I back up, because holy fuck, he’s angry. The flush in his face, the crazed look in that glare, the hard line of his lips—he’s unraveling, losing his precious control, and I’m backed into a fucking corner.
My breaths quicken, and my muscles go rigid. I don’t think he’ll physically hurt me, but I didn’t think he’d fuck another woman, either. My judgment is total shit.
Pressing my back against a mirror, I remove the other stiletto and hold it like a weapon. “Don’t come any closer.”
His gait doesn’t slow, and in two strides, he’s on me, his hand like a vise around my wrist and his chest hard against mine. “Tell me why you were with that motherfucker.”
Tears are already coursing down my face. I can’t break his hold, can’t escape the strength of his body bearing down on me. All I have is my voice and the devastation attached to it.
“I haven’t had sex in three years.” The bitter words scrape from my throat, seething with self-loathing. “I was finally ready, and you…you…”
He didn’t cheat on me, because we weren’t together. But it feels so much like betrayal my shoulders curl in and my chest collapses beneath a thousand doubts. I should’ve told him how I felt about him, that he made me want to try harder, be stronger, smile more. I should’ve told him I loved him.
My face contorts with unbearable pain, and the shoe falls from my shaking hand. “You stuck your dick in her, and I picked up a guy at a bar. Because that’s what broken people do.”
His nostrils go wide. “If all you want is sex…”
He pulls the knot loose on his tie and yanks it off. Then his hand goes to his belt, tearing at the buckle.
“No!” I shove at his chest, digging my shoulder blades against the mirror behind me. “No, no, no, you’re not—”
He grips my throat and squeezes. “Don’t say that word again, unless you mean it.”
I clutch the shackle of his hand and stare up at him with watery eyes. He’s not cutting my airway. Not really hurting me, either. But I can’t move, and my lips won’t form the word I’m mentally chanting. NoNoNoNoNo…
His belt slides free, and the sound of it dropping against the floor shoots a ripple of warmth through my core. My skin heats. My nipples harden, and my pulse goes wild.
He’s going to fuck me, and I can’t let him. Only an hour ago, he was inside another woman. He doesn’t want me, doesn’t respect me, doesn’t give a shit about me. This is just a power trip to feed his childish, self-serving ego.
I raise my chin and force my gaze to the raging depths of his. When his mouth parts, I drive a knee into his groin. He grunts, and the hand on my throat loosens just enough for me to twist away. But I only make it two steps.
He slams against my back, and we stumble, our hands flying out to brace our collision against the wall. But we’re still moving, his weight pushing down on me, deliberately sending us to the floor.
I land face down with his body on top of me and his arm around my waist, buffering the fall. I try to pull my knees beneath me to scramble away, but he holds tight to my hips, his free hand clutched around the back of my thigh. Then he yanks up the hem of my mini dress.
Cool air brushes against my bare bottom right before his palm slams down, igniting my skin with fire.
“Fucking…God, fuck!” My arms and legs give out beneath the shocking pain, and my wail echoes through the room. “Why—?”
He spanks me again and again, and the sound of his hand slapping flesh punctuates the ungodly burn. The arm beneath my hips suspends me over his lap, giving him leverage to pommel my ass relentlessly.
I struggle and scream, but after a few seconds, it starts to feel forced, like I’m making myself fight it, deny it, hate it. Only I don’t hate it. With every strike, the pain dissolves into languorous curls of heat. It seeps through my pleasure centers, soothing, stroking, and coaxing my inner muscles into a spasm of need.
In a swift shift of his weight, he rolls on top me, his chest smothering my back and his hand beneath my hips, between my legs, sinking into my soaked pussy.
A gasp fills my lungs, the stretch of his fingers excruciatingly perfect. I don’t want this. I don’t. I can’t…
“Goddamn, you’re soaked.” He grips the ring on my labium and tugs it. “Such a kinky, filthy girl.”
“Not for you.” I kick and writhe, my voice gritty, clawing from the deepest, darkest places inside me. “Never.”
Except my body betrays me, drenching his plunging fingers, clamping down on the invasion, and quivering for release.
I buck my hips and arch my spine, knocking him off long enough to escape on hands and knees. Before I make it to my feet, fingers capture my ankle and flip me over. With a powerful yank, he drags me across the floor on my back and wrenches my thighs apart.
Without panties, I’m wide open and exposed for his greedy gaze. I struggle to get free, but he’s stronger, bigger, his hands impossible to dislodge as he spreads my legs wider.
His gaze meets mine, and I know the instant something shifts inside him. His anger’s still present, but it’s eclipsed by raw, unhinged hunger.
“Don’t,” I whisper, trembling.
Lightning flashes behind his eyes. Then he hoists my lower body off the floor and buries his face between my legs.
My hands plunge into his hair, pushing, pulling, and ripping at the strands. Desire wars with disgust. Anguish begets pleasure, and I’m lost beneath the diabolical swirl of his tongue, torn between wanting him and hating him, aching for relief and despising myself for it.
I need him. I want to hurt him. I yank his mouth against my pussy. Then I shove him away, crying, spitting, “I fucking hate you.”
He licks a path up my slit, breathes deeply against my mound, and looks directly in my eyes. “I love you.”
Bullshit. He’s sick and twisted, and so am I.
As he returns to my center, lapping at my clit and sucking on my piercing, I want nothing more than to come on his tongue. I’m crazed in my need for it, and sweet God, it’s gathering, rising, curling my toes, and bowing my back.
I should tell him to stop, but I can’t. I want— “Oh God, oh fuck, I’m coming.”
The orgasm crashes through me, shaking my limbs and shredding my voice as I moan and pant, my eyes fixed on his, frozen in shock. His mouth continues to grind against me, forcing me to ride his tongue harder, faster, extending the unendurable pleasure.
But as the bliss begins to taper and aftershocks twitch through my nerves, regret sinks in. He just fucked Marlo Vogt, and I let him lick me to climax. He’s no good for me, his intent manipulative, his desire poisonous.
“Get off me.” A sob rips from my throat, and I dig my heels against the floor, attempting to slide away.
He stays with me, crawling between my legs and covering my mouth with his. As his tongue sweeps the tang of my arousal across my lips, I can’t stop thinking about his betrayal and my need to hurt him as badly as he hurt me.
I break the kiss, pushing against him as I sneer. “Can you taste his come? When I sucked him off in the car, I swallowed every drop.”