Pepper Winters - Destroyed

“But it didn’t work. I’d hoped to fix you. I’m not finished.” Her gaze searched mine even as her legs spread, giving me room to sink between them.

My eyes slammed shut as I pressed into her heat. Deeper and deeper. I shivered as her pussy took my full length. “It worked enough.” Opening my eyes, I smiled. “You owe me a reward for behaving.”

She snorted. “Behaving by not killing me you mean.”

“Exactly.” I dropped my head to kiss her. Her mouth opened; her tongue rose to meet mine, and we began to move. Digging my elbows into the mattress on either side of her face, I rocked hard and possessive, claiming her slowly, deliberately.

Her hands landed on my ass. Instantly the headache swarmed with pressure almost buckling my control. My body froze while I focused on how delicate, how breakable, how much I did not want to kill her. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Stop touching me.”

Immediately, her hands dropped.

Rearing back, staring deep into her eyes, I said, “I give you my word I won’t hurt you, but I really need to fuck you, Hazel. Give me your hands.” I thrust upward.

She raised her hands above her head allowing me to capture her wrists with my fingers. The moment she was secured, I dropped one barrier inside my mind. Harnessing a small taste of violence, I surged into her.

She cried out with the brutal thrust, panting as I drove into her. My heart drummed with angry conditioning, fighting with sexual need.

Her legs came up to imprison my hips, pulling me deeper inside.

I growled as a fresh burst of urges filtered through my blood, almost stealing me from reality. But I held on. I focused. I concentrated. I never reverted to Ghost.

“God you feel so good. So tight. So perfect.” I rocked harder, filling her with everything I had. She was mine, and I wanted to mark her to prove it.

Releasing her wrists, I dropped my hands, forcing one finger into her mouth. “Suck it,” I ordered.

Her eyes flared and lips latched around me, dragging me into her mouth. The matching wetness and heat drove me wild. I pumped harder and harder.

“Do you feel me?” I growled, loving the sparking orgasm building in my balls.

She nodded, sucking my finger, biting with sharp, little teeth. Her legs spasmed around my hips. “You taste of metal and smoke. You feel fucking amazing, Fox.”

I groaned. I couldn’t hold off any more.

The sparking release exploded in my belly and I came, filling her with everything left inside me.

She tensed beneath me, throwing her head back as her internal muscles rippled, wave after wave, squeezing my length with delectable strength.

Her body went from rigid to floppy and a small smile twitched her lips.

Cursing the headache and the still insistent conditioning, I kissed Zel on the tip of her nose. “How can I get you to remember?”

She frowned, a sated glow flushing her cheeks. “Remember what?”

Lowering my head, I bit her neck. “To call me Roan.”

Hazel

Happiness.

Such a farce.

I’d been happy—blindingly happy only twice in my life.

The first was when I held Clara just after she was born. She unlocked emotions and joy I never knew existed.

The second was when I landed a job at a prestigious company thanks to a forged resume. I might have earned the job with lies, but I earned a bonus in the first month thanks to my work ethic.

Both showed my life improving, both hinted at pleasures to come.

Then I met Fox and I dared to hope I’d have a third moment of happiness.

But just like everything, it was the brief interlude before the main event.

The eye of the storm.

The beginning of the end.

I’m pregnant .

Not a whoopsy daisy I was stupid and forgot to use contraception. Not a I was sick and didn’t use other precautions while on the pill. Not a I forgot to update my shot or my coil didn’t work or the condom broke or I forgot to take the morning after pill.

Nothing like that.

No, life found a way to create something from nothing, cementing a marvel inside a womb that’d been confirmed as sterile forever.

I didn’t believe in miracles, but I did believe in second chances.

And this was Fox’s.

Roan’s.

For three days, I nursed the news. I sat awake at night, running my hands through Clara’s thick hair, imagining a future where she’d survive and grow up with a baby sister or brother. I painted a fairy-tale where Fox could be touched and loved, and we created a wonderful family from a very dysfunctional beginning.

I wanted to tell him. I went through every scenario of how to announce the news.

Every time he looked at Clara with smitten eyes the words I’m having your child danced on my tongue, waiting to be said.

But I cradled the news with utmost secrecy.

You’re avoiding it because you don’t know how you feel.

My hand fell on my flat stomach. I would never terminate a pregnancy, but I couldn’t wrap my head around holding another child. Loving another child.

It felt traitorous to Clara. I felt unfit and unworthy, and it tore me up inside. I couldn’t love another cherub-cheeked baby—it was a betrayal to her.

Wasn’t it?

I threw up twice—not from morning sickness—but from guilt. Guilt for loving another child as much as I loved Clara. Guilt for replacing her.

That was my true issue.

My firstborn will be dead, but I’ll have another. I wouldn’t have the time to mourn, or the luxury to forget about life. I wouldn’t have the privilege of ruining my own world once Clara left me.

I would have to go on surviving, smiling, living, all for a baby I’d never thought I’d have.

And it made me fucking angry.

Angry to recognise how weak I was—knowing I would love this baby with everything I was, which wasn’t fucking fair to Clara. She owned my heart, body, and soul, and she would be dead.

I was dizzy, tired, and nauseous trying to come to terms with gaining a life just before I lost one.

Ironically, I kept my secret because of my own regret, but Clara was the one who made sure I’d never tell him.

It was Tuesday, and the club was quiet.

After a trip to the bathroom to yet again scream at myself to consolidate my stressed emotions, I entered the office where we were finishing some paperwork.

Fox sat at his desk, dressed in black, surrounded by black; he looked like the son of a scarred kind-hearted shadow.

Clara lay on her stomach, little legs flying, hands cupping her chin as she watched Nemo on the large flatscreen.

Fox looked up; a gentle smile graced his lips. “I’m done here. I was thinking we could all go out—maybe grab takeaway and watch the sunset?” He laughed. “Listen to me—never thought I’d say such a domesticated thing.”

Clara looked over her shoulder, grinning. “I want fish and chips. But I don’t want to eat Nemo , so make sure the fisherman doesn’t kill him.”

Fox shook his head, eyes glowing with love.

He’ll make an amazing father .

I flinched, taking in the domestic bliss in front of me. Despite his touching issue, Fox was perfect. Strong enough to protect, wealthy enough to provide, fierce enough to love with everything bared.

His snowy eyes met mine, and my stomach tripped over itself. The message he sent was lust. He wanted me. For the past three nights, I’d sneaked into his room once Clara was asleep, and I let him tie my hands before giving me all of himself. He fucked me, but made love to me. He gave me sweet and gentle wrapped up in brutal violence.

My heart fluttered, responding to his unspoken request. I wanted him, too. Not just now, but for always.