Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (70 page)

Eyes wide, Danny
smiles, nods his agreement. “Me, too.”

“A toast.” I
raise my Coke and the others raise their beers. “We’ll find every person
involved in this pedophile ring. Infiltrate, collect intelligence, complete
objectives and decide on the best strategy to crush our targets. A cautious,
silent approach. No hasty, unplanned moves. No risk… not until we’re ready to
move. The important thing is to do it safely and do it right, agreed?”

With our plans
discussed and decided, it’s time for us to leave.

Danny and I climb
into my car and drive off. Danny wants to talk. I don’t. I grunt and give one-syllable
answers until he gets the message.

I’ve had more
than enough talking for one day. My head aches. I feel as though it’s about to
explode. Emotionally, I’m on overload.

I drive well
over the speed limit, desperate to return to one of the only people that make
me feel sane. I
need
Renata. I struggle to control myself so each breath
is even and doesn’t hitch.

I’m all torn up
inside.

If I was
watching this as an episode on TV, I’d think the plot was far-fetched. We’ve
kicked over a rock, expecting a spider. Instead, we’ve found a nest of angry rattlesnakes.
The more I discover, the less I know.

This pedophile
ring we’ve become involved with is dangerous as hell, but clearly,
I
was
already in trouble. If someone powerful killed Gates and tried to frame me for
the murder, what will they do next?

Apparently,
they're capable of anything.

My father’s
murder is an active case that’s still hanging over my head. There’s no way I’ll
let my brother go down for it. Did the same guy who killed Edgar Gates, also
murder my father? Did he die
because
of his interest in children? Or
because he was a threat to someone in this powerful pedophile organization?

Blackmail
wouldn’t have been beyond him, especially during downturns in his business
interests.

Today’s stupid
jealousy over my abusive father is the toxic icing on this screwed up,
poisonous cake. How could I be jealous of my father? How can I explain it to
Renata? Will she think I’m past redemption?

I don’t know
what to do with the sudden black despair and self-disgust that nearly chokes me.

Monster!
Pervert!

A knot of emotion
constricts my throat. I’m scarred. I’m damaged. There’s something wrong with
me. Inner demons murmur in my mind,
‘Why would anyone love you?’

Fuck.
I’m
right back to hating myself.

Renata’s changed
my life, but she’s too good for me.

Far too good
for me.

My tension
increases, the knuckles on my hands are white as I grip the wheel. It feels as
though I’ve been dancing on a tight rope much too long without taking a fall. I
have the perfect woman and I’m utterly terrified. I’ve been too lucky. I have
too much. I’m worried fate is going to screw with me—not because destiny is
malicious, but because I doubt I’m worthy of such happiness.

Do I deserve her?
Or will I lose everything?

This irrational fear
is overpowering.

I
need
to
be inside of Renata. I need the mindless animal oblivion I can only find in her
arms. Desperate and aching, I concentrate on getting
home…
to
her.

“A friend of
ours, when she trips over some surprisingly intense emotional response, says,
philosophically, “Oh well—AFOG,” which stands, she says, for Another Fucking
Opportunity for Growth.”

