Leave Me Behind
: Chapter 13

Ian tosses me a water bottle and slaps my back with a huge grin that spreads over his lips. “You fucking slayed out there today, Bunny!”

My smile is slow to reveal itself because I’m not sure if he’s being serious or sarcastic, but his eyes flash with sincerity and my doubts drift a bit further as I rub the fresh bruises on my knees.

“Fall off that hillside, little bun-bun?” Jefferson jests, looking at my dust-covered uniform and messy hair. If only he knew.

I feign a laugh and force my hands away from my wrecked knees. I manage to pull a few twigs loose from my braid. “It’s from laying on my stomach on those rocks all damn day,” I lie.

The base is busy now with the mock hostages. Eren and Pete are tending to them and getting their sleeping arrangements put together before nightfall, which is already upon us as the sun sinks behind the distant mountains.

Bradshaw still hasn’t returned.

My stomach turns and the worry must be evident on my face because Harrison raises a brow at me. What could he possibly be doing out there for this long?

“Don’t worry about Bones. Ever since Patagonia he has to take breathers after every training,” Harrison says indifferently. His blond hair is smeared with dirt from today’s attack. His green eyes burn brightly against the dusk and campfire.

“Breathers?” I ask.

Ian and Jefferson share a grim look.

Harrison nods. “His PTSD after Abrahm is bad. If we weren’t dark forces they would’ve pulled him from the squad. But even then, General Nolan considered it.” My eyes linger over Eren to ensure he doesn’t overhear our conversation about his twin.

He was almost removed from the squad? I can’t imagine how bad it must be for it to get to that point. Dark forces soldiers like us are of little concern to the underground commanders. As long as we’re ready to go on suicide missions and remain non-existent, they don’t give a shit about our mental state.

“What was he like before? What kind of missions did you guys go on the most?” I ask as I take a bite from my MRE and warm my legs by the fire.

Ian sets his gloves on one of the big rocks lining the fire. They’re soaked, I assume, from cleaning them in the river. He mutters, “I’m sure you’ve heard the horror stories about him and most of them are probably true, but he was a lot less of an asshole back then than he is now.” Jefferson lets out a small grunt of agreement.

“Yeah, he was less likely to, uh… cut his comrade’s shirts off, that’s for sure,” Harrison chides. I nudge his shoulder and shoot him a shut up look. He raises his hands innocently and laughs.

“Malum primarily did all the shit work the rest of the squads weren’t likely to survive. Long operations in foreign countries where we’d stake out in apartments or way out in the middle of fucking nowhere like Patagonia.” Jefferson pauses and looks at me, glances away, then holds my gaze. “Why didn’t Riøt show up as planned?” His voice isn’t harsh, but there’s deep rooted pain and a yearning for the truth.

I keep my eyes on his, even if it makes me uncomfortable. “We were given different orders.” I keep it brief. The distrust in Jefferson’s eyes tells me he doesn’t buy it.

“What happened to Abrahm?” I shift the conversation. If I keep it strictly informational instead of getting into the soft human side of it, they’re more likely to share. A tidbit I’d picked up while listening to them speak to each other over MREs throughout the weeks.

Ian leans forward on his elbows and casts me a sidelong glance. “It was targeted.”

My eyes flick to Jefferson and Harrison for more, but they only shake their heads. The loyalty they keep to their fallen comrade and Bradshaw is commendable. They needn’t say it—their meaning is heavy in the air.

It’s Bradshaw’s story to tell.

“What about you guys? You seem fine compared to Bones,” I say carefully. They become sullen and stare at the flickering flames of the campfire for a few seconds.

Jefferson rubs his hands together, a small tick he has when he gets uncomfortable. I meet his gaze as he mutters, “Just because a bowl looks fine doesn’t mean it’s absent of cracks. A horse that stands may not be able to run.”

“So you’re not fine.” Blunt. To the point.

That earns me a firm frown from Jefferson, but he nods. “He was a brother to us all, but we weren’t there in the last moments.” Harrison and Ian shift uneasily, looking around the camp, worried, I’m sure, for Bradshaw to return during this conversation. Are they not allowed to talk about it at all? That seems cruel.

