AN: SM owns all.
Chapter Nineteen
My old man didn't say a fucking thing. Not one goddamn word. Just sat there like the pathetic piece of shit he was—head down, hands clasped, kneeling like some sinner in church praying for salvation. No excuses. No lies. Nothing. And for once, I didn't need to hear his bullshit. The quiet was heavy, thick like smoke, and I fucking liked it. It was the only peace I'd had in my head in years.
But I knew it wouldn't last. It never fucking does.
The kid couldn't take it. That eerie, funeral-like stillness got under her skin, made her squirm. Before I could stop her, she was moving—sheets tangled around her legs like a goddamn trap, lamp snapping on and lighting up all the shit I'd been trying to keep buried.
It was blinding. Raw. Fucking unbearable.
And I saw it. Every miserable, fucked-up thing, slapping me across the face like a goddamn hammer.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I snapped. Lost it. Full-on meltdown, like some broken-down asshole who couldn't hold his shit together.
Bella's dress was shoved up over her hips, leaving her bare, vulnerable as fuck. Like something out of a goddamn nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Her hair was a tangled wreck, makeup smeared to shit. She looked like she'd been dragged through hell and back. But it wasn't any of that that got me. No, it was her wrists—red, raw, torn to hell like she'd been fighting for her fucking life.
And then I saw it.
The mark. On her neck.
My blood went ice fucking cold.
That bastard. That fucking bastard had touched her. That piece-of-shit motherfucker had dared to put his hands on her.
For one white-hot second, my vision blurred, turned blood-red. The Colt in my hand felt heavy as hell, my grip tightening so hard my fingers ached, my trigger finger itching to do the only goddamn thing that mattered. Carlisle was still on the floor, frozen like the spineless, worthless sack of shit he'd always been, eyes wide and filled with guilt. I could end it right there. One pull, and his miserable existence would be over.
And fuck, I wanted to. Every shitty, soul-sucking thing he'd ever done flashed through my head. Every moment he'd destroyed, every bit of humanity he'd bled out of me. And now this. This. The one thing I couldn't fucking forgive.
But the worst part wasn't him. It was me.
I'd told Bella I'd protect her. Swore on my goddamn life I'd keep her safe. And I was two fucking minutes too late. Late enough for that piece of shit to touch her, hurt her. Break something I was supposed to keep whole.
She must've seen it in my face—the rage tearing through me, the fucking failure written all over my skin—because her hands moved fast, yanking her dress down, her cheeks flushing hot as her eyes caught mine. For a second, her lips trembled, like she wanted to say something. Maybe explain. Maybe apologize.
Apologize. For what? For me fucking up?
She was trying to comfort me, trying to soothe me, when I'd failed her in every way a man could fail someone.
Her eyes softened, and she gave me this faint, broken nod, her mouth forming words I didn't deserve to hear.
"It's okay," she mouthed.
No. It wasn't. Not even close. Not by a goddamn mile.
My chest burned like I'd swallowed acid, my gaze locking on him like a goddamn laser. "On your fucking feet," I snarled, low and venomous, every syllable packed with rage.
He didn't fucking move. Just sat there like the useless piece of shit he was. So I grabbed his arm—no hesitation—yanking him off the floor like a rag doll and shoving his ass toward the chair by the wall. He stumbled, nearly went down, but I didn't give a shit. Let him fall. Let him fucking choke.
"Sit," I barked, jamming the Colt so forceful against his temple it must've felt like a steel freight train.
Carlisle lowered himself into the chair like he had a goddamn choice. His jaw tightened, like he thought bracing for it would save him. Pathetic. "I thought you were dead," he said, like that made it any better.
"No." I leaned in close, the muzzle biting into his skull. "You hoped I was dead. Big fucking difference, asshole."
I turned my head, my eyes finding Bella's across the room. Her dress was still wrinkled, hanging crooked on her body, but her Glock was steady as a rock in her hand. Her face didn't flinch. No tears, no trembling. Just fucking solid, like steel forged in fire.
"Baby," I said softer now. "Come here and tie this motherfucker to the chair."
She didn't hesitate. "On it," she said, calm as hell, like this wasn't the most fucked-up thing we'd ever done. She grabbed his goddamn tie—the one I'm sure he thought he'd be using for some sleazy bullshit tonight—and started knotting it tight around his wrists. The irony was almost too much, but I wasn't in the mood to laugh. Not with the way my blood felt like lava under my skin.
Bella worked fast, efficient, like she'd been born for this kind of darkness. Her hands didn't shake. She didn't look at him, not once. Didn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his existence beyond the bare minimum. It was all business, and fuck if I wasn't grateful for her in that moment. I couldn't survive this shitstorm without her. Wouldn't want to.
"He's not going anywhere," she said, straightening up.
"Damn right he's not." I grabbed her gently by the neck, pulling her close enough to press a kiss to her forehead. It was quick, but it was everything. She was still standing. Strong. Unbreakable. After everything this bastard had done, she was still here.
