“You know,” I say, because I do not want to put it into words. I do not want to crave what I do—to need the pain to drive me back to center. But he already knows, because he understands me as well as he understands himself. “Please.”
“You are mine.” The words are a whisper, so soft I can barely hear them and yet those three words crash through me, full of love and hope and longing. “Mine,” he repeats, louder this time as he stands up, breaking that contact between us and leaving me longing for the warmth of his touch again. “Mine,” he says as his hand comes down sharply against my ass, sending hundreds of fiery pinpricks through me to gather between my thighs.
“Mine,” he repeats, as his palm strokes my ass, soothing before rising again to spank me over and over, the sting building inside, the fire of contact shooting out like lightning, making me cry out even as I focus on it, grabbing hold and pulling it back in, taking it over so that it is not the pain that controls me, but me that controls the pain.
“Mine,” he repeats as my body lights up with sensation and desire. He moves closer, his cock pressing against my rear as he spreads my legs and strokes my core, the touch sending shock waves rippling across my skin. “I take care of what’s mine,” he says, the words spilling over me as he thrusts hard and fast inside me.
I cry out as my body welcomes him, tightening around him to draw him deeper. But this isn’t slow and easy. This is hard and fast, and he pulls out, then slams into me again, our bodies coming together in a violent impact that sends me spiraling up out of myself.
He holds my hips tight with one hand, the other reaching around to stroke my clit as he pounds relentlessly into me. He is using me, and I am using him, and together we are leading each other through this horrific forest that has grown up around us.
I can feel everything inside me—everything inside him—and it builds and builds until the explosion is inevitable, and I know that if we were to explode like this without each other, we would be lost.
But Damien and I are each other’s bread crumbs, and we will always lead each other back.
After, he pulls me gently to the ground. I lay on my back and look up at him as he strokes my face and then gently, so gently, enters me again. He is no longer controlling me, but controlling himself, and I submit willingly, letting him go where he needs, and letting him take me with him.
I close my eyes, lost in the sweetness as he moves in soft and subtle motions, letting my pleasure build slowly and gently until it breaks over both of us, not an explosion this time, but a gentle rainfall that washes all the harshness away.
With a sigh, I curl up beside him on the floor, my body pressed against his. “How is it that you can make my world so right even when everything is going wrong?”
“Because you love me,” he says. “And I love you. That is our talisman, our charm. We may still break a little, you and I. But so long as we are together, neither of us will shatter.”
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, because he is right. With Damien, I will always be made whole.
We lay there in silence until I cannot stand it any longer. “What are you going to do?” I finally ask.
“The news will have leaked,” he says. “Even if no bra or panty shows up on eBay, already the tabloids have heard. We’ll be the story of the moment, for however long the moment lasts.”
“Add in the picture of us outside the club and you taking a swing at that photographer …” I trail off. I don’t really need to go on.
“Do you want to stay?”
“Yes,” I blurt, then immediately say, “No.” I grimace. “I want Paris,” I admit. “And I meant what I said before—the scrutiny and the photographers all come with the package. I’m your wife, Damien, and I will handle whatever I have to handle because I will never give you up. But—”
“I know,” he says. “And the truth is, if my money can’t buy us an escape, then what the hell is it good for?”