“And Bones was,” I mutter.

The three of them nod simultaneously.

“He wasn’t the same after that. A part of Bones died with Abrahm that night. And a darkness was born in his heart,” Harrison explains. My stomach sinks hearing those words.

“You guys still think it’s Riøt’s fault. Bones thinks it’s Riøt’s fault.” My voice is stern and cold.

Jefferson scratches his chin and looks at me like all his demons are waking up again. “No one can back up your ‘we received different orders’ story, bun-bun. All we know is that you never showed up.”

I fist my hands over my knees. “You guys were supposed to get updated orders too.” My eyes flick suspiciously to Ian. As the signaler, he should’ve been the one in contact with the air power.

Harrison takes a bite from his cracker and says through mouthfuls, “Well, at least we could hold our own. We only lost one soldier that night.”

I lost everyone.

A part of me died when my squad was extinguished. It was my fault. My smile left and so did any morals I had left.

“How about you, Bunny? Are you fine after losing your whole squad?” Ian asks as he leans against his bandaged palm. The firelight illuminates his brown eyes. It’s a cruel question.

The three of them watch me carefully. Unfortunately, it’s a question I’ve answered more than I care to. The sting has been robbed from the words.

I stare at embers pulsing beneath the logs. “I’m not the same either. I don’t think any functional person could be.”

Harrison throws another block of wood into the fire and pries, “Sooo, what happened?”

Jefferson punches his arm.

“Ow, what? I want to hear it from the only survivor. She’s like a legend now.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it.”

I thread my fingers together and let my hands dangle between my legs. They sit straighter, perking to listen intently.

“As you know, we were supposed to converge in Patagonia a few klicks south of the drop-off. We knew it was dangerous. But we didn’t anticipate the ambush that was waiting for us on the extraction route. We had instructions to stay put on the road until Malum showed up. The bombs came so suddenly and were so bright… We were blinded by them before the explosions blew our Humvees off the road.” I swallow as the shouting and taste of iron that hollowed my throat that day roll back through me. Tremors planted in the deepest parts of my marrow awaken.

“Shit.” Harrison breathes out, eyes hardening.

I nod and continue: “The first truck got the worst of it. The four of them died instantly in the first missile strike. Our vehicle flipped from the explosion and I—” My hands tremble as they always do when I think of the horrors we faced that day. I bring them to my sides, clutching my stomach in an attempt to comfort myself. “I pulled Sergeant Jenkins from the driver’s seat and dragged him twenty feet away from the vehicle. Two of my comrades engaged in a shootout with the incoming hostiles. They protected us until we got to safety. There was so much blood… I knew I should’ve gone back to help them sooner, but I had to get Jenkins as far as I could. He was my commanding sergeant. I was his second. I couldn’t leave him.”

Their grim expressions hold misery. They already know how this story ends, but it still sucks to hear how it all unfolded.

“I set him down once we were far enough, but when I stood up to help my squadmates, the second wave hit directly on them and the shockwaves blew me back.”

My throat grows thick with emotion.

“It knocked me out and I didn’t wake for several minutes. By the time I was aware of my surroundings, Jenkins had dragged me into the cover of the nearby trees. He had already lost so much blood and if it wasn’t for me, he’d—” I flex my jaw and bite my lower lip to quell my bleeding heart.

My mind whirls as I picture his face perfectly—the last weak smile he gave, the way it made all his sharp features seem so soft and gentle, the soft caress of his calloused thumb over my bloody cheek. His words.

“You’re going to be okay, Nell.” He pushed me away from his slumped body, the tree stained red with his blood. I stood shakily, shocked that a man I knew as invincible could look so broken. “Leave me behind. You can still live. Get as far away as you can, escape the dark forces, Gallows. Be free.”

The wood in the firepit shifts and the crackle snaps me back into the present. I blink twice and look up, startled for a moment. Pete and Eren joined the circle at some point and they stare at me like I’m a wounded puppy.

I press my palm to my forehead and sigh. “Fuck. Sorry.”

