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My Narciso Rodriguez pencil skirt and my shirt were the victims of his next attack. The first, bunched up at my waist, the latter, half ripped open. I was unceremoniously hoisted up and carried into the bedroom with my ankles locked around his hips. We began tearing at each other. My thong was shredded to bits in a one handed grab. His shirt met the same fate. Buttons began flying. There wasn’t going to be one left on a shirt in all of Geneva if we kept this up.
He threw me down on the bed and barely got his pants past his rear end before he shoved himself inside of me, in his enthusiasm driving us both halfway up the bed.
It wasn’t lovemaking, and it wasn’t intended to be. It was two sweaty, lust crazed bodies crashing into each other, taking their anger and frustration out on one another. The alpha imposing his will on everyone and everything under him. Part of me welcomed it. The deranged part, that is. But the part that could still reason knew this would never stop, the noose would only get tighter if I didn’t put an end to it immediately.
My climax was sharp and fast. He came with a roar, and triggered another seismic event in my body. Afterwards he collapsed on top of me. As I fought for breath, he nuzzled the the side of my neck. All the tenderness I felt in his touch kicked my anger up a notch. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I pulled his head back to stare into his eyes. I wanted him to see the determination on my face when I spoke.
“You aren’t going to fuck me into submission, darling. I can take anything you dish out.”
A wicked smile flirted at the corners of his mouth, all the anger now leeched out of him by an epic orgasm. “It’s not going to stop me from trying though.”
“I’m not in the mood for your jokes. Get off of me.” I pushed and pushed until he rose up on an elbow. Then I watched him grab his still hard penis and rub my thighs and intimate parts with his seed. I’d never seen anything so blatantly possessive in all my life.
“Enough!” I shouted, pushing him off.
He rolled onto his back while I sat up, my legs dangling off the foot of the bed. My fingers searched for the buttons on my lavender, silk georgette blouse and discovered that all but one were missing.
Demoralized. Defeated. I was all those things and more. I could no longer justify his action to myself. This was either a lack of respect, or a lack of trust. Either way, it had to stop.
“I’ll be sleeping in the next bedroom tonight and tomorrow I’m moving to a hotel until you develop the ability to reason like a sane individual.”
“The hell you are,” was his warning reply. I glanced over my shoulder and found him leaning back on his elbows. His chest bare, his eyes narrowed. His pants and underwear were still pushed down his thighs. He made no move to cover himself up.
Beast. A gorgeous one. In the privacy of my mind I entertained all sorts of filthy things I wanted to do to him. But that’s as far as it went. There was no way I was actually going to let him fuck me into submission. And it killed me that with all the issues hanging over our heads one glance at him had the power to turn my insides into utter chaos. The look on my face must’ve tipped him off because his lips curved into a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat.
I went straight into the walk in closet we shared, grabbed something to sleep in and tried to fix my hair. I was certain I looked like I’d been mauled in a dark alley. When I walked back into the room, he was in the same position I left him in, still lounging lazily like a big cat after the hunt.
“When you come to your senses, you can find me at the clinic,” I told him.
The smug smile dropped right off his face. His expression morphed into a silent threat. But just in case I wasn’t paying attention, he said, “You walk out that door, and you’ll be sorry.” His voice was super quiet. Goose bumps swept over my flesh.
“I already am,” I answered just as quietly. And with that, I walked out of the bedroom we shared as man and wife without a backwards glance.
The next morning, I left for the clinic extremely early––before Sebastian was even awake. I found Yannick in his office, sitting behind his desk with only a desk lamp illuminating the sharp angles of his movie star face. Bent foreword with his chin resting on his fists, he stared at the chessboard as if he were waiting for the pieces to move themselves.
