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“Rosie, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you got a personality that poisons or lightens an atmosphere dependin’ on your mood. Right now, the air in here tastes like arsenic,
“Are you going to spank me?”
“Get on your knees, open your mouth and get ready for me to feed you my cock,”
“That’s it,” he encouraged me, his voice guttural. “Take all of that thick cock down your throat.”
My eyes watered, tears dripping down my cheeks and I loved that too because he’d see me struggle and know I was being a good girl.
The next thrust, one of his hands pressed tight to my throat so he could feel the swell of his cock there and we groaned simultaneously at the sensation.
“Good fucking girl,” he groaned, his thrust erratic, his breath fast through his chest. “Now hold still and take my cum.”
If something happens to you ’cause I wasn’t there to protect you, you’re condemning me to a life of disability. I don’t mean physically, Rosie, what I mean is, if you die, I’ll go on breathing, but I won’t go on livin’ ’cause the most beautiful part of my life would have ceased to exist.”
I’m happy to die for you. If that’s what you need somewhere deep inside, to know that at least someone in your life loves you better than anyone else, that they would sacrifice themselves without fucking blinking if there was even a one percent greater chance of you surviving, then I can give that to you.
I could feel the warmth in my chest as Lion’s golden love slid over the cracks of strain and longing in my broken clay heart and healed it, made it so much more beautiful than any other heart could be because I was the only one in the world with a love so bright and kind and strong as his.
“Yeah, rebel. My good girl in bed, and my bad girl outside, can’t say I don’t love it.”
Yeah, he was with me, because he was mine. And there was no way in hell I was ever letting him go.
“I’ll be disappointed in you until the day you pull your head out of your ass and realize there’s power in being good and kind as much as being wicked and fierce. It isn’t the thorns that make a rose.”
“It’s what protects them, though,”
“It’s the contrast, the duality of hard and soft, dangerous and beautiful that m...
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“You wanted me to catch you, didn’t you?”
“You wanted me to see what a dirty girl you’ve become.”
If you knew how fucking furious it makes me to want you when I can’t have you because you’re too young, too wrong and too wild for me to tame. But Rosie, if you knew how I wanted to tame you, stroke your pussy with my fingers, my tongue and my cock, watch you beg at first then break open for my touch, for my permission to come. If you had any fucking inkling of that, you wouldn’t call me a pussy when you think I’m being weak.”
if you want me to make you feel good by making you feel bad then I’ll spank you.”
“You love it, don’t you? You love being my good girl.”
“Please,” I broke and begged. “Please give it to me.”
“There she is,” he praised as one hand slid down my ass into the sopping wet crease between my thighs. “There’s my good Rosie.”
Then he drove two fingers inside my cunt and cracked a vicious slap to the ...
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“Oh, I think you’re plenty flowery. When I get you rooted to the bed with cuffs, you bloom for me, wet and open, so pink it’s plush, and I’ve never seen a flower so pretty.”
“There’s a new steel butt plug at home with your fuckin’ name on it. Gonna use it to open up your sweet ass while I give my cock to your pussy, then I’m gonna give us both a treat by sinking my thick cock in your ass, four fingers in your cunt, my tongue in your mouth so you’re taking all of me, everywhere you can. Only then, when you’re takin’ all I have to give you like the good girl you are, am I gonna fuck you until the only thing you remember is how to scream my name.”
You think I want her lips on mine when yours are all I think about?”
“You ready to take my cock like my good fucking whore?”
“You want more don’t you my greedy little slut?”
“Want you to take me everywhere, feel me in every inch of your body, in every facet of your goddamn beautiful soul,”
He held me. Not an MC princess of a notorious motorcycle club. Not a slightly trashy but rockin’-it university student with a juvie record. Not a murderer. Not even Harleigh Rose as anyone else knew her. Just Rosie, stripped of her thorns and even of her petals, just a seed of self. And he held her preciously, protectively and patiently as if he would do it forever and never fade or fail.
“You are perfect for me. The only woman who could ever give me what I really need. Who could let me be the gentleman cop and the dirty Dom I need to be in order to be me.”
And I’m the only one who can give you what you need. Let you be my wild rose, bristling with thorns and red as blood, but also the soft flower, delicate under my touch and easily plucked between my fingers. I’m the only one who you give that kinda tender to.”
They said I was a thing of beauty, but all I’d ever caused was pain. It wasn’t intentional, but did that really matter in the grand scheme of things?
You aren’t a victim here, Rosie, you aren’t letting life catch you up in this fierce fucking storm. You are the storm, this is your set up, these are your choices, and you’re strong so you’ll blow furious and true until you see this thing through. You’re no victim, rebel Rose, but you are a martyr. So, I’ll lie here with you as long as you need to absorb this blow, then we’re gonna get up and I’m gonna take you home. Tomorrow, we’re going to wake up together and face the day that way, side by side, every day from now until we break this case and then I’m going to be at your back again when you
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“Yeah, Lion, I’m with you,” I told him. And I was, just as I had been since I fell in love with him on my eleventh birthday and just as I would be at my ninetieth.
He fucked me like he hated me, and it was the best lie he ever told. I took it like I didn’t care either way, and it was a lie I didn’t even believe myself.
“Tell me a lie,” I told him, to remind him of the duality of our game. “I hate you,” he replied like he’d been waiting for me to ask. “I hate you with my whole body and all of my soul.”
I kissed him, my apology for being reckless more eloquent on my lips than it ever could be with my words. And he accepted it, eating at my mouth until I was clean and absolved. Forgiving me as he always did, as I knew he always would.
It was a short kiss, as sweet a one as I knew how to give. And it rocked my simple world temporarily on its axis.
In the span of that minute with her plush lips on mine, her silky tongue in my mouth, and the scent of her floral skin and bonfire imprinted hair in my nose, there was no future for me but her.
A girl ten years younger than me that pretended to be seasoned, but who was as fresh and beautifully untouched as morning dew. I wanted to smear that innocence with my rough hands and taint it with my cock at the same time I wanted to preserve it, fight to defend it.
My rebel Rose looked so peaceful in her sleep, so at odds with her waking hours when she seemed provoked to take on the world. That was the beauty of Harleigh Rose, she was a walking contradiction, the rebel and the saint, the good girl and the sinner.
I was unashamed of the way I loved her.
“Think you need reminding of who you belong to, Rosie,”
“A reminder of who owns your wet cunt and your wild soul. Who’s bed you’ve been sleeping in and who’s cock you’ve been worshipping.”
She was half-heaven, half-hell, each meeting at the apex of her thighs. And when I worshipped there, it was both a prayer and a sin.
“Loving you was never a decision I made. There was nothing conscious about it so how can I be logical about it now? I know it doesn’t make sense, the two of us, the good guy and the bad girl, with your family and my family. I know I make you crazy and I make you mad. You think I don’t know all that? Well, I do. So, stop telling me to think logically about this shit. There’s no logic to our love, only a feeling I’ve got so deep in the heart of me if I rip it out, I just know I’ll stop living.”
“You telling me you love me?”
“I love you and know the way most people know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, that bikers know the sound of Harley pipes, and cops know the difference between fucking right and fucking wrong that you and I are made for each other.”
“You love me, Rosie?” he asked, looking up at me with carefree joy, his face boyishly open.