They remain quiet, a knowing look of loss spreads over their faces. Eren looks particularly bothered but his eyes aren’t on me, they’re set on something behind me. I follow his line of sight and glance over my shoulder. I’m met with a black tactical vest covered in dirt, much the same way mine looks. My eyes move up slowly to his face.

Bradshaw looks like a ghost. The sliver of skin his mask reveals is smeared with dirt and his eyes are hazy like he’s not present. He stares down at me, but there’s a hollowness where his usual ire lives.

“Br—” I bite my tongue with the slip up before clearing my throat. “Bones?” I reach out my hand to his wrist. He doesn’t move. His expression remains completely blank. He knows now. He knows I left Jenkins behind in battle.

I’m a coward.

Eren is at his side before I can say anything else. “Come on, you should lie down.” He turns Bradshaw so the others can’t see him and guides him to the tents. When I turn to look back at the rest of our squadmates, I replace each of their gazes averted and sidelong. Unwilling to meet my eyes.

Bradshaw isn’t fit for the field and they’re allowing him to stay, knowing it could very well get him killed.

This might be the weakness in his armor I’ve been looking for.

The others head to their sleeping posts while Harrison and Jefferson take the first watch. Bradshaw and Eren still haven’t returned from the tent. It’s been at least an hour. I chew on my lower lip, not knowing why I give a shit about this asshole, but I decide to check on him anyway.

“Sergeant?” I stand straight, facing the tent flap and awaiting a response before I enter.

Eren’s voice is smooth and calm as he replies, “Come in, Bunny.”

I slip inside the dark green tent. My eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the dim, lantern-lit space. It’s just Eren and Bradshaw in here, a few empty cots to either side of them. I still at the sight of Bradshaw with his mask off. His face is the mirror image of Eren’s.

Something painful traces the edges of my heart looking at him in this state. I didn’t think a man as hard and cruel as him could be this broken inside. He’s never let on as much. I silently sit beside Eren on the ground and stare at Bradshaw’s lovely face. Bradshaw’s eyes lift slightly to mine and flicker with sadness.

“What’s wrong with him, Eren?” I admire Bradshaw’s empty stare as he takes me in. He’s quiet and I can’t tell if he’s studying me or looking right through me. It’s the loveliest I’ve seen him and I replace myself wishing it would never end.

Eren takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, pushing his hair back and looking at me. “Honestly, I don’t know. This is the third time in two years. He vanishes for hours and comes back like this.”

“Why is he still active? He’s a liability⁠—”

He cuts me off. “You know what our line of work entails. No discharges. The only way you get out of the dark forces is in a body bag or earning your cards. Even if it wasn’t that way, he wants to stay.” I glower at Eren but he ignores it. “Anyway, I don’t think he’ll be fit to stay at his post tonight. I’ll take over your watch. Can you stay here with him?”

I frown. I should tell him about what Bradshaw did on the hillside, but that would make me relive the unsettling things that went through my mind as Bradshaw covered his hands in my blood.

“Yes, Sergeant.”

He gives me a cocky grin, warmth in his blue eyes. “Thanks, Bunny.” He sets his hand on my thigh before standing up. Eren zips the tent behind him and his footsteps fade.

What a fucking day. I blow out a breath before moving to grab the lantern. Bradshaw’s hand wraps around my wrist and the sudden contact startles me. I look down at him and replace his brows pulled firmly together, as if he’s fighting dark thoughts. His eyes are shut, lashes kissing his dirt-stained cheeks.

I lean down, hesitant to say anything, so I brush my hand over his forehead instead to check his temperature. He catches my hand and holds it against his cheek. As I’m about to pull away, he opens his eyes slightly, only enough for me to see the icy blue gems his lashes hide.

His expression is still absent.

“Bradshaw?” I whisper, staring at his features closer than I’d like to. His eyes flutter closed but he doesn’t let go of my hand. Well, fuck.

For the first twenty minutes I admire his rugged, handsome face. The next twenty I study his scars and wonder how many more are hiding beneath his hair. I wonder if Abrahm once studied him as thoroughly as I am now and found the same lovely broken things I do.

