THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance by Elena Monroe (best big ereader txt) 📗

Her lips hovered over mine, but every thrust of me inside her pushed her mouth away. Holding her in my hands, I walked to the desk and dropped her down on the edge.

“I can’t fuck you without kissing you. These are like… being rescued by you.” My thumb dragged against her full bottom lip before I let my mouth crash down into hers.

My knuckles dug into the desk behind her bare ass as I felt her mouth fall open and her tongue licking my lips feverishly.

She wanted inside me as much as I was inside her.

Picking up a steady pace again, I swallowed her moan pouring into my mouth when our hips collided. Leaning into her more, I kept our mouths close while she tightened against every inch of me.

“Yes. Bowey,” she muttered between us when we tried to catch our breath.

“Evey.”

Her palms were pressing lightly against my chest stopping me from pushing into her so deeply, I felt like I might break her.

“I want to be in control.” She wasn’t asking permission when my hips stopped, and I studied her features carefully.

She was always in control; did she not know that?

Backing away enough to leave her feeling empty, I wrapped my hand around myself, dragging my hand down my own length in a closed fist. “I’d give you anything you want, Evey.”

Dropping down to the floor in front of the chair, I pressed my back into the lounge chair waiting for her to climb on top of me.

I could see her mind working when she sauntered over, dropping slowly to her knees, crawling until she straddled my lap.

Raising her hips, I guided myself inside her, keeping my fist there until she adjusted and settled. “Anything?” She whispered into the air, placing her hands on my shoulders for stability.

Looking around at my destroyed library, I could see unopened letters, plane tickets, endless contracts, and every other piece of evidence that I would do anything for her.

Anything.

Everything.

Grabbing a handful of her ass, I pushed her hips forward on top of my lap with a groan. “Anything, Evey.”

She kept rolling her hips on top of mine, getting all of me coated in her wetness again, her features collapsing into ecstasy already.

“I want you to forgive yourself, Bowey.” The words came out breathy, absorbed from riding me.

I didn’t agree because I couldn’t make a promise I didn’t know if I could keep. Instead I cupped her face and gave her my tongue inside her mouth until neither of us could be teased by an orgasm anymore.

Holding her tightly, hips still, I groaned into her the crook of her neck while every part of my dick shook inside her, emptying. “Fuck, Evey.”

Ripping the blanket down from the chair behind me, I wrapped it around her shoulders like someone might see her. Hell, I’d keep her from God’s watchful eye too.

“Do you have a knife?” She asked me still on my lap.

Looking around at everything on the floor, I knew I had the knife I used to cut her stepdad the day he took her away here among all the memories. Leaning over, I spotted the silver glimmer against the light when my fingers reached for it.

Grasping the cold metal, I held it up between us. “Better yet, I’m pretty sure this is yours.”

Popping the switchblade open, I watched her eyes go wide, sparkling with excitement when she asked me for my hand.

“Promise me, no more lies or secrets.” She held the blade above my finger where she always used to prick my soft skin with a blade and make a dramatic promise.

Promise wasn’t the right word—it was an oath before we knew what those were.

My hands were full of faded scars from all the blood oaths we had done as kids.

“Promise,” I said quietly, hoping it was one I could keep. My job doesn’t allow much transparency, and I’ve seen beyond the curtain glamor of this being just a cult.

The blood bloomed on my fingertip before she pushed the tip of my finger to her lips.

We used to press our bloody parts together, consuming the other but this was intimate in a new way. Almost erotic when all my feelings about it dropped down to my crotch.

Taking the knife from her, I pressed it into her finger, watching the blood pulse from her skin before doing the same thing. Sucking off the blood from her finger, I smirked at her constantly trying to remind me of our childhood, even in this moment. I loved her for it.

She was goofy, sexy, and strong. A tomboy who liked shades of blue but wore lingerie like it was constructed solely for her. None of her ran from her trauma or forgot how to live while surviving— she held onto me until happiness had no choice but to be taken hostage.

She demanded a happy ending.

Eve’s eyebrows dipped in alarm when she realized the exact thing I knew she would. “My tattoo. The butterfly. That wasn’t a blood oath because we didn’t need one. We did our blood oath so many times as kids.”

A mischievous grin made my lips take up space on my face, more than normal.

Between a yawn she hit my arm. “Already breaking promises and blood oaths?”

She was right, I was already breaking promises. It’s who I am now. The truth is always too painful for the world, so I got comfortable with secrets, lies, hiding everything that matters to me just to keep it safe.

I was never going to be guilt-free.

I was never going to be restored to some version of me that understands how to be happy.

Inside Eve, my heaven, it’s easy to believe I can be saved. But outside of her, it’s easy to get swallowed