Page 2 of Forgotten Vows

"It's okay," I whisper again. "Please, Lachlan, we have to hurry—" I wrap my hand around his cock, urging him forward as my legs tangle around his, and he moans.

"God, Adri—" His hips move as if of their own volition, one of his hands digging into the dirt and grass next to us as the other slides between our bodies again, nudging my hand away. I feel him angling his cock against my entrance, and for a moment I'm sure it's too big, that it won't fit, that we can't…

"Just hang on," he breathes, and then he covers my mouth with his, swallowing my sound of pain as his hips snap forward, and he pushes himself into me. For a moment, I feel panicked—I'm too full,it's too big, itburns… and then I remember this is Lachlan, this is the man I've wanted for two years now, since I was sixteen and he was eighteen, and now we can finally have what we both want.

He's gone still for a moment, letting my body adjust to him, but I can feel the tremor running through his body. "I need to move, Adri," he chokes out. "Fuck, I need to?—"

"I want you to." I grip his shoulders, his shirt, run my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair as he starts to thrust, shallowly, his breath coming in rapid gasps that tell me he's struggling to maintain his control. His fingers find my clit, and I bite my lip against a moan, until he kisses me again and swallows it up.

"Come for me," he pleads, rocking against me as his fingers work faster. "I want you to come on my cock, princess, butGod, I'm so close, I…"

The ragged sound of his voice, the desperation in it, drives me over the edge as much as his fingers do. I feel myself clenching, tightening, my back arching, and Lachlan kisses me again to muffle the sound of his pleasure, which almost sounds pained. "Fuck, you're so tight," he gasps. "It's almost too tight, it almost hurts, but God, I'm going to?—"

The orgasm hits me, tearing through me so violently that I bite Lachlan's neck on reflex, anything to keep myself from screaming with the intensity of the pleasure and giving us away. I taste blood on my tongue as my teeth sink into his skin, and he presses his mouth into my shoulder, muffling his own moan as I feel his cock throb and jump inside of me, flooding me with a strange heat. His hips jerk reflexively, his entire body shuddering, and I open my eyes, wanting to see his face…

In that instant, that moment where we're as close as two people can ever possibly be, I see two things that make my blood run cold.

One is lights, moving in our direction.

The other is one of my shoes, kicked off in our rush to get back here, at the edge of the hedge hiding us.

"Lachlan," I whisper, my hands clutching at him. "Lachlan, we?—"

"Over here!" A voice yells, and before either of us can come to oursenses fully or move, I see the flashlight beams illuminate my shoe, and then…

Three of my father's men round the hedge and freeze at the sight of their boss's daughter on her back in a dark corner of the garden, a nobody boy on top of her with his jeans pulled down around his hips. And behind them, his face set in harsh, angry lines, is my father.

Giovanni Santoro.

The world explodes into chaos. Lachlan jerks away from me, scrambling backward, his hands fumbling to pull up his jeans. I'm frozen for a heartbeat before my body catches up to my brain, and I yank my dress down, my hands shaking so badly I can barely grip the fabric.

No. No, no, no?—

"Get away from her!" One of the men lunges forward, grabbing Lachlan by the arm and wrenching him to his feet. Lachlan stumbles, still trying to fasten his jeans, and the man's fist connects with his jaw with a sickening crack that makes my stomach lurch.

"Stop!" The word tears out of my throat, raw and desperate. "Stop, please?—"

But no one's listening. Another man has Lachlan now, twisting his arm behind his back, and Lachlan grunts in pain, his face contorting. The third man moves toward me, and I scramble backward on my hands, my bare feet slipping on the damp grass.

"Don't touch her." My father's voice cuts through the chaos, cold and even, and it's so much worse than shouting.

The man freezes. Everyone freezes.

Giovanni Santoro steps forward, his shoes crunching on the gravel path, and the sound is deafening in the sudden silence. He's wearing a perfectly tailored suit without a wrinkle on it, not a hair out of place, perfectly composed despite what he's just come upon. He looks at me the way someone might look at a dead animal on the side of the road—something distasteful.

Something ruined.

"Get up."

My legs won't work. I try to push myself up on trembling arms,but my knees buckle, and I collapse back onto the grass. Tears are streaming down my face, hot and humiliating, and I can't make them stop.

"I said get up, Adriana."

This time I manage it, but barely. I stand on shaking legs, my dress twisted and grass-stained, my hair a tangled mess around my shoulders. I can feel the wetness between my thighs, Lachlan's cum and my arousal and virgin blood—the evidence of what we've done. Shame burns through me so hot and fierce I think I might be sick.

My father's eyes move over me slowly. "Cover yourself," he says finally, his voice flat.

I look down and realize my dress is still bunched up around my hips on one side, showing my stained silk underwear, and I yank the fabric down with numb fingers, my face burning.