My arms start trembling and I can’t bear to stay in this awkward position any longer.

I pull away slowly, trying to wriggle my way out of his hold without him waking. Bradshaw’s eyes open. He’s dazed still, in the land between half asleep and awake. His eyes widen and he pulls me close. His voice is raspy and sharp. “What are you doing?”

My throat knots at his accusatory tone.

“You… wouldn’t let go,” I say slowly, my voice graveled.

His shoulders tense. “Bunny?” He flinches and we both look down at his hand firmly wrapped around my wrist. Surprise dawns over his features.

Bradshaw lets go and pushes me an arm’s length away, hands planted heavily on my shoulders. We stare at each other for a moment. His eyes get their dark shine back, but he doesn’t let my shoulders go.

“Bradshaw?” I whisper. Has he lost his fucking mind? He stares at me for a long time, his arms trembling, making my heart ache for him.

I think he’s finally going to let go, but he pulls me down to lie beside him. I breathe in sharply, ready to escape, but he shushes me and guides my shoulders against his chest.

Maybe it’s because of the pure shock to my system, or perhaps I’ve been drugged, but I stay still and lie with him.

If I’m being honest, maybe I’m just tired of being lonely. My jaw flexes at the comfort of his body and what it does to me. I allow my eyes to close.

“You do things to me, Bun,” his voice is low, drowsy.

My breath is slow. Does he know what he’s saying? Bradshaw’s hold tightens around me and the swelling need in his pants presses against my inner thigh.

Every fiber of my being is telling me to pull away from him. All this man does is hurt me and awaken dark needs deep inside me. But it’s been so long since someone’s held me like this. I breathe in. He smells like blood and smoke. Slowly, my arms wrap around his chest and I hold him as possessively as he does me.

For some fucked up reason it feels like ecstasy. I’d do anything for this forever.

He trails the pads of his fingers over the nape of my neck, sending chills through me. Then his lips meet my forehead, hot and gentle in contrast to everything I know about him.

“My dick is covered in your blood,” he confesses against my ear. His words send goosebumps over my skin. There’s only one reason why my blood would be on his dick and that’s if he beat himself off after our encounter on the cliffside.

“Sadist,” I whisper and, for some reason, I’m smiling and turned on at the thought of him jerking off with my blood. What’s wrong with me?

He doesn’t move for a few stretched out seconds. Then he rests his head against mine and murmurs, “I couldn’t control myself. You like the darkest parts of me and I wanted you all over my cock.”

My throat dries. His filthy words send a throb between my thighs. “Have I seen the darkest parts of you?”

“Not even close.”

I press my mouth further into the crook of his neck as he draws his fingertips down my back, slipping his hands under my shirt.

“Where did you go?” I try to breathe and keep this from going where I think it is.

“Nowhere.” He lowers his face to mine, teeth skating over my shoulder as he tugs my shirt lower. I push away from him to look him in the eyes and when I do, I replace a heady, lustful gaze.

“You went somewhere in your mind. You were like an empty shell,” I pry, and his mouth firms with annoyance.

“Every time you talk, I want to shove my cock into your mouth. Stop fucking pushing me or I won’t be so nice.”

My stomach flips. No. Don’t get excited at that. I glare at him. “Stop avoiding the question.”

His lips part and a sinister smile stretches over his face. It does something to me. Twists the depraved part of my soul and pulls me in for more.

“How about you wash yourself off of me, Bunny? I only like your blood when it’s fresh.” Bradshaw unzips his pants and frees his dick. My eyes snap down immediately, taking in the sheer size of him and my dried blood that he’s smothered over himself like some wild animal.

Any thoughts I had cease and are replaced with a craving I’m not mentally well enough to investigate at the moment.

“Spit on it,” he commands, pushing me slowly off the cot and onto my knees. He sits up and hangs his dick over the edge. I swallow the saliva that rushes at his words.

Am I going to do this?

I stare at his pulsing, throbbing length and decide that I am.

I lower my mouth to hover over him and let the saliva spill off my tongue and coat his dick. His hands curl over the edge of the cot and he throws his head back as he groans.

