Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

you so badly, it terrifies me.” I paused, my breath freezing in my lungs and my heart pounding as I admitted what terrified me even more. “I love you.”

As though my admission was his oxygen, his drug of choice, his sun… As though my love was the only thing he needed, he closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to mine.

A heartbeat passed. Then two.

And then he moved.

Hard.

Fast.

Brutally taking me to give me the kind of pleasure-pain only he could.

Ensuring he was my oxygen. My drug of choice. My sun.

And that I was his flower, needing only him to survive.

I knew we were being loud. It was likely my neighbor or anyone in the hall could hear us. Hell, it was likely people on the top floor could. But I was too far gone to care.

Body tightening, my muscles squeezed my bones until they hurt before I came. Unraveled.

“Love you,” Alexander grunted, his words raw and harsh as he thrust into me. Filling me with him and his come and his love.

“Love you, too,” I panted, clinging to him. Wrapped in his hold, his head tucked into my neck and his come dripping from me, my brain began to function again. I tried to push his shoulders, but he didn’t budge.

His body tensed even as his lips trailed along my sensitive skin. “Hmm?”

“We really need to do something about your penchant for sexual manipulation.”

Lifting his head, he grinned down at me.

And I decided I didn’t mind the manipulation so much after all.

_______________

“TELL ME ABOUT your appointment.”

I’d expected that. I was surprised he’d managed to hold off until after I was cleaned up, changed into my pajamas, and dinner had been ordered.

“Eh, you know how doctors are. It’s always a lot of hurry up and wait.”

He looked down where I was curled up in his lap and raised a brow, letting me know my vague answer wasn’t cutting it.

“They ordered a bunch of labs and tests for next week.”

“You said again earlier.”

Me and my big mouth.

“Did I? Weird.”

Another look that said he wasn’t buying it.

In order to tell Alexander everything, I revisited memories I’d rather suppress to the depths of hell where they belonged. My symptoms—both past and present. My diagnosis. My time in the hospital, praying for that same specter of Death to kill me. As I talked, I clutched him, anchoring myself. Reminding myself that I wasn’t back there.

That I wasn’t alone.

I told him about how my parents were absent through most of it. “My father, who was a damn doctor, was too busy with face lifts and fake boobs to come see his own kid. And my ugly illness disgusted my mother. I was ruining the perfect image she worked so hard to project.” I gave a laugh that was disturbingly warm. “It was poetic justice and karma and comeuppance all rolled into one that she died of Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia.”

“She did?”

I couldn’t hide my small, evil smile, and thankfully, Alexander didn’t recoil in horror at my macabre glee. “She was an alcoholic and a pill popper—and not a functioning one. Her body rotted away, but she was too doped up to notice until it was too late.”

He gripped my hips. “Is A.L.L. hereditary?”

“I don’t think so. No more than any family history of cancer increases your risk.”

“So it’s unlikely our kids will inherit it.”

My eyes went so wide, I was honestly surprised they didn’t pop out of my head.

I’d never planned on having kids. Not in my wildest dreams. Or maybe my worst nightmares. If having a pet—or, hell, a houseplant—was too much responsibility for me, a human was definitely out of the question.

Being in love with Alexander didn’t change that.

“In the far, far future,” he added, reading my panic.

“That future might require a portal to an alternate timeline,” I told him honestly, in case it was a deal breaker.

It wasn’t. “If it happens, it happens. If not…” He shrugged and squeezed me tighter.

I was all determined to break up with him, and now here we are, talking about love and our potential future children.

I’ve got whiplash.

“Maybe, in the far, far, far future, we can start with a dog,” I said in the name of compromise. “Or a cat. They’re also assholes, so I feel like we’re compatible.”

“Deal.”

“Tell me about your parents,” I ordered. “Quid pro quo.”

“You don’t have salsa to bribe me with.”

I cupped his face and moved closer until our lips were barely touching. Just a graze. But it was still enough to make my breath hitch before I pulled away. “Quid pro kiss.”

“Now who’s using sexual manipulation?”

“I learned it from watching you. Now spill.”

“They were amazing parents. My dad worked maintenance at the school where my mom was a nurse.”

“For some reason, I’d assumed they were tech geniuses like you.”

He chuckled. “You’re not the only one who never understood my techy whatnots. They didn’t even have a computer until I got interested in them. My dad worked a bunch of odd jobs to buy a used one for me.”

A pang of envy hit my chest. “What happened to them?”

“Coked up driver.”

My envy quickly morphed to rage. “Did the cokehead die in the crash, too?”

Bad karma or not, I hoped so.

He shook his head. “Barely a scratch. And since he was a rich asshole who could buy his way out, he got barely a slap on the wrist, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” He pressed his lips to the side of my head. “But thank you.”

I jolted when there was a knock on the door—likely our Pho.

“My mom used to come up behind me and pull my hair or pinch my flab so hard, it’d bruise. It’s why I hate being startled,” I explained, something I’d never shared with anyone.

Even Aria didn’t know about the physical abuse, just the emotional stuff and the neglect.

“You sure she’s dead?”

At the unfettered fury in his expression, I knew if she weren’t, he’d make it so. That was a lot more romantic and moving than it should’ve