―
Dossie Easton

~~~

Renata
Koreman

Mitten’s curled
up beside me, purring loudly, while I sit on the sofa in Briley’s room. The sweet
baby boy is fast asleep, cradled in my arms. He’s been growing and changing so
fast. He’s able to pull himself up now and he’s learning to crawl.

Briley’s so cute
and he smells divine. I love holding him while he sleeps, his soft breathing
mesmerizes me. I could stare at him for hours and never get bored. There’s
nothing more relaxing than cuddling a sleeping baby.

Best
tranquilizer
ever!

Valium doesn’t
even come close.

When Briley smiles,
the whole world brightens. He’ll be allowed to return to his parents soon. I’ll
be happy for him and for them. When I marry Grant, I'll be Briley’s Aunt Renata
and he'll be my nephew. I'll remain in his life, a loving adult, with the honor
of watching him grow up.

I look down at
this peaceful child and compare him to my brother Timmy. I can do that now,
with only a small pang of sadness. Wherever Timmy is, I like to think he’s
loved.

I imagine
breast-feeding our own child right here in this nursery. I’ve so much to look
forward to.

The sound of the
garage door opening startles me out of my blissful state.
Grant’s home!

My stomach
tightens, my pussy becomes wet with anticipation. God, how ridiculous. I’m
instantly horny at simply the thought of
him.

He loves and
needs me, as much as I love and need him. Knowing that warms me head to toe.

I ordered some
racy lingerie online, it arrived today. I was going to surprise him by modelling
it tonight, but I’ve decided to surprise him in another way. Consequently, I’m
wearing a short, sexy swing dress, without a bra… or underwear.

I grin. I can’t
wait to see the look on his face when he discovers what I’m wearing—or, in this
case,
not
wearing.

At times and in
some ways, he seems so conservative. A bit uptight, traditional and old
fashioned. Then he'll reveal another side of himself in the moments when he
isn’t. My thighs clench as I recall how happy he was fucking me with my dildo.
That's
so
not conservative, in my book.

Our sexual
chemistry is off the charts. Grant's sex on a stick—well, sex
with
a
stick. Or is that a dick? I smile at my silly thoughts. I can’t imagine this
erotic love affair ever slowing down.

I get up and
carefully place Briley in his crib, covering him with a light blanket. He’s a
great sleeper. I’ve left the baby monitor in the kitchen already.

Mitten yawns, stretches
and curls up without me. He’s happy to hang out in the nursery.

I leave the
nursery door open, so Mitten can leave when he likes, then I run down the
stairs, in a hurry to see the gorgeous hunk of man, who’s also the love of my
life.

Grant enters
directly into the kitchen through the internal garage door. Stunned by the
sight of him, I blink and stop in my tracks.

Jesus! What
the hell’s wrong with him?

Outwardly, he
seems the same, although his face is strangely expressionless. Brown tousled
hair, powerful torso and slate blue eyes—but it’s his eyes that give him away. Oh,
his eyes! They
burn.

His gaze is wild.
Raw. Haunted
.
He’s vulnerable, angry or maybe despairing—I honestly can’t
tell.

There’s
something heavy, blackening his soul. When circumstances trigger it, I can practically
feel his darkness. It’s as if he casts an actual shadow with his mood.

Like right
now.

What in the hell
has he
seen
today?

Panic tears
through me. “W-w-what is it?” I gasp. “What happened?”

His strange,
needy stare never once leaves me. He takes a step closer and stops, uncertain.
I want to move—to go to him, but something holds me back.

I know this
face. This is the Grant I first met, a man whose inner scars were far worse
than the outer wounds on his face. The man with the tortured soul and the lost,
betrayed heart of a child.

What in the
hell is wrong with him?

“Renata, I…” he
rasps tightly. Moments pass as he stares at me with those dark, bruised and
burning eyes.

I have to
help him.
I long to banish his terrible pain. My mind flies off in all
directions, imagining the worst. The suspense is killing me!

My voice wavers.
“Grant,
tell me!”

In less than a
heartbeat, the spell breaks and I’m able to move. I stride toward him, reach up
and wrap my arms around him.

With a half-cry,
or half-sob, he presses his face into the curve of my neck. His warm breath
fans my throat. He pulls me close, smashing his solid chest against my breasts.

He holds me tight,
as if he’ll die if he lets go.

I gasp when he
squeezes me, overwhelmed by the strength of his embrace and his intense need. I
thread my fingers through his thick locks and cradle him against me like a
child.

I gently stroke
his hair, but I'm confused by my impulses. I want to nurture and soothe him. I
want to wrap myself around him in the protective cocoon of my love, healing his
hurts, preventing anything bad from happening. I want to kiss him and make it
all better.

Shit.
Am
I his
mother
or his
lover?

I have no idea
what’s going on.

I’m not sure if he
wants to fuck me or weep over some terrible tragedy. My eyes sting. He’s so
upset. I’m completely shredded by his pain. Now,
I
feel like crying.

“Talk to me,
sweetheart,” I manage to murmur, patting and smoothing my hands up and down his
back. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” he rasps.
“You’re all I need.”

“You have me,” I
assure him, surprised by his erection pushing against my sex. He’s huge, hard
and ready. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours.”

He pulls back from
me so we’re face to face, meeting each other’s gaze. With an unfamiliar aura of
vulnerability, he stares at me, anxiously studying my features.

“You promise?”
he asks.

I force myself
to give him a lighthearted smile, feeling nothing even remotely 'light' at the
moment. I'm trying so hard to calm this strange mood he’s in.

“You goofball!
Of course, I promise. We’re engaged. You’re mine and don’t forget it. I’m going
to marry you, and we’re going to have a ton of wonderful kids that we’re going
to love to bits. Don’t even think of getting out of your promise to marry me.
I’m never,
ever
going to let you go.”

This reassurance
seems to break the dam holding back his intense passion. With an arm around my
back and his fingers tangled in my hair, his lips crush mine. He moans.

The moment our
mouths meet, my whole body zings with electricity. I’m captivated by his taste
and texture. I adore the strong male scent of him.

Nope. No
longer confused.

All of the
mothering impulses I felt are consumed by flames, reduced to ashes… I'm 100%
back in the role of Grant's
lover.

All I want now
is to have him bury himself inside of me.

"One of
the advantages of not being puritanical about sex is not being embarrassed
after. You should try it."

— Inara Serra