“Fuck, that’s hot. Soak it, Bun. I want it sopping wet before I put your blood back into your body.”

My jaw slacks at his words, but I continue to let the spit drip from my tongue. Bradshaw fists his dick and strokes it in long languid motions. Instantly, his veiny shaft glistens with a wet sheen and I want him to fill me up so fucking bad.

I’m going straight to hell when I die. For all the death on my hands. Further down, if there is something lower than hell, for what I’m about to do with the devil.

I reach down to put pressure at my core, but Bradshaw catches my arm and smirks coldly at me. “You don’t get to feel good until I want you to.”

He pushes me against the ground and comes down over me. He shoves my shirt up. His eyes flick briefly to the tent entrance before looking down at me, his legs straddled over my hips. He presses his length against my stomach and it reaches to my belly button. It’s hot and wet and throbs eagerly as he leans forward and grinds his hips against my bare skin.

Pleasure rolls over his expression like he’s taken a hit of ecstasy. His eyes loll and he licks his lower lip, biting it as if to keep himself from burying his incisors into me.

I squirm beneath his flexed muscles, trying to escape his gripping hands as he keeps me from easing the urge to replace pleasure. I muffle a cry as he pins my wrists together above my head and brings his lips to my neck, nipping my sensitive skin.

“You want me to make you come?” he says in a deep tone that sends chills up my spine and a new urgent heat to my core.

I arch my back so my stomach presses to his and encases his wet cock between us. He continues to pump his hips and lets out another groan that is two seconds from unraveling everything I thought I knew about myself.

“I want you to break me,” I mutter as callously as I can.

He lifts his head. Dark strands of hair fall over his forehead and those pale eyes scour into my very bones. A genuine smile spreads over his lips.

“Oh, baby, breaking you comes much, much later.” He strokes his tongue up my throat and brings his mouth to mine. It’s not a kiss I’d ever tell my mom about. Not even my best friend, if I had one. It’s brutal. Devastating. Painful. Easily the most savage encounter two people should ever know.

He urges my tongue into his mouth and bites down on it. I let out a sharp moan and wriggle beneath him in pain before pleasure and heat coil inside me. My center is weeping, begging, pleading. I need him to touch me now.

Blood blossoms through our kiss and he laps at my mouth like a starved man. I force my lips away from his and give him the same treatment, letting my teeth meet his tender flesh. The starburst scar on his neck is soft against my tongue and he jerks sharply at the sting my closing jaw brings.

“Fuck, Bun.” Bradshaw groans, fists my hair tightly, and rips my head from his neck. I wasn’t expecting him to force me off so suddenly—my jaw locks and his skin tears. His breath is heady as he rubs his neck and looks down at the blood that leaks from it.

“Oh my God. Bradshaw!” I lean forward and cup his neck with my palm.

The manic look that flashes across his eyes gives me pause. Foolish—I forgot his dick was out. I’m practically already sitting on it with our chests smashed together. He scoops my ass up and pulls out his pocketknife.

“Hold that cut tight, Bunny, and don’t move unless you want a knife up your pussy.” My body stills and I can’t conjure any words before he’s cutting a slit in the crotch of my pants. My body trembles and my brows pinch as I hold still. A low laugh rolls from deep in his chest. “Don’t worry, I left your underwear, you’ll need those to hold in my come.”

My palm is slick with his blood and the focus in which I need to keep it firmly in place steals away my wit. So instead I mutter, “What if I’m not on birth control?”

He nudges my underwear to the side and presses his tip inside me. My pants are tight around my hips in this position. I can’t believe he fucking cut my pants open. My opening instantly stretches around his bare dick. The intrusion makes my breath stutter and I have to clamp my free hand around his neck to support the other one.

His smile turns sinister and he does something that surprises me.

As I’m practically choking him, trying to stop his neck from bleeding, he leans forward, palms pressed down on my hips until I’m fully seated on his dick and he kisses me sweetly on the lips.

A real kiss. One that makes my heart beat faster and my stomach coil with butterflies.

