Madeline Sheehan - Unattainable

She whimpered her frustration. She wanted to touch him, to kiss him again; she wanted to hold tightly to him when he slid inside of her. But she would take it. She understood. She’d seen firsthand his fragility, his fears, and she knew how desperately hard this was for him, so she would do it his way.

Except, suddenly she could no longer feel him behind her. Pushing to her knees, she turned around and found him kneeling by the edge of the bed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I can’t do it,” he choked out, his words frantically spoken, his eyes wide while his head shook wildly. “I can’t do it.”

Instinctively wanting to comfort him, Ellie reached for him and found herself immediately shoved backward. Startled, she glanced up at Dirty, who was towering over her and glaring. “Don’t touch me,” he bit out.

Tears burned in her eyes as she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered tearfully.

Dirty’s already wild eyes flashed with an unidentifiable emotion and suddenly his fists were clenched and his nostrils flared with heavy breaths. He appeared to be warring from within and it looked to Ellie like his personal demons were winning.

“It’s okay,” she said, trying her best to mask her shaking voice with a soothing tone. “We don’t have to do anything.”

His eyes flared even wider and Ellie shrunk backward.

“I HAVE TO!” he roared, his face turning red with rage. “I FUCKIN’ HAVE TO!”

The next thing she knew, he grabbed her calves and pulled her legs apart. His hips surged forward and—

Ellie sucked in a startled breath of air as he filled her body. He wasn’t a small man, not at all, and it took more than a moment to adjust to his size.

Dirty stared down at her, looking no better than before, shaking, his eyes burning with both emotion and tears. She powered through her need to comfort him through touch and just lay beneath him, their bodies joined but neither of them touching the other, neither of them moving. Just staring.

“Fight me,” he suddenly whispered.

Ellie’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Fight me,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “Bitch, please.”

Oh God, this had been a bad idea. He wanted her to fight him. She couldn’t fight him, it was too much like what had happened between her and Daniel and she wanted…

She wanted Dirty.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “But I don’t know what to do.”

• • •

Fight him.

Aw shit, he was begging. Begging like he’d done as a child. Begging for love from his twisted cunt of a foster mother, begging for food and money, begging because those sick fuckers had liked it when he’d begged. Anger rose inside of him, anger and hatred and self-disgust.

And then…

He could see the unease, the panic, in Ellie’s expression, and as much as he hated being the reason for any negative emotions within her, a sense of familiarity and comfort enveloped Dirty. He was disgusting. He was motherfucking repugnant. Ugly. Unwanted. There was nothing, not one goddamn thing, appealing about him.

Inside Ellie, his dick began to throb.

“Okay,” she whispered. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Dirty closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to go forward. He was inside her, and he wanted so badly, no, he needed so badly to fuck her and yet he was frozen inside his own fear.

Ellie’s hips suddenly jerked in an attempt to dislodge him and his eyes flew open and his body spurred into action. Gripping her thigh, he brought her back, fully sheathing himself once again. Then he slapped his hand down over her mouth, pulled his hips back, and again seated himself. His body shuddered through the adrenaline rush inside of him.

“You get it now?” he asked quietly.

Trying to breathe but unable to, she nodded wildly against his hand. Her hands flew to his wrist and she began pulling and clawing, trying to remove his hand.

The second he released her mouth, she didn’t even bother taking the time to refresh her lungs. Her arms shot forward, gripping handfuls of his shirt, and her feet hooked around his calves as she tried to shove her way out from beneath him.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Grabbing a handful of her thick black curls, he yanked her head to one side. “Fight harder,” he growled, increasing his hip thrusts. She stopped fighting and started sucking in air, her tense body trembling.

“FIGHT ME!” he roared.

She did.

She fought him hard and ended up getting a couple good clips in, some skin-breaking bites. She fought him with everything she had until, finally, nearing the end, she was crying, not out of pain but out of frustration, and he decided that was good enough.