~~~

Renata
Koreman

Grant’s kiss is
bruising and desperate, his lips hot and demanding. For the love of God, he
feels
divine.
He fucks me with his tongue with delicious strokes, hard
and determined. His fully erect shaft rubs against my sex.

My blood rushes,
igniting a low, lusty burn through my veins. Mouth, chest, stomach, hips and
erection, hot as fire, his entire body presses against mine. He doesn’t need
words to communicate.

He physically
conveys his longing—promise—need.
Jesus.

My body quivers,
flushed and aroused. Goosebumps prickle my flesh. I was wet before I came down
the stairs, but with this one intense kiss,
I’m flooded
. My nipples
pebble and my knees weaken as my body responds.

He
needs
me
so much.

Fuck, it’s
such a turn on.

His solid chest
smashes against my breasts. He lifts me up and walks me backwards. In two quick
strides, he pins me up against the wall. His shaft rocks against my thigh, hard
and hot. His big, strong hands cup my ass.

Gripping his
shoulders, I arch up and wrap one leg around him, guiding his cock to where I
need it most. Grant rolls his hips, grinding against me. My thighs tighten as I
try to pull him closer, wanting more… wanting him inside me.

My heart slams
against my ribs, my breath comes in ragged gasps. I pull up his t-shirt, craving
his firm chest, wanting to feel skin on skin. His mouth leaves my lips, his
teeth clamp on to the side of my neck.

“Oh, mmm,” I
murmur, shuddering from the erotic feel of him at my throat. I flatten my palm
against his perfect abs. “Skin,” I plead between gasps. “I want to feel it.”

One hand slips
under my dress, bunching it in a fist. The other runs up my thigh to my ass. He
swears volubly when he discovers I’m not wearing underwear. His hand flexes,
gripping my soft flesh with surprise. Expelling a lungful of air, he squeezes
and strokes my backside with pleasure and disbelief.

Grant loves my
ass. He’s constantly touching it, grabbing it, biting it. He adores taking me doggy
style so he can look at it all he likes.

I
know
he
craves anal sex. He’s got fantasies, but no matter how many times I ask, he avoids
the subject. With his history of abuse, combined with a religious upbringing,
impenetrable inhibitions surround him like a moat around a castle.

One day soon, I’ll
get him to let down the drawbridge. Then we’ll deal with the rest of his hang-ups.

The image of
breaking through his barriers, setting him free, and having him act out his fantasies
is a huge turn on.

Anal is one of André’s
favorite things.

Grant, I
suspect, will be the same.

The idea of him
taking me in the ass is as hot as hell. Introducing him to something so taboo,
something he's held back from for so long, arouses the hell out of me. It'll
ratchet up the heat and passion between us a hundred-fold.

It will set him
free.

I can’t wait to take
him there.

His palm leaves
my buttocks, inching between my legs, cupping my sex. When he discovers how
drenched I am, he gives another soft oath of pleasure and appreciation.

His hands push
against my hips, making me drop my leg, putting space between us. I make a
sound of complaint at the loss of him. He stands me up, pulls my dress up and
over my head, drops it so it pools on the floor in a heap.

Now, he’s back
on me. He presses me forcefully against the wall, once more. With one hand he fondles
and massages my breast—the other is between my thighs, tracing my slit.

“Tell me if you
want me to stop,” he demands, growling into my ear. His low rumbling voice is
such a turn on.

“Hell, no—don’t
stop. Fuck me, take me in whatever way you need to,
please!”