Bradshaw’s eyes are closed and he slowly guides us back until his shoulder blades are against a cot and he has enough leverage for his legs to support his deep hip thrusts.

“You’re not stupid enough to come to a place like this without birth control, sweetheart.” He pounds into me. The sound of him breathing heavily makes my insides twist with pleasure.

I don’t bother telling him he’s right. He knows he is.

His length fills all of me, stretching my inner walls until my eyes are rolling to the back of my head and my fingers lose their grip around his throat.

Bradshaw groans, trying to be as quiet as he can. I’ve almost forgotten where we are, who we are. He does that to me. I could be in a room with a thousand screaming, dying men and I’d only see him.

Hatred and desire aren’t so different. Both are an obsessive, all-consuming emotion. It’s a thin line to walk on.

And God, is it easy to fuck someone you hate.

Easier to feel that adrenaline and rush of confusion that follows.

“I’m fucking you because I want to show you who’s in control between us,” he says venomously, but his darkened eyes and bobbing throat betray his emotions.

He looks as confused as I feel.

Because this feels right. Two murderous, vile killing machines hurting and fucking each other like our flesh has nothing left to give us. Nothing left to surrender except this violent act of pleasure.

I never felt anything like this with Jenkins.

I’ve never felt this for anyone.

“Yet I’m the one on top, staring down at you as you pleasure me like I’m your master,” I whisper, our lips brushing. The heat from our breaths makes my skin tingle.

Bradshaw’s eyes turn cold and he grips my hips hard, then stills inside me, pressing agonizingly against my cervix. His cock throbs and I feel every sensation of it. I shudder and try to hold my composure.

“You’d rather I dominate you completely then, huh? Fuck, you’re sick.” He wraps an arm around my back and hooks the other one around my ass to hold me in place as he stands, his dick still entirely inside me. I moan at the pressure my weight puts on my cervix and bury my face into his chest to keep myself from screaming.

My hips buck against him as he walks us to the back of the tent. A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Who’s pleasuring who now? Don’t worry, I’ll show you who’s in charge here, Bunny. After all, you are my second, aren’t you? You’ll listen to every order I give you. And I expect you to follow them.” He withdraws from me and the emptiness is a shock to my system.

He sets me down on the floor and before I can rise to my elbows, he’s already on me. His fingers curl around the waist of my pants and he pulls them down to my knees. He wrestles me to my side until his chest is pressed against my back. Air becomes precious as his forearm secures around my throat and leaves me at his mercy.

“Shhh, there you go.” Bradshaw draws his tongue up the side of my neck and slides his hand down my stomach until he reaches my core. He uses two fingers to swirl my clit as he pumps his dick between my thighs, rubbing my slit and making my breaths labored. “I’m going to fuck you hard and relentlessly. Until you cave to me. Until you beg me to come inside you and give your poor, sweet pussy some relief. You want that, don’t you, Bunny?”

Shamelessly and high on adrenaline, I nod slightly in his death grip. Each breath is a sip of pleasure. Small whimpers roll from my lips.

His lips brush the outside of my ear. “I want you to submit to me, my little Riøt snake.”

He wants me off the squad.

My only reply is a muffled cry against his tattooed skin as he inserts himself inside me again. Then the savage fucking ensues. He fucks me like I’m a nothing more than a doll for his pleasure. His fingers dig into my hip bones and he grips my throat with his other, squeezing until I’m certain I’ll pass out.

A god of a man. A devil of demons.

Those are my only thoughts as he brings me to my climax faster than any man has ever done before. My legs shake with my release and I don’t get a reprieve as he pulls my leg up so that he can fully rut into my pussy.

“Fuuuck.” He pants behind me, somehow increasing his ruthless thrusts and making my sensitive walls quiver with each movement.

My mouth parts in a silent cry, my insides burning and building my next orgasm quickly. The pleasure is too intense, it hurts, I can’t keep coming like this.

Bradshaw hears my whimper and shoves his cock in as far as he can, holding it there and grinding his hips to my ass. This time I can’t keep my cry silent. The sound of it gets trapped in my throat as he forces two fingers inside my mouth.