But of course, the smug bastard couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut.
"So, son," he drawled, clicking his tongue like this was some goddamn joke. "You sent your girlfriend to set me up? Clever."
My lip curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Well, I knew you had a thing for young, beautiful girls," I said, glancing down at Bella. Her eyes flicked up to mine, her cheeks flushing faintly when I winked.
Her shy little smile did something to me—warmed a corner of my fucked-up soul I didn't even know was still alive—but it wasn't enough to smother the rage crawling under my skin. Not even close.
The Senator sighed like a fucking martyr, shaking his head like he was the one suffering. "I told Eleazar not to worry about you," he said low, almost pitying. "Told him you weren't a threat to me anymore. But no. He said—no, he warned me—that you'd gotten worse. Angrier. More hostile. Guess I should've listened."
I laughed, the sound bitter, dragging a chair from the corner and dropping into it like I owned the room. The Colt stayed loose in my hand, its weight like an anchor, tethering me to the here and now. "Yeah, Eleazar's a smart fucker. You should've listened to him. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten himself tangled in your bullshit either. But nah, you had to play rehab daddy, didn't you? Had to act like you could fix me. What a fucking joke."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, letting my voice morph into something deadly, sharper, the edge cutting into him with every word. "Your mistake was thinking I'd ever be anything but this. You knew what I'd turn out to be when I was five. You saw it, plain as day, and you still thought you could make me into something… better. That's on you."
For a second, his lips twitched, curling into this bitter fucking excuse for a smile. Like he thought he'd won something. "We all make mistakes," he said, almost smug.
"Not me," I shot back, smug as hell as I grabbed Bella's wrist and pulled her down into my lap.
She gasped, soft and startled, her body stiffening for a heartbeat before she melted against me, her arms snaking around my neck. Christ, my girl was a goddamn knockout. She didn't belong anywhere near a broken bastard like me, but here she was, looking like sin itself and clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded. My gaze dropped to her lips, watching as her tongue darted out to wet them, and fuck if I didn't want to take it between my teeth, bite down just hard enough to make her whimper.
My hand slid up her thigh, fingers brushing over soft, warm skin, her dress riding even higher—too goddamn short to begin with. Her hair was still messy, her makeup smudged, her skin still bearing the marks from where his filthy hands had touched her. And yet she was here, pressed against me, breathing me in like I was her lifeline.
I closed my eyes for half a second, letting her heat bleed into me, the storm in my chest dulling just a fraction. My thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on her thigh while her arms tightened around my neck, grounding me.
She was mine. And there wasn't a single motherfucker alive who could take her away from me. Not even him.
My father, the miserable bastard, cut through the moment like he always did—loud, desperate, and useless. "What do you want, then?" he asked, a mix of whining and pleading, shattering the brief calm I'd found with Bella in my lap.
Bella shifted, reluctant as hell to pull away, but her attention flicked back to the sorry excuse for a man tied to the chair. I leaned back, the Colt tapping against my knee, my smirk deadly enough to make him squirm.
"What do I want?" I repeated, shrugging like I hadn't already decided exactly how I was going to make him bleed for this. "Same thing I wanted from my girl's garbage parents: restitution." My fingers drifted up to Bella's cheek, tracing her skin with a softness that didn't match the raw, ugly hatred simmering under the surface. "You haven't officially met my father yet, have you, baby?"
She shook her head, her Glock steady as ever. "No," she said calm but mocking. "He didn't introduce himself before trying to proposition me."
I let my jaw drop in exaggerated disbelief, turning back to the Senator like I couldn't fucking believe what I'd just heard. "The love of my goddamn life meets my father for the first time," I said, every word thick with loathing, "and this piece of shit treats her like a fucking whore?"
"I didn't—" he started, but I cut him off before he could finish his pathetic excuse.
"Shut the fuck up." My voice cracked through the room like a whip. "That's unacceptable. Even for you. You think you're some untouchable Senator, right? All about that squeaky-clean image? So, what the fuck happened here?"
His jaw worked like he was chewing gravel, his face twitching between frustration and fear. "What do you want from me, son?" he snapped finally. "An apology? Fine, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for whatever I've done. Just tell me what the fuck you want, and I'll do it."
I tilted my head, tapping the barrel of the Colt against my temple like I was thinking it over. "Tell you what I want, and you'll do it?" A humorless laugh slipped out as I shook my head. "You really think it's that easy?"
"Anything," he said, leaning forward as much as the restraints would allow, desperation leaking out of every pore. "You want money? Take it. You want your life back in Chicago? It's yours. Name your fucking price."
"Oh, that's rich," I said, smirking as I let the words hang in the air, savoring the look on his face. "Thanks for the generous offer, Dad, but I've already decided I'm robbing you blind tonight. Every cent, every asset, every fucking thing you've ever worked for—it's mine. That's not negotiable. But that's not why I'm here."
His face twisted, anger finally breaking through his pathetic attempts at control. "Then what the fuck is this about?"
