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“Fuck,” he groans as I suck deeper, taking him to the back of my throat.
Large hands grip my damp hair, and he guides me, rocking his hips slightly, hitting the back of my throat with his cock. My hands are on his thighs, and I slide them higher, gripping his ass and giving him what he needs, what I need as well, letting him take his anger out on me.
He groans again, and I feel the tension in his legs. I brace for his orgasm, but his hands move quickly, gripping me under the arms. I’m off him with a pop, and he turns me, pushing me forward onto the bathroom counter on my stomach.
I’ve just braced my hands when he slams into me from behind, and I let out a loud moan. He doesn’t stop, driving violently into me. My body quivers, and the heat of his anger, the desperate force of his fucking, triggers a surge of orgasm in my belly.
Rough hands reach beneath, finding my breasts and squeezing, kneading them. He’s feverish, taking what he wants, not waiting for me to come. He’s punishing me for betraying him, and I press my hand against the mirror. I drive my ass back to meet him. His hands move to my hips, gripping me harder as he thrusts, growling words of anger and need with every hit.
A loud crack echoes in the bathroom and heat blasts across my ass from his palm.
“Oh, God,” I gasp as the orgasm rages through my core, clenching my insides with violent spasms.
He slaps me again, and my knees buckle. He lifts me up by my hips, fucking me two, three more times relentlessly, before holding steady, roaring with release as his cock pulses deep inside me. He holds my ass firmly against his body, and his thighs jerk and tremble against mine. Another spasm of orgasm grips my core, and another groaning swear leaves his lips.
Several seconds pass, and he holds me, until he seems to regain his bearings. Then without a word, he pulls out, restores his pants, and leaves the bathroom, slamming the door.
I place my palms on the cool, marble counter, straightening before the mirror. Wetness is on my thighs, and I go to the shower, taking the cloth and running a bit more water to clean myself again. His damp towel hangs behind the door, and I lift it off the hook, wrapping it securely under my arms before opening the bathroom door.
He’s not in the bedroom, but a fresh stack of clothes I assume are for me sits on the edge of the bed. I take his boxer briefs and pull them over my hips, then I pull on the new long-sleeved Henley, which smells divinely of him, and the loose, linen pants I think might be Hana’s, although she’s a few sizes smaller than me. Perhaps they’re Blake’s.
Taking the handcuff off the bed, I return the towel to the bathroom before walking down the hall to find him. He’s in the kitchen when I enter, standing with his hands bracing the sink, facing the window.
It’s after lunchtime, and I’m not sure what to do. I decide a peace offering is all I have left, so I sit on the stool and handcuff my wrist to the arm of the stool like he always does.
The clink of metal causes him to turn, and his eyes narrow when he sees me sitting, fully dressed, the good little prisoner.
Clearing his throat, he scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Nothing’s changed.”
I nod slowly, studying my hand on the bar. “When I was given this assignment, they said you were the computer geek, the tech guy, and I expected a nerd, a nobody. I didn’t expect what I found. I didn’t expect you to affect me. I didn’t expect to want you so much.”
“It didn’t stop you from lying to me.”
“No.” Inhaling slowly, I steady my voice. “I was too focused on revenge. Then I had this fantasy you might understand. I dreamed of us working together, finding the killer and bringing him to justice together.”
“Don’t say that to me. I didn’t make you lie.” It’s a low rasp, and I know he’s struggling as much as I am.
“Even if you hate me now, I still want you. Could you ever be on my side?”
“No.” His gaze levels on mine. “I could never trust you.”
“But you can.” My voice breaks. “Yes, it started as a setup, the visits to your office, the seduction, it was all a big master plan, but at some point everything changed. My feelings for you became very real.”
His hands grip my shoulders, and he gives me a hard shake as he growls. “Stop lying to me!”
“I’m not,” I gasp, tears filling my eyes. My head drops, and I whisper. “I’m not.”
At once, he releases me, turning away. His breath comes fast, and his voice is low. “Remember when you said you liked to feel my strength, knowing I could hurt you, but I wouldn’t?”
“Yes.”
“Now I would.”
A hot tear spills over onto my cheek, and I wish I had the key to this handcuff. I wish I had taken myself to the bedroom and crawled beneath the blankets before I locked it.
My voice is quiet, as I speak. “Even when you hurt me, I’ll still come to you. Remember?”
“I didn’t hurt you.” His voice is equally quiet. “You hurt me.”