It was a heady feeling, power. Exhilarating. Power over the same sex who’d stripped his power away from him when he was only a boy. He needed it as much as he needed to breathe, and he’d been stupid to think he’d ever be able to have a sexual encounter with a woman any other way. He’d been stupid for thinking he’d be able to manage it. Even with Ellie.

And when he was done with her, after he’d left her body and fell onto his back beside her, he turned his head and watched her. Naked, still lying on her back, unmoving except for the heavy rise and fall of her quivering breasts, Ellie stared up at the ceiling.

“Ellie?” he whispered, fear rising in his gut. She was going to leave him now. She was going to run from him. No woman, especially not a smart and beautiful one, was going to willingly deal with him.

But instead she surprised him for the hundredth time. When she turned her head in his direction, he winced, seeing the tears in her eyes.

“Hold me,” she said hoarsely, her tone pleading. “And let me hold you.”

His eyes widened.

“Please, Michael,” she continued. “I can do…what you want, but you have to give me something in return.”

When he said nothing, his mind a frantic mess, Ellie was suddenly curling her body around his, laying her head on his chest and cupping the side of his face with her hand.

He went rigid. Refusing to touch her, he locked his jaw and tried to breathe.

This was Ellie. It was Ellie. His beautiful, sweet, loving Ellie, who had the very best laugh in the entire world.

Slowly, very, very slowly, he lifted one arm and almost gingerly laid it over her bare back.

His eyes closed. Fuck-ing-hell. Her skin was so damn soft. Without even realizing it, his fingertips dug gently into the extra weight at her side, and before he knew what was happening, he had both arms around her and was holding her tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, squeezing her tighter.

Her head tilted and her big blue eyes caught his gaze. “Never be sorry for who you are,” she whispered. “That man saved my life. Twice.

“And,” she continued, “I’m falling in love with him.”

Dirty’s throat closed up. This wasn’t happening to him, not really, because it couldn’t be. Not after a lifetime of misery, not after everything he’d done. No fucking way, he didn’t deserve this, not even a little.

But he wasn’t going to give it up either.

No. Fucking. Way.

He would lie, cheat, steal, and kill to keep this. To keep her.

“Mom,” I said nervously, glancing over at her. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

Keeping her eyes on the road, she shook her head. “Baby, it was Eva who called. She was crying so hard I could barely understand her. She needs me.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I don’t think I should be there.”

She shook her head again. Reaching out, she placed her hand on my thigh and squeezed lightly. “She needs us all.”

I closed my eyes and tried to fight back my rising nausea. How could I face them all after what had happened? And during the wake of tragedy? No one would want me around. No one in that club needed me for anything. I didn’t belong there; I wasn’t family and would serve as little comfort to any one of them. Instead, I would be in everyone’s way.

I had barely slept in the last two days, ever since the phone call from Eva. I was awash with a mixture of emotions—nervousness, anticipation, fear, and grief. I wanted to be there for the club, but at the same time I didn’t know what my reception would be. And the last thing I wanted to do was intrude on them, especially now in the midst of their grief.

“Not me,” I mumbled. “I don’t belong here…I never did.”

I jerked forward as my mother slammed on the brakes of our rental car and pulled it over on the side of the road. I stared at her, somewhat bewildered, as she whipped off her seatbelt, then promptly turned in her seat, facing me.

“I know what you think of me, Tegen,” she said matter-of-factly. “I know you think I’m a club whore.”

My eyes went wide. “No!” I protested but my mother quickly put her fingers against my mouth.

“Shh,” she whispered. “It’s well past time you knew the whole story. Maybe if you’d known all along…” She trailed off and shook her head.

“I didn’t love your father,” she continued. “I tried to, but he wasn’t just physically absent from us, he was emotionally gone as well. When I met Jase… Well, Jase started out as a distraction, something that made me feel like a woman that was actually wanted.

“We were both married, both unhappy with our marriages. I knew he wasn’t faithful to me but initially I didn’t care. I was happy with what he gave me but…eventually it wasn’t enough anymore and I demanded that if he refused to leave Chrissy, other than her, he be with only me. In return, he wanted me to leave your father. He wanted to take care of me and with every request, every demand for more, I fell more and more in love with him.