I leaned forward, letting my free hand slide up Bella's neck, tangling my fingers in her hair. Her warmth grounded me, just enough to keep me from snapping completely. "This is about answers," I said slowly, like the promise of a storm. "Shit you've been hiding from me for nine goddamn years. And you're going to answer, old man. Every. Last. One."
"Ah, your wedding day," he said suddenly, like it was some fond memory instead of the clusterfuck he'd created.
Bella shifted in my lap, the movement sudden, yanking my focus back to her. When I looked at her, the expression on her face hit me like a two-ton boulder. Hurt, rage, and something deeper—something I'd never seen in her eyes before. Her jaw was tight, her eyes burning with pure hatred as they locked onto him.
She wanted him dead. Not just for what he did to her, but for the ultimate sin—marrying me off to someone who wasn't her. She didn't just hate him. She wanted his blood.
And fuck if that didn't send a rush through me, I couldn't explain. The thought of Bella standing over his lifeless body, his blood dripping from her hands, her face alive with fury—it shouldn't have affected me the way it did. But it did. God help me, it did. And I didn't fucking care.
"What the fuck do you want to know?" my father asked, calm as if he wasn't tied to a chair with a gun in his face. That smug, practiced control, like he thought he was still in charge, set my blood boiling.
"Why?" I snapped, the word cutting harsher than I meant.
His brows knitted; fake confusion plastered across his face. "Excuse me?"
"Why the fuck did you do it?" The Colt in my hand felt heavier, my grip tightening. "Why would you fucking set me up?"
"I don't know what you've been told, Edward," he said smoothly and patronizing, "but I didn't set you up."
"Bullshit," I spat, leaning forward, the rage rolling off me. "Don't fucking lie. I heard you talking with Kate's father. I know what you two did."
For a second, something cracked in his calm façade. His voice dropped, losing its polish. "I did what I had to do. To keep you out of prison."
I barked out a bitter laugh, the sound scraping out of my throat. "Right. Sure. Saint Carlisle, always the hero. Always so goddamn noble." My smirk was cutting. "All about saving me, huh? Tell me, baby," I said, glancing at Bella, gesturing with the Colt, "what do you think? Sounds like a real fucking savior, doesn't he?"
"Do you hear yourself?" he snapped, frustration creeping in. "You're blaming me for your decisions? Yes, I paid those thieves to turn on you. But you chose this life. You chose to steal, to get caught. It would've happened eventually. I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me?" I hissed. "Don't insult me. This wasn't about protecting me. It was about you. Your career. Your perfect image. You didn't sacrifice shit for me."
His mouth opened to argue, but I cut him off. "Shut the fuck up!" I barked. The tension in the air was thick and violent. I turned to Bella, desperate for something to pull me back.
She met my eyes, calm and steady as ever. For the first time, the fire inside me dimmed, replaced by something heavier. Tired. Hollow. "I'm crazy, right?" I muttered, softer now. "Thinking he'd own up to it? Tell me this wasn't a waste of time, baby."
Her hand moved to my hair, her touch light, her nails dragging gently against my scalp. "This wasn't a waste," she said, her gaze soft but firm.
The Colt stayed steady in my hand, pressed against the side of the Senator's head. His flinch was obvious, his breath catching like he couldn't help himself. The fear was there, no matter how much he tried to hide it, and for once, he had no control over the situation. Too bad for him, I wasn't feeling generous.
"There are two reasons why you're still breathing," I said, piercing and unflinching. "One, you're too public. A Senator turning up dead comes with a shitstorm I don't need. And two…" My jaw tightened as the words pushed past the bitterness clawing at my throat. "You're my father. And for some fucked-up reason, that still matters. Barely."
His pleading eyes locked onto mine, the same pathetic look he always used when he thought he could squirm his way out of trouble. Like that would work this time. Like everything he'd done could just disappear.
"But here's what's going to happen," I continued, keeping my tone flat and steady. "You're going to use all that power and influence you've built up over the years to make a call to the Phoenix PD. Those charges? Gone. Wiped clean. Like they never happened."
He scoffed, shaking his head slightly as if the idea was beneath him. "What are the charges? Robbery?" he asked, dismissive and arrogant as fuck.
The simmering rage inside me pushed closer to the surface. "Something like that," I said tightly, the Colt feeling heavier in my hand.
He leaned back slightly, practiced calm demeanor still clinging to him. "You're overestimating what I can do. I can't just make another state's charges vanish. It doesn't work like that."
A smirk tugged at my lips, colder than anything he'd ever seen from me. "You can. And you will. Want to know how I'm so sure?"
His expression faltered slightly, his mask of control slipping for the first time. "How?" he asked cautiously.
"All your secrets, Senator," I said, leaning in closer, letting him feel the weight of every word. "Every sleazy thing you've ever done. The women, the shady deals, the lies. All of it. And not just tonight—this shit goes back years."
The flicker of confidence in his eyes died out completely. His jaw tightened, his composure cracking as panic started to show. "You're bluffing," he said, but wavered in his inflection, giving him away.
