Afterlife

He gave himself over completely to that instinct, his cock hard and thick, knowing what was his to take, but he wouldn"t leave it at that. He was driving into her like a battering ram, but she was getting hotter and wetter, and when he slapped her ass, a hard spank to command her attention further, she contracted on him, a short gasp breaking up the outrage.

“Stop. Stop it.”

As her arousal built, her furious, frantic demand became an anguished plea. A plea that stabbed him in the heart, for she was pleading for his help, to drive all the rest away, to make all the shrieking pain in her heart and head stop. Stop it. Please stop it.

There was nothing he wouldn"t do for her. So in answer, he let go of her neck and braced his body over her with one arm, reaching beneath with the other to find her clit and rub it with knowledgeable fingers, feeling how swollen it was. Her hand latched onto his braced forearm, her forehead against his elbow. Her teeth sank into his arm, but as an anchor, not an attack.

She was still pleading, incoherent, and the tearful sound of it, the way the nails of her other hand dug helplessly into the carpet, tore something apart inside of him.

He would give her pleasure, but that wasn"t the end goal. He was striving for pure possession, the message it sent. What he"d told her. Mine to protect. Mine to cherish. And she did deserve to be cherished, god damn her ex-husband to hell, and all the evil in the world that had taken her son from her. She was the only one who didn"t see it.

The message might not be getting through, but the elemental force he knew dwelled within her was surging up to balance the madness. He was thrusting hard enough to give her rug burns. Good. Her breath was pumping as hard and fast as he was now, punctuated by short, jerky sobs. Her cunt was so slippery it was making provocative sucking noises while he fucked her. She cursed him with a creative viciousness that demanded an answer.

Dropping down over her then, he put his arms on either side of her shoulders, back pressing into hers as he kept working her. When he pulled the dress down, her breast filled his palm, the nipple firm as a new cranberry when he pinched it. She tried to buck him off, but her body was in control now, softening to the claim of his, and her hips were rising to meet him. Ramming home, the deepest thrust yet, he seized her throat, bringing her to a full halt, holding her still with his weight and strength. She shuddered and quaked against him, her pussy rippling against his cock.

“I don"t need a collar to know I"m your Master, Rachel. And neither do you. You curse at me like that again, and I"ll have my cock down your throat for the entire ride home. I"ll pull your wrists back and tie them to your ankles so only my fist in your hair keeps you on your knees while you"re sucking me.”

Something broke then, something that deflated everything in her…desire, passion, anger. She went limp and shuddering beneath him, the throbbing of her pussy like a tiny ticking clock in an empty room, evidence of the life that was there, but so much space, a space that echoed in the pit of the belly and made the heart ache.

He could have pushed her on to climax, but he knew her body"s arousal had balanced her emotional pain. He"d leave the two at odds for now, and give her what he most wanted to give her. When he cautiously eased his hold, she had her head pressed to the carpet, sobs now taking her fully. He slid out of her, rearranged his clothes and then picked her up. Bringing her back up to one of the seats, he cradled her close in his arms, holding her fiercely, her face tucked into his neck as she cried.

“I"m here,” he muttered. “I"ll never leave you alone. You"ll never be lonely again.” But as she cried, her knees drew up against his side, her arms folding over her chest. Those sobs seemed to have the power to break her, no matter how closely he held her. It alarmed him, how it suddenly seemed she was more alone than she"d ever been, more shut away from him than he"d yet experienced.

The Master in him could reach her body, certain parts of her soul, but how did he reach her heart if grief and loss amputated it? What if it was now out of anyone"s reach, even her own?

* * * * *

Once the tears stopped, she didn"t want him near her. She didn"t fight him, didn"t draw away, but he felt it in every resisting line of her body. She looked brittle as glass, her face tired and worn, makeup smeared. She sat docile, unresponsive, as he used ice and his handkerchief to clean up her face.

After they reached her place, he told Max they"d get a few things and then be back down. He didn"t want her at her apartment tonight, and maybe not ever again. She could bring the things she loved to his place, and turn her back on the isolation, loneliness and escape her home had too often represented.

When they got to the fourth level, one of her neighbors, a sharp-eyed older woman with a small load of laundry topped by a spy novel, was coming from the elevator. As they passed her, Jon nodded courteously, but Rachel stopped, reached out and touched the woman"s arm. “Mrs. Lowery, can you hold on a moment?” Turning on her heel, she faced Jon, extricating her elbow from his grasp. Her hazel gaze was as flat and empty as a swimming pool. “Thank you, Jon. I"m staying here tonight, and I need you to go home and leave me alone.” Mrs. Lowery, in that unfortunate way that women had, intuitively picked up on the vibes of a sister in need of backup. She put down the basket.

