Read Where the Ivy Hides for Free Online Page A

does it because he needs me. He needs me happy and alive, to live. And this knowledge sates a pitiful, withering inside me.
    "I'm going to fuck you, love. Hard. I'm going to use you up until nothing is left, then I'm going to fill you up with all of me until the lines between us blur. Is this understood, love?"
    I moan an unintelligible 'yes' and push my back against him. My hands move on their own accord behind my back and begin wrestling with the buckle of his belt, but he catches me by surprise and I gasp when his hands circle both my wrists before slamming them back against the glass mirror.
    Tightening his grip around my wrists harder, he speaks through his gritted teeth again, "Don't. Move. Your. Bloody. Hands. Love. Understood? "
    I nod, pleading with his eyes in the mirror’s reflection and as soon as he registers my answer, he steps back and finishes unbuckling his jeans. After I hear the sound of his belt thudding against the floor, I feel him towering over me again and watch as he reaches his left arm over his shoulder, gripping the material covering his wide roped back, before pulling his v-neck over his head.
    I watch as he strokes himself in the mirror in a morbid fascination as his eyes run over me from head to toe while he speaks, "This isn't about being gentle, now, love. And I'm sorry if I hurt ya," His hand slides up my spine as he continues to stroke his cock with his other hand. When it settles between my shoulder blades, I beg again, but before a single word leaves my lips, his hand is shoving me forward until I feel the cold, hard wood of the table smash against my breasts and stomach causing me to hiss. "I love ya, Winter Ivy. But you just keep hurting me." The hand between my shoulder blades slide up into the hair at the nape of my neck and his hand grasps it, yanking my head up until my eyes meet his in the mirror.
    "This isn't about forgiveness, love. It's about absolution." I feel him at my entrance, sliding through my wetness and for some reason, it could be to keep him from stopping or walking away, or it could be the first time I ever spoke the truth, but I just say it.
    Without twitching a muscle, I keep our eyes locked and I say, "I fucking love you, Ryker. I love you."
    Fractions of a second later he's buried deep inside of me, and again, I'm crying out.
    He's not gentle.
    He's rough. He brutally pounds into me, over and over. His hands grip and grab to the point of bruising. His nails rake and his teeth graze and nip. Every kiss ends in a bite. Every moan ends in a yell, and every time he sinks into me another tear falls, but his eyes won't let mine go.
    "Say it. Fucking say it again, Ivy," he growls with his face shoved against the side of mine.
    So I say, "I love you, Ryker. I love you." Over and over, I say it.

Chapter 5
     

     
    Days pass turning into months, and before I realize, it's been a year. I'm sober. I'm happy.  I'm employed. And both Ryker and I are taking college courses. I don't know why I am, but he's working on the business end of opening up a Motorcycle Repair shop. Apparently, it requires more than just an old warehouse and a cash register. So until Ryker gets his shop opened and his attention focused on it, I'll just keep taking college classes for general studies, because I don't have a clue what I want to be when I grow up, and I'm really enjoying just being an instructor at Painting with a Twist.
    I haven't been as good as I was the first six months at getting my ass to meetings either. But Ryker is good about not giving me any shit, he's also very good at being there for me and for the first time in my life, I’m beginning to feel true happiness and contentment.
    It's fall, and he and I have finally moved into a new place a few weeks ago. It's nice. It's a little pink and blue house on a hill at the foot of a cul-de-sac with three bedrooms, two baths, a white picket fence, and a tree swing off the corner of the front yard. Ry and I don't have the furniture needed