"Think so?" I asked, the Colt pressing deeper into his temple. "Picture it. Your career, gone. Your chance at Governor? Finished. And Mom—sweet, trusting Mom—finally seeing you for what you really are. Think she'll stick around after she finds out you've been lying to her for decades?"
His head dropped slightly; his breath uneven. "It's not that I wouldn't do it," he said quietly. "It's just not possible. You don't understand what you're asking."
"I don't give a damn how you do it," I snapped, unwavering. "Make it happen. That's all there is to it. If those charges aren't gone by the end of the week, I'll destroy everything you've built. Your career, your reputation, your life. Gone. And don't think for a second I won't follow through."
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as his excuses crumbled under the weight of reality. His games, his lies—none of it mattered now. This time, he wasn't walking away unscathed.
The silence in the room was thick, oppressive, wrapping around him like a goddamn noose he couldn't wriggle out of. His breathing turned shallow, shoulders sagging under the weight of reality finally catching up to his sorry ass. There was no way out, and he fucking knew it. Good. Maybe if we wrapped this shit up fast, Bella and I could make it to the hotel restaurant before they closed. Nothing whets the appetite like tearing down the man who ruined your life.
And then he opened his mouth, the bastard. "Your mother would be disappointed in how you've turned out," he said, calm and deliberate. A low blow aimed straight at my weakest spot.
Esme. Sweet, goddamn Esme. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was so fucking transparent I almost laughed. "Why?" I shot back, an edge creeping in. "Because I'm like you?"
The way his face twisted, the disdain bleeding out of every pore, would've been funny if it wasn't so predictable. "You're nothing like me," he said, spitting the words like they disgusted him.
"No," I said, a smirk curling across my lips as I leaned forward. "You're fucking right. I'm not like you. You're worse. So much fucking worse."
His flinch was subtle, but I caught it. He didn't like hearing it, didn't like being dragged out of his delusions about who he was. Too bad. Tonight wasn't about sparing his ego—it was about ripping it to fucking shreds.
The room was tense, the air thick with the weight of everything unsaid. My focus flicked between the Senator, tied to the chair, and the Colt in my hand. I was calculating, strategizing, figuring out the next step when Bella shifted in my lap. I thought nothing of it at first, too caught up in my own head. But then she moved again—slow, deliberate, her hips rolling against me.
My entire body stiffened. The heat was immediate, pooling low in my stomach as the soft friction of her movements yanked me straight out of my thoughts. Her tits brushed against my shoulder, and before I could fully process what the hell was happening, her lips were on my neck—hot, wet, and insistent.
"Bella," I muttered, rougher than I intended. This wasn't the time. This wasn't the place. But she didn't stop.
Her teeth grazed my skin, her tongue following, and I sucked in a breath, my grip tightening on the Colt. "What the fuck are you doing?" I growled, but my words lacked conviction. I could feel my heart pounding, the blood rushing to all the wrong places.
She didn't answer, just shifted against me again, her hips pressing down, the pressure pulling a low groan from my throat before I could stop it. Her lips moved up to my ear, her breath warm and teasing as she whispered, "Relax."
My focus shattered. Gone. The Senator, the blackmail, the entire goddamn situation—all of it disappeared in the haze of heat and the way her body moved against mine.
"Bella," I tried again, reaching up and gently gripping her face, pulling her back to look at me. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes unholy and wild with want. She was doing this on purpose. She wanted me distracted, and fuck if it wasn't working.
"We're in the middle of something," I managed, glancing toward my father, who was staring at us with a mix of disbelief and rage.
Her lips curled into a small, wicked smile. "So?" Her hips rolled again, drawing a hiss from me as she leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. "Ten minutes," she whispered, playful but commanding.
I shook my head, trying to fight the pull, but she bit her lip, her hand sliding lower to press against the obvious bulge in my jeans. "One quickie," she murmured.
"Jesus Christ," I groaned, my jaw clenching as my resolve started to crack. My eyes darted back to the Senator, who shifted in his chair, glaring at us with barely contained fury. But he wasn't going anywhere, and Bella wasn't stopping.
Her lips brushed my neck again, her teeth grazing lightly. "Please," she whispered, almost pleading.
And that was it. The fight was gone. The only thing left was her.
My eyes darted around the room, searching for a solution. The bathroom door caught my attention, and I made my decision. "Get up for a second." I gripped her hips and lifted her off my lap.
Standing, I tucked the Colt into my waistband and grabbed the chair, yanking it violently. The wheels screeched as I rolled him forward. "You're sitting this one out."
When I turned back to Bella, she was already pulling at the hem of her dress, her nipples straining against the fabric. My pulse spiked. "We got anything to gag him with?" I asked, my gaze locked onto hers.
"Yes!" she said, practically bouncing with excitement as she darted around the room, grabbing supplies like this was the most fun she'd had all night.
A washcloth and a silk tie later, the Senator was silenced mid-rant, his muffled protests only making me smirk as I secured the gag around his head. His glare was almost funny if I weren't so fucking distracted.
