Ripped Veil

Chapter 5 Episode 5

It’s not really a question, but I nod anyway. I can’t find my voice.

“Come here,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the bathroom counter.

His hands grip my waist. In one smooth motion, he’s lifted me onto the counter as though I weigh nothing at all. While I sit there, wondering what he’s doing, he grabs a hand towel from a ring next to the sink and runs it through water. Then he lifts to my face and dabs carefully, almost… tenderly.

When the towel comes away, I realize it’s smeared with dirt and dried blood. I hadn’t even realized I’d been hurt.

Then again, maybe it isn’t my blood at all.

The realization makes me feel light-headed all over again. My vision blurs and fresh tears fall.

“Listen to me,” he rasps softly. “There’s no point thinking about it. Whatever it is.”

“But—”

“Can you change it?”

“N… no.”

“Then don’t torture yourself.”

He works on my face again patiently, his eyes lingering on my lips for a moment before he dips the towel in water once more.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He just nods.

“Who are you?” I ask.

He meets my gaze. I feel my insides shiver. The intensity in those dark eyes has me leaning in, just the tiniest fraction of an inch.

“You chose the wrong place to seek refuge,” he warns me. “This place is not safe.”

“Why are you here then?”

“Because I can handle myself,” he says. “You can’t.”

I drop my head, unable to argue.

“You have to leave,” he adds.

I bite my lip to keep from saying the words that are dangerously close to spilling out. I don’t want to leave you.

But I’m not his problem. I’m my own problem now.

The drugged haze has mostly cleared away by now, though the fear still remains. He reaches up and brushes away one of my tears. Our eyes meet again, and I recognize something in him. Probably because it’s the same thing twisting inside of me right now.

Restlessness.

Conflict.

Two sides of himself warring with each other.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“You’ve thanked me already.”

“Not enough.”

And then, before I can stop myself, I reach out and cup his cheek with the palm of my hand. He jerks away momentarily from the sudden gesture, but I force it and he allows me to touch him.

I can’t read much about him. But in this moment, I know that neither one of us knows what’s happening right now. There is a connection here, but it’s too muddied in the chaos of what’s just passed for either one of us to unpack.

Maybe that’s why, when he leans in, I lean towards him, too.

Because that is the only way we can think of to diffuse some of the tension growing between us.

His lips fall on mine like a cloud. Soft. Supple. Tender. I’ve never been kissed like this before. So, when his hand wraps around my neck, I crane it up for him, giving him better access to my mouth.

I sigh and the sigh unlocks my lips. His tongue enters with quiet confidence. When his hands snake under my dress, I part my legs for him until he steps up between them. I’m trembling again—but this time, it has nothing to do with fear.

His lips leave mine and fall to my neck. I hear myself moan. The sound is so foreign that it forces my eyes open. I’ve never moaned like that in my life.

And I don’t even know this man’s name.

When he pushes aside my panties, I tense up a little. He pulls his lips from the side of my neck and looks me right in the eye.

“Say the word and I’ll stop.”

I stare at him. “Please, God… don’t.”

He keeps his eyes on me when he pushes himself inside me for the first time. It’s not as gentle as his kiss, but it doesn’t need to be. I want him to take the memories away—by any means necessary.

I feel his length sink into me, aware for the first time of an aching pain between my thighs. The pain lasts for several thrusts, but his eyes distract me.

And when the pain clears, only pleasure is left behind.

My hands move to his shoulders. I’m suddenly shy. Shy to touch him, shy to hold him, shy to give myself over to him in a way that I desperately want to.

I don’t know what’s come over me. Having s*x with a stranger in the bathroom of a horrible club goes against everything I’ve been taught.

But then again, I’m not the same girl anymore. I’d made sure of that when I set that fire and started running.

It feels like I’ve peeled off the layers of who I used to be. And in her place is another girl.

Someone reckless and wild.

Someone desperate and alone.

And maybe…

Just a little bit brave.

Chapter 4: Phoenix

4

She clings to me as though I’m her last lifeline. Her breathing comes in staggered gasps that makes her entire body tremble. Everything about her screams of frailty and vulnerability.

Maybe that’s why simply looking at her is a complete mindfuck.

Because despite all that innocence, she’s sitting here in a ripped wedding dress—with bloody fingernails that prove she can fight back.

Her eyes find mine as I thrust into her, reveling in the tight clench of her p***y. The thought that I might be taking her virginity flickers across my mind. But I cast it off. There’s no way a virgin would part her legs for a stranger so willingly.

In any case, I’m past the point of caring.

I’m definitely past the point of stopping—unless she says the word.

That doesn’t seem likely. Her moans are soft, pleated with tentative desire. Like she doesn’t want to make a noise. Doesn’t want to lose her inhibitions completely. She’s tense, even while I f**k her.

And that only makes me more determined to make her unravel.

I push her back against the bathroom counter and bear down on her, pushing myself deeper. Her eyes pop open with shock as I consume as much of her as I possibly can.

She doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t seem to want to. She just looks amazed that I can make her feel anything at all.

And that’s when I get it—it’s not that she’s never had s*x.

She’s never had good s*x.

She doesn’t yet understand what her body is capable of when she gives everything to me.

I desperately want to rid her of the old-fashioned wedding dress she’s wearing. I want to rip the aged fabric off her and gaze at her naked breasts as they bounce with every plunge of my hips.

I settle for running my hand over her chest. She whimpers as I brush against her n*****s. Her lips part. Her eyes are limpid with lust.

But I can sense the desperation in her. It’s probably that very desperation that’s causing her to go with this in the first place.

This is total f*****g madness, after all. She just saw something that not many people live to tell about: two of the most powerful dons in Las Vegas—hell, two of the most powerful dons in the world—squaring off with gunfire. And now we’re in the bathroom of this nightmare club, and we’re f*****g? I’m sure her mind is completely screwed.

Her body is about to be completely screwed, too.

A moan rips from her lips as I increase the speed and intensity of my thrusts. Apparently, I need this release more than I realized. It’s been a minute since I last let off some steam. I haven’t f****d like this since…

“Oh, God,” she whimpers softly. “Oh God… what’s… what…?”

She doesn’t even finish the sentence, because a second later, I feel her orgasm break. Her walls pulse around my c**k, trying to choke me out for what feels like minutes before she finally calms and dissolves into a puddle of near-silent moans.

Just when her orgasm recedes, I let myself go, spurting inside her with a heavy load that’s a result of months of abstinence. Her nails dig into my back, keeping me as close as she can get me. I welcome the sharp burst of pain.

I don’t stay inside her long after that. When I pull out without warning, she nearly falls forward off the counter. She gasps, but I manage to catch her in time.

Her hands latch onto my shoulders, preventing me from moving away like I’d planned. And all I can think is…

What the f**k have I done?

How have I allowed that s**t show to devolve into a quick, filthy f**k in the bathroom of one of the seediest clubs in Las Vegas?

It was her innocence that did it.

No—not only the innocence. It was the combination of the innocence and the violence.

Blood on a wedding dress.

A body like sin with eyes like hope itself.

I try and move away again, but her nails dig into my arms. “Please,” she begs, “wait.” She’s looking down as though terrified of the request she’s just made.

“Who are you running from?” I ask.

Her answer is immediate. “Everyone,” she whispers. “Everyone.”

I zip myself up and then stroke a finger underneath her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “How bad is it?”

She hesitates for a long time. “Bad.”