Page 79 of Wretched Choices

Like a madman.

My hands intertwine in his hair, and I pull him toward me more. He takes the straps of my bra down my arms, exposing my breasts and taking them in his palms. He leaves bitemarks from my neck, down to my collarbone, and to my breast until he reaches my nipples and sucks on them.

I moan loudly, his roughness making my breasts hurt.

“Salvatore, you’re hurting me,” I try to say between the moans, but he has disconnected. I call his name a few more times. When he doesn’t answer, I let him do whatever he needs to my body because that is the only way he will come back.

His rough hands open the buttons of my pants, and he pulls them down my legs, taking them off. He falls to his knees before burying his face between my legs. With my leg on his shoulder, his fingers open my lips, allowing him to lick me and feast on my juices.

It doesn’t take a lot, just a few sweeps of his tongue and I’m coming, cursing. But that isn’t enough for him because he stands, and in a second, his cock is free. He takes my thigh, wrapping it around his waist, and slams into me. He takes my other leg, and I wrap them both around his waist, my nails digging into his shoulder as he keeps slamming into me.

His head is buried in my neck, sucking, biting, kissing, leaving angry marks on my body.

I don’t argue; I don’t refuse anything he gives me. Not even when he uses my body until I can’t take it anymore. The intensity of my orgasms and his brutal pace are wearing me out, and my tears fall. He doesn’t notice; he is chasing the demons trapped inside him.

When he comes, he stays in me for a while until he collapses on the floor, losing consciousness. I fall beside him, but only for a minute until I can move.

I clean myself in the bathroom and dress before bringing a washcloth and cleaning Salvatore. I lie on the floor beside him, waiting for him to regain consciousness.

I wake up to the feeling of someone watching me. Panic creeps over me, but it disappears when I open my eyes and they land on Salvatore’s face.

Worry fills my heart when I see his blue eyes filled with pain and hurt. I scurry up and sit opposite him; my eyes search his face that’s haunted by ghosts.

“Salvatore...” I start but stop when he closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“Don’t. Please don’t say anything. I shouldn’t have done what I did.” He runs a hand over his face. “I wasn’t in the right place when I came back. I shouldn’t have come to you like that.” He finally looks at me. “I hurt you.”

My heart breaks for him. What’s going on in that head of his?

His throat bobs. “I’m just like him. After all I’ve been doing to be different. Seems like it’s my path to be my father’s son.”

What is he talking about?

He stands in all his naked glory and picks his scattered clothes off the floor. “I’ll leave.” I stand, wincing at the feeling between my legs. “I’ll go back to the hotel. You stay here.”

Before he can say anything else, I find my voice. “Stop. Don’t you dare leave.” He looks at me, confused. “And don’t give me that look. If I wanted you to leave, I would have told you myself.” I take a step toward him. “I need some explanations. You owe me that.”

“There is nothing to explain. I did something I promised myself I would never do. And I did it to you.”

“And what exactly is it you think you did to me?”

He swallows hard and looks away from me. Closing his eyes, he exhales. “I forced myself on you. I was like a maniac chasing my need and wasn’t aware if you were good with what I wanted.”

“Is that what you did?” I ask, bringing his attention back to me.

“I’m just like him.”

I step forward and take his hands in mine. “If I wanted to, I could have stopped you. But I didn’t. I wanted you to show me your demons, Salvatore. I wanted to break down your walls, for you to show me everything. And I don’t regret it.”

He looks at me, frowning as he surveys my face.

“I don’t regret it, but I need answers, Salvatore.”

He looks at our hands, clutching them together. “I’m not sure if I can give you any answers without making things worse.”

“Well, try me. I don’t think there is anything worse than turning your back and leaving.”

Defeated, he walks toward the window and looks through it for what seems like hours. I give him the space. Pressuring him might not benefit me. Just when I think he won’t tell me anything, he talks.

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