"There," I said, rolling him into the bathroom and closing the door with a decisive click.
When I turned back, Bella was already standing there, her dress riding high on her thighs, that filthy grin on her face daring me to lose my shit. My cock twitched the second I saw her, and whatever thin shred of restraint I had left snapped.
"Come the fuck here," I growled, closing the distance in two strides. My belt hit the floor before I even reached her, my hands grabbing her like she was mine to take—because she was. My lips crashed into hers, rough and demanding, and she met me with just as much fire.
Her nails dug into my shirt, tugging me closer, scratching against my skin, and it made me want to tear her apart. My grip on her hips was tight, almost bruising, as I backed her toward the bed. Her heels hit the floor with a dull thud, and she stumbled slightly, but I didn't let up. Didn't fucking care.
I shoved her dress higher, exposing soft, bare skin that made my blood fucking boil. My hand slid between us, fingers hooking in her panties, and I yanked them to the side like they were in my goddamn way—which they were.
Her gasp was sharp, her body jerking as I ran my fingers along her wet folds. "Jesus fucking Christ," I muttered, more to myself than to her. She was soaked, warm, and ready, and it sent a bolt of heat straight to my cock.
"You're fucking dripping," I growled, pressing harder, and teasing her until her hips bucked against my hand. "You like this? Getting off with my father tied up ten feet away? You're a goddamn menace."
Her only response was a low, desperate sound, her lips parting as her hands clawed at my shoulders, pulling me closer. Fuck, I was already gone. There was no coming back from this.
"Fuck," I muttered, mostly to myself, as I felt her trembling under my hand, her body already giving me everything I wanted.
When I shoved my fingers inside her, her head snapped back, and her hips bucked like she was chasing something only I could give her. Grinding against my palm, her moans spilled out, soft and needy, filling the room like a goddamn siren call. Every sound she made drove me further down the rabbit hole of how badly I needed her.
I dragged my teeth along her jaw, my lips grazing her skin as my thumb circled her clit, relentless and unforgiving. She was shaking, falling apart under me, and it was everything. She wasn't just moaning—she was telling me I owned her. Every desperate twitch and cry screamed that she was mine, and that shit lit me up like nothing else.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, yanking it enough to pull a groan out of me as she dragged my mouth back to hers. Our lips collided, all teeth and tongues, messy and fucking feral. I kissed her like she was oxygen, like I needed her to breathe, and she kissed me like she knew it. She knew she was in control of me, even when I was the one calling the shots.
My hips pressed into hers, the rough denim of my jeans grinding against her in just the right way. Her body arched up, pressing closer, and I could feel how bad she wanted me—how soaked, how desperate she was. Her nails dug into my back, her legs wrapped tighter around me, her breathing ragged and fucking wrecked.
Her hand slid between us, fumbling with the button of my jeans, and the sound of the zipper sliding down was like a gunshot in my head. My restraint? Gone. I broke the kiss, pulling my hand away just long enough to lift my hips and help her shove my jeans down. The second my cock was free, brushing against her slick heat, I let out a guttural groan, low and raw.
Sitting back on my knees, I gave her room to scoot higher up the bed, my hands immediately grabbing the waistband of her panties. I ripped them down her legs in one quick move, tossing them somewhere on the floor without a second thought. My eyes dragged over her, taking in every inch of flushed, needy perfection. She looked wrecked, and I wanted to ruin her even more. She was mine—completely fucking mine.
Reaching into my jeans, I grabbed a condom, tearing the wrapper open with my teeth. But before I could roll it on, her hand wrapped around me, her grip firm and deliberate. Her strokes were slow, teasing, and my head tipped back as a string of curses ripped out of me.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I hissed, my hips twitching into her hand. Then she licked her palm, making it slick before wrapping it around me again, and it nearly undid me on the spot. My eyes snapped open with need, and I growled, "If you don't stop teasing, I'm gonna fuck you so hard the Senator hears it through the goddamn walls."
Her smirk told me she wanted exactly that.
Parting her legs, I lined myself up, gripping my cock like it was the only thing keeping me sane. The second I shoved into her, tight and wet and so fucking hot it burned, I couldn't hold back the guttural groan that tore out of my throat.
"Fuck," I growled, my head dropping to her shoulder like she'd just knocked the wind out of me. And maybe she had. Jesus Christ, she felt so fucking good.
I started slow—not because I wanted to, but because I knew I'd break her if I didn't. Inch by inch, I eased in and out, letting her body stretch around me, clenching and gripping me like she was trying to pull me deeper. Her moans, soft and breathy, filled the room, and fuck, it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
"Goddamn it," I hissed, grabbing her thigh and yanking her leg over my arm, tilting her hips just right. When I slammed into her this time, she cried out, her nails digging into my back, and that sound? That fucking sound? It almost broke me.
Her body arched beneath me, her breath coming in broken gasps as I picked up the pace. My lips crushed against hers, swallowing her moans, biting down on her lower lip just to hear her whimper. She tasted like sin, like something I didn't earn but was too rotten to give up.