With a sexy male
sound, he slides his fingers up into my slick channel. I cry out as he drives
them into me, finger fucking me hard and fast. My most sensitive flesh tingles,
while my molten core throbs.

God, he knows
exactly
what I love.

Desperate, I
buck into him. A tidal wave of desire hits me. I’m so close to climax!

The potent
erotic smell of sex and man fills my senses. I love the feel of Grant’s body,
so masculine and hard against me. His thick fingers probe deep within my pussy,
while his thumb tantalizingly circles and teases my clit. His other hand
pinches, tugs and rolls my nipple.

I thrash and
moan in a mindless fever of need. Such powerful sensations! Grant’s heavy
breathing and male sounds of arousal send me wild. His desperate hunger for me
is the cherry on top.

“Touch me,
please,” I beg.

God, my poor aching
nub needs to be touched.

When his thumb finally
taps my clit, he pushes me over the brink. I come screaming as though I’m on
fire. My pussy contracts around his fingers, gripping and releasing.

“Oh, yes,” he
whispers reverently “I love to see you orgasm. You look so beautiful.” He
continues his ministrations, intensifying and prolonging my pleasure.

Pulling back to
meet my gaze, his hooded eyes are alight with triumph.

“Oh no you
don’t,” he says, as I start to slide down the wall, weak with Jell-O legs. He
bends down, picks me up, and hitches me over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

What the
fuck?

I’m caught
off-guard, astonished by his unexpected move. I simply stare, dazed at his
tight, beefy ass. Even in his jeans, his backside is a masterpiece. Lord in
heaven, that’s one fine ass! I want to sink my teeth into him.

Languid and boneless
from my climax, he dumps me onto the kitchen table. Salt-and-pepper shakers go
flying, as well as a small bowl of salted nuts. They scatter across the table,
and onto the floor, ping, ping pinging as they drop.

I giggle. What
was I thinking, leaving those nuts out? Silly me. If I was smart, I would’ve
been prepared for the possibility of table sex. I make a mental note to keep
all horizontal surfaces in the house clear in the future. That way they’ll be
available for any possibility.

Grant rips off
his t-shirt, tosses it aside, unzips his jeans, and shoves them and his boxers down.
His fully erect cock juts out in front of him. Then he’s on top of me, his
chest pressing me down. His mouth kisses my neck, sucking my earlobe, his big
palms grip and tug my nipples.

“Ah, ah, ah,” I
whimper.

Taking his shaft
in his hand, he strokes the tip up and down my folds, wetting himself. I sigh
with pleasure. Fuck, he feels amazing. I raise up on my elbows for a moment,
greedily drinking in the sight of his hard, muscular body and his colorful, tough
guy tattoos.

I spread my legs
and lift my knees. Wide open I welcom him in.

I know what I
want.

I know what I
need.

I crave the
exquisite, seamless union I feel whenever he’s inside of me. It’s a connection
that’s at once pleasurable and profound. I feel fulfilled as a woman and as a
person when we join as one.

Now comes the
best part as he pushes his thick head past my folds and into my opening. I give
a throaty moan as I reach out to cling tightly to the sides of the table.

Eyes hooded, Grant
exhales with a grunt as he shoves his cock inside my needy heat.

The strong
tension in my inner muscles creates a delicious sensual struggle as he enters.
There’s sweet resistance to his width, his bulk and length as my body expands
to accommodate his size.

This first
moment of entry is an intense pleasure that borders on an exquisite kind of
pain.

My body adjusts
to his welcome invasion. I feel a sensual, stretched-out, full sensation as his
thick heavy shaft finally slides all the way home.

When he fully
impales me, burying himself balls deep, I almost weep with joy.

That, right
there, is the most amazing part of sex.

“Yes,”
I
sigh, as a shiver of pure pleasure runs up my spine. The pressure and heavy
fullness is intense.

God, I just had
an orgasm, but I’d still felt empty. Having him inside of me, having him fill
me so completely is still an incredible relief!

Both hands
holding my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples, my pussy clutches at him as he
withdraws. It’s resistant to him pulling out. Only the head of his cock remains
partially inside me, then his abs tighten and he pounds back in again. His pace
is relentless, out, in, out, in a brutal, delicious rhythm.

The table is the
perfect height. His eyes greedily travel over my body, he grips my hips. This
time he looks as he shoves himself into me, he watches as he fucks me.

