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His fist tightens and I lean my head backward a little, trying to alleviate the pain.
“This is a sham. You and I both know it,” I say.
He studies me for a long moment but then abruptly releases me and steps backward. “The papers are ready.”
Yes. The papers. The reason for this whole thing.
I glance to his desk, to the stack of pages awaiting my signature. “You’ll take me to see him?”
He nods.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
I don’t have a choice. Well, I do. I can leave him in my father’s care and never see him again.
I walk over to the desk, pick up the pen, sign my name and it’s done. Stefan’s petition is ready.
“My father doesn’t know, does he?” I ask.
“Not yet.” He looks over the papers, then turns his gaze to me. “You did the right thing.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
“It’s late.”
Anxiety fills my belly. I know what comes next.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he says.
“I don’t love you,” I say, the words abrupt and out of place.
He cocks his head to the side. “Love has nothing to do with this. You told me so yourself.”
“We don’t have to do this part. We—”
“This marriage will be consummated. Tonight.”
A chill runs along my spine and I close one hand over the opposite arm.
Stefan puts a hand at my lower back. “Let’s go, Gabriela.”
Will he make me if I say no?
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Upstairs.” I feel the pressure of his hand and my legs are somehow moving, somehow carrying me out of the study, to the stairs and up to his room.
My heart races, goosebumps cover my flesh.
This isn’t how I want my first time. Or any time.
He closes the door behind us, and I step away, look at the bed. I’ve slept in it. Been naked in it. Been naked in it with him.
This, though, tonight, like this, it’s different.
He comes to me and I back away. I can’t help it and it’s not a conscious choice, but I only stop when I run out of space.
I put my hands up against his chest.
He takes my hands, draws my arms upward, taking both wrists in one hand using the other to tilt my face up to his. His touch is different than I expect. Gentler. And I can’t seem to find my voice.
“You’re beautiful. I thought so from the first time I saw you.”
My body seems to be vibrating, every nerve ending alive with anxiety and anticipation and something else. Something I don’t want to acknowledge.
“I was sixteen,” I manage.
“And already beautiful. I won’t hurt you, Gabriela.”
“You will, Stefan.”
He studies me, thoughtful. Then his free hand moves to unzip the back of my dress and I guess it’s happening. It’s happening now. Like this.
I didn’t think it’d be like this.
But fuck him. I will not cry. I will not let him see weakness. I will not let him see fear.
He releases my wrists, tugs the dress off and it pools at my feet.
I’m left standing in a white lace bra, matching panties, thigh-high stockings and high-heeled white pumps.
Stefan looks me over, makes a sound from somewhere deep inside his chest. He steps backward. It’s just one step, but it’s enough for me to breathe again. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath.
His gaze moves to the bra, to the delicate cups with the little red poppies on them. I remain still but my heart beats a marathon when he slides his knuckles over one lace-clad breast. My nipple hardens instantly.
He pushes against me and I feel him, feel his cock at my belly and the sound I make, it’s not like his. It’s not deep or threatening. It’s more of a whimper.
His expression doesn’t change as he slips his hand down over my belly and into my panties and when he cups my sex, my hands fly to his chest.
“Stefan!”
He watches me, and although I’m trying to push him off, I can’t budge him. His fingers begin their work and his eyes bore into mine and fuck, it feels good. What he’s doing feels good.
“I don’t…I think…stop.” That last word is so weak, I almost don’t hear it myself.
And if he hears it, he doesn’t stop.
Instead, he dips his head down and takes my nipple into his mouth, swallowing half my breast and I moan when he sucks, the lace rough, his mouth wet and soft and his fingers, God, his fingers.
A whimper catches in my throat and when he pulls his mouth away, I shudder at the loss, at the sudden cold. He straightens, leaning in closer, the scruff of his jaw rough against my cheek as he inhales deeply. He brings his mouth to my ear and his fingers are doing something to me and I don’t want him to stop.