The bed creaked, banging against the wall with every thrust, but I didn't give a shit. All I cared about was her—how she felt, how she moved, how she begged for me like she couldn't survive without this. Without me.
"Harder," she pleaded, her legs locking around my waist, heels digging into my ass like she wanted to brand me. "Please."
"Fuck, Bella," I groaned, my body shaking as I slammed into her, harder and faster, chasing that high only she could give me. Her voice, her warmth, the way she tightened around me like a vice—it was too much and not fucking enough at the same time.
Her head tipped back, her mouth open in a silent scream as she came, body trembling and clenching around me so tight saw stars. "Oh, fuck," I gritted out, my rhythm faltering as I lost myself, pounding into her one last time before I shattered, my release fucking demolishing me.
I collapsed on top of her, both of us slick with sweat, breathing like we'd just run through hell and barely made it out alive. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding me there like she didn't want to let me go. And fuck, I didn't want her to.
"I fucking love you," I whispered into her neck, the words slipping out before I could stop them. Shit. What if it was too soon? What if she didn't feel the same? Fuck. Fuck. My chest tightened, panic creeping in as I jerked my head up to meet her eyes. "You know that, right?"
Her gaze softened, and she reached up to smooth her hand over my brow, calming the storm raging inside me like only she could. "Yeah," she said, steady and sure, like it was the simplest truth in the world. "I've known for a while."
Relief slammed into me, so strong it made my smirk slip out unbidden. "Good," I said, softer than I meant, almost shy—not that I'd admit it.
She held my gaze, unflinching. "You know I love you, right?"
My throat worked as I nodded, swallowing roughly. "Yeah," I rasped. "I know."
"Good," she repeated, carrying a weight that settled deep in my chest, grounding me. For once, I fucking believed it.
I dropped my forehead against hers, my arms locking around her like she was the only thing keeping me tethered to this fucked-up world. She held me just as tight, and for a moment, everything else faded. No noise, no chaos, just her.
But of course, reality had to rear its ugly fucking head.
A loud thump echoed from somewhere outside the room. My head snapped up, and I groaned, long and low, frustration boiling under my skin. "Goddamn it," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. "I fucking forgot."
She laughed, that smug little sound that drove me insane. Her grin was pure trouble, and it made my blood simmer.
"You see what you do to me?" I growled, narrowing my eyes at her. "You turn my fucking brain to mush."
She stretched out like a damn cat, her body flushed and messy, looking like the aftermath of a goddamn hurricane—and proud of it. "I'm not sorry."
"Yeah, no shit," I shot back, sitting up and reaching for my jeans. "Fun's over, sweetheart. Let's get this shit done. I'm fucking starving."
She just grinned wider; her eyes gleaming with that mischievous spark that always made me want to ruin her all over again. My stomach twisted, half hunger, half something darker.
And I knew, no matter how much I tried to keep control, I'd always come crawling back for more.
The Senator was sprawled out on the bathroom floor, his dumb ass having managed to tip the chair over in some desperate bid to get attention. Of course, in the process, he'd slammed his head against the sink, turning one of those pretentious crystal soap dishes into a glittering mess of shards. Nice. Real fucking genius. Maybe next time he'd aim for the toilet and save me the trouble of cleaning up his goddamn mess.
I groaned, not bothering to hide my disgust as I stared down at him. "For fuck's sake," I muttered. "You're really committed to this, huh?"
Hauling his pathetic ass back into the main room wasn't easy. The bastard was heavy, all deadweight and wasted potential. His muffled grunts made it clear he wasn't thrilled about the situation, but I didn't give a shit. The chair scraped across the floor with a screech that set my teeth on edge, but I didn't stop until I had him upright again. I shoved the chair into place, making him bounce, and brushed off the flecks of his miserable existence from his expensive suit.
Bella was perched on the bed like she owned the goddamn world, one leg crossed over the other, gun resting lazily in her lap. Her grin was razor-edged, like she was enjoying the best stand-up routine of her life.
"Did you enjoy your little bathroom adventure, Senator?" I asked, crouching to slide a hand into his inner blazer pocket and yank out his wallet. "Hope you used that time to reconsider your options."
He jerked against the ropes, grunting something through the gag that was probably colorful. Fuck him.
"Here," I said, tossing the Prada wallet at Bella without bothering to look at her. "See what cash he's carrying."
Bella set her gun down and flipped through the wallet like she'd done it a hundred times before. "Couple grand, give or take," she finally announced, holding up the bills like a prize on some fucked-up game show.
"Fantastic," I said, heavy-handed with sarcasm. "That'll keep us afloat for a few days."
The truth? We weren't as broke as I pretended. Bella's college jar—fifteen grand I'd scraped together—was untouched. I wasn't going to touch it, not unless the world went nuclear. For now, we'd scrape by on what we took. Better she thinks we were hanging by a thread than realize I had a plan she couldn't argue with.