“Rachel, don"t do this.” Jon glanced between them, trying to look genial and concerned, rather than simply hiking her over her shoulder and taking her the rest of the way down the hall, Mrs. Lowery be damned. Rachel quivered, seeing it in him, and though Mrs. Lowery would interpret that quiver as the wrong kind of fear, Jon knew differently. Yes, it was fear, but fear of herself, not of him. Rachel had far more experience shutting people out than letting them in, and she was using that skill now.

Her eyes were filled with dull pain that he wanted to soothe, even as he wanted to give her the spanking of her life.

“I need tonight, Jon.” She cleared her throat, her fingers pressing into Mrs.

Lowery"s arm. The woman patted her soothingly, eyeing Jon. Not an ounce of fear in her expression, which clearly said, I can start screaming and bring the entire complex out here on your ass, bucko. Any other time he would have been thrilled that Rachel had such a diligent neighbor, but now nosy, busybody and pain-in-the-ass were a few of the choice words coming to mind.

“I"m not…you don"t have to worry about anything, okay? I need to be alone with this. Please respect that.”

He wanted to take her hand, make any kind of contact, but Rachel stepped back, anticipating him. She wrapped her arms against her body, everything about her locked down. Mrs. Lowery shifted slightly, coming in between them. Given how he was feeling, the woman had balls.

He knew when it was necessary to fall back and take a different tactic, retreat and regroup, but damn it, this was not a fucking business meeting. This was his heart and soul, and she needed him. But she wouldn"t let him help her. He had no choice but to back off, for now. He wasn"t going to leave it like this though.

“I"m walking you to your door,” he said coolly, and firmly sidestepped Mrs.

Lowery to take Rachel"s elbow, despite her flinch. Before either woman could say anything, he met the neighbor"s mistrustful gaze. “I will not go into the apartment with her. I know you have your hand on the cellphone in your coat pocket. If I don"t walk right back past you in five minutes, you can call the police.” In the woman"s brown eyes, he saw the root of what she needed to know. He could at least offer her that, with full sincerity. “Rachel will come to no harm from me. She knows that. She"s just upset.” Mrs. Lowery"s gaze shifted to Rachel, who turned her head, stared at the floor, but didn"t deny what he"d said. The neighbor studied him again. “Make it three minutes, and if I hear so much as a squeak from her, I"ll have my son out here to toss you over the railing and you can take the direct route back to the ground floor.” Despite the frustration roiling in his gut, Jon had to appreciate her. He wondered if Janet had an older sister Matt didn"t know about. He nodded, put pressure on Rachel"s arm and directed her tense body down the hall until they reached the recessed archway of her door. Taking out her key card, he fitted it into the lock, pushed the door open a crack, then handed it to her. He"d had the key since they"d gone shopping earlier in the day, and he had to shove down the feeling of dreaded finality that came with putting it back in her hand. When their fingers brushed, before she could draw away, he had his hand closed on both of hers.

Knowing Mrs. Lowery was still listening for the tone of the conversation, but wasn"t close enough to detect the content, he lowered his voice to a murmur.

“What are you doing, Rachel?”

“I know you won"t take no for an answer, Jon, and I really, really need you to.” She kept her gaze focused on his chest. Her fingers were cold and tight beneath his, her face pale. His frustration tipped back into fury, but he reined it back viciously, knowing that wouldn"t help. However, as if sensing it, she quivered again, her gaze flicking up quickly, then back down. “At least for tonight. Please.” Lifting her chin, he held it in a tight grip even when she would have pulled away.

“Do you still have the gun?”

The shock that crossed her gaze was the first emotion she"d displayed since their volatile coupling in the car. He didn"t wait for an answer. Instead, he pushed her up against the door, letting her feel every insistent inch of his rigid body, head to toe. “I won"t leave you like this, Rachel. You can have a dozen Mrs. Lowerys and her sons in this hallway, and they won"t budge me an inch if I don"t think you"ll be safe.” Her eyes closed, her hands curling against his jacket, cold fingers whispering against his shirtfront. “I didn"t think I could be more humiliated tonight, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Rachel, for God"s sake…”

She shook her head. “I"m going in here, shutting the door, and for the next little bit, I"m going to be by myself. I need that. I truly do. If you have any regard for me at all, you"ll respect that. Please.” Her lips trembled, and now those thick doll"s lashes lifted, swimming hazel eyes locking with his. Her voice was a rasping whisper. “I promise you, on the soul of my son, I will not harm myself. All right?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">