Love.
Dirty tried again to focus on her and when he did, when he really, truly looked at the big blue eyes looking back at him, it was what he didn’t see that startled him back into awareness.
He didn’t see lust. Or need. He didn’t see the hungry gaze of a madwoman. He saw not one trace of pleasure being derived from his pain.
All he saw was Ellie. His Ellie. With tears in her eyes.
“I’m not leaving,” she said. “I’m going to unpack my books and put every single one of them on your empty shelves. I’m going to unpack my clothes and hang them up inside your empty closet. I’m going to fill up your refrigerator with food and your cupboards with dishes and your bathroom with feminine products and I’m going to buy pretty-smelling candles and colorful sheets and curtains and I’m definitely buying a carpet for this big ugly bare room…and I’m going to make you breakfasts and dinners and I’m going to force you to watch stupid movies with me and I’m going to cry and yell once a month for no good reason and I’m going to sleep next to you every night and wake up beside you every morning but most of all, Michael, I’m going to love you. I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to deal with that, the fact that I need to love you. Because I’m not going to stop, not ever. You did this, you made me love you by just being you and, all my life, everything I’ve ever wanted, I worked hard to get it, and now I want you and I want you to love me and want you to want to be loved in return. Do you understand? I want to love you, not hurt you, not ever hurt you.”
He was shaking now, not out of fear but because he was crying. Because everything she’d just said had been everything he’d always wanted to hear, he just hadn’t realized it. Not until right now.