"Anything else worth noting?" I asked.
Bella hesitated, just for a second, and I knew something was up. My eyes cut to her as she pulled out an old photograph. Even from across the room, I recognized it: me as a kid, grinning like a fucking idiot in that sailor suit Mom thought was cute. Bella palmed the picture quickly, slipping it into her purse.
"Really?" I muttered. She didn't answer, but the Senator sure as hell noticed. His bloodshot eyes followed every move. Good. Let him stew.
"Sorry, what was that?" I said, turning my attention back to him and crouching so we were face to face. His breath smelled like cheap whiskey and desperation, and his wide, panicked eyes were almost funny if I didn't hate him so much. "Got something to say, old man?"
Behind me, Bella laughed. "Edward, stop being such a jackass."
"Why?" I shot back, leaning closer to the Senator. "I'm having fun."
"I can tell," she said, her tone amused but her eyes black. "But maybe don't drag this out forever? We've got places to be."
"Fine," I said, letting out an exaggerated sigh as I yanked the gag out of the Senator's mouth. "Go on. Enlighten us."
He coughed, jaw working like it was some Herculean task to speak. "I'll do it," he finally croaked, his voice raw and brittle.
"Atta boy," I said, clapping him on the back with enough force to make him lurch forward. I fished his phone out of his pocket and waved it in front of his face like a trophy. "But just to keep you honest, I'm holding onto this."
I unlocked the phone, and the first thing that hit me was a wave of sleaze so thick it made my stomach churn. Pictures of girls—young girls, some barely legal, posed like they were auditioning for the world's worst porno.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I muttered, shoving the screen in his face. "How the fuck does Mom not know about this? How do you hide this kind of garbage from her?"
The Senator turned his head away, shame and defiance battling for control of his face. "Your mother doesn't ask questions," he muttered. "She just prays."
"Oh, great. That'll fucking fix everything," I said. "Maybe you should start praying, too. Specifically, that you get those charges dropped."
"And if I can't?" he snapped, some of that defiance sparking in his tone. "What happens then, huh? What's your plan, Edward? Arizona? On the run like a fucking coward?"
"Welcome to the party," I said, grabbing a fistful of his thinning hair to keep him still. "Running's a family tradition."
With one swift movement, I forced the washcloth back between his teeth, silencing whatever smug comment he'd been working up to. He groaned, muffled and furious, as Bella stepped up beside me.
She tied the gag in place with his silk tie, her hands quick and sure. "Figured you could use the help," she said, smirking at me.
I laughed. "Yeah, gagging pieces of shit like this is a two-person job."
Bella nudged me playfully on the arm, her grin practically daring me to react. For half a second, all I could think about was bending her over the nearest surface and giving her a teasing little spank—just enough to make her squirm and glare at me, half-annoyed and half-turned on. But before I could follow through, my father's muffled grunting from the chair snapped me back to reality.
The sound grated on my nerves, a stark reminder that we weren't done here. My jaw tightened as a fresh wave of irritation burned through me. That idiot couldn't even sit in silence properly. Of course, he'd ruin the moment. He ruined everything.
I shot him a cold look before turning to Bella. She was still smiling, like none of this bothered her in the slightest.
"Alright, here's the deal, Dad." I stepped toward him, looming just enough to make sure he didn't mistake this for a negotiation. "You've got a week to get those charges dropped. One. Fucking. Week. If you don't, I'll personally make sure every single news outlet knows exactly what kind of sick, perverted, adulterous scumbag you are. Nod if you understand."
His head bobbed up and down in a stiff, pitiful nod.
"Good." I crouched down so I was eye-level with him, speaking slowly like I was explaining something to a particularly stupid child. "Now listen carefully, old man. In an hour, I'm calling the front desk to send someone up here to cut you loose. But—and this part is crucial—you don't tell anyone we did this to you. If anyone asks, we were masked. You didn't see our faces. You sic the law on us, and I swear to you, you'll live to regret that decision for the rest of your miserable, pathetic life. Got it?"
Another nod. His eyes were wide now, but I didn't give a shit if he was scared. Good. He should be.
I stood up and glanced at Bella. "Just to be safe, baby, wipe down everything you touched," I said, waving a hand toward the room.
"Okay," she said easily, slipping into the bathroom to grab a washcloth. She moved around the room with that calm, collected efficiency that always drove me a little crazy. She cleaned every surface she might've touched, even smoothing out the comforter on the bed.
I dragged the Senator back into the bathroom, his chair screeching against the floor as he squirmed in it like a worm on a hook. His muffled grunts made my jaw clench tighter, but I didn't say anything until I shoved him into the corner where the shattered soap dish still littered the tile. I crouched in front of him, elbows on my knees, smirking at the pathetic excuse for a man sitting there.
"You know," I started, tilting my head, "I wasn't always gonna let you live tonight. For a second, I thought about ending it right here." I motioned around the bathroom dramatically. "Would've been poetic, don't you think? The great Senator brought down in his own luxury suite by the son he never gave two shits about."