“I think the question you need to ask yourself is, how many times can you come before you’re a shell of who you are now? Hmm?” His grinding hips are unyielding. The sound of his cock stirring up my insides makes my brain foggy.

He pinches my clit just as he ruts into my cervix with brutal strength and I come completely undone. His entire body stills as my hips buck against his cock and ride out the wave of my climax. My lips are closed shut with his palm firmly placed over my mouth to keep the moans from being as loud as they were intended to be.

My body slacks in his arms and exhaustion floods through my limbs. My pussy is the most sensitive it’s ever been. I want to beg him to stop, but my mind is unraveling at the pleasure and my body is reacting in a way it never has before.

Bradshaw hesitates, maybe because he thinks I’ve passed out from coming so hard. He removes his hand from my mouth and turns my head back to his. Our eyes connect and he can see that he’s already broken what he promised to save for later. A flash of satisfaction flickers across that heart-stopping face of his. And he smiles. He fucking smiles and it puts a beating force back into my chest.

“You’re done already?” He chuckles as he resumes pulling his dick out almost to the tip and thrusting it back in agonizingly slow.

What is this man doing to me? He’s venom—poison injected directly into my veins. I wriggle to try and separate from him, but he grabs my side and holds me firmly against him.

“Just beg for my come and we can be done.” Bradshaw’s voice is cold, like I’ve deeply inconvenienced him by not begging sooner.

“Fuck you.” I sound weak and it pisses me off, but my lax muscles refuse to give me any will to fight with him.

He lets out a deep sigh and pulls out. My eyes widen as he flips me on my knees. The breath is forced from my lungs as he pushes his hand down on my back until my breasts are against the floor. My ass is up and bare to him and I know this position will hurt if he fucks me as hard as he has been.

“I’ll stop when you say you want it,” he teases darkly. My pussy is swollen from the multiple orgasms and when he enters me again, he lets out a tender moan. “Goddamn, Bunny, every time I put my dick inside you, your pussy just grabs me more and more. You greedy little thing.” He slaps my ass. I cry out into my arm.

He pistons into me and it doesn’t take long before my knees are screaming for relief and my pussy yearns for that promise of come to bring an end to this pleasure hell I’ve found myself in.

Swallowing every ounce of pride, I say on a trembling breath, “P-please.”

“Please what, Bun?”

He slaps my ass again and I can tell he’s close by the way he’s fucking me at an increased pace and the draws of his labored breath. My climax is already at the tipping point for the third time, legs shaking and arms trembling to keep me stable.

“Please come inside me.”

“I’m sorry, what? You want my seed inside you?”

For the love of God. Why do my eyes loll and my core tighten when he says that?

“Yes, please. I want your seed inside me, Bones. Please.”

He laughs and thrusts a few more times before he moans deeply and holds himself against me. I come moments after and ride the waves with him. His hips jerk lightly with each throbbing release of his semen inside me. The heat and pulsing of it steals all my focus, my swollen walls greedily taking every last drop he leaks inside of me.

“Fuck, it feels like you’re milking my cock for come,” he says on a shaky breath and I can feel his trembling hands as he sets them on my back to separate us. The swelling of my walls holds him tightly, and the friction that follows as he slowly pulls himself out has both of us gritting our teeth.

The second his body is apart from mine I collapse to the ground, too weak to do anything but breathe and watch him through hazy eyes.

Everything is wet. My knees, my hands, my face, my thighs.

He looks around and seems to come to the same conclusion. But he looks too tired to do anything about it. His body falls beside mine, his black hair slicked to his forehead with sweat. Bradshaw stares into my eyes.

“That was… holy shit,” he finally says after a few seconds.

I just stare back at him, trying to figure out how I can hate him but feel such immense emotion for him at the same time. I see a broken shell of a man. I see someone who’s been cast away from the world and thrown away like me.

He searches my expression for something but doesn’t replace what he’s looking for, I assume by the pinch in his brows.

“We should get cleaned up. You’ve got come and blood all over you.” He rises lazily and when he tries to help me up the world spins.

Spins. Until everything is black.