I gyrate, writhe
and thrust back, wanting to feel him touching every part within me. We meld
together into one luscious sensation.

“So good,” I
gasp, delirious with pleasure.

“You want more?”
he grows.

“Yes, yes. Fuck
me,
please!”

I want him inside
me as far as humanly possible. Hunger and arousal deepens. Another orgasm
begins to coil, building in intensity.

Grant grunts
with the effort of his next powerful surge forward, rams inside, giving it to
me without restraint. I take him in my body with joy in my heart and my soul.

We get into a frenzied
pace, grinding ourselves into each other. No longer dazed from my climax, I
work frantically, meeting him thrust for thrust. My awareness heightens, sweat
slicks my skin. All I know is the wonderful sensation of his punishing shaft.

“Fuck, yes,”
he pants, staring at me with concentrated focus. “You want it, don’t you? You
need my cock.”

“Yes, yes,
please!”

The feel of his
body rubbing against mine, the sound of his groans, gasps and ragged panting,
the strength of his hunger, passion and need makes my skin heat and my muscles
quiver.

I'm lost in a
maelstrom of delicious sensation.

He increases his
depth, bumping into my cervix, causing a pleasurable pain. Now,
I know
I’m taking all of him.

I want all of
him.

I want
everything
he’s got.

I can’t think
about anything except the feel of his thick, swollen cock.

I’m being
ravaged. Grant acts like an uninhibited animal. He holds nothing back, he takes
what he wants, what he
needs.
In this moment he’s not thinking, he’s not
self-conscious—he simply
is.
I
love
it. I love this raw, dominant
part of him. He so rarely allows himself to let go.

Woo hoo!
Has he finally let the beast off the chain?

The table rocks
as he slams into me, fucking me hard and fast, just the way I love best. His
skin is slippery with sweat. He pants and grunts from this swift pace, this
determined effort. I make continuous sounds of effort, as well.

Is there
anything hotter than a gorgeously built man making hot, erotic noises? Not to
mention the feel of him out of control, wildly pumping inside of you?

I tilt my pelvis,
I need him deep,
all the way in.
I’m spread so wide. His cock slams
against my G spot, his testicles slam against my anus.

Fuck, it
feels amazing.
He’s hard as steel. He’s ruthless. He’s rough. He’s an
animal pounding inside of me!
Fucking hell.

I could take
this kind of sensual beating all day long.

If I’m bruised
and tender tomorrow, I’ll smile with the memory.

Harder and
harder, he grunts each time he drives into me, hitting against my thighs, hips
and ass. Each time he penetrates me our flesh meets with a sexy slapping sound.
He works at a perfect pace now. Thrusting in, out, in, out, he hammers away
like a jackhammer.

We’re both slick
with sweat. Urgent now. Mindless. I feel his penis pulsing. It’s swelling
further… he’s become even larger.

He’s close to
climax… so close!

My eyes slam
shut as my own orgasm strikes unexpectedly. Waves of pleasure take me
completely by surprise. I arch and scream as my inner core contracts around his
long, thick length, squeezing him, hard and tight.

Groaning, he
makes a low, throaty sound of excruciating ecstasy.

The noise he
makes is so damn hot.

His cock jerks,
he begins to spray in long, burning pulses. Once, twice, three more times he pumps
himself into me. On the last thrust he stays all the way in. He empties himself
into my body. We’re joined. Connected.

Grant’s deep
within
me,
body, mind, heart and soul.

I love the
weight and feel of him on top of me. His head is at my neck, his hot breath
fanning across me. We both pant raggedly, inhaling lungs full of air.
Aftershocks cause my body to shake and tense.

Whoa! That was
one hard, fast fuck. I feel as though I just ran a marathon. My hair is
sweat-soaked, clinging to my head. A lock of it drapes across my eyes. I pull
the damp strand away.

What an effort from
both of us!

Idly, I stroke
his back, and run my fingers through his hair. Buried within me, I smile as I
feel his cock pulse and twitch. I’m deliciously, fabulously sore. It’s a good
ache.

Jesus.
He
just fucked the shit out of me. His solid erection remains deep within me,
exactly where I love him best.

I lay sprawled
naked on the kitchen table, slowly—very slowly coming back to myself. In a
sensual fog I lie there, boneless and languid. Dazed with pleasure. I’ll never
get enough of him and his delicious, permanent erection. I’m intoxicated.

Talk about dick
drunk!