His eyes widened.
"Relax, Dad. That's not why we're here. Not tonight, anyway. I'm here because of her." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, pointing toward the other room. "That girl in there? She's it for me. I'm going to marry her. Do you get that?" I leaned in closer, lowering my voice like I was letting him in on a secret. "Bella's everything I didn't think I deserved, but somehow, she's still mine. And I'll do anything to keep it that way."
His muffled grunts turned into a low whimper.
"You're lucky, old man. Lucky I didn't kill you the second you so much as looked at her wrong. I saw it, you know. The way your eyes lingered. You thought about saying something, didn't you? But you didn't, because even you aren't that stupid."
More thrashing and grunts from my father as he fought against his restraints.
I reached out, grabbing the armrest of his chair, and pulled him closer until my face was inches from his. "You're sitting here alive because of her. And you better fucking thank whatever god you pray to for that, because I could've ripped you apart, and I wouldn't have lost a wink of sleep over it."
His face twisted into something halfway between fear and disgust. Carlisle Cullen had an epiphany at the Ritz in his hotel bathroom. His son, flesh and blood, was gone. What was left was a man who hated him. Yeah, right then, he knew I would kill him. Maybe not tonight, but some day. I laughed, the sound echoing sharply in the small bathroom.
"Yeah, asshole," I said, shaking my head. "You fucking get it now, don't you?"
Standing up, I dusted my hands off like I'd just finished a job well done. There wasn't much I could do to him. So, I left him there, his muffled whimpers trailing behind me.
Closing the bathroom door, I leaned against it and watched my girl fluff the pillows. Damn, the kid looked good being all domesticated. She would bend over just right, and the bottom of her ass cheeks would slip out of the dress. My dick hardened once more. Yeah, like a raging alcoholic, I needed another round.
Sneaking up behind her, I slapped her ass, making her jump and spin around, her glare cutting me in half. Her cheeks flushed deep red, and her hand flew up, smacking my chest with enough force to sting.
"Don't do that," she hissed, like she meant it, but her eyes betrayed her, flicking to my mouth.
I smirked, closing the gap between us, stepping into her space like it was mine to take. "You ready?"
"Yeah," she muttered unevenly as she glanced around the room like she needed a damn excuse to not look at me. Then, of course, the smart-ass comment I knew was coming. "Where's your dad?"
My jaw tightened. "Really fucking funny."
She laughed softly, brushing it off like she always did, the sound just this side of teasing. "Sorry. I meant, where's the Senator?"
"In the bathroom."
Before she could say anything else, my hands grabbed her hips, pulling her against me. My fingers slid lower, gripping her ass with enough force to make her gasp. She stiffened for half a second, but that was all she ever gave me before melting into it. "You wanna?" I murmured, steering her backward toward the bed. The edge hit her thighs, and she glanced back, biting her lip like she was already trying to talk her way out of it.
"We can't," she protested, soft, almost hesitant. "I just made the bed."
I snorted, leaning in until my lips brushed the curve of her neck. Her breath hitched—like clockwork. "We'll fucking make it again."
Her resistance crumbled like it always did. She'd try to fight it, but we both knew how this ended. My hand slid up under her dress, finding that soft, warm skin I couldn't get enough of. She trembled, her resolve breaking with every inch my fingers traveled. I kissed her slowly, letting her sink into it, guiding her down until her back hit the bed.
"Ten minutes," I growled against her lips, low and rough, because that's all I thought I'd need. Thought.
But fuck, as soon as I leaned back and saw her—flushed cheeks, that fucking perfect lip caught between her teeth, her chest rising and falling like she couldn't decide if she was nervous or desperate—I was gone. Just fucking gone. My knees hit the floor, no hesitation, no thought, just need. My hands slid up her thighs, parting them like they were already mine, because they fucking were.
Her scent hit me, and my head swam with it, groaning low in my throat. Jesus fucking Christ, it didn't matter how many times I'd had her, tasted her, ruined her. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
I kissed the inside of her thigh first, slow and deliberate, dragging my lips over her skin, feeling her tremble against me. Her fingers twisted into the comforter, and she made the tiniest, most desperate sound. That sound ripped through me, fed the fire clawing its way up my spine.
"Let me taste you," I rasped, fucking wrecked, like there was a single fucking chance I'd take no for an answer.
I didn't wait. I didn't need permission. I dragged my tongue over her, slowly and deliberately, teasing her just to watch her body jerk. Her hips tilted toward me, like surrender, like she was already begging without saying a damn word.
And that was it. That's all it fucking took for the leash I had on myself to snap.
I devoured her like she was the only goddamn thing keeping me alive, like she was oxygen, water, salvation all rolled into one. My grip on her thighs tightened, guaranteed to leave marks, keeping her exactly where I needed her while I buried myself in her, chasing every sound, every goddamn tremble like it was my last fucking chance. Because when I was there, between her thighs, with her falling apart under me, I wasn't just alive—I was untouchable. Fucking invincible.
Thanks for reading.