Page 43 of The Ruthless Guardian

“I love the way you fight. You know you aren’t going anywhere, don’t you?”

“No! Stop! Get off me!”

“Your hair is so pretty. What color is it?”

Say red. Stop this.“Blue!”

He thrusts his hips against my back and forces me against the wall, twisting my nipple and squeezing my wrists. Josiah lets go of my wrists to rip my shirt off my chest and shove my bra up further so he can get both hands on my tits while his hard cock rubs against my back.

“You’re hurting me! Stop! Please, please!” It does hurt. His rough abuse of my tits is going to leave bruises, but I’m so wet I’m probably soaking through my leggings.

“I’m going to make your assred. Do you like red?”

“No!”I’m not going to say that word.

“Oh yes, I’m going to stripe your ass while I fuck you so hard you’re going to cry.”

Yes!“No!” I drop my weight down and duck under his arm. I make it to the living room before he takes me down. My knees hit hard, and I claw at the floor as he pulls me backwards.

His belt hisses through the air and he wraps it around my wrists, tightening it so I can’t move them.

Before he can even ask me, I shout out, “Green!” We may not have discussed it, but I’m okay with it.

His hands tear my leggings down my legs and he pulls me back against him, his jeans are rough against my ass and the back of my thighs. He kneads my ass and then spanks me so the flesh gets hot. Tears run over my cheeks and my screams have turned into whimpers. The zipper of his pants cuts my leg, and I tense, trying again to get away from him.

The fear is real, very real. Pumping through my body along a river of adrenaline. I redouble my efforts to escape, crawling on my knees and elbows because my wrists are tied and my thighs are bound by my leggings.

“Not so fast, pretty girl.” He grips my hips and pulls me back to him, crying and screaming. His hand goes to the back of my head and forces my face down against the wood. He slams into me so fast and hard that no matter how wet I am it feels like I’m being ripped apart.

It hurts. I’m scared. I can’t do it. “Rrrr...” Then his hips move, and pleasure washes over all the pain.

“What was that?” Josiah asks, stilling completely.

“Uh…” I use my bound hands to push back against him, trying to get him to keep moving. I’m still scared. My tits are so sore I’m not going to be able to wear a bra for a few days. But I need him to finish this.

He groans and curls his fingers in my hair, making my scalp sting. His hips pick up again, ramming against me over and over as I scream in pain and pleasure and fear. “Fuck, you keep squeezing me like that and you’re going to make me come,” he says in his normal voice, and some of the fear eases. This isn’t real. This is all pretend. I asked for this.

My sobs turn to moans and I start fucking him back, pushing my hips against him.

“That’s it, baby.”

I have all the power. He would’ve let me stop this at any point from beginning to now. Fuck, that does something warm to my belly. “Let me turn over,” I whisper. I want to see him, to see his face. Ineedto see his face, because I’m suddenly terrified that he’s not Josiah. I know because of his voice that it’s him, but I need to see him.

He pulls out and flips me on my back, ripping my leggings the rest of the way apart through the middle before sliding between my thighs and slamming back into me. His beautiful face makes me cry and he kisses my wet cheeks, slowing the pace. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, please don’t stop. I'm okay." There are emotions coursing through me faster than I have a chance to process them and as soon as I grab one it floats away. “Make it feel better,” I whisper, putting my bound hands behind his neck and catching his mouth with mine.

Josiah’s kisses are soft and his movements slow. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe. It’s all over. It’s me and you,” he mumbles against my jaw as his mouth moves there. “I would never hurt you, never let anything happen to you. I love you, Phoebe.”

A sob breaks free of my chest and I cling to him tighter, crying too hard to catch my breath, much less speak.

“Shhh,” Josiah says, stroking my hair with both hands. “Shhh, baby. I know you’re overwhelmed, but right now I keep thinking how perfect you look and how amazing you are. I’m constantly in awe of your strength. Fuck, you keep squeezing my cock.”

“‘Cause you feel so fuckinggood.” The flow of tears is slowing, and my body is responding to the stimuli of his body, his words, and the sensations he’s giving me.

“I know. I feel it too.”

“I love you,” I whisper, then gasp when he thrusts into me harder. Apparently those were the words I needed to say to get to come, because Josiah ducks out of my hands, pushes my knees up, and looks down between us. His eyes follow the motion as his cock disappears inside me.

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